Heart of a Rebel: Rebel Aces MC Part 1 Read online

  People referred to us as night and day. While I was full of color, Lana was the resident goth kid, as I loved to call her. Dark tattoos, dark hair, and usually dark clothing filled her ensemble.

  "Hush your face," I grumbled, my gaze shifting back to Ward, who was now talking with one of the other members. Lana just snickered as she hopped onto the stool next to me, which I would have considered a feat in her skin-tight leather leggings if I hadn't known what a pro she was at wearing things that clung to her like a second skin.

  "Seriously, every time you two look at each other it's like elephant in the room turns into some kind of sex gas that is eventually going to suffocate us all."

  I stared at her. "Sex gas?" Seriously, where did she come up with the things that came out of her mouth?

  "Sex gas. Quinnie, PBR, thank you kindly."

  Shaking my head, I grumbled something about her being a weird hipster before the motion of a dark figure approaching us got caught in my peripheral vision. Turning my head, I took one look at Ward coming towards me and my tan skin felt like it was on fire.

  Stupid body, always betraying me.

  "Leah."

  I licked my lips on instinct, and for a second, I caught his gaze shift down to my mouth and then snap back to look me in the eye again. "Ward. How are you?"

  He nodded, crossing his arms against his broad chest. "Good. Busy. You coming to the party tonight?"

  My stomach fluttered a little, but I kept it cool. "Yup. I'll be there."

  Cool as a cucumber.

  Ward nodded again. "Great." He looked at Lana, his lips curving up in a smirk. "I know you'll be there, I don't even have to ask."

  The lips my sister had painted with dark burgundy liquid lip curled up in a grin. "Obviously, Ward. There's free booze and I can crash here. I ain't missing that."

  "Of course. That’s the only reason."

  Oh, bingo. It was my turn to grin as my sister's smile faltered for a second before she squinted at him and gave him the finger. She was honestly one of the only people that could get away with doing that to the newly minted Aces President.

  Chuckling, Ward unfolded his arms, rapping his knuckles on the wooden bar top twice. "Right. See you two later." He turned to Quinn then. "Take it easy, Q. Give it a rest if you need it."

  Quinn just smiled and gave him a little salute. "Will do, boss man."

  I watched as he walked away, unable to take my eyes off of him. Fifteen years later and I still couldn't shake him. Ward Gibson was going to be the death of me.

  "Seriously, can you just fuck him already so he can get off my case?"

  With a swift movement, I spun around and slapped my sister right in the chest, causing her to yell and reflexively punch me in my left boob.

  No one ever said we were normal.

  CHAPTER 2

  WARD

  LEAH MARTINEZ WAS GOING to be the death of me.

  Given my position in the club, it seemed like I was facing tough situations every fucking week, and they were almost nothing for me. My father had always joked that I was made for this life. Growing up a club kid, the lifestyle of MC members was not only normal to me, but the only future I could see for myself. In my eyes, the club was the coolest thing in the world and, seeing as I idolized my father, I knew I would be following in his footsteps. I went into the army, like him, and there I faced things that I wouldn't ever want to relive. But I got through it. I looked every single situation in the eye and tackled it like it was nothing.

  But a five-foot-six, twenty-eight year old girl could bring me to my knees with just a look.

  When I was young, my father had given me the nickname Ward because of how serious I was, and also how strictly I stuck to the rules. If a rule or guideline was put in place somewhere, I not only followed, but I enforced it. Eight o'clock bedtime? I was finished washing up, in my PJ's, and tucked into bed by a quarter to. No running in the halls? You better believe no one was running when I was around. According to my dad, I even used to tell on him to my mother when he was sneaking cigarettes in the garage, which was where the nickname came to be. Ward, short for prison warden. It stuck, and most people thought it was my actual name. In fact, the only person that ever called me Simon was my mother.

  Not a lot rattled me. Even after my tour in Iraq, I was still known for being a hard-ass. Serious. Stoic, apparently. Often, I was told that I was hard to read, which I used to my advantage. It came in handy over the years with my various jobs within the club. My years as an enforcer had me frequenting the homes or businesses of those that had wronged the club in some way, mostly because of my ability to mask my true emotions and lead someone into a confession or to hand over information due to my natural intimidation tactics. It honestly wasn't even something I had to try - it was just my face.

  Which, according to the twin sister of the woman with the innate ability to get right under my skin, was my "resting bitch face".

  Correction: both those girls would be the death of me.

  Seated at the head of the massive wooden table where we held church, I took a minute away from the notes I was attempting to read to glance out of the open door. There she was, still sitting at the bar, engaged in an animated conversation with her sister and our bartender, wearing those fucking ripped jeans that I enjoyed way more than I should have, a sliver of olive skin showing on her back between the waistband of her pants and the tied short yellow top she was wearing. I realized after a moment that I was grinding my teeth as my gaze dragged along her body - a body that had no fucking business being as perfect as it was.

  She was a far cry from the little girl that had grown up next door to us in the house that my parents owned. Leah was always pretty, and I probably noticed way before I should have, morally speaking. But I had, and it had gotten me into a little trouble once she turned eighteen.

