Heart of a Rebel Read online

  Black Rebel Riders’ MC

  Reading Order

  Book 1 Grim The Beginning

  Book 2 Rumor

  Book 3 Baby

  Book 4 Striker

  Book 5 Romeo

  Book 6 Heart of a Rebel

  Heart of a Rebel

  Black Rebel Riders’ MC

  Book 6

  Glenna Maynard

  Heart of a Rebel

  Copyright © 2015 by Glenna Maynard

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1512358407

  ISBN-10: 1512358401

  Dedication

  This series is dedicated to some people who have meant the world to me. Their love of Harley Davidson and rock 'n roll is something I will always carry with me. Foxy Roxie, Elmer Lee (Cowboy) and my parents Glen & Alice. Thank you for all of the wonderful influences you placed upon me. Roxie, Elmer and dad I hope you all are riding on that highway in the sky.

  To everyone who knows what is like to lose someone you love, time changes nothing—I know. To those who have a pure heart, the heart of a rebel, you are beautiful.

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people to thank—I could list names for pages upon pages who have meant so much to me and shown so much support over the course of writing this series. To my Rebels thank you so much for loving this series, without you it would not have continued this far.

  Special thanks to Morgan Jane Mitchell for all of your input and countless hours you spend on the phone with me making sure my stories are what they are. I love you bunches.

  Michelle Simm thank you so much for being such an amazing support. Your love for this series is simply amazing. You rock my socks off. Thank you for dealing with my messages and talking me off the ledge whenever I go through everything is shit stages and when I send you messages simply titled FUCK!

  Dawn Martens you know I love you, and G-baby and Dawn will get their world take over one day. We will sit side by side reading and eating chips when it happens haha. Oh and Corinne, Pami, Melissa, and Chelsea can have some chips too!

  Jordan Marie just know I adore you and your writing and one day I will meet you and fangirl all over the place.

  My Shield Maidens aka SOA Widows Michelle, Emily, Amy, Christa, Yoly, and Sue you women are fabulous and fill my message box with laughter daily. I heart you!

  The hardest road a man will ever travel is the one he travels alone. Rebel Black lives and rides by his own rules. This is his story…

  After hitting rock bottom, Rebel can’t get his life together. He made his bed and he has to lie in it. When forced to face the consequences of his no holds bar lifestyle, he comes face to face with the devastation he has caused. Will he ride the road to redemption or will his demons prove to be too much?

  Grim Jones answers to no one, but the patch on his back. He has two words on his mind…justice and revenge.

  Baby is roaming down an empty road of heartache and despair uncertain of what her future holds. Her world has been turned upside down and just when she thinks she has life figured out, it bites her on the ass at every curve.

  Romeo will stop at nothing to protect the life he has claimed for himself and his children. He is determined to make good on his promises. Even if it means killing his own kind to keep his word.

  The Black Rebel Riders’ MC continue on their journey. Are you ready to embark on the adventure with them? They are ready to ride free or die trying…

  Part one

  1

  Rumor

  “What are you doing here?” I ask trying not to sound alarmed. The wind howls as the back storm door beats against the trailer. The intruder takes a step towards me wearing a menacing smile. Lightning cracks and strikes the metal garden shed out front. The boom from the metal cracking is almost deafening. He looks to the source of the sound instantly and I make my move. Running for the back door, I don’t make it far before a large hand clamps down over my mouth. I don’t bother with screaming, I know it won’t do me any good. If only I hadn’t told Rebel to pull over for the night, he’d be here now to protect me. I was afraid for him to risk the drive home in the rain. It’s so nasty out. He said he could barely keep his wheels on the road.

  I try to kick my leg back against the large man’s shin, but my leg gets lost in my long white nightgown. My elbow rams through the windowpane of the door. Pain burns through my arm as blood begins to ooze from the cuts. I can feel the jagged shards of glass pricking my goose bump covered flesh.

  He whispers, “shhh,” in my ear. His hot sticky breath makes my stomach turn. He removes his hand and I stay quiet as the tears wash over my cheeks.

  I have this gut feeling that he is here to kill me. God is finally going to make me a bird. They say be careful what you wish for or it might just come true. As a girl, I used to sit and pray for God to make me a bird and let me fly away. I suppose prayers do get answered—just not how or when you imagined them to be carried out.

  My hands are bound together with duct tape at my wrists and a strip is placed securely over my mouth. “Damn, girl didn’t even fight me. What is the fun in that?” He kisses my temple taking me back to my nightmares of Squirrel. I try to fight the demons of my past as they surface. I am back to being that scared little girl again.

  I can hear the words that pierce me like a dagger in my heart, ‘Love you so much Sarah.’

  My feet are bare and the mud squishes in between my toes as the rain pelts against my skin. I am tired of being that scared little girl. Choosing to take control, if this is my last moment, I want it to be filled with thoughts of those whom I love.

