Page 14 of Rebel (Devil’s Boneyard MC #14)

Rebel

I kicked the door shut behind me and stood in the dark for a moment, listening to my own breathing. The metallic scent of blood -- some of it mine, most of it not -- filled my nostrils as I flipped on the light. The raid had gone exactly as planned, except for one important thing -- Java was still missing.

The lock clicked into place with a satisfying thunk . I knew it didn’t mean shit in a dangerous situation. If someone wanted into the damn house, they’d find a way in. A deadbolt wouldn’t stop them.

My boots left dirty tracks on the wooden floor. I didn’t care. Floors could be cleaned.

I shrugged out of my cut. Thankfully, I’d kept my distance and hadn’t ended up bloody. I tossed the cut over the back of a chair.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair. If they didn’t have Java at any of the locations we’d hit, where the fuck was he? What if they’d already killed him? I pushed that thought away. No use thinking about that right now.

I peeled off my shirt and toed off my boots. Right now, I needed a shower. The hot water might help clear my head.

My jeans were next. I left them in a heap on the floor with my boots and socks. Standing there in just my boxers, I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out again.

I padded barefoot to the bathroom, flipping on the light. I hadn’t spotted Rio, which meant she was likely with Jordan or one of the other old ladies. She hadn’t had a chance to get to know everyone well yet, but I knew she’d settle in.

I turned the shower knob all the way to hot and waited. The pipes shuddered and groaned in protest before spitting out a stream of lukewarm water. I stepped under it without waiting for it to heat up. The shock of it against my skin made me hiss through clenched teeth.

Gradually, the water warmed. Steam began to fill the small space, fogging the mirror over the sink. I closed my eyes and let it pound against my shoulders, my back, the top of my head. Water swirled at my feet. Usually after a fight, it would have been pink from blood. This time, I’d come home unscathed.

I reached for the bar of soap and scrubbed until my skin was raw. The others would be getting cleaned up too. As much as I’d wanted to immediately come up with a new plan, I knew we all needed to rest. Tomorrow, we’d hopefully figure out a way to get Java back.

I’d known him since he was just a kid, roughly fifteen years younger than me. Been there the day he graduated high school. Congratulated him when he joined the Army.

And now he was gone.

I slammed my palm against the shower wall. The sharp sting snapped me back to the present. Water continued to beat down on me, hot now, turning my skin red. I reached for the shampoo and worked it into my hair roughly, scrubbing at my scalp like I could wash away the memories too.

I rinsed my hair and shut off the water. For a moment, I just stood there, dripping, listening to the pipes settle. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Like a tomb.

Java could still be alive. I had to hold onto the hope he’d come home. We had to find him.

I grabbed a towel from the hook and dried off. The mirror had cleared enough to show my reflection. I barely recognized the man staring back at me. Hollow eyes. Tight jaw. The Devil’s Boneyard colors tattooed over my heart.

It had seemed so simple once. The club was family. The only real family I’d ever known after my own had fallen apart. But family didn’t leave each other behind. Family didn’t retreat when one of their own was still in enemy territory. And yet, there hadn’t been anything else we could do. Java hadn’t been there.

I wiped the rest of the steam from the mirror with my palm and leaned closer, studying my face. I usually looked at least a decade younger than my fifty years. Not tonight. No, now I looked older. Harder.

If Java was still alive, tomorrow might be his last day. I couldn’t imagine they’d keep him alive much longer. Assuming he wasn’t already in a shallow grave somewhere. We hadn’t had any word on him since they’d sent proof they had him.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and padded back to the living room. My phone lay on the table next to my gun. No messages. No calls. The club would be regrouping, licking their wounds, planning their next move. But would that move include rescuing Java? Or would they write him off as a casualty of war? Going against the Morettis had been a strategic move for multiple reasons. But a rescue mission was another matter. Although, things were different with Charming as the president. When Cinder had been in charge, there had been a time we’d nearly lost Ashes because he refused to go get him or negotiate with the men who’d taken him.