  Gone was the almost innocent, slender brunette she was before, identical only in looks to her twin sister, Lana. What now sat in the front lounge of the clubhouse was all woman. Bright, fire engine red hair hung down past her shoulder blades, having been that vibrant shade for years now. Her arms were covered in ink - flowers and birds interwoven in colorful detail on one arm, a slew of portraits and pop culture references artistically displayed on the other. What I knew well was that every piece meant something to her, whether it was an inside joke or a memory that she held close to her heart. And she was certainly someone that held onto things for sentimentality.

  Letting my mind go to this place was a bad idea. Every time I let it happen, my train of thought ran away from me and I found myself thinking about the night everything began. The night I succumbed to my weakness for her.

  It was late at night, and I couldn’t sleep. It had become a new problem for me over the last year or so; before that it had never been an issue. I used to be able to sleep like the dead. My mom had even said that, as a baby, I had slept through the night since the very beginning. I was the easy baby - my older sister, not so much. I was someone that needed a lot of sleep, so the fact that insomnia had decided to pop up really pissed me off.

  The entire house was dead quiet. My mom had taken Eddie to visit Kim in California, and while she was gone my dad was staying at the clubhouse so that he was around for when he was needed. The twins were asleep. As I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I let the eerie silence wash over me. It was unnerving.

  The silence reminded me of the nights overseas, towards the end. I’d been relatively lucky, not seeing much action until my last two years. And maybe because it was coupled with my anxieties involving what was going on at home, but it had been extra rough on me. I was unfocused. Maybe it was because I didn’t feel like I should be there anymore, and that guilt ate at me on top of the guilt that was already there. I was torn in two places, and that had almost gotten me killed.

  The worst attack came while we were sleeping. My therapist said that was what likely triggered my inability to fall asleep - I didn’t need to pay someone to tell me that, though
. I knew what was going on. I was constantly at the ready for something to go wrong.

  The murder next door had happened in the middle of the night. Nothing good came from the night.

  Out of nowhere, a sound came from downstairs. Immediately my heart jumped and I sat up so quickly my vision blurred. I was out of bed before the next creak of the old floorboards underneath the carpet. My body was jumping into action, at the ready to defend my camp. I got downstairs quickly, to surprise the enemy, rounding the corner into the kitchen...to find Leah standing in front of the fridge, a horrified look on her face.

  Realizing that I must look absolutely insane to her, widened eyes and panting, wearing nothing but gym shorts and boxers, ready to attack her for just trying to get a snack. “Fuck, Leah, you scared the shit out of me…”

  “I’m so sorry,” she rushed out, clutching her chest. “I didn’t realize… I couldn’t sleep, and I came down here…”

  Defenses lowered, I immediately went into damage control. “Shit, no, it’s okay.” I stepped closer to her without thinking, until I was way too close, realizing what she was wearing. All she had on was an oversized t-shirt. I didn’t know what else was on underneath, but that didn’t stop me from envisioning it. Fuck. She was only eighteen. I was twenty-two. She was living under the same roof. I couldn’t be thinking about her like this, so I shook my head and shook it off. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Closing the refrigerator door, Leah shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” Tilting her head, she looked up at me curiously, as if she were trying to study me. “You’re not, though...You look a mess.” Biting her lip, she stepped even closer. “Are you alright, Ward?”

  She was way too close for comfort. Actually, no. This was too comfortable, and I wanted to reach out to her to tug her close. So I did the opposite and stepped back. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing. You’re pale and you just almost attacked me in the kitchen.”

  I felt my face heat up in embarrassment, and a little bit of anger rise up from within. “I wasn’t going to hurt you,” I said, too quickly and too sharply.

  Instead of flinching, Leah moved closer. “Ward, I know that.” Reaching up, she touched my cheek, which was slowly starting to grow from stubble to beard the longer I refused to shave. “You’re sweating. Have you slept at all tonight?”

  I should have moved away. I should have ended this conversation and went back to my room, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Her touch felt so good. Her warm, sympathetic eyes were easy to get lost in. When I normally couldn’t stand anyone to touch me, the fact that her touch was comforting really stood out. What was it about her that got to me like she did?

  “I...no,” I finally admitted, but decided the best way to handle this was to deflect and turn it around on her. “Have you?”

  “Yeah, but I woke up…” The way her voice trailed off, I knew it was because she had a nightmare. I had heard my parents talking about the three kids having nightmares about what had happened to their parents. “It’s okay, though. But you.” Dropping her hand, I thought for a second I was in the clear but then she reached out to take mine. “You know I’m here for you, right, Ward?”

  Son of a bitch. That was like a stab through the heart. Her gentle voice, her soft skin. I wanted to take her into my room and keep her there to ease me into sleep, or at least to lessen my anxiousness and keep me calm. “I know,” I whispered, my voice harsh to my own ears. “And the same goes for you.”

  Squeezing my hand, she smiled softly. “I know.” Leah continued to stare up into my eyes, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. She was having the same thoughts as I was - maybe not as dirty because mine was going there without prompting. But she could feel it.

