Rebels & Rejects: Black Creek 1 Read online

  I work in the darkness that is Black Creek.

  If there’s a secret to uncover, a package to deliver, or a story to be told, I’m your girl. I make my money however I can.

  Once upon a time, The Feral Beasts ruled Black Creek with an iron fist, but they’re long gone now. The Antonelli family stepped in, only caring about their family and their money.

  I’ve heard the whispers…The Reaper Rejects are growing and they want control of Black Creek. But this town isn’t big enough for the both of them. Blood will be shed, lives will be lost, retribution will be dealt.

  A war is coming and this town has never been more deadly.

  Rebels & Rejects

  Copyright © 2022 R.A. Smyth

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ASIN: B091HG99RD

  Cover & Interior Design by Nikki Epperson. All Rights Reserved.

  Editing by Lunar Rose Editing.

  Formatting by Rachel Smyth.

  Rebels & Rejects Playlist

  DEVIL – Shinedown

  Closer – Nine Inch Nails

  S&M – Rihanna

  I Get Off – Halestorm

  Addicted – Saving Abel

  Pavement – SayWeCanFly

  Cold – Crossfade

  Move Your Body – My Darkest Days

  Riot – Three Days Grace

  Breakdown – Seether

  Live Like Legends – Ruelle

  Infamous – The Faim

  Always – Saliva

  Down And Out – Tantric

  Lowlife – Theory of a Deadman

  Up All Night – Hinder

  Monsters – Shinedown

  Start A War – Klergy, Valerie Broussard

  …And many more

  Play Now

  This will be your only warning. If you’re looking for a sweet romance, this book is not that. This is a story of vengeance; of justice; of righting wrongs and standing up for yourself. For not settling in life, and instead fighting for what you rightly deserve. It’s about opening your heart and mind to new possibilities and seeing your enemies in a new light. This book is about fighting for what might feel impossible. It’s dark and gritty. It’s violent and masochistic. It’s everything you love and hate in dark romance. So continue at your own risk, and remember…this is only the start.

  Black Creek will be a 4 book series that will ultimately end in an HEA—after one hell of a rollercoaster. So buckle up and enjoy the ride.

  *Triggers*

  Violence

  Talk about trauma and abuse

  Foul language

  Graphic sexual scenes

  Please note that this is a reverse harem series meaning the love interest will have multiple love interests and won’t have to choose.

  I offer a support group for when you have finished this book and are suffering from the very real effects of a book hangover—Rachel’s Rebel Rehab—if you need somewhere to rant or yell. You will also be able to find a special Rebels & Rejects bonus scene.

  “We are all destined to die. We can only hope that when our time comes, we go out fighting for what we believe in.”

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Stalker Links

  Acknowledgements

  Also By R.A. Smyth

  About the Author

  Three Divisions (Crescentwood #1)

  Prologue

  Eight years ago

  “P-p-please,” the pathetic sack of shit at my feet pleads. “I told you everything I k-know.”

  I tilt my head as I stare down at him impassively, noting every shake and tremble of his body as I press the muzzle of my gun against the center of his forehead. Why do they always beg? They know who I am, who I represent. They know we don’t offer mercy. Who would want to die groveling on their fucking knees? When my time comes, I wanna go out staring death straight in the face, giving it a final fuck you.

  Bang. There’s minimal kickback from the revolver as the loud sound ricochets off the stone walls, echoing around the dark alley. The bullet makes a perfect circle in the front of the scumbag’s forehead, and I watch as he crumples into a heap on the ground, feeling absolutely nothing—no remorse, no guilt. Not even happiness or satisfaction at a job well done. There’s something fundamentally wrong with me. My father knows it too. Apparently, the fact that I’m incapable of feeling emotions is a good thing. It’s why I’ll be the most ruthless leader the Antonellis have ever had. Because it means I can make the hard decisions, do what needs to be done—like kill this sorry fucker who thought he could spy on us—and still sleep like a baby tonight.

  Staring down at the sorry sack of shit, I take in the pool of blood around his head that’s growing progressively larger and his saggy, sallow skin that looks yellow in the dim light from the flickering street lamp down the block. Something sparks within me. It’s small, and it disappears before I can place it. Hunger maybe? It definitely has a heady feel to it.

  “Hey!” a voice barks from behind me. The deep bellow is followed by the sounds of a scuffle that draws my attention away from the corpse at my feet, and turning around, I find Lor wrestling to contain a scrawny little street urchin in his arms. The kid is writhing and kicking out as he grunts and groans with exertion, attempting to escape the bands of steel wrapped around his waist. He’s so busy fighting against Lor that he is oblivious to the real threat observing him closely—me.

  Whoever the fuck this kid is, he’s just seen me commit a crime. Not that I’m worried he’ll go to the police. Ha, that’s a laugh. Every police officer in this city is in someone's pocket. If it’s not ours, it’s The Feral Beasts or one of the other smaller gangs running around in this rat-infested city. Regardless of whose pocket they’re in, none of them would dare pull any of us in.

