Ride a Rebel Wind Read online

  Ride A Rebel Wind

  Brieanna Robertson

  Copyright © June 2011, Brieanna Robertson

  Cover art designed by Anastasia Rabiyah © June 2011

  ISBN 978-1-936668-18-2

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Sugar and Spice Press

  North Carolina, USA

  www.sugarnspicepress.com

  To Tawny―

  My TST, my “Shelby,” best friend and almost-sister.

  Here’s to all our adventures and more to come—because we are “superly awesome.”

  “Sometimes our hearts get tangled

  And our souls a little off-kilter

  Friends and family can set us right

  And help guide us back to the light.”

  ~Sera Christann

  Chapter One

  The leaves were just starting to change colors, dotting the thick pine trees with hints of yellow and orange as he descended the Sierras. Just past Truckee, CA, Hayden maneuvered his Harley down the winding mountain road with mixed feelings about returning to his hometown.

  Jackson had been bugging him for years to come to Street Vibrations, the biker rally held in Reno, NV every September. Hayden usually avoided it, telling his brother that he could only afford to go to Sturgis. It was true, in part. He did prefer to go to Sturgis, but considering he’d been living only two hours away in Sacramento for the past year, and Jackson was offering to let him stay at his place for the weekend, Hayden really didn’t have a viable excuse this time around.

  He felt like a jerk for even trying to get out of it. Jackson had come to see him who knew how many times at all of the locations he’d wandered through over the past seven years. Arizona, New Mexico, Oregon, and most of California—Hayden wasn’t a person who liked to stay in one place for too long. He started to get restless if he put down too many roots, started to feel like the life was being sucked out of him. Jackson had visited all of his stopping places, and Hayden hadn’t been home once.

  It wasn’t his brother he didn’t want to see. He always had a good time with Jack, even if he was a bit of a nut-job now and again. Reno just had way too many ghosts in it to suit him. Ghosts he didn’t really want to face, if he could help it.

  But he only had one little brother, and he never asked much. He’d been putting him off for years, and there came a point when a person stopped sounding credible and just started sounding like a douchebag. Hayden didn’t want Jackson to start thinking it was him he had a problem with, or like everything else was more important than his own flesh and blood.

  So, here he was, riding back into Reno, a place he had ridden out of without a backward glance seven years prior. The highway was littered with other random bikers—he’d been seeing them all the way through the mountains—all heading to the rally. He heaved a sigh and tried to will away some of the apprehension tightening his chest.

  He tried to tell himself that this wasn’t going to be a big deal. He was just going to party for the weekend with others of his kind, and have a nice visit with his brother. There was no need to worry about issues that had been buried a long time ago.

  But he knew in the back of his mind, as much as he hated to admit it, that the past had a way of coming back from the dead, especially if it had never been properly buried in the first place. It was like a zombie, coming back to eat you alive. And deep down, he knew he couldn’t run from it forever.

  * * * *

  There had to be something she could throw, or someone she could strangle. If she could find some stray dynamite lying around somewhere, she’d be more than happy to blow her car to kingdom come.

  “No, Shelby, I don’t need you to come and get me,” Gina said to her sister on the phone as she leaned up against the side of her defeated vehicle. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m fine. I’m just gonna sit here…and bake…in the hundred degree heat while I wait for friggin’ Triple A to get their butts in gear and send me a tow truck.” Not that that was going to happen anytime soon. She’d already been waiting out there for an hour and a half. “Yeah, I called Mom. She’s coming to give me a ride home after my car gets towed to my mechanic… I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I think I blew my transmission. Look, I have to go. Just call me and let me know when you find out about your brakes so I can figure out if I still get to go on vacation.”

  She hung up and heaved an annoyed sigh. Of course she was wearing all black, on the hottest day of the year. And there was virtually no shade anywhere on the street she had managed to lope onto. Friggin’ awesome.

  It had been one of those weeks. Work had sucked and her neighbors had been keeping her up all hours of the night with their wild, drunken, druggie parties that sent pounding, thumping hip hop music pulsating through her apartment at three a.m. She’d come home two days that week with so much pot smoke seeping into her apartment she could have gotten a contact high. She’d called the cops one night to report a noise violation, but they were still driving her nuts.

  Not only that, but she and Shelby had been planning their annual road trip for the past three months, and were due to go in a week’s time to Ft. Bragg, CA. They were going to spend a week lounging by the ocean, camping in the redwoods, and enjoying some much-needed relaxation.

  That was until Shelby’s car, the much more reliable of the two vehicles, had decided to freak out in every annoying way possible. After getting it road worthy, her brakes had promptly decided to go out, and now her roommate was trying to replace them, but having difficulty doing it. At this point, they had no idea if they were actually going to make it out of town.

  Gina’s car was definitely a no-go. It had been having weird problems that no mechanic in Reno seemed to be able to figure out, and after putting more money into parts than she even wanted to think about, the poor thing had finally thrown in the towel on her way home from work today.

