Page 54 of The Rebel Billionaire

I wanted to know more about this man who had quickly become a part of my life. So much of him was a secret, and too many people knew who he was while I knew next tonothing.

"I left home at eighteen," he said. "My stepdad was an asshole. He married my mom when I was ten and Gunner was seven, and from what I could see, he didn't do a whole lot except drink beer and order the rest of usaround.

"I hated him, and he hated me. The second I could leave, I did. I joined the Army right out of high school. I stayed in touch with my brother and my mom, but I never went back. Dale was a Raptor, a foot soldier—no one important, but he lovedthatclub.

"The only work I ever saw him do when I was growing up was running errands for the club. When he wasn't half-drunk on an easy chair in our trailer, he was at the clubhouse, kissing Raptor ass. He brought Gunner in when he was just a teenager. By the time my mom died, Gunner had worked his way up intheclub."

"What does that mean, that he worked his way up in the club?" I asked. What I knew about biker clubs could fit on my thumbnail with spaceleftover.

"The Raptors were into a lot of shit, mostly protection—helping drug dealers move their product from one place to another. They didn't deal themselves, but there were otherthings. . ."

Lucas gave me a long look, then shook his head and fell silent. When he spoke again, it was clear he wouldn't be explaining what 'other things'meant.

"Gunner was always a smart kid, less rebellious than I was. He thought Dale was an asshole too, but he played along and kept from getting his asskicked."

"You didn't?" I asked. It wasn't hard to imagine a teenage Lucas mouthing off to hisstepdad.

True to my vision, he said, "Never could keep my mouth shut. Which is funny because I loved the Army, and they don't appreciate smart asses. But it was different, because even at eighteen, I recognized the Army's authority. I chose them. Dale was just some dickhead who talked my mom into marrying him, and she was so tired from working two jobs, she didn't realize that he was going to be one moreburden."

"I can't see you taking orders from anyone,"Isaid.

"Neither could I," he admitted. "But I had to get out of that house. Out of that town. I was done with everyone looking at me, at Gunner, like we weretrash.

"I played football in high school once I filled out. Could've gotten a scholarship. I wanted to go to college, but I was too angry. Restless. The Army seemed like a good compromise. I'd have opportunities, and I could work out some of my aggression without getting throwninjail."

"And you liked it?" Iasked.

I was surprised he was telling me so much, and I wanted to hear more. I wanted every crumb of Lucas Jackson I could get. Hefascinatedme.

Gorgeous, amazing body, fantastic in bed. But beyond that he was a mystery, one I wanted to solve. It occurred to me that I wasn't supposed to want to know the life story of a fuck buddy. Asking personal questions kind of defeated the purpose of keeping thingscasual.

"I fucking loved it," he answered. "Shocked the hell out of me, but the Army and I were a perfect fit. I went to college while I was in, got an IT degree, and got to do some really cool shit with it. I ended up in Spec-Ops for a few years before I got out and startedfreelancing."

"Is Spec-Ops what I think it is?" I wasn't exactly sure, but I was imagining something like the Rangers or the Seals. Or one of those teams you hear about that doesn't exactly haveaname.

Semi-confirming my suspicions, Lucas said, "Probably. And if it's not, I can't tell you whatitis."

After years of knowing the Sinclairs, and with my cousin Gage doing something equally secretive in the Army himself, I knew better than to press further. When they said they couldn't tell me, it meant theyreallycouldn'ttellme.

"So how did you go from freelancing to theRaptors?"

"My brother,"Lucassaid.

The words had weight, dragging the smile from his face. I knew grief. I'd lived with grief for years. I didn't need Lucas to tell me that Gunnerwasdead.

I kept my mouth shut and waited. We moved a little further down the baseboard, stuck in a corner for a few minutes where the paint in the cracks wouldn't heat up enough for me to scrape it off. Finally, Lucas started speakingagain.

"The Raptors had a president with ambition. He wanted to expand the club, which ended up in a turf war. Gunner took his back and got promoted to lieutenant, then VP. Around that time, Dale got himself killed and I came home for the funeral. Mostly to see Gunner. I didn't give a shit about Dale, but I needed to make sure Gunner was allright.

"He was like a different guy. Serious. Had his shit together. We hadn't been close for a while, but after that, we stayed in touch. I didn't like what he was into. Not that my hands were always clean, but I fought for our country. And even freelancing—let's just say I have a well-defined line I won'tcross."

"The Raptors were on the other side of that line?" Iasked.

"Yeah. Way on the other side. But he was my brother. The only family I had left. We got a lot closer those last few years. I was traveling all over, almost never stateside, but when I was, we'd hang out. Then the president of the Raptors decided to get in bed with Big John. You know who Big John is,right?"

I did. Vaguely. I knew he was dead and that before he'd died, he'd run his own criminal enterprise, based mostly outside of Atlanta, and Abigail's first husband had beenhisson.

After the son died—according to the story, Big John had him assassinated—Big John had tried to kidnap Abigail. I also knew Lucas had killed Big John in Jacob'spenthouse.