Free Rebellious by Gillian Archer Page A

anything to worry about. Believe me, if that bitch had something like that to use against him, she would. But she doesn’t because he’s not that kinda guy. That man would die before hurting one hair on your head. You’ve seen him with Tucker—you know what he’s capable of, and it’s not anything you’ve gotta worry about.”
    I gave a shuddering sigh. “It’s not easy for me to trust.”
    “And I’m not saying you have to. Just give him a chance. He’s worth it.”
    I nodded slightly and gave her a pained smile. “I’ll try.”
    “Good. Now can we enjoy my first outing sans baby? For the first time in a month I’m out of the house without someone attached to my boob.”
    I cracked up. Okay, clearly Jess had changed some. She never would’ve said that before Zag. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Good.” She grinned at me. “Now can we circle back to the part where my soon-to-be husband said you had to blow the guy at the gate?”
    Reb
    He finally ran the twitchy bastard to ground in the last place he looked. But now that he thought about it, it should’ve been the first place he looked. Emily’s ex, Michael, had apparently moved back in with his parents. Pansy-ass bitch.
    Sitting on his bike across the street from the very average, two-story house with large leafy trees and a fucking tire swing out front, Reb wasn’t surprised that someone so fucked-up came from such a normal place. That was what happened when spoiled little fucks thought that they deserved anything they wanted. That the world owed them something.
    Reb was eager to give Michael his something.
    Unfortunately he had to wait for the punk to come outside. Until the divorce was final, he couldn’t afford any bogus charges like breaking and entering. Rhonda was impatient for him to fuck up so she could finally get the upper hand in their divorce.
    After thirty minutes, he had his break. A pudgy guy in his late twenties stepped out the front door and started to fiddle with the hose. As Reb crossed the street toward him, he had a hard time seeing what exactly had attracted his beautifully sweet Emily to this fat little fuck. He had asshole vibes coming off him that Reb could spot miles away. And clueless, too. Reb was two feet behind him before the fat fuck turned around.
    “You Michael? Michael Duvall?” Reb loomed almost a foot above him.
    Michael swallowed audibly as he looked up. “Uh, maybe…”
    Reb ripped the hose out of his hand and had him up against the house by his throat before he could blink. “Oh, I know it’s you, you good-for-nothin’ sorry shit. Me and you need to have a few words.”
    “Arrg. Mmm. Humpf!”
    “That’s okay. I’ll do all the talking. You can just nod your little head to show you’re following along. You got me?”
    “Mmm gerrrpt.”
    Reb tightened his grip on the punk’s throat. “I said, you got me?”
    Michael nodded dumbly.
    “I’ve got a little problem with the way you’re trying to romance my lady. Dead flowers and little love notes that say ‘whore’ don’t cut it in my world. Not to mention the fact that She’s…My…Woman. I don’t take kindly to shit like that. You hear me, boy?”
    His face turning a bright shade of red, Michael nodded again.
    “And if I ever hear of you coming anywhere near Emily, me and you are gonna dance. For real this time.” Reb gave him one last shake, then threw him to the ground, where he belonged.
    Michael’s doughy body wracked with his coughs. Reb stood over him a moment, enjoying the sound. Once he’d had his fill, Reb turned and made for his bike. He’d only gotten a few steps away when Michael’s gasping words stopped him in his tracks.
    “I didn’t send that crazy bitch anything!”
    With a grim smile, Reb turned back and picked up the hose. He towered over Michael, following him as the punk crab-walked backward. Reb kicked one of Michael’s hands out from under him and the puss sprawled out on his back. Lifting a booted foot, Reb put it down on