Page 66 of Rebel

I poured without looking, sliding the glasses across the bar top.“Ten bucks.”

“Put it on my tab.”He grinned.The brothers drank for free, but Charming had said I could charge the Prospects if they asked for anything other than beer.

“Don’t have tabs.Have cash?”I raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me.

The Prospect’s smile faltered.Another patched member -- Magnus -- clapped a heavy hand on the Prospect’s shoulder.

“Pay the lady, dipshit.She ain’t here for your broke ass to practice flirting.”Magnus’s voice was gravel and whiskey.

The Prospect fumbled for his wallet, dropping a crumpled ten on the bar.I snagged it and turned to my next customer without acknowledging him further.That was the trick with these guys.Never let them think for a second that you were impressed.

The music switched to something with a heavier beat that vibrated through the floor and up into my bones.The lighting was all wrong -- too bright in some places, too dark in others.Bodies moved on the makeshift dance floor, leather cuts mingling with tight dresses and worn jeans.Club girls circled like vultures, their eyes constantly scanning for the highest-ranking member not currently occupied.

I grabbed a beer from the ice-filled trough behind me, popped the cap against the edge of the bar, and handed it to a gray-haired member I’d seen several times but never spoken to.Even though I’d been around the club a while now, and interacted with most of them, I was still learning everyone’s names and faces.The club was larger than most people probably realized.

“Thanks, darlin’.”He nodded, eyes appraising me like I was merchandise.“You’re Rebel’s woman, right?”

I stared him down.“I’m Rio.”

He laughed, a phlegmy sound that suggested decades of cigarettes.“Got some bite to you.Good.He needs that.”

I didn’t respond, just moved to the next customer.I wasn’t here to discuss my relationship with anyone, especially not some old man who thought he had the right to comment on it.

From the corner of my eye, I tracked Rebel as he lounged against the far wall, one boot propped against it, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert.That was Rebel -- always looking casual while missing nothing.His dark hair fell across his forehead, and even from here I could see the cocky half-smile that seemed permanently etched on his face.Dixon Morreli, aka Rebel, had earned his road name a hundred times over.He answered to no one but Charming and even that was questionable on some days.

And somehow, against all odds, he was mine.

“Earth to Rio,” a woman’s voice cut through my thoughts.“You gonna serve me or just stare at your man all night?”

I refocused on Clarity, one of the old ladies who’d actually been decent to me since I arrived.She was Scratch’s woman, had been for years from what I gathered.

“Sorry,” I said, not meaning it.“What can I get you?”

“Tequila.The good stuff, not that paint thinner you’re serving the Prospects.”Her lipstick was perfect despite the late hour, her eyes sharp and knowing.Scratch sat at a corner table, and I knew she’d only come because he was here.She couldn’t stand the club girls.

Jordan had talked about Clarity in a few chats we’d had over the phone since I’d decided to stay.The woman I saw now didn’t seem to fit with how she’d described her.I wondered if she was trying on a new look or attitude, or if I was just misremembering.I hadn’t really interacted with Clarity much, other than a brief hello when we passed each other.

I reached under the bar for the bottle we kept hidden from the general crowd.As I poured her shot, she leaned in.

“Word is Charming had a visitor earlier.Bratva?”Her question was casual, but her eyes were intent.Why did I get the feeling she was testing me?

I shrugged.“Didn’t see anything.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded slightly.“Smart girl.But if you hear anything about Java…”

“I’ll find you,” I promised, though I had no intention of sharing what I’d overheard.Charming had made it clear the meeting was confidential, and I wasn’t about to betray that trust three hours later.

Clarity knocked back her shot, then placed a twenty on the bar.I noticed her grimace and realized that wasn’t the type of drink she usually ordered.Yep.She’d been testing me.“Consider that a tip for putting up with all this crap.”

She smiled and disappeared back into the crowd.I pocketed the cash.

As the night progressed, I kept up with the orders, pouring drinks with increasing speed, exchanging barbs with patrons, and earning respect one smart retort at a time.The buzz of alcohol in my system -- just enough to take the edge off -- made everything seem sharper and duller simultaneously.The noise, the smells, the constant movement swirled around me like I was standing in the eye of a storm.

Rebel hadn’t moved much, though different members had stopped to talk with him throughout the night.His position in the club was solid -- not leadership but respected enough that even senior members sought his opinion.I watched as he laughed at something Gator said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face transformed by genuine amusement.

Then I saw her.

The club girl wasn’t particularly remarkable -- bleached blonde hair, only wearing a bra and panties, makeup that had started sliding south hours ago.But the way she moved, weaving drunkenly through the crowd with singular focus, her eyes fixed on Rebel, set off every alarm in my head.

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