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

you that. But you can’t have this card. You can never know what’s on it.” He pauses and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “You couldn’t handle the truth. It just might kill you.” With that, he finally leaves.

My legs turn to jelly as I brace my back against the wall. I’m unable to move out of fear that I’ll fall to the floor. He’s evil. Pure fucking evil, and for whatever reason, he has a vendetta against me.

Unless...Unless, it’s Talon he’s after.

He may have taken the card, but after what these guys have done to me—Talon and Zed in particular—I’m not backing down. I’m ready to fight, and I’m dragging these sons of bitches straight to hell.

17

Throwing Marni’s bedroom door open, I shout, “Wake your ass up. You have school.”

“Fuck off,” she mumbles, without even rolling over to face me.

She’s had this sour attitude ever since the party last week. A party that I can’t even remember. I woke up on Marni’s bedroom floor with my phone in my pocket. She claims that I must have stumbled in there while she was asleep, but I’m not buying that bullshit story. I’m also well aware that she stuck my phone in my pocket, but getting her to admit that is about as hard as my dick is right now. She’s sprawled out on the bed in just a sports bra and a pair of skimpy shorts, her ass is practically screaming for me.

“Dude,” Lars comes rushing into the room. “They found Josh’s car.” He’s out of breath with a mask of panic on his face.

“Ok,” I shrug it off, “we knew they would eventually. Keep calm and don’t draw attention. That’s all we have to do.”

Marni stretches her arms up and then gets out of bed. “You guys, not draw attention? That’s laughable. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of my room, I have an education to get so that I can become more than a trust fund brat and pothead like four guys I know.” She smirks.

Lars and I share a glance, and I just nod my head in agreement with whatever he’s thinking because I suspect it's along the same lines as my thoughts. This girl is a royal pain in the ass. 

Shrugging her shoulders, she glowers. “Fine then. Don’t bother me none. Not like all four of you guys haven’t seen what’s underneath these clothes.” She pulls her sports bra over her head and her tits flop out, stunning us both. I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about or why she’d assume that Lars or anyone else has seen her naked. Her shorts drop and to my surprise, she’s not wearing any underwear. Standing completely naked in front of me and Lars, she places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “Well, like what you see, assholes?”

Glancing over, I remember that Lars is still standing there. If his mouth was opened any farther, I might trip over it. “Get the fuck out.” I spin him around and give him a shove out the door then slam it shut.

When I look back at her, her scowl has only grown. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”

Tilting my head up, I force myself to maintain eye contact with her. “What the hell is your problem lately?”

“Hmm. Let’s see,” she taps her finger to her chin then shouts, “I fucking hate you! All of you! But especially you!” Bending over, she grabs a pair of underwear from her open bag then shuffles around until she pulls out a pair of jeans.

“And what did I do to earn that extra helping of hate?” I continue to watch her as she gets dressed. She’s a handful of beauty and she’s bound to be my downfall if I keep thinking these dirty thoughts.

“If you even have to ask, then you have no business even talking to me right now.”

“Ever since the party last week, you’ve been throwing out these hints of accusation and unless you’re ready to tell me what the fuck your problem is, cut this shit out.” I snatch up her dirty clothes and toss them in the laundry basket then hand her the brush on her dresser like some kind of servant.

She looks at the brush then back at me. Thinking for a moment before grabbing it. Her tone shifts, and her eyes harbor a glimmer of hope behind them. “Thanksgiving is next week. I’d like to go home and see my dad and my brother.”

“No,” I quip.

Don’t even need to think about it. No and hell no.

That hopefulness in her baby blues is quickly diminished.

Swinging her arm around with the brush in hand, she comes close to smacking me with it, but I’m faster and more aware of her spontaneous outbursts. Grabbing her by the wrist, I twist it and hold it up to her head. Moving it up and down as the brush weaves through her hair. “It’s a brush, not a baton.”

Menacing eyes stare into mine while I continue to help her brush her corn silk strands. “I hate you with every bone in my body, Talon Porter. And one day, I will make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”

When I drop her hand, she gives the brush a toss onto the bed. My hands smack her hips and I give them a firm squeeze, “Make me pay, baby, because I like to be punished.” I give her a wink and a sinister smile raises her cheek bones.

Her hands raise to my cheeks then slide around my head. “Oh, I will. And I plan to enjoy every fleeting moment.” Firm lips slam into mine and nails dig into the skin of my neck so hard that I’m ninety-nine percent sure they just pierced the skin. As she drags them around to the front, I don’t recoil. My mind is focused solely on the taste of her cherry Chapstick and the warmth of her