Red Rose: Red Thorns Crew Book 2 Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Rebel Hart

  Photo by Regina Wamba

  Cover by Robin Harper of Wicked By Design

  www.RebelHart.net

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Dani

  2. Max

  3. Dani

  4. Max

  5. Dani

  6. Max

  7. Dani

  8. Max

  9. Dani

  10. Max

  11. Dani

  12. Max

  13. Dani

  14. Max

  15. Dani

  16. Max

  17. Dani

  18. Max

  19. Dani

  20. Max

  21. Dani

  22. Max

  23. Dani

  24. Max

  25. Dani

  26. Max

  27. Dani

  28. Max

  29. Dani

  30. Max

  31. Dani

  32. Max

  33. Dani

  34. Max

  35. Dani

  36. Max

  37. Dani

  38. Max

  39. Dani

  40. Max

  About the Author

  Also by Rebel Hart

  Red Rose

  Red Thorns Crew Book 2

  Rebel Hart

  1

  Dani

  “Up here, on the right, should be--”

  I sighed. “Max, I know what your house looks like.”

  He chuckled. “And here I thought you were too busy staring at my ass to know.”

  “Nope. That’s your job.”

  “And don’t you fucking forget it, Daddy’s girl.”

  I rolled my eyes at the nickname as I gingerly maneuvered into his driveway. The lights were on at the back of the house. A good sign that John was there. But I still wasn’t sure. For all I knew, no one was home and the light was on as a simple precaution.

  Either way, I had to get Max inside.

  “All right, you massive man. Come on. We have to get you out.”

  Max chuckled. “And here you keep flattering me. I half expect it to come with a kiss.”

  I shoved my door open. “Shut up and help me as much as you can.”

  “Wow. Such sass. Just makes you sexier, Bambi.”

  I walked around to his side of the car. “You know, those names are going to get old quickly.”

  “Then I guess I’ll simply have to start calling you by your real name.”

  I slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Dani?”

  His lips fell to my ear. “More like ‘gorgeous.’”

  How the hell that man could make me blush while he’s practically growling in pain, I had no idea. But I wouldn't let his soft, warm words deter me. He needed help, and quickly. The bags underneath his eyes had already bruised over. The way he held his ribs had me more than concerned. And his stupid lip was still bleeding.

  “All right. Take the steps slowly. With me. Ready?”

  His grunts with each step didn’t fill my gut with ease. Night hung heavily around us while the crickets chirped and the bats fluttered around. Probably trying to figure out what kind of chaos I had brought to their doorstep, no doubt. Max reached out and opened the door. Just opened it. Unlocked, in the middle of the night, bordering on the woodlands.

  His brother has to be here.

  “John?” I called out.

  “I need to sit.”

  “John!?”

  “Over there. I’m sorry, but I can’t--”

  I snickered. “Don’t be silly. There’s no reason to apologize. John!”

  I heard something crash open. “Who the fuck is yelling in my house?”

  “It’s--it’s me. Dan--!”

  “Fuck,” Max growled.

  His foot stumbled over mine and we both went crashing into the wall. I felt Max’s arm wrap around my waist, pulling me from the wall as he ground his teeth through the pain. I kept apologizing underneath my breath as I helped him get to the couch before I spilled him against the cushions. And when he let out a sigh, I heard another set of footsteps cantering down the hallway.

  “Who the hell is in my--?”

  “It’s me, Dani. I have Max. He’s really hurt.”

  I sat next to Max as the cantering footsteps accompanied by his cane rushed down the hallway. I leaned against the arm of the couch, spreading my legs for Max to snuggle against. I reached my arms out for him and pulled him toward me. His head settled just underneath my chin. I felt him trembling, tears in his eyes that he refused to shed. I wanted to help him. I needed to help him. Why the hell didn’t he want--?

  “Jesus. What the hell happened to you?”

  I smoothed Max’s hair away from his forehead as he drew in a deep breath. But when he went to speak, he started coughing and sputtering. Trying to catch his breath,he rolled over to the edge of the couch and vomited onto the floor.

  “I’m concerned he’s got a concussion,” I said.

  John looked at me before he grabbed a wooden chair from the corner of the room.

  “All right. Let’s take a look atcha.”

  I shook my head. “He needs a doctor. Isn’t there someone we can call?”

  John gripped Max’s chin. “For emergencies, yeah.”

  I snickered. “And this isn’t an emergency?”

  Neither of the guys said anything. As Max continued to try and catch his breath, John studied his face. I reached down and pulled up Max’s shirt, showing John the extensive bruising I hadn’t even seen yet. It made me gasp. There were distinct imprints on his skin where the impact had taken place with spidered veins of black and blue and red branching out from all of those impact points.

  “Can you roll over so I can see the other side?” John asked.