  I picture my sister with my nephew, and I know she will be fine, because she has that little man to keep her feet on the ground. I think of Grim, the only real father I ever had, even if it was only for a few years. He showed me that I was worthy of a father’s love.

  Rebel’s gorgeous face flashes in my mind making my heart swell with my love for that man. He fought hard to make me really see how he could make me happy. And God did he make me happy.

  “You sure are a pretty thing. Such a shame to kill you,” my executioner says with a snarl, curling his lips.

  He drags my limp body through the woods and I know where I am going to die. The tree that my sister loves so much. Ironic that the place her and Striker began will be where I meet my end. I worry about her marriage so much. Baby and Striker just can’t seem to get it together. I love them both a great deal. They deserve to be happy and find love, even if it means they can’t be together.

  I thought I had found a piece of happiness for myself with Rebel. We were happy, until I put too much pressure on him. I wanted so badly to be a mother. I wanted it more than I wanted him to be honest.

  The truth is my husband cheated on me. He was open with me and admitted his dirty truth to me. It was so hard to hear the bitter reality of it, but I forgave him. I had to. It was either forgive him or leave him, and I wasn’t strong enough to give him up. I still had hope that one day we would have the child I dreamed of. My one regret is that I wasn’t given the chance to show Rebel how much he needed to be a father.

  There are no secrets between us. That gives me
inner peace, even though there were days I saw this sadness in his eyes when he watched my sister, a longing perhaps, or regret. I’m not sure which, but some days I would see a flicker in his eyes that left me questioning everything.

  I have seen the way he watches Baby and Colt and I wonder is it because I can’t give him that, or does he regret not having it with her. The way he watches Colt, I know deep down he sometimes wishes he were his. He never said as much and I am sure he would have never admitted to those feelings, but they were there.

  I know Rebel loves me, but deep down I have always known he loves her too. I know Baby will watch over him. Possibly in ways that tear at my heart, but I need him to be happy and live his life, no matter what.

  “Nothing personal between you and me sweetness. I have a job to do nothing more.” Like that makes any of this okay. “I promise to make it painless,” he says as he grins at me, pulling a syringe from his pocket.

  He stabs me in the shoulder with the needle and injects me with what feels like liquid fire. My eyes grow heavy and I slump into his arms. The last thought that passes through my mind as I drift into a white void is, ‘dear God, give me my wings, I’m ready to soar.’

  2

  Rebel

  “I forgive you Rebel; I know you didn’t sleep with her to hurt me.” My wife smiles weakly at me and I take her in my arms and hold her tight, my lips brush across the top of her strawberry blonde hair. The scent of her floral shampoo envelopes me.

  “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I assure her knowing I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Knowing I don’t really mean it. I cheated on my wife and now another woman is carrying my child. How do I dare to tell her the rest? She won’t forgive a permanent reminder of what I have done.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepare to blow her world apart.

  She shakes her head as I begin to speak. “Don’t tell me, whatever it is…I don’t want to hear anymore today okay?”

  “Yeah, no, you are right it can wait.”

  **

  Rolling over in the bed I wake up with my nose pressed against Rumor’s pillow. Her scent, the warmth of her breath is so ingrained in my blood. I feel her within me every breath I take. Every day when I awake, I swear I can feel her all around me. I have to drink to numb the pain; I have to drink to make her go away.

  Everyone is riding my ass, asking me if I’m okay. Fuck no, I am not okay. My wife is gone and I murdered my brother. I should be in jail. I should be rotting away. But Baby, fucking Baby…she saved my ass and told the hospital and the police that Striker tried to off himself, because she left him.

  I don’t know why she did that. I hate her for it, but at the same time I am grateful she did. Yeah, I know it’s pretty fucked up of me. It’s all right though, she hates me too. I roll out of the bed landing on a sea of liquor bottles. One breaks under my weight and slices my finger open.

  The blood drips on the carpet as I make my way into the bathroom. My late wife’s perfume and makeup is on the counter. I knock it into the floor; she doesn’t need it any longer. The blood continues to trickle as my finger throbs with pain. I can feel my heartbeat in my ring finger; it keeps pulsing reminding me that I can still feel pain.

  Holding the bloodied appendage in front of my face, I look at my wedding band. Won’t be needing that motherfucker anymore. I slide it off as the red ooze makes for great lubricant. Slapping the metal band on the sink, I turn on the faucet, running water over my wound, until the water runs clear around the drain.

  I need a drink—fast. Opening my fridge it’s empty other than the left overs my mother keeps bringing by. I don’t know why she bothers. Food isn’t going to change anything and it isn’t like I can stomach to eat much of it. Ever since I lost Rumor, I haven’t been able to eat more than a few bites at a time. I prefer my liquid diet.

  Baby

  Romeo’s strong hand is resting against the curve of my hip as he nestles his warm body against mine. It’s been three weeks since we laid my husband to rest. His memory, his ghost are both with me every single moment of every day. I can feel him with me and I can sense that his spirit is restless. The thought that—that after death he is still suffering hurts me deeper than any pain I have ever known.

