Bad Boy Rebels, Page 5

  “Okay, let’s do it.” My voice is as quiet as a mouse and nearly gets lost in the booming music outside the door.

  But Benton must hear me, because he wets his lips with his tongue, and scoots closer to me. His gaze flicks from my lips to my eyes, lips, eyes, lips, eyes, lips…

  He leans in without warning and his mouth grazes mine. I freeze, unsure what to do, my hands balling into fists on my lap.

  Oh my Gosh, I’m kissing a guy.

  Oh my Gosh, I’m kissing Benton!

  “Relax,” he whispers against my lips, sounding sort of amused and sort of uneasy.

  I try to do what he says, forcing my muscles to unstiffen. But any relaxation goes straight out the window as he parts my lips with his tongue and deepens the kiss. He tastes like cherries and something more potent and his tongue in my mouth feels strange. Strangely amazing. His hand finds the back of my head and his fingers thread through my hair as he kisses me slowly. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I reach out to grab onto something and end up putting them on his sides. Without his shirt on, the warmth of his skin overwhelms my palms. Worried maybe touching wasn’t part of this deal, I start to draw back.

  “Don’t,” he whispers as I start to move my hands away.

  His body shudders as I place my hands back where they were. My fingers tremble, my heart slams in my chest, and my anxiety soars through the roof as he starts to kiss me more fiercely while gradually lowering me down toward the floor.

  Oh my Gosh, this is getting intense. I should stop it, right? Shouldn’t I…

  I don’t know…

  Before I can make a decision, the bathroom door flies open. I jump back, my cheeks flushing and my heart racing. Benton blinks at me, looking dazed. And confused. And worried.

  “Zhara, I—”

  “Dude, Benton, there’s some people at the front door that say they need to talk to you. They look like bodyguards or bikers or some shit.” A guy we went to school with is standing in the doorway, glancing back and forth between us with perplexity written all over his face.

  Benton lets out a string of curses as he starts to stand to his feet. “Sorry,” he says to me, then walks out of the bathroom.

  I watch him go, utterly puzzled over what he’s sorry for. Leaving me? Or kissing me?

  Kissing?

  Reality slaps me across the face.

  Oh my Gosh, I just had my first kiss with a guy I barely know.

  The thought makes my head spin because I’m unsure whether what I did is right or wrong. Would my mom have been disappointed in me? Or is this normal?

  I don’t know what to think or do, my mind racing a million miles a minute. Sensing a panic attack coming on, I get up, hurry out of the bathroom, and power walk out of the house, leaving the party without so much as a glance back. When I reach the bottom of the stairway, I notice Benton in the parking lot, talking to two large guys wearing leather jackets and sunglasses. He looks worried and upset. As I start toward the sidewalk, he catches my eye and stares at me with his brow furrowed.

  Then suddenly his eyes light up. “Hey, Zhara, can you come here for a minute?” he calls out, giving me a pleading look.

  I hesitate, wanting to continue running home. But ultimately, Benton’s begging stare wins me over and I walk over to him.

  “Hey,” I say to him, unsure what else to say.

  He offers me a cocky smile, but beneath the arrogant demeanor resides a hint of worry. “Zhara, I’d like you to meet Tank and Ralpho.”

  Tank and Ralpho… what strange names. Even stranger, though, is why is Benton introducing me to them?

  “Um, hey.” I give them a tentative wave, then glance at Benton, lost.

  He gives me another pressing look before turning back to the two guys. “Tank and Ralpho, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend. You know, the one I’ve been telling you about—who all of us have been telling you about.”

  All of us? Huh?

  The guys stare at me with their sunglasses still on so I can’t see their eyes, which makes me feel extremely unnerved.

  “Hey,” they both grumble, frowning in disappointment.

  Their reaction throws me off. Disappointed? Why would they act…

  Wait a second!

  I rewind through what Benton just said and my jaw nearly ninja kicks the asphalt. Girlfriend? Did he just refer to me as his girlfriend?

  “So, as you can see, we weren’t lying.” Benton smirks at the guys then drapes his arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer to him.

  His move is casual, but I can sense the tension flowing off him.

  Who are these guys? And how do they have someone like Benton scared?

  “I guess not,” the taller guy mumbles.

  Then he exchanges a look with the shorter guy. They stare at each other momentarily, as if having a silent conversation. Then the taller guy turns back to Benton.

  “I guess we’ll see you on Monday then.” His deep voice reverberates. He pauses, sticks his hand into his pocket, and retrieves a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Then he lights up, takes a drag, and releases the smoke in Benton’s face. “Bring the girl with you. I’d like to talk to her some more, but in private.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, is it?” Benton grits out, his muscles wound tight. “She’s not part of this.”

  “Oh, but she is,” the short guy sneers, adjusting his glasses. “Monday, Benton, and don’t be late.”

  They turn, walk across the parking lot, and climb into a sleek, black BMW with tinted windows and chrome rims. They don’t start the engine up right away and Benton makes no move to budge or say anything. He waits patiently, staring at the car until they finally they drive off.

