Page 33 of Rebellious

“A man named Mickey.”

Christopher knew a man named Mickey. If it was the same motherfucker, and Rebel and Jana weren’t fucking laid up in the hospital, he’d accuse Mickey of overdosing Tabitha. That cunt still had no excuse for entertaining another man after demanding Diesel remain married to her. Especially if that other man was the president of a club Christopher didn’t trust and had an uneasy peace agreement with. The same club he suspected of being a Scorpion shadow club. Anger surged into him, even before he received confirmation. Tabitha was a scheming cunt and scheming cunts always had fucking game. “He wore a cut?”

“I’ve only seen him on a few occasions.”

“Ain’t asked you that. Answer my fuckin’ question.”

“He did,” Nivins said hesitantly, “but it didn’t have Death Dwellers patches.”

“Lemme guess,” Christopher snarled, staring at that dead bitch and wondering if she’d played him and Bash or if Bash was in on that cunt’s games. “Mickey’s cut had Noxious Gnome rockers.”

“Fuck,” Mortician said.

Nivins widened his eyes and nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Just a lucky fuckin’ guess,” Christopher said, refusing to go into detail with a civilian. “Tell me when that motherfucker first started comin’ around and what fuckin’ time you got the call that this cunt was dead. Start from the fuckin’ beginnin’ and don’t leave nothin’ out.”

Instead of slipping away to kill Tabitha, Diesel should’ve waited for Uncle Christopher and Aunt Meggie to arrive. Now that Tabitha was dead and some of Diesel’s fury had abated, he thought about the peace agreement so contingent on whether he cooperated with her demands. If Bash ever found out Diesel killed that cunt, he’d be in deep shit.

Hopefully, when they discovered Tabitha’s body, her death would be chalked up to a sad coincidence rather than what it was: hatred and revenge. After leaving the condo, he returned to the club to dispose of those three fuckheads, then he’d showered, anxious to see Rebel.

When he arrived back at the hospital, Diesel only wanted to see Rebel. Anxious, he stepped off the elevator and walked to the sitting area right outside the club’s special wing.

“Diesel!” Axel shouted, barreling to him in a blur of motion and throwing his arms around Diesel’s waist. He buried his face against Diesel and wept. “They tried to take Reb from us again.”

Nausea twisted in Diesel’s gut, but he shoved it aside, lifted Axel into his arms and urged the little boy’s head onto his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay, Ax.”

Axel sniffled. “That’s what Mom said, too.”

The usual cast waited. Torrin leaned against a wall, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, when he’d helped Diesel obtain the drugs needed to kill Tabitha. Narci lounged in a chair, after he’d supplied the drugs to kill that cunt. Bishop, Huck, Pike, Seven, Zephyr, Kenny, Potter, Bowlie, House, Burger…other members…were pacing. Leaning against walls. Sitting in chairs.

But not the officers or the cousins or the aunts. Not Easton.

He wanted to know their whereabouts, but he wanted to see Rebel more than anything else in the world. He was the reason she was there. He should’ve taken more precautions to protect her.

Guilt almost brought him to his knees, then he remembered: Jana. That cunt was culpable too. He could forgive her anything except this. She’d endangered Rebel, and he hated her. He’d fucking believed she thought enough of Rebel to control herself. He’d fucking believed she wanted that motherfucking tennis bracelet so she wouldn’t feel lesser. He might watch her choke on it.

He’d known Jana sold pussy, ass, and mouth for drugs. She had no allegiance if it meant a hit. Not to him and not to herself. Apparently, not to Rebel or to his family either.

He shouldn’t have hidden Jana’s addiction. Fuck no! He should’ve put that bitch in rehab. Or put her out of her fucking misery with a bullet between the eyes.

“Diesel?”

CJ’s hoarse voice brought Diesel back from the edge of finding Jana and strangling her. A bullet was too fucking impersonal.

Little hands clapped his cheeks and Diesel blinked, meeting Axel’s concerned gaze.

“You’re red and your skin is hot. You got fevers?”

“No, Ax,” Diesel said gruffly, wondering how everything went so far off the fucking rails.

CJ clasped Diesel’s shoulder. “Rebel’s a fighter, Diesel. She’ll be home tomorrow or the next day.”

The calm words unleashed Diesel’s rage.

“They were grown men!” he roared. “She shouldn’t have fucking fought. What the fuck is wrong with her? She thinks she’s Supergirl, able to beat any motherfucker. Well, she fucking can’t. They could’ve fucking killed her.”

Swallowing, CJ nodded, his eyes watering and his nose reddening, shaken more than he admitted. “If she hadn’t fought, they would’ve kidnapped Jana—”