  Max grunted. “Do I have to?”

  I huffed. “Are you serious right now?”

  John eyed me hotly. “Leave. You’re not much help right now.”

  Max growled. “She stays.”

  Their eyes connected as I sat there, continuing to smooth Max’s hair back. I felt him sweating. He was in too much pain.

  “We have to get him some pain medication. He’s going to pass out,” I said.

  John nodded. “Spit for me.”

  I paused. “What?”

  Max leaned off the couch again and spat onto the hardwood floor.

  “No blood. That’s good,” John murmured.

  Max’s jaw moved around. “Not broken. But I think I chipped a t--oh, fuck.”

  “What?” I asked quickly.

  Max opened his jaw for his brother. John moved as if he knew what to do with the motion. Everything that took place between the two of them seemed consistent. Routine.

  As if they’d done this before.

  “Yep. Your canine’s chipped. But your back left molar’s missing. That’s gonna be an issue.”

  I sat up. “Let me see.”

  But when Max grunted at my movement, I quickly sat back into place. And found John’s stare on me again.

  “You can support him or work on him. But you can’t do both. Choose your place, and choose it now.”

  I nodded slowly. “Support. Always.”

  I felt Max’s hand fall against my shin. His fingertips drew soft designs against the fabric of my pants. I started running my fingers through his hair again, pulling my eyes away from his brother, who was staring at me with a look I couldn't interpret.r />
  “It’s going to be okay, Max. Just relax,” I whispered.

  John scooted closer. “Do you have any idea who jumped you?”

  I paused. “How did you know he was--?”

  Max held up his hand. “No clue. But they got a damn good piece of me before they bailed.”

  He sighed. “That much is obvious. Another question. Was this Red Thorn related? Or random?”

  Max snickered. “Is it ever random, in our lives?”

  I furrowed my brow. “What does that mean? You think someone intentionally did this to you? Why? What possible reason could they have?”

  Max wrapped his hand around my leg. “Support, gorgeous. Keep it that way.”

  I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw to keep myself from flying off the handle. I hated it when people told me my place. Especially when I wanted to help. My parents did that to me a lot. Shooed me away whenever things were getting too rough. Or too heated. Or too angry for me to supposedly witness. They treated me like I was weak. Like I was some porcelain China doll. Like I was some bumbling baby deer just birthed…

  Bambi.

  Did everyone around me see me as weak?

  “You got anything to go on?” John asked.

  Max coughed. “No. But Dani’s right about one thing. This pain is getting to be a bit too much. You got something here I can take? Or are we really gonna have to ring up that damn doctor?”

  My eyes flew open. “Yes. Doctor. Now.”

  John shook his head. “I’ve got something you can have for the pain. And since you don’t need stitches, I can clean you up. The rest is just, well, rest. Sleep. Food, until your body heals itself. Except for this tooth shit. You’ll have to find a dentist or something for that.”

  Max sighed. “Great.”

  John shrugged. “At least you didn’t lose your front tooth.”

  Were these guys being serious right now?

  “Dani, got a job for you. Gotta get out from behind Max.”

  John’s voice pulled me from my trance. “But you said--”

  He nodded. “Uh huh. And now I’m telling you different. I need you to go into the bathroom. Right there in the hallway. Underneath the bathroom sink is a big first aid kit. Grab it, go into the kitchen, grab the red bottle off the top of the fridge, and bring it all back to me. I need to get Max out of his clothes and look him over.”

  Max chuckled. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll let you have a look before he patches me up.”

  I snickered. “Last thing on my list right now, Max.”

  John started chuckling as I gingerly moved myself. As I slipped off the couch, John’s chuckling grew to laughter. Which grew to guffawing. And as I made my way into the bathroom, I heard him practically fall out of his chair. Max’s voice mumbled, but I didn’t know what he said. All I knew was that once I gathered everything up and came back, John was wiping tears away from his eyes.

  “Someone want to fill me in on what he’s laughing about?” I asked.

  Max rolled his eyes. “Another time.”

  John held up his hand. “Holy shit. Oh, man. That--I needed that on camera.”

  I paused. “Needed what?”

  His finger pointed between Max and me. “You rejecting him. Holy shit. I’ve never--never, ever seen a girl just--HAH!”

  I blinked. “Can we fix him up now so he doesn’t die on your couch?”

  Max grunted. “I’m not dying.”

  I dumped the stuff on the floor at John’s feet. “We’ll see come morning, I guess.”

  John immediately stopped laughing and glared at me. I didn’t know what the hell was so funny, but it seemed like I was the only one taking this issue seriously. And I wouldn't have these idiots botch things because they were laughing while Max could hardly move!

  “What next?” I asked.

  John nodded his head. “Get out of my way.”

  Max sat up. “Or help me get my clothes off.”

