Rebel Rising: A Rebel Storm MC Romance Page 2

  She says to the nurse, “We used to know each other. We grew up together.”

  I don’t know what to say to her. I thought I would never see her again. She looks the same as she did when I left. How long ago was that? I was nineteen. She was eighteen. I look at the name tag on her white coat. Dr. Bell. “Holy shit,” I say. “You’re a doctor?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” she says. “I’m a resident. This is my second year.” She looks at my jacket draped over the chair, slowly taking in the patches. “You’re… a biker?”

  I shrug. “I’m a motorcycle enthusiast.”

  Road Dawg laughs.

  “Yeah, honey. We’re bikers.” He grabs the nurse around the waist and pulls her close to him as she giggles. “If you ladies want to go for a ride after you stitch up Big D here we can definitely make that happen.”

  “Big D?” Jess asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

  I shrug. “It’s what my friends call me now.” I look at her nametag again. Dr. Bell. “Wow. You really did it.” I turn to Road Dawg. “Ever since we were kids, she’s been saying she would be a doctor.” I turn back to her in time to catch her looking at my arms. “That’s so cool you actually did it. I think you’re probably the only one from the old neighborhood who actually made something out of themselves.”

  “Well,” she says. “I still have to make it through residency before I’m a full-fledged doctor, but thank you.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

  Road Dawg butts in. “The way you two are looking at each other I’m thinking there was a little something-something between you. Am I right?”

  “He was my first boyfriend,” Jess says.

  “Holy shit!” Road Dawg says. “You’re kidding me. How long have I known you D? Five years? I never known you to date the same girl for more than a week much less have them call you their boyfriend.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I say.

  “Yes, it was,” Jess says. She points at my wound. “What happened here?” Her fingers brush against my bare chest as she takes the bandage off.

  “It’s no big deal,” I say. “Just a disagreement.”

  Road Dawg says, “Yeah, a disagreement on how flat the other dude’s nose should be.”

  Jess’ face is all concentration as she studies the gash. I hold back a grin. “Somebody slashed me with a broken bottle.”

  “It’s pretty deep she says. You definitely need stitches.”

  She touches my swollen eye and I pull back. “That one doesn’t need stitches,” she says.

  Road Dawg flirts with the nurse while Jess washes the cut across my pec. She’s close enough that I can smell her hair. It’s not the same as it used to be but it’s nice—lavender I think. Not like the girls I’m used to smelling—stripper perfume and cigarettes.

  “I’m going to numb it with lidocaine,” she says. “It’ll hurt a little.”

  I don’t move as she sticks me with the needle. “How are your parents?” I ask.

  “They’re good. Dad finally retired. After…” She glances up at me, then quickly looks away to the tray of tools next to us. “…after everything happened, he lost himself in his job but he’s in a much better place now.” She looks into my eyes again. I can tell she wants to ask me more. She probably wants to know what I’ve been doing since… well, since everything happened.

  But she doesn’t.

  She starts sewing the cut, her hands moving fast and making neat little stitches in my skin.

  When she finishes, she says, “Okay. You’re all set. In seven to ten days you’ll need to come back to have them removed.”

  The nurse says, “But, you know, you could come back in two days for a wound check.”

  Jess gives her a look. I remember that look. It’s her stop fucking around look. She says, “Theoretically you could come in for a wound check but you don’t need to.”

  “I think I’ll be okay,” I say. She’s writing something on my chart. I can’t help staring at her body. Even in the unflattering scrubs her ass is just as nice as I remember it. My cock starts to stiffen against my jeans. We never had sex when we were together. We almost did. We were about to before everything went to shit.

  She stops writing and looks at me. “It’s really good to see you Dylan. I’m glad you’re okay. I didn’t know what happened to you.”

  I know I probably hurt her by leaving like I did. But I had to. I had to leave. I missed her like crazy, too. And seeing her now makes me remember how bad I wanted her before.

  “It’s good to see you too,” I say.

  “Do you have any questions?” She asks.

  I have a million. What has she been up to? Does she have a boyfriend? Does she miss me? What does she look like naked? Does she want to fuck?

  But I shake my head no. “Seems pretty straightforward. Come back in a week or so to get the stitches removed. Are you going to be the one to take them out?”

  “If I’m here, I’ll do it. Depends on the schedule. Actually, I’m here most of the time so there’s a good chance.”

  The nurse says, “You could call ahead and make sure.”

  Jess gives her that look again before turning back to me. She touches my arm. “It’s good to see you Dylan. Really.”

  I resist the urge to grab her hand. Pull her to me. Wrap my arms around her.

  “You too Jess. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Maybe,” she says. “After you get dressed, you can see the person at the front desk to give your insurance information.”

  3

  Jess

  “Holy shit!” Madison says once we’re out of earshot. “He is seriously hot! He used to be your boyfriend?”

  I give a forced smile. “He’s definitely hot. He has a lot more tattoos now though.”

  “What? You don’t like tattoos?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. I’ve never thought about it I guess. His are kinda hot.” I grin. “I just meant that he didn’t used to have them when I knew him.”

