Rebel Song Read online

  “The good news is the bullet just grazed your abdomen and exited. But we still need to stop the bleeding.”

  She nodded and sat up. She started to unbutton her shirt.

  “Here, tear this up to make a bandage.” Rogan hesitated. “Oh c’mon, it’s no time to be shy. I have an under-tank on.” She handed him the shirt and he proceeded to tear strips of blue fabric with his knife, trying not to notice the way her full breasts tested the thin fabric of her bloody camisole. He retrieved a small flask of whiskey from his pocket and soaked one of the fabric strips.

  “Bite down on something,” he warned. She rolled up a ball of fabric from her ripped shirt and wedged it between her teeth. Iris nodded and he pressed the alcohol to the wound. She winced through the pain but kept quiet. Once the bullet hole was clean, he pressed a patch of cloth to the hole and wrapped the fabric strips around her as tightly as he could. She was shaking and sweating profusely but powered through it like a soldier. She reached out and swiped the flask from Rogan and took a long sip, then fell back against a crate and sighed.

  They sat in the shed for nearly an hour until the shouts and gunfire had quieted to a low hum and finally silence.

  “What were you doing here, Iris?” Rogan asked peering out a crack in the wall to examine the scene.

  “What? Don’t go getting all macho on me now, Elwood. I’m entitled to attend a protest just like everyone else. And need I remind you I’m knee deep in this shit, along with the rest of you.” Even shot, her stubbornness couldn’t be stifled.

  “I suppose that’s true. You scared Donal to near death out there. He’s probably still hysterical looking for you.”

  “Oh, the old man will be fine. When you didn’t come back I’m sure he figured you’d come to my desperate rescue,” she said with a little dramatic flair.

  “Someone had to. Cable practically left you to the wolves out there,” Rogan teased, but part of him was genuinely angry. “I guess that’s what you get for teaming up with a rogue like that.”

  “Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, isn’t he a little old for you?”

  “Aren’t we being catty?”

  “I’m just saying. Cable is…complicated.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous, Rogan Elwood.”

  Rogan shrugged.

  “Maybe I am.”

  She grinned her irresistible grin. He let himself remember the way those full lips tasted locked with his own. Sea salt and lemon had lingered on them and her touch was warm against his skin. His stomach churned at the memory. Was he crazy to have let her go to chase a pipe dream?

  “You had your chance, Elwood.”

  “Yeah, I know. I didn’t know what I had back then.”

  “You never had me.” She smiled. “Oh, I wanted you, but I was never yours. You never wanted me in that way.”

  “Of course I did. Any guy would want you in that way. I mean, look at you. Bullet wounds and all.”

  Iris laughed, then winced from the pain.

  “Well, sure. Boys will be boys. And had you less integrity, I would’ve slipped out of my knickers a long time ago for you. But you have never been like that, have you? And I’m glad, because in the end, I still would have been left alone. This way, I at least have a little dignity intact. And I’d rather have you as a friend.”

  “I am sorry things didn’t work out differently.”

  For a moment, they were locked in a gaze reserved for those who don’t need words. Then she shook her head and forced a laugh.

  “Oh please. What’s with the sentiment? Has your beloved dream girlfriend tossed you out?”

  Rogan’s smile faded.

  “Girlfriend?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Huh. Wish I knew about her.” Rogan shrugged.

  Iris raised an eyebrow.

  “Rog, I’ve known you since the day I was born. You can’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend, Iris. Don’t you think you’d know if I did?”

  “Why such a secret? I’m a big girl. I’m not holding on to any fantasies about us. I haven’t for a long time,” she said with a hint of remorse that pulled at Rogan’s guilty heart. “And obviously I’ve moved on.”

  “I know you have. I’m sorry it couldn’t have been with me. And If I had a girlfriend, if, I would tell you.”

  Iris shook her head and chuckled.

  “Good thing you’re not much of a card player, Elwood. You would be broke before the morning.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The blow ripped through his skin, shooting shards of pain into his skull. Benton could feel the hot river of blood flow from his nose and taste metal as it spilled onto his lips.

  “You think you’re above the law?” Captain Garot Demos blew hot rancid air into Benton’s face as he spoke, his breath reeking of stale ale and rotten saliva. Since he’d been arrested at the protest, Ben had been chained up in the dank cell for hours and suffered a series of minor interrogations from Demos’ posse while they awaited his arrival; gut kicks, cigarette burns and being urinated on. But he was beginning to think Demos’ breath was the worst of it. So far Ben had suffered worse at the hands of his father. Had he not already had more than a few busted ribs, he would have kicked himself for being stupid enough to get arrested.

  “I’ve broken no laws,” Ben said, spitting blood defiantly at Demos’ face.

  Demos flung his gloved hand around Ben’s throat and tightened his grip. The Captain’s muddy eyes fumed.

  “Don’t toy with me, boy. I will destroy you and everything your pathetic band of little rebels stands for.”

  “Seems to me you aim to do that regardless of what I tell you,” Ben choked out. “Might as well make you work for it.”