I pulled on clean boxers and a pair of sweatpants, then rummaged through my drawer for a T-shirt that wasn’t ripped or stained. As I tugged it over my head, I heard the front door open and the soft tread of boots. Rio.

I steeled myself for what came next. If Java was gone, Rio was the only family I had left. He’d been like a kid brother to me.

“You look like shit,” she said, her Georgia drawl making the insult sound almost sweet.

Rio stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest. The stance made her look tough, but I knew better. Knew the way her fingers dug into her own arms meant she was holding herself together.

“The others?” she asked.

“Either at home or the clubhouse. No casualties on our side.”

She nodded once, sharp. Her eyes never left mine. “And Java?”

There it was. The question I’d been dreading. I walked past her to the kitchen, pulled out two beers from the fridge. Handed her one without asking if she wanted it. The cold glass against my palm was grounding. Real. Unlike the nightmare playing on repeat in my head.

“Rebel.” Her voice had hardened. “Did you find Java?”

I popped the cap off my beer, took a long pull. “We couldn’t find him,” I said finally. “He’s either gone or dead.”

The words hung in the air between us. Just saying them nearly gutted me.

“What happened?”

“We went in, wiped the fuckers out, but Java wasn’t at any of the locations. If they didn’t move him elsewhere, then they’ve already killed him.” I pressed the cold bottle to my forehead.

Rio set her untouched beer on the table. She moved toward me slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. In the harsh overhead light, I could see the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Made her look younger. She stepped closer, the space between us charged with something I couldn’t name.

I sank into a chair, the leather creaking under my weight. “We grew up in the same neighborhood, but I was much older,” I said, surprising myself with the words. I didn’t talk about the past. Ever. But Rio deserved to know. “Same block. His dad was gone. Mom worked nights. I’d help him with his homework, made sure he was safe.”

Rio turned from the window, leaned against the wall. Listening.

“My dad was a mechanic. Good one, when he was sober. After my mom died, he crawled into a bottle and never really came out. Java’s mom tried to help. Invited me for dinner. Made sure I knew how to cook, wash clothes. The basics. But she had three jobs and her own issues to worry about.”

“Was Java already born?” Rio asked.

“He was a baby. His mom gave him little sisters over the next few years. They died. Car accident. Drunk driver. Java was fifteen.” I stared at my hands. My father’s hands. “That’s when everything really went to shit. His mom checked out -- mentally, I mean. Started taking pills. Java nearly dropped out of school, but I convinced him to stick it out.”

Rio pushed off from the wall, came to stand in front of me. Close enough to touch, but she didn’t. Just stood there, her presence like an anchor.

“My dad’s drinking got worse before I turned eighteen,” I continued. “Started getting mean with it. I’d stay out as late as I could. I started running with a local crew. Nothing serious at first. Selling weed to rich kids from the suburbs. Boosting car stereos. Stupid shit.”

“When did you join the Devils?” she asked.

“I was in my twenties.” I reached for my beer again, swallowed the last of it. “Java joined much later. He was in the Army, like you. Except he’d been in a lot longer, until an IED took his legs.”

“And your dad? He still alive?”

“Wrapped his truck around a tree two days after my eighteenth birthday.” I said it flatly. No emotion. Ancient history. “Closed casket. I didn’t cry. Java’s mom was the only one who stood with me at the funeral. I’d seen her around the neighborhood, helped carrying groceries in for her a few times. Mowed her lawn a time or two. Dad didn’t exactly have a lot of friends by then.”

Rio moved then, closing the distance between us. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the bruise on my jaw. Not quite touching. “You look like him,” she said. “Java. Around the eyes.”

“We’re not related.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re brothers.”

Something in my chest cracked open. A fault line I’d been ignoring for years. “Yeah,” I managed. “We are. He’s the kid brother I never had.”

Her hand finally made contact, cool fingers against my hot skin. I had to fight not to lean into it like a starving man.

“We’re going after him,” she said. Not a question.

“Club may have to take a vote. Or Charming may decide we’ve risked enough already.”

Her eyes hardened. “Fuck the vote.”