  “How old were you when you guys dated?”

  I think for a moment. “I was eighteen. He was nineteen. It was my senior year of high school. I wouldn’t even really call what we did dating, anyway.”

  Madison laughs. “More like friends with benefits?”

  I shake my head. “Not exactly. We never slept together. It was just a teenage fling that didn’t last long. He was best friends with my brother. Nobody knew about us. We kept it a secret because… well, it’s complicated.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother?”

  I swallow hard. This isn’t a part of my life I talk about with most people. With anyone really. Madison is a good friend though and I don’t mind letting her in. “He passed away.”

  “Oh my God, Jess. I’m so sorry.” Her forehead wrinkles and she starts to say something then stops. Maybe looking for words. There’s never anything good to say in these situations.

  “It’s okay. It was a while ago. He was a good guy. His name was Matt.” That’s more than I’ve told anyone about Matt in a long time. “Dylan was a good friend to him. He probably wouldn’t have cared that we were together. Looking back, I don’t even know why we hid it from everyone. I guess it was exciting having a secret only we knew about.”

  One of the techs comes over to us. He says, “There’s a motorcycle guy at the front desk asking for you.”

  Madison’s eyes come alive. “Why don’t you get his number,” she says. “You guys probably have some catching up to do.”

  The way he left things I’m not sure if I want to catch up with him or strangle him. “Maybe. I mean, he’s changed probably. He’s in a biker gang or something. That guy he’s with looks like he’s probably been in prison.”

  “Who cares?” Madison says.

  I go to the front of the hospital. The waiting room is packed with people. Dylan is there, looking around. He is pretty damn sexy.

  “Hey,” I say. “You need something?”

  “Yeah, yo
ur number.” He grins.

  “My number?”

  “You know? Your phone number?”

  “Yeah, I got it. But why?”

  His face is all confidence. “I thought we could get together. Have a drink. Catch up.”

  The way he’s looking at me, all sweet and carefree—I don’t know why but it pisses me off. I snap at him. “You know you could have called me? Let me know you were okay.”

  His face darkens; for just a moment I see the confidence leave. But then just as fast as it left, it’s back. “You’re right. I was an asshole. I’m still an asshole. But you look like you could use a little time away from here.”

  God, he’s right about that. This place is like a death march. The reason they call it residency is the residents used to actually live in the hospital. And in the seventies, the residents would all be doing cocaine to stay awake. Nowadays, there’s restrictions on how many hours you’re allowed to work but that just means they schedule you for a certain amount of hours to stay within regulations and if you don’t go above and beyond what’s asked… well, it doesn’t look good.

  “When I’m not here,” I say, “I’m usually studying. I have to take boards and you know how bad I am with tests.”

  “You’re the smartest person I ever met,” he says. “You’ll ace whatever test they put in front of you.”

  I can feel my face turning red and I look down at the ground. There’s the blood on my shoes from earlier. The kid with the gun shot. I look back at him. “I’ll give you my number, but really, I’m super busy so if you call and I don’t pick up, don’t be offended.”

  He holds his hands out. “Hey, I’m busy too.”

  I touch the ‘Outlaw’ patch on his jacket. “Busy being an outlaw?”

  He shrugs. “Amongst other things.”

  I see Webber coming towards us. “Okay, Mr. Riley,” I say. “We’ll see you in a week to take those stitches out.” I reach into my pocket and jot down my number on a prescription pad then tear it off and give it to him.”

  He grins and when he takes it from me he gives my hand a squeeze. My pulse jumps at the familiar touch. His hands are rougher now, but I still remember that touch.

  “Thanks doc,” he says.

  Webber says to me, “There’s a bowel disimpaction in room five. Can you take care of that Jessica?”

  I turn to her. “Sure thing.”

  She smiles at me. “Thank you,” she says, then scurries off.

  Oh, the glamorous life of an ER resident.

  When I turn back to Dylan, he’s already almost out the door. I hear his friend’s motorcycle start up. Then a few moments later the other comes to life, and the two roar out of the parking lot.

  Could he really be in a motorcycle gang? What does that mean even? Is he a criminal? Do I care? It’s not like I have to pick up the phone if he calls. It’s entirely possible I’ll never see him again. He does have a habit of just disappearing.

  But what if he does call?

  I haven’t been laid in how long? I have to rack my brain for a moment to even remember. And when I do I instantly wish I hadn’t. It was lack-luster to say the least. My last year of med-school. He was a first year surgical resident, completely full of himself, and a terrible lay.

  Maybe a one-night stand wouldn’t be so bad. A girl’s got to have a little stress-relief after all. Sex with a hot biker could be just what the doctor ordered.

  4

  Dylan

  We’re on the freeway, headed back to the clubhouse, riding side by side. We need to tell everyone what happened at the bar and figure out what the fuck we’re going to do about it. This kind of aggression can’t go unchecked. You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.

  But I can’t help thinking about Jess. That was unexpected. I thought I would probably never see her again. After Matt died, and I left town, I was positive I would never see her again. I couldn’t. Now that I think about it, the last time I saw her was in a hospital. When we found out he didn’t make it. That some asshole had ended his life with one squeeze of the trigger. His dad wanted to fucking kill me. He blamed me for whatever Matt was into. Maybe he was right. But the truth is the reason I wasn’t with him when he got shot is I was with Jess.

