Chapter Ten
Rebel
“How long are we going to wait for something to happen?”
The only thing surprising about that question is that it hasn’t come from me. Beast is pacing at the end of the table where the rest of us are sitting.
The rain is coming down hard outside, beating against the windowpanes in a relentless rhythm.
I’m not the only one who walked in soaked to the bone. A pitfall of riding a bike over driving a cage.
Beast is dry because he has been going from the hospital to Elegance and the clubhouse, so has been using his.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Nero asks, sounding pissed at being questioned.
I’ve not had the same argument with him because something happened today, something he’s only mentioned in a separate text to me after he called church.
Through Blaze’s cloned phone, he intercepted a message. Kivisto contacted Wallen. It’s not a direct route to Storm, but Wallen is working between the two men, so it’s something. It might not satisfy Beast, or me, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“When it’s done, he’s mine.”
“Why?” Razer asks, his brow furrowed and eyes tracking Beast, who stops pacing and looks up at the question.
Nashville makes a little sound and taps the table, looking away. What the fuck is this all about? And do I care?
“He attacked one of my dancers.” Nero is looking at him now, too. “I’m pissed,” Beast waves a hand and takes his seat.
“Blaze,” Nero says, drawing all the attention away from Beast.
Except for Nashville, who is still studying him. He knows something. When I’m not all caught up in whatever this is, I might ask him what it is.
“Kivisto text Wallen this afternoon about what to do,” Blaze says. “He’s been hunkered down in the hotel for days now and is getting frustrated.”
“What did Wallen say?” Beast asks impatiently.
“Hold tight. I’ll set a meeting time and place soon.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Fury asks. “Is Storm meeting him or just Wallen?
“I won’t miss anything that comes in.”
Nero watches Blaze, his veins will be ninety percent caffeine by now. He won’t trust anyone with this job unless he’s forced to.
The sound of someone running up the stairs draws all our attention.
Fury is on his feet and drags the door open, his hand going toward his holster. It’s one of the brothers. He whispers something quietly to Fury, not looking at us, church isn’t a place for people not on the council. Fury frowns and thanks him.
“Tell her to wait.”
Tell who to wait? Fury closes the door and looks at Nero.
“A woman came in claiming to have seen someone outside. He says she’s that artist from the church?”
My head snaps up, and I push my chair back. As the VP, it makes sense for me to handle this so no one looks concerned by how quickly I get out of my seat and round the table.
There are a few brothers still here, the ones on rotation for guard duty tonight, and a couple extra because the council is all here.
Kinsley is standing in the center of the room, a puddle forming underneath her feet and her fists clenched inside the sleeves of her black coat. At the sound of our footsteps on the metal staircase, she lifts her chin and her eyes lock on mine.
I’ve spent the last three days throwing myself into chasing down leads, riding around the city, meeting up with my watchers and other contacts. And keeping on top of business. It can’t stop because of all this. We have a run coming up the next few weeks that we need to get ready for.
Storm is taking up too much of all our time. I’ve spent time with Blaze surveilling Kivisto. Finding out how low-level he is, and why he might have thought linking up with Storm would do him some good.
The fucking idiot has walked himself right into a whole heap more trouble than he realizes.
Anything to stop me thinking about her. Now here she is, watching every step I take as I draw closer to her. She smells like rain and fire, which confuses me until I notice the black, chalky stains on her fingertips. Charcoal from her art.
I caught a glimpse of the easels in a room off the living area the other night, but hadn’t been able to see what she was drawing.
It looks like fingerprint ink, working its way into the tiny grooves on the surface of her skin.
The front of her hair is wet, and now that I’m near her, there is a tremor in her shoulders, a slight tremble of her chin. She’s cold. I shouldn’t care, but I turn to a prospect.
“Get her a sweatshirt,” I order. He hurries away to do as I ask. “Take off that coat.” Her brow pinches. “Don’t argue with me, Kinsley.”
She sucks in her lower lip and looks like she is about to do that, but her discomfort gets the better of her. Flash returns with a sweatshirt from who knows where, and for a moment it bothers me she is about to pull on some other man’s clothes, but I brush it aside.
Kinsley tosses her wet coat over the back of a chair and pulls on the hoodie. It swamps her, and there is a Battlefield logo on the breast area, it’s one of Stryker’s. I curse under my breath but beckon her to follow me with a crook of my finger.
Surprisingly, she does. We walk to a table near the kitchen, and I wave for her to sit, she cocks a brow at me and remains standing.
“This won’t take long. I saw something outside. Someone,” she corrects.
A sick twist churns in my gut. If Storm was out there… he could have fucking hurt her.
“I thought he was one of your men, he was sitting on the wall by the church, hiding in the shadows watching this place.”
“What makes you think it wasn’t one of our men?”
“The logo on the back of his vest.”
That gets my full attention. She is no longer the woman from across the street who gets my blood pumping. It takes everything in me not to grab her arm and shake the information out of her.
There are no other MCs in Baltimore. Crash made sure of that a long time ago. This city is ours, and if another MC rolls through, they make contact first. Anyone who comes here without requesting permission is an enemy.
“Tell me about the patch,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“Get me a piece of paper and I can draw it.”
I click my fingers at Flash to get what she needs. He steps away again as I crowd closer to Kinsley. She gives me an impatient side-eye until Flash returns, then she gets to work drawing the patch. I don’t recognize it when she’s done.
“I couldn’t see the writing because it was too dark, but I made out one word. Sinners. What’s going on, Rebel?”