  No, what I can’t have is this bag of bones running off and telling The Feral Beasts that I’ve just taken out one of their moles. They’ll find out in a few days when they don’t hear from him, only it will be too late. By then, we will have fished out the other fuckers they’ve planted within our organization.

  “Let me go!” the little thing snarls out, surprising me. It’s not just the angry tone and defiant boldness that catches me off guard, but the high pitch of the voice.

  He’s not a he, but a she—a girl.

  I cast my eyes over her squirming frame once again, but it’s impossible to see any curves or tits in those baggy clothes that hang off her scrawny frame. By the looks of things, she’s too fucking skinny to have any anyway.

  “Why would he do that?” I bark out in a deep, menacing growl that thunders through the narrow alley. She instantly freezes in Lor’s arms, her head snapping up to meet my steely gaze as I slowly close the distance between us. My heavy boots boom with every step I take until
I loom over her, casting her in shadow.

  She peers up at me with wide, fearful eyes as I silently take her in. There’s nothing special about her. Coated in dirt and grime, with her dark hair like a bird’s nest, filled with knots and split ends, she looks like some sort of feral animal; a wildcat—similar to every other street urchin... except for those eyes. Even in the poor lighting, those endless pools of blue hold me captive. They’re a brilliant cerulean, like how I imagine the Caribbean Sea looks. Not that I’ve ever seen it in real life, but I’ve caught a glimpse of it on TV. It’s one of those scenes you can’t tear your eyes from. You’re convinced you can see right to the seabed at the bottom, read all of the secrets hidden in its dark depths, but it’s a lie. While it draws you in, making you think you can see more than you can; in reality, it holds all of its mysteries close, unwilling to give any of them up.

  The girl’s eyebrows draw together, and her chin lifts in defiance, probably thinking my silence is a scare tactic and not that she just rendered me mute. I shake off the weird feeling she’s evoked and give a slight jerk of my head, silently telling Lor to let the girl go. Before she can scamper away, I grab ahold of her arm with my free hand. My gun is still clasped in my other, and I bring it up to aim at her head, watching as the fight instantly drains out of her and she goes stock-still in my grip. Her eyes widen, making her look like a deer caught in headlights, but unlike the sorry sack of shit behind me, she doesn’t collapse to her knees at the realization she’s about to die. Instead, she surprises me by setting her jaw into a hard line and pushing back her shoulders. Straightening her spine, she stares brazenly back at me. Hell, she’s got bigger balls than most of the men who find themselves on the wrong end of my revolver.

  However, despite her bravado, I can see the terror in her eyes. It’s the same fear everyone seems to experience when they realize their time is up. Seeing it doesn’t bother me, though. If anything, it just makes me more curious about human nature. I don’t understand the notion of fear. It seems pointless. Yet, looking into her captivating eyes as she blinks rapidly—as if hoping she can just blink the scene in front of her away—for the first time in my life, it makes me pause. I don’t want to have to kill her. What the fuck is happening to me? It must be because she’s a kid. I’ve never killed anyone so young before. That’s gotta be it.

  We both continue to stare at one another, and I recognize the flicker of warmth that ignites in my chest. I’ve felt it only a handful of times in my life and it always seems to extinguish before I can place it. But not today. Instead, it sits there in my chest, simmering at a low heat, like the dying embers of a fire. It’s still too small for me to identify, but it’s present all the same.

  What is this? Who is she? Questions arise to the forefront of my mind as my gaze bores into hers, hungrily seeking answers. She returns my stare unbidden, and I have no idea what she sees when she looks into my soulless eyes. Can she glimpse the monster I am? Or am I nothing more than a cold, hard, unreadable shell?

  The whole time, she spears me with her incensed glare. Fearful but defiant ‘til the very end. It’s impressive.

  Keeping the barrel pointed at her forehead, I lift my thumb and pull back on the hammer, cocking the gun. She startles at the sound of the loud click before hardening her features again, refusing to let me peer any deeper into her psyche. I press my finger against the trigger, knowing what I need to do. It’s easy. Merely the flexing of a finger, and yet...

  A lifetime seems to pass in a single moment as her life hangs in the balance, while I find myself struggling for the first time in my life with knowing what needs to be done. Her death was written in the stars as soon as Lor caught her. And yet something I can’t quite put my finger on is urging me to go against the rules of the Family, rules that are ingrained into the very fabric of my being.

  Time ticks on, one long second after another, as my finger repeatedly tenses against the trigger before hesitation hits, and I relax it again.

  She needs to die.

  But...

  She’s a witness.

  Still...

