SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club (9 page)

“What the fuck? Why? Why did she come to your —,” he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes squinting at me.  “Of course she did.”

“Well, honestly, Harley, she didn’t actually come to my house.  I took her there.  The other day.”

He stood up, his eyes thundering with anger.

“What the fuck, Mason?”  he came towards me, his fists balling up at his side.

I stood up quickly, squaring off against him, but determined to finish this conversation without anyone spilling any blood.

“Wait! Listen to me, Harley,” I explained as quickly as I could as he fumed in front of me.  “It was my idea.  But not for the reason you think, man!  I saw her sitting at the bus stop the other day after she left, and I felt sorry for her.  I know you would have taken her in if you hadn’t…if you hadn’t…you know, seen us.  And I felt like it was all my fault, and I just went to talk to her, to offer her a ride to Missy’s.  But then she told me she lied about Missy!  Harley, she’s been on the streets for a fucking year, man!  That’s no life for a nineteen year old girl, no matter how much street sense she has.”

I took a deep breath before continuing, and I was thankful I wasn’t spitting out my teeth just yet.  Harley was listening, watching me carefully, and hanging on my every word.

“So, I couldn’t just let her go back to the streets.  And you were so pissed at her that day.  I came to tell you yesterday, but you were still pissed, and I chickened out.  I’m sorry, but listen, Harley, I swear I haven’t touched her.  Again, I mean.  I was just giving her a safe place to stay until you cooled off.”

Okay, so I had kissed her, but he didn’t need to know that.  I liked having teeth.  It made it much easier to consume the steak I loved so much.

“Motherfucker!”  Harley yelled, turning away from me, the threat of violence having passed.

“I know.  It’s fucked up.  The whole situation is fucked up.  And what’s even worse is that the fucking foster parents she was staying with were even more fucked up. The poor kid has been deserted and abused by everyone that was supposed to take care of her.  And I just couldn’t let her go back on the streets, Harley.  I hope you understand.  But what Rebel needs most is to be with you.”

“Be with me? Are you fucking kidding? Did you forget who I am?  Who we are, Mason?  Sure, the streets are fucking rough, but we run a goddamned MC, Mason!  We aren’t exactly the most wholesome environment for a kid.”

“I know, I know, Harley.  But I think she can handle it.  She’s certainly not a kid anymore.”

I shouldn’t have said that last part, because he turned to me, his eyes flashing with even more anger as he yelled at me.

“You fucking asshole.  Did you have such a good time fucking her that you feel the need to save her now?  Was her pussy that good, Mason?  I guess you have first hand knowledge that she’s not a kid anymore, don’t you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Harley!  No!  That’s not what I meant.  I just meant she’s been through fucking hell and back, and she’s survived.  I think she can probably handle being around the club without being too fragile.”

“Yeah, sure you did, Mason.”

“Harley, what the fuck? C’mon, man.  I said I hadn’t touched her.”

“You said you hadn’t touched her again, Mason.  Again.  You fucked her.  You think I’m going to forget that?”

“No, I don’t.  And I’m not forgetting it either, and neither is she, which is why you need to get her the fuck outta my house before things get way outta control, Harley!  For fuck’s sake!”

I had had enough of this conversation, and I was bordering on  crossing an unspoken boundary of respect that Harley’s position demanded.  

As far as I was concerned, my job here today was done.  I had told Harley where Rebel was, and if he decided to do the right thing, then he knew where to find her.  

If not, then he could just deal with the consequences.

And for fuck’s sake, I hoped like hell he came to his senses.  If I had to spend another night in the same house with Rebel, my cock was going to override my mind, and I would be dealing with some serious consequences of my own.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

I think I broke a knuckle or two after Mason left.  I knew he was just trying to watch out for Rebel, but why the fuck did he feel the need to take her to his house?

A good motel would have worked just as well.

What a fucking mess this entire situation was.  It would have been nice to have some perspective from my parents, but they were locked away so tightly that I couldn’t get to them. I only had a chance to visit with them rarely, as they both seemed to be frequent visitors to solitary confinement in the pen.  I wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t turned out to be model prisoners.

No, there would be no help from them, or anyone, for that matter.  It was all up to me.  And Mason.  Mason, always sticking his nose in shit that had nothing to do with him.  Mason, with his stupid big heart, always trying to help out the people less fortunate than him.

Mason was the type of guy to volunteer feeding the homeless, and then go out that night and beat a rival gang member senseless.  He was the guy who would pull his bike over on the freeway on the way to a meeting with a drug cartel to help some stranded woman with a broken down car.  Or, the type to give all his money that he just earned in a gun sale to a homeless woman he passed on the street on his way home.  He had learned all of these things from his ever-present, perfect father, Teddy.  When Teddy died, and Mason couldn't save him, he made it his mission in life to save anyone he ran across that needed salvation.

He was always trying to save everyone, but this time, he had gone too far.  At this point, he was going to need saving himself.