I don't answer.
“He was hanging outside my cousin’s church. It’s clearly got you rattled.”
“I don’t get rattled. How long ago did you see him?”
“Less than five minutes. I came straight over here.”
“Grab some men, spread out in the area, look for this,” I hold up the drawing. “If you find him, bring him here.”
The men go to do as I ask. Kinsley watches me, then her attention is taken by someone else. Nero comes to a stop next to me, I hand him the drawing. He doesn’t speak, just looks at Kinsley.
“You need to go home,” I tell her.
“Because it’s not safe?” She lifts that irritating brow again.
“Because if you don’t go willingly, we’ll make you.”
The tone of Nero’s voice leaves no room for argument, but I can see Kinsley gearing up for it. I step in front of Nero and take her upper arm, turning her away from my President.
Nero wants to protect her, but he has no patience for a woman arguing with him when there is potential danger outside.
Part of me wants to keep her here where it’s safe, but we can’t afford for her to hear anything she shouldn’t. She’s already seen too much.
“Rebel,” she tries to reason with me, but I’m not hearing it. “Can you at least let me get my coat?”
“Someone will bring it over tomorrow.”
I keep her behind me as I open the door. Two of the brothers are standing outside. For a moment I consider letting them take her over, but dismiss it. I need to make sure she goes back. Given the chance, she’d ignore my directives.
Which is why my eyes are everywhere, making sure there is no danger as I hurry her across the street, heading straight for the church doors.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
It’s still early enough that the doors are unlocked. We’re soaked by the time I guide her inside. There are low lights illuminating the aisle and the side walkways near the windows. Someone is near the altar and turns when she hears us coming, her eyes widening.
“Go get Father Eastwood,” I say, with no room for argument.
“You don’t need to boss her around,” Kinsley shrugs out of my grasp.
“I need to make sure you stay put.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
My silence makes her roll her eyes. She glances at the exit, then back to me, a different emotion crosses her face. Concern. For who? Me, the club, probably this place. I’m antsy to get back out there, to search for whoever this asshole is.
Kinsley bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from asking any more questions, she finally gets it. We’re drawn away from staring at each other by the priest hurrying from a side door.
“Nero told you a time might come when you need to be more vigilant,” I say before he can ask what’s wrong.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Lock up, keep her here.”
His frown becomes more pronounced. The family resemblance is that much stronger.
“Until we tell you otherwise. In the morning,” I add so he doesn’t start protesting about mass or some shit. “Don’t even think about leaving until then,” I say to Kinsley. “Pissing me off right now isn’t a good idea.”
The housekeeper woman tsks behind the priest, but I couldn’t give a damn.
Fortunately, Eastwood nods and takes a step closer to Kinsley. I turn to leave but pause when she calls out my name. Part of me is expecting her to tell me to be careful, but I should have known better.
“This is the one and only time you get to tell me what to do.”
“Kinsley,” Eastwood shakes his head, more in exasperation than concern.
Without another word, I head toward the doors. Unbidden, a smile creeps over my lips at her outright sass. I’ll never let her see it, and it vanishes as soon as I walk back out into the rain and watch my brothers getting on their bikes to search for the man in an unidentified MC cut.
Fury is one of them, the rage on his face as he speeds away is obvious.
Nero is back at the table with Blaze and Nashville. Everyone else has gone out looking. I rub a hand over my hair to push back the water dripping onto my face. It’s cold as shit, but I’m too angry to fucking worry about wet clothes.
“What do you know?” I ask Blaze.
The drawing of the patch Kinsley did is on the table beside his laptop, which he is furiously tapping away on. Blaze doesn’t answer and Nashville gives me a look that says he’s been like this since he was handed the image.
“I’ve got everyone reporting back,” Nashville breaks the silence. “So far, no one has seen anything.”
“No bike?” He shakes his head. “Did he come in a cage? He had to have a way to get out of here so fast.”
“Possibly,” Nashville muses.
“Likely,” Blaze says, leaning back.
Nero looks over his shoulder at the screen, and I move around the table to see too. Blaze has access to the city cameras, and on the cusp of the area we have been patrolling each night, we see him.
It’s still hard to see the full patch because of the light, but he gets into a car and pulls out like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.
“Why is he in a car?” Nashville muses, almost to himself.
“Plate?” Nero asks.
“Already checked, it’s stolen.”
“Fuck,” he straightens up and looks at me. “Any idea what club this is?”
“I’m working on it.” Blaze dips his chin at me. “This drawing helps.”
“He didn’t even try to hide it,” I shake my head. What the fuck is this?
We all stand silent for a moment, I’m sure they’re all thinking the same thing I am. If Kinsley hadn’t seen that man outside and come to warn us, we’d never know an unidentified MC has shown up.
“It’s got to be Storm,” Nashville says.
I nearly give a sarcastic response, but he’s just thinking out loud as we all try to get our heads around what this could mean. It’s Nero who finally voices it.
“That bastard has joined another MC. And he’s brought them into our city.”
“Just when you think shit couldn’t get any worse,” Nashville blows out a heavy sigh.
His phone rings, and he checks the display, then silences it. It’s probably Charley. His face gets tense, but club business comes before everything. I’m glad he still has his priorities in place.
“Fuck.”
“What?” Nero turns back to Blaze, and I take a step closer to look at the screen.
“Things didn’t get worse,” Blaze sits back and looks up at Nero. “They went nuclear.”