Chapter Twenty-One
Kinsley
“Was that Rebel?” I ask Raven when she comes back to the waiting area.
She doesn’t want to tell me this time. He’s texted a few times. I’ll never admit to her I’m scared for him too. He’s out there actively chasing those assholes.
I’m mad as hell at the whole situation and I’ll be demanding answers, but it’s worrying me he’s being reckless.
I had to leave Colt’s room to get some fucking peace from the constant murmuring about God’s will.
Colt isn’t out of the woods yet, but he’s stable, the doctors are happy with how things are going after his surgery, and his observations are good.
Praying over him isn’t helping him, the medical professionals are. They won’t be deterred, telling me it’s what Father Eastwood would want.
It pisses me off, but they’re right. It is what Colton would do in their shoes. So I allow it for him, not the annoying priests. They haven’t been that annoying, they’re not pushy or rude. I’m just getting stabby.
After the adrenaline wore off and the all-out terror of possibly losing him, anger seeped through.
“Have they found the people who did this?”
Raven shakes her head. “He didn’t say.”
“Of course he didn’t. We’re not in the boy’s club.”
“I think he will tell you more than me,” she grins.
“Damn right he will.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I know what’s coming.
“What is going on between you and my brother? It looks like you hate each other. Then the other day you left with him and he was being all possessive, like I’ve seen some of the other guys do with their women.”
“I’ve never hated him.” I skip over that last part, not daring to let my head go in that direction.
Dana said Raven hates her friends trying to sleep with her brother. We’re not close friends, but she has been there for me and I trust her.
“My brother is difficult,” she says after I stall. “He is stubborn and single-minded, and he doesn’t have much patience.”
All things I know. Her look tells me she has seen that.
“He cares. He’ll never admit it, despite his overbearing bullshit, it’s to protect those he cares about.”
“Are you trying to convince me of something?” I arch a brow.
“Maybe,” she smiles. “Some of my friends thought they’d be the one he wife’d up.”
“That is not what this is. I’m not like that and I don’t have any plans to change how he is.”
She angles toward me. “See, this is why I know it’s different with you. My brother thinks I’m oblivious. I saw it the first night you met. It was like an enemy to lovers story was unfolding right in front of me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Remind me to lend you a book some time.”
“You associate a lot of real life situations with books.”
“A lot of books are grounded in reality.”
“If you say so. Don’t go getting ideas. I’m still going back to LA. Or,” I glance at Colt’s room. “I was.”
“He’ll be okay.”
All I can do is nod. Until Colt wakes up and tells me he is okay, I will not believe anyone. I yawn and my jaw cracks it’s so big. I’m exhausted.
There has to be somewhere I can catch a nap, maybe if I get those droning priests to leave, I can push two chairs together.
All thought leaves my head when I see Rebel striding toward me.
His face is saying to everyone, ‘don’t even try to talk to me.
’ His eyes lock on me. He doesn’t even acknowledge his sister when he towers over me, taking in every part of me, assessing and calculating how he is going to make his next move.
Raven squeezes my knee and walks away. She knew he was coming now and didn’t tell me. Just as well, it would have given me too much time to put my guard up. As it is, that doesn't happen. His presence makes the tension leave my body.
“You need to rest.” He takes my hand and pulls me up. “Don’t argue with me. Eat, sleep, and then you can come back.”
Rebel looks over my shoulder at the priests, annoyance clear on his face.
That makes me like him even more, maybe he can kick them out so I can get that nap.
That isn’t what he does. He goes into the room, completely ignores everyone, and grabs my jacket.
It’s stiff with Colt’s blood, so I didn’t want to put it back on, I’ll probably throw it away.
“Let’s go.”
“What?” I dig my heels in. “I'm not leaving.”
“We’re going to my place. I’ll bring you back tomorrow. He’s in expert hands and…” he looks at the priests again. “Words.”
I snort a laugh. I can’t help it, I’m so tired.
After a quick word with the nurse and making sure they have my contact details, I agree to leave with Rebel. It’s a good job he has a car because I’m too tired to hold on to him on a bike.
The exhaustion is already pulling me under as he drives us away. Guilt gnaws at me, but Colton would agree. I’m no good to anyone if I make myself sick.