  The tension was thick between us, and you could hear both of our hearts pounding. I need to turn away. I need to leave…

  In the blink of an eye, my arms were around her and I had pulled her to my chest. She relaxed instantly against me, her arms wrapping around my bare waist, and I just knew that this was exactly what I needed. She was exactly what I needed.

  In the middle of my parent’s kitchen, in the middle of the night, with the only thing barely offering us light was the moon outside, I kissed Leah Martinez. Gently, sweetly, slowly at first. And she offered herself up to me in me, and it awoke something that had been lost inside me for a while. I felt this power, with this need to protect the soft-hearted, warm, caring little thing in my arms. And she did things to me...fucking hell, her kiss filled holes in me that I hadn’t even realized were there yet.

  And that was why, against my better judgment, I deepened the kiss. Why I buried my fingers in her dark hair and held her head at such an angle I could devour her in the way a woman like her should be devoured. But, hell, she wasn’t a woman yet, was she? She was eighteen. Legal age, I reminded myself. She wasn’t a young girl anymore, she was still on her way...but fuck me, she was already turning into the type of woman that I wanted more than my next breath.

  That was how I’d always saw her over the years, even once she blossomed and started to look older and my stupid crush on her reared its head. She was still a girl. Still too young.

  That wasn’t the case anymore, I told myself as I pulled her with me to the stairs, when I picked her up in a cradle and walked up the flight, my mouth still attached to hers. And when I pushed back into my room, closing the door behind us with my foot, and lowered her into my bed.

  I shouldn’t do this. But I need this. It wasn’t right. But she was. It was innocent, just kissing. Just comfort, that we both needed.

  We needed each other, and that was what we were going to get. Just for tonight.

  "Ay, motherfucker!"

  Snapping out of my haze of memories, I cursed myself for getting carried away once again. Looking up, I see as my best friend walked up towards the open doors. I chuckled low, shaking my head. Of course the man called Joker would never miss an opportunity to make an entrance.

  "Do you really have to be this obnoxious every time you enter a room?" I watched him from my seat as he sauntered into the room, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. "You better not fuckin’ light that in here."

  Joker snorted, making a show of plucking the cancer stick from his mouth and wiggling it between his two fingers before he shoved it behind his ear. "Shit, you've got that President's patch for a few weeks and suddenly you're a fuckin' stickler for health regulations?"

  My eyes rolled as he dragged out the chair two spaces from me on my right, heaving his body into it and slouching into his usual position. I pointed towards the bar. "Pregnant lady."

  "Ahh, right. Can't doom the child before the rest of the world has a chance to."

  I chuckled. "Right."

  Our conversation was interrupted as two of our brothers walked into the room; I didn't even need to look up to know it would be my VP, Tank, arriving early as always. Typically, he was flanked by at least one of two men - this time it was Bear, the club treasurer.

  "Pres, Joke." Tank nodded in our respective directions as he greeted us, pulling out the chair to my right. Bear heaved his massive frame into the chair directly in front of Joker.

  "I'm guessing the birthday boy will be fashionably late?"

  Bear spoke up. "He was just finishing up lunch with Ronnie, last text I got from him."

  Hawkeye walked in minutes before I was about to start the meeting, the men ringing out in a chorus of birthday greetings, some less friendly than others. As our secretary, he had taken the spot across from Tank, grinning like an idiot. His brother-in-law Bear being seated right next to him didn't stop the ribs from certain members about lunch quickies with his wife, much to Ronda's brothers' dismay.

  "Alright, alright," I commanded as I cracked the gavel against the antique oak wood we were all seated around. "First order of business, dues and collections. Bear?"

  "Right, I've got most everyone's dues except these assholes, who need to pay up by tonight.
" He rattled off a list of names of the men that still owed, which prompted a few to hand over their envelopes. Eventually he went into the collections of the last two weeks from our various businesses and folks that owed us money. Bear was the best man for the job - better him than me. He was a wiz with numbers and had an intricate system to keep track of the money that went in and out of the club. Outside of the Aces, the man co-ran a successful contracting business, and so The Aces had trusted him with our finances for years.

  "Where are we with the Mutts?"

  The mention of our rival club earned a few grumbles from the brothers around the room. The Reckless Hounds were another MC west inland from our small town. They had been a problem for decades, merely because of the area we occupied. Port Townsend was our territory. We were right on the water, so ideal for shipping out, but it proved to be a problem for anyone that didn't have ties to the club. For years we had gone to war with the Hounds - who were given the clever nickname the Mutts due to our strong dislike of them - and both sides had lost a few members because of it. They had even murdered our founding chapter President. Now it wasn't even about territory - we were all out for blood.

  Things had really ramped up in the last decade, and though we hadn’t had a problem in a while, this recent issue seemed to have them written all over it. There had been a string of robberies to our businesses within the last month that we were sure went back to the Hounds. Our last one was just the other night at our strip club, The Velvet Room.

  "Surveillance from Velvet came back with fuck all. These idiots were clever enough to mask their identities and fuck with the cameras." Joker was my Sergeant at Arms, so he was responsible for rules and looking over the safety of the club. As a former enforcer, he knew the ins and outs of dealing with threats and security - there wasn't anyone better for the job.