  My guilt over the way we ended things eats at me. It kills me to think that Colt will never remember the man he once called dad on his own. All he will ever know is what we choose to tell him. It isn’t fucking fair!

  I keep thinking I will awaken from this nightmare and everything will go back to the way it was before. Sunshine will be cooking up some disaster in her kitchen while my father sits at the head of his table, calling choir to order. Rumor will be off in a corner somewhere reading one of her books and Striker will be over at the garage working on his motorcycle. And Rebel, even he will be walking into the Roadhouse with a smile on his face…but it isn’t going to happen.

  Rebel is now just a drunken shell of the man he used to be and it breaks what is left of my heart to see him that way, as much as I hate him for what he has done.

  He took away the father of my son, but we were raised together, he is one of the only people who knows me better than I know myself at times. How can I turn my back on him when he is hurting just as deeply as I am? He lost Rumor and Striker too.

  Life as I have known it has forever been altered. Striker and Rumor are as dead as a doornail. I keep thinking of the last real conversation I had with Striker…we were so cruel. I told him I was not in love with him. That was I lie. I love him more now than I ever did and it’s too late.

  I will never know if he heard me when I told him I was sorry for all of it. I am sorry for everything, I am. Had he lived…I can’t pretend to know what might have happened. But I could have been there for him. I know he was sorry too! He didn’t mean any of those things he said or did to me. I know he didn’t.

  Despite all of the bad, we had a lot of good, and I wouldn’t give the good up for anything. But I’d give almost anything to see him smile at me as he brushes his glasses back onto his face after they have slid down his nose. I would give anything to see him hold his son once more. I would give anything to have him here. I’d take it all back, all of it. I’d marry him all over again, if given the choice. I’d do it all differently after our honeymoon. I would be the wife he knew I could be when he said I do.

  “You okay?” Romeo asks as his fingers tap against my thigh.

  “Fine,” I lie. Things have been weird between us since Striker died. I can’t place my finger on exactly what it is that has changed, but I suspect it has something to do with the tongue lashing Foxie gave him. I don’t know what she said to him but whatever it was, it has made a permanent impression on him.

  Then there is my whole missing my deceased husband and realizing that I never stopped loving him epiphany. Yes, Striker hurt me, but I had hurt him too. I was far from innocent. My betrayal is lying next to me.

  Romeo’s heavy arm snakes across my stomach holding me tighter. I wrap my fingers around his hand, fighting the tears threatening to spill. Sucking in a deep breath, I move our hands lower on my pelvic bone. He jerks our hands back up to my navel. He hasn’t touched me sexually in over two weeks. Not that sex is everything but I need that physical connection. It helps me to forget if only for a moment.

  Romeo keeps pulling away from me. When he looks at me, I sense this uneasiness in his eyes. He thinks he hides it well, but he can’t hide from me.

  When I try to talk to him about it, he brushes me off, telling me it’s nothing. I know it is a lot more than nothing. He has always desired me, this much I know to be true, but does he still want me? I am not so sure anymore. Is sex all we ever really shared?

  I let out a frustrated sigh, wishing he’d just be straight with me. If he doesn’t want me here I will gladly take Colt and myself back to my dad’s place. Sleeping there alone is hard, knowing that when I wake up I won’t have Striker or my dad around. I even miss Sunshine and her shittastic cooking.


  Romeo’s breath blows gently against the nape of my neck. His lips warm and tender, grazing against my ear as he speaks, “I’m sorry. I want you, but I can’t.” He takes a deep breath inhaling loudly with a slight groan.

  Letting go of his hand, I roll away and turn to him. The room is dark, but the glow of the moonlight spilling through the window of his bedroom illuminates his face enough, I can see the anguish set in the hard lines of his face. He is hurting too. He carries his own pain after all that has happened. Things will never be the same for him either. He lost a son, granted he was never in his life as a father, but he has to be mourning for Striker by his own means as well.

  Running my fingers through his greying hair, I pull it gently to get him to open his eyes and look at me.

  “Just tell me why. What can I do? I hate this distance that seems to keep edging us further apart. I meant what I said—nothing has changed for me. The way I feel about you…” The words I LOVE YOU are stuck in my throat and I cannot say them. I don’t know why that is. I feel the emotions. I know what love is. I care about Romeo, but I know deep down things have changed and it is out of my control.

  “Baby, I don’t know. I just don’t. I can’t explain it. I love you and I want to worship you, but every time I try, I see his face. I see Striker lying in his casket, and it just feels wrong to have you in my bed when you were his wife. He is—was my son. You belonged to him, it isn’t right. You know it isn’t. I hate that I feel this way. I know I am hurting you and I can’t stop.”

  The thing is we never saw Striker in his casket. Foxie said he wanted to be cremated. His ashes rest in an urn by my bedside at my dad’s home. But I know what he means. I have imagined the same vision many times. Striker’s death shadows my heart daily.