I walk into Rebel’s loft, awed at the place. It never crossed my mind how much money the members of the MC make, because I don’t want to know how they make it. His place is beautiful, an industrial look to it, very manly, with exposed brick and steel beams.
The furniture is simple, just enough for what you would need, a couch, coffee table, dining table, and a desk under the large windows in the ceiling.
I can see the stars up there. A staircase leads up to a half-floor above, where I presume the bedrooms and bathroom are.
There are no other rooms down here, just a wide open space, split only by a kitchen island at the far end of the room.
I follow Rebel inside, he locks the door and re-sets the alarm. We head to the kitchen, and he grabs two bottles of water, then points at a bag beside the island.
“Patrick brought some things from your place. The cops won’t let you in there for a few days.”
“Thanks. Do you know what happened with Marisol?”
I know she’s dead. I didn’t want to think about her until after Colt was out of surgery, and then it was too difficult, so I shut it out of my head.
Rebel watches me closely for any sign I can’t handle what he is going to say.
“Patrick talked to her family. They don’t want to talk to us.”
“That’s understandable,” I swallow some of the water and watch him leaning against the counter. I’ve never met them before but Patrick will know how I can make contact. Even if its only on Colt's behalf while he is unable to do it himself. He would want that.
Rebel looks tired but somehow that makes him more attractive. Not that I intend on jumping him, we have a lot to talk about before we go back to that.
No matter how tired, or pissed, or wanting to boss me around he is, there is something undeniably attractive about Rebel, not just his body and face.
Raven is right, he is possessive but protective. He cares. And so do I.
He’s guarded, unsure which way I’m taking this whole situation and his involvement in what happened.
What he doesn’t realize is, I don't blame him. He wasn’t the one firing the gun.
I should be concerned it isn’t getting to me but I know what goes on in the world isn’t always roses and fucking rainbows.
“Have you found them?” I ask.
“We have.”
“Are they dead?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to kill them?”
He pauses, studying my face. There is nothing but determination and anger. I’ve had a long time to think about it. If they could drive by and shoot an innocent woman and a priest, they deserve what’s coming to them. You walk into that life, you accept you may go out according to that life.
“You need to shower and eat, then get some sleep.”
“We’ve talked about your issues with killing people.”
“You’ve had a rough couple of days-”
“If it helps you answer the damn question, I want you to fucking kill them. My cousin is in a coma, a good woman lost her life, they deserve to die.”
He doesn’t speak, just pushes off the counter and walks toward me. I’m not backing down on this. Marisol didn’t deserve that. In time, I’ll cry for her, the anger is too close to the surface. I haven’t cried since they drove Colt away, not knowing if he would make it.
“We’re handling it.”
“If you want me to relax and rest, be straight with me.”
“Kinsley,” he takes my shoulders and backs me into the wall.
“If it gets you to do as you’re told, then yes, they’re going to die, and I will be there when they do.
And before you ask,” he pushes my chin up, closing my mouth before I can argue.
“No, you cannot be there. You might think you can handle it, but you can’t.
The life I lead,” he presses up closer to me. “Isn’t something I want for you.”
“What do you want for me?” I throw back.
His expression is torn, the fire burning in his eyes is hard to read, but the longer we stare, the more it softens to concern. I’m not sure I need that Rebel now, but when he strokes my jaw and pushes his hand into the back of my hair, my eyes drift shut, and my forehead falls on his chest.
Tiredness sweeps over me, and my arms drop to my sides. Without a word, Rebel picks me up and carries me upstairs. The light from the hallway and the stars illuminate the room.
I’m not so far gone I can’t get my clothes off, but he helps, respectful and mumbling about whether to feed me before I sleep. It’s decided for him when I snuggle down into the comfortable mattress. Inhaling his familiar scent on the pillow, I curl into a ball.
The last thing I remember is him pulling up the covers and gently kissing my forehead.
At some point in the night, I thought he got into bed and lay close behind me, but when I wake to bright sunlight, I’m alone and the other side of the bed is cold.
There is a towel on the chair beside the bed for me. The bathroom is another surprise with the glass enclosure and black tiles. Why do I have this idea of bikers living in shit holes?
The shower is perfect and I smell like Rebel when I step out to dry myself. A knock at the door startles me, but I call out for him to come in once the towel is wrapped around me.
Rebel is wearing dark sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt, he’s holding a mug of coffee, the scent of which makes me weak at the knees.