  Blood boiled on the surface of Demos’ face at the insolence.

  Demos brought his fist to Ben’s jaw again, this time coaxing a tooth from its socket. Ben stumbled in his confines but refused to cry out—anger overrode the pain. Demos clutched his throat again, then brought his fist into his gut. Ben wretched hard and keeled, spitting up more blood. Pain rippled up his body and nausea coursed through him, but he wouldn’t give Demos the satisfaction of vomiting.

  “Why do you make me hurt you, Benton Hollister? I really don’t like it.”

  “You’re pretty damn good at it, considering it’s such a harrowing pastime for you,” Ben wheezed, blood and spit running down his chin.

  “I just want to know whose idea it was to set off those little bombs and what they’re planning to do next. After I came all the way down into this dreary cell to ask you personally, you can spare that little detail, can’t you?”

  “I’ve already told you, I don’t know who set them off. It wasn’t anything I was involved in.”

  “Don’t lie to me! I know you’re involved, Hollister. I see everything in this city—you can’t hide from me!”

  “Some of us just wanted to organize a peaceful protest and someone just took things into their own hands. Probably just some kid. It was unsanctioned.”

  “Unsanctioned,” Demos chewed on the word. “You make it sound so official.”

  “There is no it. Just because a few people want to protest some injustices, doesn’t mean there is some master plan.”

  “I see. So I suppose you know nothing about a resurgence of the resistance? Something they’re calling the ‘Cause?’ I hear there’s some new rebel blood rising to the top. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Whoever told you that is lying.”

  Demos nodded, unconvinced. He walked nonchalantly over to a table and picked up a long wooden club.

  “I would love to believe you my boy,” he said, caressing the wood. “But the problem is, I’m not a complete fucking idiot.” He brought the club down on Benton’s head and everything went black.

  When Benton managed to peel his eyelids open, he was met by piercing agony spli
tting through his skull. His mouth was so dry that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could feel dried blood caked on his cracked lips and down his chin. He forced his tongue to dislodge and did his best not to taste his own saliva. He felt the back of his head and fingered the lump where he remembered a baton coming down on him. So much for innocent until proven guilty. It certainly wasn’t the first beating he’d ever taken, but he was pretty sure it was the worst. He looked around his dank cell and sighed. This could be a very bad time.

  He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, but judging by the thick metal bars on his cage, he guessed he was in the depths of Arelanda Central lockup, the in-between jail for those awaiting transportation to the county prison or those picked up for drunk and disorderly and the like. Certainly they would have loved to throw him into the dungeon and lose the key, but they had no legal grounds to keep him. No matter what they thought they knew about him, he’d done nothing wrong but be in the wrong place when the bombs started flying. As far as he could tell, he was simply the most convenient prisoner they could capture. But he still had some rights—at least he hoped he did. It wasn’t a secret that he ran with Cable, but he’d take a thousand blows before he’d give them anything tangible. And he’d die a slow death before he ever gave up Rogan. Demos was a sneaky bastard with a hard on for the rebel cause, but the riots and his arrest had been too public for a mysterious disappearance. He’d made damn sure he didn’t go into custody quietly.

  He heard footsteps and he stiffened instinctively—not sure he could take another round just yet. But these steps were lighter, more tentative, not the clomping about of rangers’ boots. He leaned back against the damp cell wall, every fiber of his body burning with anxiety. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a tall, slender blonde emerge from the darkness. Her platinum hair was slicked back in her signature twist; she wore a white sweater, and fitted black pants covered by high brown boots of polished leather —an angelic sight against the dismal backdrop of the prison.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Brita said, in her controlled, velvety voice. He forced himself to his feet and walked to the bars that separated them. He sighed with relief when she passed him a bottle of water. He opened it and downed half of it without a breath.

  “Thank you,” he said almost panting. “You don’t know how much I needed that.”

  She looked at his bloody, swollen face and sighed.

  “Are you all right?”

  Ben raised an eyebrow and smirked, although the slight motion caused him to wince. He had the suspicion that his nose was broken.

  “It’ll take a little more salt to break me. How did you know I was here?”

  “My assistant told me,” Brita handed him a damp handkerchief. “She’s seeing one of the city rangers under Demos’ command. As secretive as they would like to be about everything, Demos can’t help but boast about his triumphs. I’ve never met a man with such arrogance. Apparently, they’ve been just waiting for a reason to take one of you in. Anyway, when I heard about what happened at the protest, I asked what she knew.”

  Ben dabbed his bloody lip with the handkerchief.

  “She’s very loyal.”

  Brita nodded.

  “It’s interesting who you can and cannot trust in these times.”

  Ben moved closer and pressed his face to the bars, looking down at the floor as if the gesture would further conceal him from prying eyes.

  “What do they know?” He whispered.

  Brita didn’t flinch—she just reached in and lifted his chin with her finger.

  “Not enough. But their trail grows hotter. I think we need to have a good long chat about all this.”