  Without giving the action any conscious thought, I ease my finger off the trigger and drop my arm down to my side, ignoring the flash of confusion that darkens her irises. Using my tight grip on her arm, I yank her into me so I can hiss in her ear, “If you mention this to anyone, I’ll fucking gut you,” before flinging her backward, away from me. The distance between us allows me to take a much-needed breath that thankfully douses the confusing heat in my chest.

  She stumbles before quickly righting herself, gaping at me in astonishment, most likely unable to comprehend how she’s still alive; how she’s about to walk away with her life. Trust me, it’s something I’m still struggling to understand.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind,” I bark when she makes no move to run. “Don’t show your face here again!”

  Without a second's hesitation, she sprints for the end of the alleyway and ducks out of sight. In her absence, I can feel the heavy weight of Lor’s gaze on me, and when I finally look away from the spot where the baffling girl disappeared, I find him watching me with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

  “Boss?” he questions. I don’t fucking blame him. For the first time in my life, I just showed someone mercy, and a witness, no less. One of our cardinal rules is that witnesses can’t be allowed to live. Witnesses who walk, talk. It’s as simple as that. Only the dead can keep secrets.

  “Follow her,” I order. “Make sure she doesn’t talk to anyone.”

  His gaze lingers on me for a second longer before he nods, following after the kid who has somehow managed to fuck with my head. I stand and watch the darkness swallow him up as he disappears down the alley, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I’ve never disobeyed an order. Never put our Family at risk by letting someone who I know needs to die, live. Whatever that girl did to me, it’s a weakness I can’t afford. A shortcoming I can’t let my father know about.

  Pretending like my interaction with the street urchin never occurred, I turn on my heel and stride out of the alley toward my awaiting car and climb in. On the outside, I’m the epitome of calm and control. No one else would be aware of the inner turmoil currently whipping up a storm within me. Whatever that spark of warmth was that that girl ignited, as much as I want to pretend I never felt its electrifying heat, there’s a more prominent part of me that wants to feel its soft caress again. And I have no idea what the fuck that means.

  Chapter 1

  With a final shove and a grunt, the package rolls over the side of the dock, splashing into the black ocean below. It bobs on the surface for a moment before the water drags it under, welcoming the tarp-wrapped shitstain into her murky depths where he can forever rot amongst the fishes and algae.

  So long, motherfucker. May you forever burn in hell.

  Turning my back on the water, I pull the burner phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to confirm the job is done. While I wait for a response, I pull up my contacts, find the number I’m looking for, and call it.

  Arnie answers on the first ring. “Yup?”

  “Got a delivery for you down by the docks.”

  “A good one?”

  I smirk. “I think you’ll be pretty happy. Brand new Camaro.”

  He lets out an appreciative whistle. “Alright, kid. I’ll get someone down to pick her up now. It’s late, get yourself home.”

  As I’m hanging up the phone, I receive an alert that payment for tonight’s job has been received. Finished here, I pull out a Henley and black leather jacket out of my duffel bag, pulling the top on over my bralette and slipping into the jacket before slinging the bag over my back. I lift my helmet off the seat and push it on over my head as I lift a leg to straddle Raven, my black Ducati Streetfighter. She was payment for making sure Arnie’s daughter’s abusive boyfriend didn’t keep coming around to harass her... that, and thanks for the regular work I send his way. Arnie is a balding
, brick wall of a man in his mid-fifties. Covered in tattoos and with a RAP sheet the length of his arm, he’s not someone you wanna mess with, although what he doesn’t let most people see is that he’s a fucking softie underneath his hard exterior. He runs the chop shop in Black Creek, so he’s someone most people want to keep on their good side, and man, does he get some of the sweetest rides. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, I get to send him an expensive car that he can make some decent money from, even though his warehouse is full of cars that are already worth a fucking fortune. I have no idea how he accrued so many, but hey, who was I to complain, especially when he told me to pick any ride I wanted. I’m telling you, it was a hard choice. Most of the cars he had were models I would never be able to afford, but when I saw this beauty hiding at the back of his shop, I knew I had to have her.

  Starting the ignition, I rev the engine, loving the deep rumble and resounding roar as I peel out of the docks onto the street. People stop to stare as I pass by, but no one can see who I am with my full-face helmet and black-tinted visor on. I prefer it that way, to be a faceless person in the crowd. It’s the only way to survive in Black Creek. If anyone knows your name here, it’s because they have some sort of beef with you.

  I ride through the derelict city, and even though it’s late, the streets here are never quiet. There are always homeless people trying to carve out a safe corner for themselves, gang members patrolling their territory, and hookers shaking their tits in the hopes of earning themselves enough to buy a solid meal the next day. It never used to be so bad. Black Creek has always been home to vagrants and outlaws, but there was some sort of order before—when The Feral Beasts ruled the town. Sure, they instilled fear in the hearts of residents, and the streets ran red with just as much blood as they do now, but there was order to the chaos. Now, it’s just complete and utter mayhem.