Free Rebellious by Gillian Archer Page B

Michael’s throat.
    “That ‘crazy bitch’ is my woman. You don’t know her. She’s not a part of your fucked-up little fantasies anymore. We clear?” Reb pressed his boot down harder. “Boy?”
    By now Reb was enjoying the purple shade the punk’s face was turning. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to inflict a little more pain before he felt like the message was received. Aiming the nozzle, Reb pressed the back of the spray attachment and hosed off the piece of shit.
    “Emily has a problem with you, you’ve got a problem with the whole True Brothers Motorcycle Club. We clear, asshole?”
    Instead of agreeing, Michael made gasping, drowning sounds that Reb took as his message getting across. With a grunt of satisfaction, Reb flung the hose down on the grass and made for his bike.
    This time the dipshit didn’t say a word.
    Three hours later, Reb was in his lawyer’s office staring at him in disbelief. “I have to give him back? How the hell does that make sense? She left him.
Alone.
”
    “I’ve filed for an emergency hearing, but Rhonda’s attorney beat us to the punch. They filed this morning. And with the court’s backlog it’ll take a few weeks before we get this in front of a judge.”
    “Tough shit. I’ll just keep him. At least then I’ll know that he’s being taken care of. Being
fed,
for Christ’s sake.”
    “I would advise against that. Any change in custody without a written agreement could be seen by the court as a breech, and could result in your not getting custody. What would be ideal is for you and Rhonda to sit down and hash out custody in mediation. That way your…colorful past won’t become an issue.”
    “Come on, Harry. You know mediation is a fucking pipe dream. That crazy bitch is holding out until she drains every goddamn penny from me. She won’t be happy until there’s nothing left, ’cause she’s got it all.” Reb mentally winced as he repeated the dipshit’s phrase about his own ex. But in his case it was true—Rhonda was a crazy bitch. “Can’t we use her insane declaration last year that Tucker isn’t mine against her? She said it in front of him, for crying out loud.”
    “Yes, but it’ll only go so far. Especially since you refuse to do DNA testing. If we could prove she said it maliciously—that it wasn’t true—it would help. But none of this fixes the situation you’re in now. You’re gonna have to give him back. As soon as you can arrange it with Rhonda.”
    Reb sighed as he sagged back into the leather chair. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to have the test done because he wasn’t sure of the outcome. He had his doubts, and he didn’t want to hurt Tucker any more than he was hurting right now.
    There was something seriously fucking wrong with the world when shit like this went down. It made him want to take matters into his own hands. But when it came to Rhonda, he couldn’t. No matter how much she hurt him, she was still Tuck’s mom. She was still the woman his kid loved. The one he called Mom. Reb couldn’t be the one who made her disappear. Or even the one who ordered it.
    No two ways about it—he was fucked.
    “So what the hell am I paying you for, Harry? Not one goddamn thing has changed since I kicked her out almost a year ago. We’re still married. She’s still draining my fucking savings accounts. And my kid is still miserable.”
    “You know as well as I do that until you two come to terms on custody, your divorce won’t be finalized. It’s just the way it’s done in Nevada, so you two need to agree on custody. Again, preferably in mediation. In the meantime, you have to return Tucker as soon as possible.”
    Reb’s head dangled off the back of the chair as he contemplated the ceiling. And the seven fifty an hour he was paying this prick. More than anything, he wanted to smash his fist in the guy’s face and demand that he get results. But being the mature adult he was, he knew that wouldn’t fix