Free Salvation by Stephanie Tyler Page A

indentured to Keller, Luna was now wrapped up in that and Rebel was helpless.
    And because he’d never been good with helpless, and because he knew it would be stupid to get himself killed by storming Keller’s compound, he’d come up with another way to keep tabs on Luna. And that way was inside this bar.
    Rebel had been hooking up here for years. In a way, the Chaos made it easier to keep his sexual preferences quiet. Because everyone in here was holding the same cards.
    The only semi-local MC who didn’t hang out here were the LoV. He wasn’t surprised. They were completely insular, not allowed to socialize with other MCs or mafias beyond Keller’s. Here, there were a few of the Kill Devils. Some No Ones. Civilians. And some of Keller’s men.
    A lot of these guys were more into power than men. Rebel wasn’t one of them—he liked them both equally. His gut told him that the man named Declan did as well.
    Declan was maybe Rebel’s age—not much older and could be younger. At this point, most of this world was run by a far younger generation than would ever have been allowed. The young, the strong and the impatient were ruling the world. Violence was a necessary part of daily life. They fit in pleasure when they could.
    Rebel knew, just by looking at the guy that he was one of Keller’s assassins. The way he was dressed gave it away as much as Rebel’s cut would’ve.
    But tonight, Rebel wore a black leather jacket instead of his cut. But there was no hiding his MC status. And really, that was the point of coming here.
    He approached Declan, who leaned casually at the corner of the bar. Months of observation hadn’t told Rebel anything more than he’d learned the first night. Even though Declan wasn’t the only one of Keller’s men around, he was definitely the one you didn’t want to fuck with—the quietest, therefore the most lethal.
    The other Keller guys tended to get as rowdy as the MC guys. But Declan watched it all from his corner. Sometimes guys would get up the nerve to approach him—usually the big leather-Daddy types. Rebel was surprised that Declan didn’t blow them off.
    In the blink of an eye, they’d be gone—Rebel supposed they went to the backroom, or back to Declan’s. He tried not to think about it too much, because each time it happened, it was a missed opportunity. Because Declan’s eyes were always watching him. Always. They’d circled for months, Rebel avoiding him because he was Keller’s, and even though none of that mattered here, Rebel had a loyalty to Defiance.
    Which was pure bullshit, but at least Rebel was the only one who knew that. Because Declan scared the hell out of him, in a way that most things—and most men—didn’t.
    But tonight, Rebel needed to push all of that aside. He wouldn’t trust any other of Keller’s men to ask info of. But Declan? His gut steered him that way.
    One call from Bishop to Caspar wasn’t going to satisfy Rebel. He wanted a permanent line to her. Although he trusted Bishop, the fact that she’d been forced to remain at Keller’s compound until Bishop’s term of service was over didn’t sit well with him.
    “Buy you a drink?” Rebel asked.
    Declan had watched him walk over—he was definitely interested.
    Rebel got close and studied Declan’s face under the dim lights. Rebel was taller. Broader. But Declan was far more handsome.
    Declan’s gaze flicked over him. “I don’t need another drink.” He finished the one he’d been nursing, put the glass down on the bar and moved away toward the direction of the backroom. Which was also close to the exit.
    Rebel waited a beat, then followed. When he pushed through the door, he found Declan waiting in the hallway in between both doors.
    Rebel’s heart pounded a drumbeat in his ears. He’d never gone back there, mainly because he preferred going to his truck for more privacy. But Declan wasn’t giving him that choice. “I need some information.”
    “Are you offering to let