“Rio --”

“No.” She stepped back, and I felt the loss of her touch like a physical thing. “You know what they’ll decide. They’ll say it’s too risky. That one man isn’t worth endangering the whole club. They’ll say we should hit the Morettis again another way, another time. You know as well as I do, there’s no way that hit was all about getting Java back. Charming is focused on more than our brother. And I get it. To some extent.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’d sat through enough church meetings to know exactly how it would go. Devil’s Boneyard protected their own -- but sometimes the cost got too high. Like when Ashes went missing.

“He’d come for you,” she said. Her voice had dropped, that Georgia drawl thickening with emotion she’d never admit to. “If it was you they had, Java would go in guns blazing.”

Also true. Java was loyal to a fault.

“I don’t know where they’d take him,” I said quietly.

Rio’s eyes locked on mine. “What about the old mill? I saw it on my way into town. Even then, I thought it looked like a bad guy hideout you’d see in old cartoons. They may not have taken him out of the area. Just away from their known locations.”

I nodded. It was isolated. Easily secured. I could see that being an option.

“I can’t ask you to go against the club,” she said. “But at the same time, I don’t think you can live with yourself if you don’t do everything you can to get him back.”

Something passed between us. Understanding. A decision made without words.

Rio’s posture changed subtly. Military precision returning to her spine, her shoulders. Planning mode. “Two of us isn’t enough. We need at least four for a solid team. Two to create a diversion, two to extract.”

“Chaos might come,” I said. “Possibly Azrael.”

I stood, and moved to the closet, pulling out my go-bag. Always packed. Always ready. Another habit learned young: be prepared to run at a moment’s notice.

Rio watched me. “We’re really doing this?”

I unzipped the bag, checked its contents. Extra ammo. First aid kit. Cash. Burner phones. “Like you said, Java would do the same for me. Yeah. We’re doing this.”

She nodded once, decision made. Moved toward the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. Turned back to me. “I’m with you until the end. No matter what happens.”

I crossed to her in three strides, stood close enough that she had to tilt her head to maintain eye contact. “You know if Charming finds out, I’m in not only for one hell of a monetary punishment, but possibly a beating.”

“Some risks are worth taking.” She reached up to touch my cheek, and I couldn’t hold back.

Leaning down, my lips brushed against hers. It was like striking a match in a room full of gasoline. One moment, just a simple touch of lips. The next, we were burning alive.

Rio’s hands were in my hair, gripping hard enough to hurt. I backed her against the wall, my body pressing into hers. She tasted like coffee and mint. Like salvation.

I broke away first. Rested my forehead against hers, breathing hard. “This is a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was rough. “The worst.”

But neither of us moved. Her heart hammered against mine, our pulses racing in tandem. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not right now anyway. Not with everything at stake.

“Java needs us,” I said, stepping back. The space between us felt like miles. “We can’t --”

“I know.” She straightened her shirt, cleared her throat. “We should call Chaos. See if he’s in.”

I nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “I should reach out to Azrael too.”

“Right.”

And yet neither of us moved. As much as I wanted to rush off to save Java, I had to wonder, could I really do any better than the entire club and the Bratva? I stared at Rio, my beautiful, fierce woman. Even though she was mine, we hadn’t done more than kiss. Java would give me shit if he knew.

“What if we’re making a mistake?” she asked.

I nodded. “Thinking the same thing. For one, we don’t know for sure that’s where he is. For another, how the hell are we supposed to pull off something the club and the Brava couldn’t? But we can let Charming know about our idea.”

She licked her lips. “So, text him. He’ll need time to look into it, right?”

“Yeah. Most likely have Shade check it out or send a recon team.”

She came closer, pressing against me. “Then, we have the rest of the night to ourselves.”

I swallowed hard. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“I think I am. I know you won’t hurt me, Rebel. It’s time.”

I pressed my forehead to hers. “Call me Dixon. But only when we’re alone.”

She smiled a little. “Nice to meet you, Dixon.”

I picked up my phone and shot off a message to Charming about the old mill, then I took Rio by the hand and led her to the bedroom.

The bedroom was dark, just a sliver of moonlight cutting through a gap in the curtains. I fumbled for the lamp, but Rio caught my wrist.