  Right off the freeway exit, it had decided it no longer wanted to shift gears or go above 20 MPH. Gina did not have the money to fix a blown transmission. Not on her salary. She had always been a work-to-live type of person, not a live-to-work one. So her job as personal assistant to various wealthy people paid the bills and let her do the things she loved, but didn’t heap a lot of extra cash in her wallet.

  She spotted her mom’s red Jeep coming up the road and pushed away from her car to go meet her just as the tow truck finally came around the corner. Gina rolled her eyes and waited for the truck driver to get out. She gave him instructions on where to take her car, then climbed into her mom’s Jeep.

  Her mother instantly gave her a bottle of water and offered a granola bar. Gina took the water, but scrunched her nose at the thought of having to eat another granola bar. It was her mom’s emergency food supply. She had eaten so many granola bars over the course of her life, just looking at them made her want to heave. True, she hadn’t eaten since nine that morning and it was now three, but she still wasn’t hungry enough to suffer through an oat and nut monstrosity.

  She spent the short ride to the garage griping while her mom listened patiently, and when Gina told her mechanic what had happened, his exclamation of, “Oh man, that’s not good!” was somehow less than encouraging.

  “So, you and Shelby leave next week, right?” Gina’s mom asked as they left the car at the garage and headed back to Gina’s apartment.

  Gina sighed. “Let’s hope so. We’ve made all the reservations and I could really use the vacation. But right now, things aren’t looking so hot.” She absently sniffed at her armpit and made a face. “I stink. Not surprising after standing out in the sun all day
long. All I want to do is go home and take a shower. And eat something.” She was so hungry, her stomach felt like it was going to start devouring her internal organs.

  “You sure you don’t want that granola bar?” her mom prodded.

  Gina grimaced. No, definitely not the granola bar. She’d let her stomach have her spleen before she ate that thing. She could live without her spleen.

  She heaved a sigh of relief as they pulled up to the house that was in front of Gina’s tiny apartment. It was really an old ranch house that sat in a courtyard behind a brick duplex. It had been turned into four studios. Gina’s was the largest, enough so that she had been able to put her couch and TV in the kitchen and make a one-bedroom out of it. It was dilapidated, cramped, and older than dirt, but it was cheap, and it was home. And right now, it seemed like the Promised Land.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she muttered as she climbed out of the car.

  “No problem. Call me when you find out what’s going on with your car. And tell your sister to do the same.”

  Gina nodded and made her way up the driveway that led to the courtyard as her mom pulled away. She had only taken maybe about five steps when she rounded the corner and a police officer popped out at her. She jumped back with a squeak of surprise.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but you can’t go back there.” He was tall and fat, the typical donut-cop, and he was trying his hardest to be intimidating. That was difficult to do with his red hair and PC-gamer glasses.

  Gina frowned and tried to peer over his bulky shoulder. “But I live here,” she stated pitifully. All she wanted to do was disappear into her house. Was that really so much to ask? She was sweating, stinky, and starving. And her patience level had bottomed out a long time ago.

  The cop eyeballed her for a second like she was somehow involved with whatever was happening. “Which apartment do you live in?”

  “Number five.” She could see it right past him. Her door was beckoning. So close, and yet so far.

  The cop stink-eyed her again, then picked up his walkie-talkie and started muttering into it right as Gina’s phone started to blare. She jumped, her nerves shot beyond all belief, and she fumbled through her purse to answer it.

  “Hello?” she practically shouted, taking a couple steps away from the police officer.

  “Gina? What is going on? There are cops everywhere back here!”

  She frowned at her mother’s surprised voice and she shot a glance back at the cop keeping her from retreating into seclusion. “Yeah, well, they won’t let me get into my apartment at the moment either. Can you see what’s going on?”

  “No, but the street is all blocked off and there are cops all over back here by your neighbors’. There’s a paddy wagon and everything!”

  Gina rolled her eyes. Well, wonderful. “Maybe they did a drug bust.” Finally. That was great, but the fact that it was keeping her from getting into her apartment was really annoying.

  “They won’t let you in? Do you need me to come and get you?”

  “Ma’am?”

  Gina turned back around to face the cop. “No, Mom, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back in a little bit.” She hung up and returned to where the police officer was standing with his hands on his hips.

  “All right, go ahead and go in,” he said, giving her a look like he was doing her a huge favor.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. Is everything all right?”

  He nodded gravely in a way that let her know she wouldn’t be getting any more information out of him. She fought rolling her eyes and pushed past him to cross the courtyard. She couldn’t unlock her door fast enough.

  Once inside, she all but slammed it shut, locked it, and leaned back against it with a huge sigh of relief. Finally, she was home. Carless, frustrated, with lord only knew what going on next door, and probably nursing sunstroke, but home. And she didn’t have anywhere else she needed to be for the rest of the night.

  A shower was in order. And right after that, it was time for dinner, a glass—or a gallon—of wine, and her monkey shorts.

  She pushed away from the door, pulled off her black baseball hat, flung it aside, and headed toward the bathroom. Oh yes, it was definitely a wine and monkey shorts kind of evening.