  The instant the car vanishes, Benton releases a stressed breath, moves his arm from my shoulders, and rakes his fingers through his hair. “God dammit, why the fuck did they have to come here today?” He curses several more times before his eyes land on me. He blinks, almost as if he’s forgotten I was standing there, then wariness crosses his expression. “So… I’m thinking you might be wondering what that was about?”

  I nod. “Yeah, sort of. I mean, I don’t know who those guys are… And you told them I was your girlfriend so…” I have no clue how to finish that statement.

  He scratches the corner of his eye while shifting his weight. “Yeah, about that…” Another shift of his weight. “I think I really need to talk to you, but not here.”

  He sounds just like Tank and Ralpho. “Okay… About what exactly?”

  “About what just happened.” He chews on his bottom lip, eyeing me over with confliction. “And about a favor I might need—Well, all of my friends might need.”

  I point at myself. “You and the Bad Boy Rebels need a favor from me?”

  He lets out a soft chuckle. “Are people still using that stupid little nickname?”

  My cheeks warm. “Some do.”

  “Well, just so you know, we don’t call ourselves that. But yes, me and the,” his lips quirk, “Bad Boy Rebels need a favor from you.”

  “What sort of favor?” I ask, tugging on the bottom of my shirt. Or well, his shirt. Crap! I still have it on. “Should I be worried?”

  He wavers. “Not you, but we might need to be.”

  I frown. “Why’s that?”

  He softly smiles, tugging on a strand of my hair. “If you’ll come here around Sunday evening, I’ll try to explain this better.” He peers around the area. “But I can’t talk about it out in the open. And I need to talk to my friends first.”

  Every instinct I possess is telling me to decline his offer and just go home, but again, Benton gives me a pleading look and I find myself nodding.

  I must be a sucker for that look.

  His smile is close to being genuine as he backs away toward his house. “Thanks, Zhara. And I apologize in advance for what we’re going to ask you to do.”

  Warning flags go up everywhere, but Benton spins around before I can ask any more questions. Sighing, I he
ad down the sidewalk, walking close to the carport to stay in the shade. Summers can be so hot in Honeyton and since it's mid-June, the temperature has got to be at least one hundred degrees.

  But my thoughts drift from the scorching heat, though, as I replay what happened today. I actually went to a party, got kissed, and got called Benton’s girlfriend. Now apparently, I’m going to be asked for a favor from the Bad Boy Rebels.

  “Holy crap,” I whisper as I reach the curb of the parking lot. “This has been the strangest night ever.”

  It makes me wonder—and I’m extremely nervous—what tomorrow will hold.

  Benton

  “You did what?” My friend Xavier exclaims to me over the phone after I finish explaining to him what happened in the parking lot with Zhara. “Are you fucking stupid?”

  “I panicked,” I tell him as I pace my small bedroom. After I returned to my house, I kicked everyone out so I could call my friends and tell them what happened. Besides, it’s not like I actually like having the parties. It’s a disguise, part of my fake lifestyle, part of all of this. “Tank and Ralpho showed up and were asking me all of these questions. And then they brought up the girlfriend Jackson told them about.”

  “You know, I really wish he wouldn’t have done that,” Xavier grimaces. “I don’t know what the hell he was thinking.”

  “He was drunk and trying to impress them,” I say. “I just didn’t think they’d be so persistent about finding out if he was telling the truth or not.”

  “We could always try to tell them the truth,” Xavier says. “It might be better than actually trying to convince Zhara to do this.”

  “At this point, we can’t do that,” I tell him. “We need Tank and Ralpho to trust us if we’re ever going to solve this goddamn case, which I really want to do because I’m getting fucking tired of it… We’ve been working on it for almost six months.”

  “Yeah, I know, since we all turned eighteen and finally got promoted out of that stupid mundane teenager undercover work.” He pauses, as if reminiscing. “But are you sure there isn’t another way? One where we don’t have to ask Zhara…” He says her name with disdain. “To pretend to be all of our girlfriends for a few weeks?”

  I sink down on my bed as memories of kissing her creep up into mind… The way she tasted… the way she shook… He may sound unhappy about this, but I’m not so sure I am. That kiss… It made me feel something. And I don’t feel anything too often.

  “Not one I want to try,” I say. “But, she might be able to help us.”

  “How?”

  “Well, Tank and Ralpho asked to talk to her privately.”

  “And how’s that supposed to help?”

  “Because if she can impress them during this talk, we might be able to get her on the inside, be our eyes and ears in the inner circle. She could maybe even find out where the underground tunnels are and how they’re getting the drugs past security checks.”

  “That sounds risky, though,” Xavier tells me. “Do you even think she’ll go for it?”

  “I guess we’ll find out Sunday,” I say. My tone is casual, but on the inside I’m nervous.

  If she says no, the case could be ruined. If she says yes, then her life could be at risk. I don’t know how I feel about that, but I can’t see any other choice. You don’t lie to drug lords like Tank and Ralpho and they’re not even the highest guys up.