  But all that’s history. We get off the freeway. I’m staying tight to Road Dawg. My head’s on a swivel. The Crushers could try to hit us again. Pre-emptive strike. Those fucks would do anything. They don’t follow any kind of code.

  The VP stops at a light, pulls up next to a red convertible. I stop next to him. There’s two girls in it. They both look at us then start giggling to each other. Road Dawg revs his motor and the girls cut glances at us. On another day we might get them to pull over, convince them to come back to the club house. But we have more important business today.

  The light turns green and we gun our bikes, leaving the girls behind.

  It’s so cool that Jess is a doctor now. And she’s just as pretty as she used to be. Even in her baggy hospital uniform I could tell she’s in shape. Fuck. We spent so many nights sneaking out of the house, making out. Me trying to get into her panties, her telling me not yet. I wanted her so fucking bad. Who knows how things would have turned out between us. I know one thing is for sure: I’ve never felt that way about a girl since; and I never will again.

  We pull into the parking lot of the club house and roll around to the back. Before we go inside, Road Dawg stops me. “Let me do the talking, okay?” he says.

  “You’re the Vice President,” I say.

  When we get inside, there’s a few guys hanging around with some strippers. Candy sees me come in and starts to come over but I give her a look and she thinks better of it. I banged her a couple times a few months ago and ever since she’s been trying to be my old lady or something. It ain’t gonna happen; she just hasn’t gotten it through her thick head yet.

  “Listen up!” Road Dawg says. “We need a meet. Everybody that’s not a member, get out!”

  The girls give Road Dawg a dirty look. They were in the middle of sniffing coke off a mirror with Playboy. He pats them on the ass and says to come back later.

  All the members that are around gather in the meeting room. There’s five of us. “What’s up?” Playboy asks, wiping his nose.

  “Some shit with the Soul Crushers.” Road Dawg says. “Where’s Prez?”

  Small Boy says, “I think he’s out with his old lady. Date night or something.”

  Some of the guys laugh. Our president is the only one of us that both has a steady woman and doesn’t cheat on her.

  Road Dawg shakes his head. “We’ll fill him in later then.” The VP sits at the head of the table. “Me and Big D were at that bar over on 40th—Roxie’s—minding our own fucking business, looking for some low life that hasn’t paid up on his vig, when some Crusher douche bags come in and start talking shit. One of them tried to sucker punch me but Big D decked his ass. He came back with a broken bottle and slashed up D’s chest pretty good.

  “We just came back from the hospital,” Road Dawg says. “Luckily it was only a scratch but that shit’s not going to fly. We need to hit these fucks and hit them hard.”

  There’s grumbling all around the table. Nobody wants to let another crew fuck with us, but it’s a delicate situation. This could be just a scuffle; we jump one of their guys, put a beating on him—but not too much so that it really pisses them off—and then that could be the end of it. Shit was unprovoked anyway. That’s one way it could go. The other way is we hit them back hard, they take offense, and it escalates to an all-out war. Nobody wants war. That’s bad for business.

  Right now we have an understanding with the other crews in the area. Our territory is ours. We have the strip club and we run girls. We have a very lucrative side project running protection for marijuana businesses. Marijuana is all cash—and there’s a lot of fucking cash. When the growers and distributors need to move money or product, they hire us to ride along and make sure nobody gets jacked. And we pro
tect and collect for some number runners in the area. That’s what we were doing at the bar when we got jumped.

  Small Boy says, “What were y’all doing at that bar anyway? It’s Soul Crusher territory.”

  The VP gives him a hard stare. “Rebel Storm goes wherever the fuck we want. I got word this guy that owes big to one of our bookies was hanging around there, trying to get some cross action, knowing we might not find him there. Fuck that. We went to get his ass.”

  Small Boy says, “So, was he there?”

  “No, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Right now we’re talking about something else: we’re talking about respect. We’re talking about having each other’s backs no matter what. Are you on board with that or not Small Boy?” The VP doesn’t raise his voice at all but everyone can feel the threat in his demeanor. He’s saying don’t fucking question me about my business.

  And he’s right. We don’t let shit like this slide. We hit them back. There’s no question about that. The only question is how.

  We send a prospect for drinks and then we set to brainstorming. After a while Prez shows up. When he walks in all eyes are on him.

  “We having a little party or what?” he says. He looks around the room before his eyes settle on the VP sitting at the head of the table. “You trying to take my job?”

  Road Dawg gets up, pulls the chair out and motions for Prez to sit down. “It’s all yours.”

  Prez says, “What’s going on? Somebody called a meeting without telling me?”

  Road Dawg shakes his head. “Sit down. Some scrub from the Soul Crushers slashed up Big D at Roxie’s. We’re figuring out what to do about it.”

  Prez sits down, looks right at me. “Is that right?”

  Everyone else looks at me too. “It’s just a scratch. I fucked up his nose real good though.”