  Chapter Two

  Despite his reservations about coming back to Reno, Hayden was filled with a sense of pride as he pulled into the driveway of his brother’s newly purchased South Reno home. Jackson had done well for himself, which made Hayden feel like maybe he’d done something right. It was a good feeling, considering he’d raised Jack from age twelve—not the easiest age bracket to cope with. Especially when he had been seventeen himself. It hadn’t been easy, and Jack hadn’t always been a cooperative teen. It had been difficult riding the fine line between big brother and parent substitute, and Hayden had felt like he’d botched most of it most of the time.

  But despite the troubles of teenage angst, Jack had graduated, gone to the University of Nevada Reno, then on to the police force. This last year, he had bought a brand new home in one of the nicer parts of town, and Hayden felt strangely out of place as he looked at his rebel Harley parked next to his brother’s squad car. Even Jack’s yard looked pristine. All it needed was a white picket fence and a dog.

  Jackson’s slice of the American Dream contrasted so greatly with Hayden’s gypsy lifestyle that it made him feel weird, like the black sheep that should go graze in someone else’s pasture. He couldn’t quite name the odd, achy feeling that settled in around his heart.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to think about it for long because Jack came running out the door, snapping Hayden out of his reverie.

  “Dude, you really came!” he shouted. He didn’t even give Hayden a chance to take his helmet off before he caught him in a bear hug that almost crushed his ribs.

  Hayden’s breath wheezed out of him like an accordion and he returned his brother’s hug, slapping him on the back in what he hoped seemed like enthusiasm. In all reality, it was a silent plea to let him go so he could take in some oxygen.

  “Are you really that shocked?” he choked out after Jackson finally released him and he was able to remove his helmet.

  Jackson snorted. “Uh, yeah. I seriously thought you’d come up with about ten million last minute excuses.”

  Well, geez. Way to make him feel like a turd. He glanced over his clean-cut brother, and ran his hand over his own scruffy jaw. They even looked like polar opposites, right down to his brother’s preppy button-down shirt and tan slacks and Hayden’s kick-you-to-the-moon, steel-toed boots and leather jacket. How come he’d never noticed that before? And how come it suddenly made him feel so awkward?

  Jackson clapped and rubbed his hands together. “All right! Let’s get this started! I’ll give you the grand tour.” He swept his arm to indicate his home. “Get you settled in, then go grab some dinner downtown maybe. I have to work for a bit after that. They called me in to do a patrol for one of the other guys who is puking his guts out or something. But that’s not that big a deal. You can just come with me.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  Jackson frowned as he started back toward his front door. “Who’s gonna know? It’s just a patrol. Oh!” He stopped abruptly and grinned like a devil. “I have to show you this. You’re gonna crap your pants.”

  Hayden arched an eyebrow.

  Jackson ran inside for a second and must have activated the garage door because it started to rise. He ran back out again and put his hands on his hips in a proud display as the door slowly revealed an obnoxiously red sports bike. Hayden tried to suppress his grimace, but failed.

  “Isn’t it awesome?” Jack cried. “Now I can ride with you!”

  Hayden knew his expression was pained. He could feel it. “Jack, why did you buy this thing?”

  “Um, so I could ride with you, like I just said.”

  “But…” He heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. “Jack, this is not a motorcycle.”

  Jackson f
rowned and looked at it as if it had suddenly morphed shape. “Uh…yeah it is.”

  Hayden almost whimpered. “Dude, the only way I would let you get away with this is if you were a Ninja assassin.”

  Jackson’s deadpan expression spoke volumes. “I am a Ninja assassin,” he muttered.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He practically spat the word out. “And just so you know, I would rather have a bike that gets me somewhere instead of only making a lot of noise.” He started to head back inside.

  “I wouldn’t even qualify that as a bike—”

  “Shut it!” he shouted, and Hayden smirked as Jack’s disgruntled front slipped away to reveal his unbridled enthusiasm. “Come on, bro! We’re wasting time! Virginia City with Troy tomorrow, right?” He shouted this excitedly over his shoulder while jaunting back into his house.

  Hayden smirked. Jack’s elation was contagious, he had to admit, and how could he rain on his parade when he was obviously so happy to see him? He felt like a jerk for putting off visiting all these years.

  With a sigh, Hayden grabbed his things off the back of his bike and headed in after his brother. He tried not to think about the pending trip up to Virginia City with his old best friend either. That had all been Jack’s doing. He’d looked the guy up and invited him along, knowing that he rode a bike also. He’d thought it would make Hayden feel more comfortable and have a better time, but in all reality, it just made him feel more out of his element.

  Troy, a year older than Hayden, had left Reno after high school to go to school back east. They’d kept in tentative contact over the years, exchanging the required hey-how-are-yous that happened when too much time passed. They spoke on the phone maybe once a year, and sent an email now and then. Troy had apparently moved back to Reno three years ago, but it was going to be weird hanging out with him after all this time. What were they supposed to talk about? Troy owned a bar now. He’d found his place, set up his life. Hayden was still wandering, searching for his path.