  I just hope everything works out and no one gets hurt. And that whatever I was feeling when I kissed Zhara doesn’t get in the way.

  Discovering Zhara: Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels

  (Bad Boy Rebels, #2)

  By Jessica Sorensen

  Discovering Zhara: Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form, or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover design by Mae I Design

  Created with Vellum

  Insomnia

  Somehow, over the course of one day, I’ve become an insomniac. Usually, I get to bed at a decent hour. Not to get my beauty rest, but because getting eight hours of sleep is what good girls do. At least, that’s what my mom told me once, when I had stayed up until two o’clock in the morning, just to see what it was like to stay up late on a school night.

  “Zhara, you need to get to bed,” she said when she caught me lounging in the living room, watching a late night talk show. She blinked at the television screen, where a woman in her early twenties was yelling at her mom for sleeping with her husband. “What on earth are you watching?”

  I shrugged, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. “I don’t know, but it’s actually pretty entertaining.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s trash.” She shook her head, scooped up the remote, and clicked off the television. “You have tests in the morning. You should’ve been in bed over four hours ago.” She glanced at the clock. “Dammit, Zhara, you’re barely going to get four hours of sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her, lowering my feet to the floor. “And I only have one test and it’s in English.” I stood up, yawning. “I could ace English in my sleep.”

  “You say that now, but we’ll see tomorrow.” She pointed to the stairway. “Now get to bed. And please, don’t ever stay up this late again. You’re lucky Alexis didn’t see you. I finally got her back on a normal sleeping scheduled. If she sees you up this late, she’ll think it’s okay to go back to her old ways.” She shook her head as I trudged by her. “You’re supposed to be setting an example for your brothers and sisters.”

  “I just stayed up late,” I muttered. “It’s not like I was out partying and getting drunk.”

  “No, but breaking curfew can be the starting point to getting into more trouble. Trust me, I’ve been through this with Loki and Jessamine.” She followed me toward the stairs, her tone softening. “I know you think I’m being hard on you, but I only do it because you’ve always been such a good girl, and I don’t want you getting on the wrong track.”

  I remember wondering how on earth she thought staying up late to watch trashy television could lead to me ending up on the wrong track? It was just a few less hours of sleep for crying out loud. And it’s not like I was out doing drugs or participating in teenage mischief. Still, her disapproval made me never stay up late ever again. Until tonight. Tonight, I’m awake well into the late hours of the night. Or the early hours of the morning, depending on how you look at it. But I can’t sleep. Not when I’m supposed to meet Benton in less than twenty-four hours to find out what sort of favor the Bad Boy Rebels want from me. I can’t even wrap my mind around what they could possibly want.

  Maybe this is all some sort of prank or practical joke. Perhaps tomorrow when I show up at Benton’s apartment, him and a bunch of his friends will be there, waiting to laugh at me for believing that they’d want anything to do with Goody Two Shoes Zhara.

  Frowning at the thought, my mind wanders to Benton kissing me. Could that have been part of the prank too? Does Benton even like me? It’s not like he’s called me. Then again, why would he? It’s not like he has my phone number. And it’s not like he has a reason to get it.

  “Gah.” I drag my fingers through my tangled, messy hair as I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling. “What is wrong with me? W
hen did I become so obsessed with guys and kisses? This isn’t like me. I’m supposed to be focusing on school and getting a summer job. I need to focus.” Sucking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and try to go to sleep. I slept fine last night after coming home from the party. I should be able to sleep now.

  But after several minutes of listening to my own breathing and the creaking of the house, my thoughts are still racing over what’s going to happen tonight. Giving up, I throw the blankets off me and climb out of bed. Then I tug a hoodie over my tank top, slip some fuzzy boots on, and pad down the stairs to turn off the house alarm. After I punch in the four digit code, I slip out the back door and onto the patio. The night air is warm, and I instantly regret putting on the hoodie, but make no move to take it off as I sink down into a chair and kick my feet up on the railing. I stare up at the stars and the moon, wondering if my parents are up there, looking down on me. It’s something I’ve wondered before, but I don’t know what to believe. Never really have. I’d like to think, though, that perhaps my parents’ souls morphed into stars and flew up to the sky where they can constantly shine down on me and my brothers and sisters. It’s a beautiful and peaceful thought—

  A tiny, red dot suddenly shines through a hole in the wooden fence that separates my backyard from the neighbor’s.

  “What on earth?” I mutter as I lower my feet to the ground, my pulse quickening.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the light belonged to a gun scope.

  A gun scope, Zhara? In Honeyton? And in the backyard of the Marellies’, the sweet, old couple that can barely get into their car?

  I rub the palm of my hand across my forehead. “This insomnia thing is messing with my brain.”

  Click.

  My gaze snaps back to the fence as a bright light illuminates across the darkness. I freeze in horror, half expecting a UFO to soar down from the sky and beam me up.