Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1) by Rachel Leigh (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📕

“What’s wrong with the ones you have on?”

The door slowly opens, causing me to straighten up. Her head pokes out of the crack. “Mine are all wet.”

“So dry them and hurry your ass up.”

“I can’t, Talon. I really soaked them. I can’t wear these downstairs.”

“Come on.” I grab her hand and walk her down to the other end of the hallway to the door to the next level. Cupping my hand around the keypad, I punch in the code then open the door.

“I’ve never been up here before,” she says, as we reach the top.

“No one has.”

This level is my space. No one comes up here. Aside from one time that Blakely came up to check on me because she thought I was on the verge of suicide—which I wasn’t—no one else has seen my lair. The boys, the ladies, the guests, they can have the rest. This is mine.

“Wow. This is nice,” she says, looking around. “I didn’t even know this part of the house existed.”

“Good. Because this is the first and last time you’ll see it.” I walk over to my dresser, open the drawer, and pull out a pair of boxer shorts, then toss them at her. “Put these on.”

She holds them up. “Umm, I’m not wearing your underwear.”

“They're clean. Quit bitching and put them on. You’re welcome.”

“You expect me to thank you.” She laughs sarcastically. “There is no way that I am putting these on and going back downstairs to a house full of people.” The boxers fly back at me.

“Guess you’ll be partying in your panties. That, or your cum-soaked shorts. Your choice.”

Steady steps lead her over to me as she grunts and groans in agitation with each movement. “Seriously, I’m so tired. Can I just go to bed?”

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip as she stands there with one hand on her hip in just a pair of underwear and the hoodie she’s been wearing all night. “Fine. You’re sleeping in my room tonight.” There are too many people here, and I don’t want anyone fucking with her. I don’t need to dispose of another body any time soon. “Don’t even think about trying to leave. The door will be locked, and the alarm will be set. I’ve kept people out of this part of the house for a year, I can keep you in it.” I bend down and grab the boxers then push them at her chest. “T-shirts are in the bottom drawer. I’ll have the housekeeper wash your dirty clothes, just put them in the basket.”

I give her one last glance before I leave. Shutting the door behind me, I walk down the stairs and step back into the main hallway, before setting the alarm.

“Where is she?” Zed comes stalking toward me. His boots heavy on the hardwood floor.

“She’s here. Don’t worry about it.” I push past him and start walking back toward the staircase when I see Tommy and Lars.

“Killer party, man.” Tommy holds his beer. He’s already three sheets to the wind, not surprising.

Zed joins us at the top of the stairs. “Why is she up there?” he asks. All too concerned about the way I’m handling the situation.

“She’s safe up there. She can’t leave and no one can touch her.”

“Including you.” Zed pokes a finger in my chest. “Or was that your plan all along? You think you’re gonna get her all to yourself?”

My hands meet his chest, shoving him forcefully backwards. “Fuck you.”

‘Woah, woah. Knock it off you two.” Lars steps in. “It’s only night one. You can’t start this shit already. We have a deal. No one touches her.” He looks between the two of us. “Got it?”

“No one is fucking touching her, including me. A deal is a deal.” I hold my fist out to Zed, who bumps it back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

I’ll make damn sure no one lays a finger on sleeping beauty. If they do, I’ll kill ‘em with my bare hands.

“Do you think she suspects anything?” Tommy asks, as he sways back and forth with a now empty beer bottle.

“She doesn’t know a damn thing. And she never will.”

5

Reality hits me like a glass of cold water to the face when I wake up. The silk black sheet that tangles around my body is not my own. Pushing myself up as my back slides against the wooden headboard, heavy breaths from someone beside the bed warn me that I’m not alone.

Without looking over at him, I acknowledge his presence. “How long have you been here?” I ask, watching as he stands up in my peripheral and steps beside the bed.

“Long enough to know that you sound like an eighty-year old man with sleep apnea when you’re sleeping.” He fists the black sheet and jerks it off of me in one swift motion. “Get your ass up. We have shit to do.”

Hugging my legs to my chest, I catch a glimpse of him. Fully dressed in a pair of black jeans, black boots that lace up to his ankles, and a solid gray tee that hugs his muscular form. His hair is swept over to one side of his head and a brown cigarette filter peaks out from above his ear.  I divert my attention quickly and resume staring at the closed door in front of me. “It’s the day after Halloween. Everyone skips school the day after Halloween.”

His hand wraps around my wrist as he pulls me off the bed. My feet hit the floor next to his while I fight to avoid eye contact. “I never said we’re going to school. I said we have shit to do. We includes you.”

Dragging me like a ragdoll, he takes me over to his dresser where my shorts and underwear sit neatly pressed and folded. He finally releases his hold on me when he tosses them at me. “Put these on.” I catch the shorts as they hit my chest and wait for him to turn around—to leave and