“Leave it off,” she whispered.

I understood. Sometimes darkness made it easier to be vulnerable. I’d lived enough years to know that.

Her hands found my chest in the darkness, palms flat against my T-shirt. I stood perfectly still, letting her set the pace. This wasn’t just sex. This was Rio trusting me with her body after what she’d been through.

“You sure about this?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.

She answered by pulling my shirt over my head, her fingers tracing the tattoos that mapped my life across my skin. The Devil’s Boneyard colors over my heart. The dates commemorating fallen brothers on my ribs. The half-sleeve that told the story of where I’d come from.

When her lips pressed against my collarbone, I couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped me. I cupped her face, tilting it up toward mine. Even in the darkness, I could see the intensity in her eyes.

“Rio,” I breathed.

“Shhh.”

Her mouth found mine again, urgent this time. I slid my hands under her shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin of her back. She shivered against me, and I paused.

“Cold?”

“No.” She pressed closer. “Don’t stop.”

I pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a simple black bra. My breath caught. Even in the dim light, she was beautiful. Scars and all. Each mark told a story of survival.

“You can touch me,” she whispered.

I traced the outline of a scar that curved along her rib cage. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

“I will.”

We moved toward the bed, stumbling slightly in the darkness. I hit the mattress with the back of my knees and I sat, pulling her between my legs. Eye level with her stomach now, I pressed my lips to the soft skin just above her navel. She trembled.

“Dixon,” she breathed.

My name in her mouth was like a prayer. I unfastened her jeans, sliding them down her hips as she stepped out of them. The moonlight caught the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist.

I stood up slowly, letting my hands skim up her sides until I was standing over her. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms. My throat went dry.

“You’re gorgeous,” I murmured.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants. “These need to go.”

I stepped out of them, standing before her in just my boxers. We were equals now, nearly bare in the darkness, vulnerable in ways that had nothing to do with our lack of clothing.

“Last chance to back out,” I said.

Rio answered by pushing me back onto the bed. She followed, straddling my hips, her hair falling around us like a curtain. I could feel her heart hammering against mine.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

Those three words hit me harder than any “I love you” ever could. Trust was rare in our world. Precious. I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss that was almost reverent.

Her body melted against mine, curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of my chest. I rolled us carefully, pinning her beneath me, my weight braced on my forearms.

“Tell me what you want,” I said against her throat.

“You.” Her hands slid down my back, nails digging in slightly. “Just you.”

I took my time, exploring her body with my hands and mouth. Found the places that made her gasp, the spots that made her arch against me. I tugged her panties down her legs then teased her wet pussy. She let out a little moan as my fingers rubbed against her clit.

“This still okay?” I kissed her neck, then her lips as she nodded in affirmation, giving me the green light to keep going. I eased a finger inside her, testing how tight she was. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her.

“Dixon, I need more.”

“You can have all of me, but I don’t want to rush through our first time together.”

She smiled and nipped at my shoulder. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only with you.”

I took my time teasing her, kissing her. I savored every second. When I finally slid my dick into her, she clung to me, her face buried against my neck.

“Dixon,” she breathed, my name a plea on her lips.

We moved together in the darkness, finding a rhythm that built and crashed like waves on the sand. I watched her face as she came apart beneath me, her gaze locked on mine, trusting me to catch her as she fell. Feeling her squeeze my cock was enough to make me follow her over the edge, her name on my lips like a prayer as I came inside her.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. The world outside still existed -- Java still missing -- but for now, in this room, there was only us.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

She nodded against my chest. “Better than okay.”

I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be rough.”

“I know.” Her voice was already heavy with exhaustion. “We’ll find him, Dixon.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring at the ceiling. “We will.”

I didn’t sleep much that night. Just watched the shadows move across the ceiling, listened to Rio’s steady breathing, and planned our next move. If Java was at the old mill, we’d need to be smart about this. No rushing in half-cocked. Too much at stake.

But for now, I’d enjoy this time with Rio and see what Charming could find out about the old mill.