  I nodded. “I can do that.”

  I gingerly helped him out of his shirt and tossed it to the side. The bruising made my eyes water as my hands slid to the belt of his pants. After stripping him down to nothing but his socks and his boxers, I stood back, watching as John scooted up closer to his brother. He reached for the red bottle and popped the top. My eyes widened as he held it up to his lips. He took two long gulps before passing it to Max. And when it took five, I started reaching for the bottle.

  Before he moved back and took two more.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  I finally got the bottle away from Max and passed it back to John.

  “It’s whiskey,” Max said with a growl, “and it’s going to help dull the pain while John works.”

  John nodded. “It’ll be a nice treat when I drug him up for the night, too.”

  I scoffed. “With what? A tranquilizer?”

  John picked up the first aid kit. “No. With my lifetime supply of pain medication, courtesy of my chronic pain.”

  I paused. “Oh.”

  John nodded. “‘Oh’ is right. Now watch and learn, or get back on the couch.”

  I stood by the outer arm of the couch and watched as Max laid down against the cushions. With his feet resting against my thigh, I felt his toes curling into me every time John moved to work. First, the split lip. A small butterfly band-aid closed the wound, but not before he rubbed it down with alcohol. Something that made Max wince. And when his hands moved toward his nose, I quickly reached down for the red bottle.

  “Hold on,” I said.

  I walked around to Max’s face before I opened the bottle.

  “Two more large gulps, okay? You can’t risk any more than that,” I said softly.

  I lifted his head and counted the pulls. One, swallow. Two, swallow. And another small one, just in case. I settled his head back down and put the bottle off in the corner, hoping and praying Max didn’t buck too much during this. Setting his nose was going to be rough. Even John knew that. And as I looked up at him, I watched him nod.

  “On the count of three,” John said.

  Max took my hand and squeezed it. Hard.

  “Ready,” he grunted.

  “All right. On my count. One--SNAP!”

  And the roar of pain Max let out watered my eyes.

  “Sh-sh-sh-sh, it’s okay. I’m right here, handsome.”

  I pressed my lips to his ear and whispered as many sweet nothings as I could. John started from Max’s nose and worked his way down his brother’s body, patching up what he could and poking at what he couldn't. He got ice packs for the bruised ribs. He checked Max for any signs of a concussion. John checked every joint from his toes to his shoulders, just to make sure nothing else was out of place. And when we sat Max upright, my hand slid down the nape of his neck.

  Fiddling with something that felt swollen.

  “John?” I asked.

  Max groaned. “Damn it, that hurt. The hell did you just run over, gorgeous?”

  I peered down at Max’s neck, confused by what I was seeing. There were circular indentations with designs that looked weirdly specific in nature. John got up and lumbered around to where he could see, trying to move Max as little as possible.

  And when John’s eyes landed on the bruising, he smacked his lips.

  “Were the guys wearing rings, Max?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, they were. Bunch of fucking pussies. Might as well have had brass knuckles.”

  John nodded. “All right. I’m going to take pictures of this bruising pattern. They’ve hit you so hard back here that their rings left imprints.”

  It boggled my damn mind how these men thought a hospital wasn’t necessary for any of this.

  2

  Max

  The world felt as if it was swirling around me. That’s what pulled me from sleep. My eyes refused to open, and I felt some crusty shit trying to poke my eye out. I coughed, feeling my chest jump and my face explode with pain. And with every part of my body that became more aware of th
e morning sunlight pouring against my body, the more pain dawned on my conscious mind.

  “The fuck.”

  I heard birds chirping as the crusty outer layer to my eye finally gave way. It sent involuntary tears slipping down my face. I lifted my fist to wipe it away. With every movement I made, I thought I was going to puke.

  From the pain.

  “Here, this should help.”

  John’s voice seemed far off in the distance. I felt something sink into my upper arm, pinching and piercing, sending my ‘fight’ signals into overdrive. I clamped down onto a wrist and tried to pull whatever it was that was stabbing me out of my damn arm. I felt something bony press down against my major artery in my thigh, causing my head to spin.

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  John sighed. “And we’re gone. You always did hate needles, you weird, tattooed little fucker.”

  My eyes had a hard time focusing. I got my head turned and gazed around the room. Shit. No wonder I felt like hell. I’d fallen asleep on the couch in the damn living room. I reached up for the curtains to the window beside me and I tugged them shut, trying to get that hot sun off my skin.

  “Come on. Let me help you up. I need to see if you can at least sit up straight.”

  John’s grip was tight. He helped me up off the couch and sat me up, leaning me against the arm of the piece of furniture. I felt like death warmed over. It had been a long time since I’d felt this kind of physical pain. And as I gazed around the room, my eyes fell onto a curious sight.

  Dani, with her legs curled up against her chest, passed out in the recliner.