  “Can they keep me?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. They don’t have anything on you. Demos isn’t going to risk questions about why they’re detaining and torturing innocent men. Even he has to answer to someone.”

  “Any idea how long I’ll be in here then?”

  Brita turned back to the shadows and flicked her hand in a “come here” gesture.

  On cue, an armed guard emerged from the cellar shadows with a set of keys jingling at his hip.

  “Hollister, you’re being released,” the guard said, not offering him eye contact, but simply jamming the key into the rusty lock. He stepped aside and waited stiffly for Benton to collect himself. Benton stared at Brita curiously.

  “Just when things were getting fun?”

  Brita glared at him.

  “We don’t have all day. Get out,” Brita said.

  “All right, don’t have to tell me twice.” Ben grabbed his torn, blood-soaked jacket from the floor and exited his cage.

  “I’m not going up with you,” she said as Ben began to follow the guard.

  “What? Why not?”

  Brita stepped closer and lowered her voice to a whisper again.

  “I can’t be seen escorting you out. I made some calls on your behalf to the justice department as a very concerned human rights attorney. You’re being released for lack of evidence and to save political face, not because the Minister of Public Works took a special interest in you. I can’t have it known that we’re associated in any way. I came in through a back way, and I’ll leave that way.”

  Ben looked anxiously at the guard, clearly witness to their charade.

  “It’s okay. Griff is a friend,” Brita assured. Ben nodded but it still made him nervous. Brita touched him lightly on the shoulder and nodded for him to proceed. “Get out of this place while you still can.”

  “Thank you,” he touched a bloody hand to her pale cheek. He glanced at Griff.

  “You can trust him completely?” he asked. Brita nodded. “Good.” Ben threw his arm around her waist and pulled her into an ardent kiss. “See you tonight.” He winked and turned to follow Griff.

  CHAPTER 19

  Rogan knew this was dangerous—they both did—but after he had held her again, he couldn’t bear to let her go. His mind told him it was idiocy to risk being seen with her right now, especially after the riot. But the mind is no match for the heart. He had ignored his common sense and flown to her the moment he heard her voice on the end of his phone.

  “So is everything all right?” Elyra finally asked after they’d ignored the real issues for a good hour as they sat by the pond and made small talk about the beauty of the sky.

  Rogan didn’t answer at first then raised his head.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, is everything all right?”

  “Everything?”

  Elyra raised an eyebrow.

  “What happened on the square is hardly a secret. It was all over the newspapers this morning, not to mention on the breath of every gossip at court.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” The immense sting of guilt over Ben’s interrogation still tormented him.

  “Liar,” she grumbled.

  He smirked at her anger, delighting in the way her brow furrowed when she was annoyed. Her eyes shone like a cat’s in the night, the small flecks of gold shimmering in the moonlight. Her tight oxblood sweater dipped down on one side carelessly and he could see the soft, milky white canvas of her shoulder. He reached over and ran his hand along her skin.

  “What’s that for?” She asked, goose bumps sprouting at his touch.

  “It’s just hard to resist touching you sometimes.”

  “Mmm,” she moaned then caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Okay, Rogan, what is it? I know when something’s wrong. What happened out there?”

  Rogan’s conscience was tearing him apart. He had a responsibility to the Cause, but how could he lie to her? How could he risk hurting her? He shouldn’t even be there with her. It was all a terrible idea.

  “It’s nothing. Some angry people got out of control and a few got hurt.”

  Her eyes narrowed. A girl used to getting what she wants was not easily brushed off.

  “Tell me the truth.” He remained silent.
“You can trust me. Whatever it is, you can tell me,” she urged.

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  She narrowed her eyes and gave him a determined look that sent shivers crawling up his spine.

  “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

  He took a hearty breath.

  “You really want to know?” She nodded. “Ok. Truth is, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

  She stiffened slightly and gave him a suspicious look, but nodded.

  “All right. I suppose in our world that’s not the biggest shock. Go on.”

  “Well, you know that I have ties to some of the…unrest going on, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, what the protest was about yesterday? I told you that I agree that we need change. The common people need to have more of a voice.” She offered a gentle smile to show her very princess-worthy compassion.

  “Well, my ties may run a little deeper than just protests.”

  “What do you mean, deeper? How deep?”

  “You need to know how much I care about you El,” he went off track. “And I’ve never felt I could trust anyone the way that I do you. Not even my own family.”

  “You’re freaking me out, Rogan. What the hell is going on and what are you involved in? Does this have something to do with the cryptic warnings you were going on about last time?”

  He searched the still night air for an answer.

  “You might not know it, or you might know it and not choose to believe it, but Arelanda is on the brink of a revolution. A real revolution,” he continued.

  “Revolution?” As in, people revolting?”

  Rogan nodded.

  “As in people revolting.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I mean, a protest gone badly is hardly a revolution.”

  “Like I said, it runs a little deeper than you think.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And I might be right in the center of it.”

  Elyra’s face lost color.

  “What does that even mean? What, you’re some kind of… rebel?” She was almost smirking at the idea.

  “Something like that.”