She was my fucking little sister, for fuck’s sake!  What the hell was he thinking?  Did he think I was going to thank him?

I groaned, my knuckles swollen from yesterday, and my wall caving in as I punched it again and again.  And just like yesterday, the pain felt good, but it was not distracting me at all from the situation I had to deal with.

What timing Rebel had.  Not that any time was good, but we had a serious situation to deal with on Friday, and the last thing I needed was Rebel hanging around and getting in the way, or worse, hurt somehow.

This was not a safe place for her.  

Sure, I could easily give her more money, set her up in a place, but what would that teach her?  That she didn’t have to work for anything and big brother would bail her out?  That was bullshit, and I wasn’t about to do that.

I sat for hours, staring at the wall, nursing my busted knuckles, trying to drink myself to some sort of solution.  The best I could come up with was to remove Rebel from Mason’s house, take her to my house, lock her in, and help her get a job and then find a place.

If I could get her to stay at my house, and not the clubhouse, she might be safe.  If she followed my rules, that is.  Which I doubted she would do.

But what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn’t at least try?  Mason wasn’t the only one with a big heart, he was just better at showing that shit than I was.  It wasn’t that I didn’t care about Rebel, I just didn’t know what the fuck to do with her.

But I had to try.  For her sake.  For my parent’s sake.  Fuck, for my own sake.  I hadn’t been able to sleep for days thinking about her, and now that I knew she had been at Mason’s, probably cock-teasing him mercilessly, I knew I had to do something.

Fuck!  I threw my bottle of whiskey at the door, the pieces shattering on the floor and the smell filling the room.

Five minutes later, I was flying down Central Expressway on my way to Mason’s house.  When I got there, Rebel was sitting on the front porch and Mason wasn’t home.  She seemed surprised to see me.

“Harley!”  She ran up to me, threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

“Hey, Rebel.”  I was not in the mood to be nice, I just wanted to get her the fuck out of there and get her back to my place as quickly as possible.  

“Get your shit.”

“What?  Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes big and wide with confusion.

“To my house. Go. Now.”  I was not breaking a smile, no matter how sweet she tried to be.

“Really, Harley? That’s so awesome, thank you so much!”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me about Missy, and you shouldn’t have come home with Mason.”  I said sternly.

“I know.  I’m so sorry, Harley.  I just…I don’t know why I lied.”

“Whatever.  It’s over now.  Just go get your shit and let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, you got it, thank you again!”  She bounced into Mason’s house just as my cell phone rang.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“It’s Mason.”

“Yeah, I know. What is it?” 

“Look, man, I’m sorry about earlier, but that’s not why I’m calling.  Johnny called. Says there been a change, but he won’t tell me about it over the phone, insists that you meet him at the graveyard.”

“Fuck. Alright. When?”  This was important.  Johnny was the leader of El Loco Gatos, the Mexican gang based out of Oak Cliff that was doing the deal with the Garcia cartel.  He was a friend, and we had agreed a long time ago that Dallas would be a much more peaceful place if we worked together, instead of against each other.  We trusted and respected each other.  Which is why he told me about being approached by the cartel.

“Right now.  Says he won’t meet with anyone but you.  Are you free?”

“Not exactly. Goddammit.”  The Western Heights Cemetery was an old decrepit graveyard in Oak Cliff that was the same place Clyde Barrow, of Bonnie and Clyde fame, was buried.  Nobody would ever bury another body in that run down, abandoned place, and it was a great place for meetings to take place.

“Alright, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know,” Mason replied.

“Cool. Oh, and Mason? I’ve got Rebel.  I’m at your house right now, picking her up."

“Oh. You do?” Don’t sound so shocked, motherfucker, I thought to myself.

“Yeah. I’m gonna take her to my house and drop her off.”

“Um, okay, cool, cool.  That’s great.  Thanks, Harley.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll meet you at the clubhouse after the meeting and let you know what’s up.”

“Okay, see you there, boss.”

I hung up without another word, wondering what was taking Rebel so long.  Taking her to my house, then driving back to Oak Cliff was going to be a bitch in rush hour traffic, and I wasn’t sure I had enough time to do it to meet Johnny in time.  Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t spent so much time staring at the wall and trying to figure out what to do.

“Hurry the fuck UP, Rebel!”  I screamed to the back of the house as I walked in.  

Looking around, it was obvious Rebel had been cleaning while she was there. Mason’s house had never been so tidy.  

She called from the back room that she was almost done, but it still took her another ten minutes to get out.  By the time we were on the back of my bike and roaring down the road, I was out of time.

Goddammit, there was no way I could take her home first.  I would just have to take her with me, because there was absolutely no chance I could miss this meeting.

I turned the bike around, getting on the freeway and heading towards Oak Cliff.  One of the oldest neighborhoods in Dallas, Oak Cliff was part Mexican ghetto, part old mansions once owned by old money, now inhabited by yuppies who had done their best to gentrify it.  Most people in Dallas had a love/hate relationship with it, and I was no different.