Silver Runners MC

Rage

I followed Trace slowly into the house, lingering in the late afternoon sun. Angel was on the huge leather couch in the living room, watching some sports channel. He tried catching my eyes but I strode straight to the kitchen. I heard Trace stop and talk to him, their voices low in the background. I rummaged through cabinets, my hands taking on a life of their own. I knew Trace had to be hiding liquor around here somewhere.

"There's nothing in the house. Trace's rules." Angel's voice came from behind me, startling me. I hadn't heard him come in. I turned, my cheeks flushing. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a black baseball cap backwards on his head, his long blonde hair sticking out from the bottom.

I cleared my throat, turning away, and placing both hands on the kitchen counter. I took deep breaths, closing my eyes and trying to talk myself out of doing something stupid. Drinking was stupid. I was six months sober and worked my ass off for it.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, his voice low and comforting. I wanted to drink in that voice, drown in it.

I turned, meeting his eyes. He watched me cautiously, his eyes flickering over my body, hair, and back to my face. He was so goddamn good looking. I could stare at him all day. I could use the distraction.

"Excuse me," I muttered, pushing past him and running up the large creaky staircase and to my room.

I made my way towards the bedroom's window, opening it quickly and hanging my head out, trying to get some fresh air.

I heard him enter my room but made no move to acknowledge him.

"Uh. These came for you while you were out." Angel's voice grew closer as he made his way towards the window.

I turned slowly, my long hair blowing into my face from the humid breeze.

Angel stood a foot away, his eyes tight as he held a vase of a dozen black roses in his hands.

I gasped in awe, my hands reaching for them. They were beautiful. I smiled at him, my cravings and anxiety momentarily forgotten.

"I wish I could take credit." Angel spoke, his eyes on the floor. "I'd probably do just about anything to put a smile like that on your face." His eyes met mine then, his gaze intense, making me feel like my core was on fire. Being around him just did something to me.

I blushed, my hands finding a white card tucked between the stems of the roses.

"You don't know who they're from?" I muttered, holding the vase in my right hand as the left one slowly struggled to open the card.

"Nah. They were on the porch. I noticed them when I got out of the shower after I mowed the yards." His eyes watched my hands open the card. "Thanks for the water by the way."

"Don't mention it," I replied, my heart thundering in my chest at the familiar handwriting on the card in front of me. My vision blurred.

' YOU'RE IN MY VEINS, I KNOW YOU FEEL IT TOO. IF I CANNOT BEND HEAVEN, I WILL RAISE HELL TO GET TO YOU. '

"Rilyn? Who's it from?" Angel's voice sounded so far away.

The room spun as the flowers slipped from my fingers, the vase shattering into a thousand pieces at our feet. I let out a whimper of finality. Even his voice whispered to me in my nightmares.

Rage was coming for me.

x-x-x-x-x

It had been a few days since Rilyn freaked out over whoever sent her the roses. She locked herself away in her room for days, doing God knows what. I had asked Trace what the deal was but he said she wouldn't talk to him. Wolf hadn't been around either. He'd been in a foul mood, obnoxious and smashed at the clubhouse the last few days.

I hovered outside Rilyn's bedroom door, drawn to it like a magnet. I don't know what I was thinking would happen if she came out of her room right now. If she wanted to talk, that was great. If she wanted to sit in silence, that would be okay too. If she wanted to make out, s**t, that would be a f*****g dream. I rolled my eyes at myself, feeling like a creep. I raised my hand up to knock on her door for the umpteenth time. Trace had asked me to try and get her to return to the real world. Return to the MC.

I pressed my ear to the door, straining to listen for any sounds. Darkness was clear under the door. It was early afternoon, and there was a party tonight at the clubhouse, followed by a run in the morning. I just wanted to see her before I was gone on MC business for a few days, I reasoned with myself. Needed to make sure she was okay.

The smell of smoke began to slowly leak into the hallway. I looked around, confused. "What the s**t?" I whispered to myself, realizing the smoke was coming from under Rilyn's bedroom door.

I stalled, at a loss of what to do. Arson was my specialty, and what I was known for in the MC. There was no other high like it.

"Rilyn! Is there a fire?" I shouted, knocking frantically on the door. I was met with silence. Terrible flashbacks from my civilian firefighting days ran through my mind, of not being able to save people, of burns, of fire destroying everything in its path...

I growled, banging harder. The door was locked. "Rilyn, open up!!"

Radio silence again. I lifted my heavy black boot and started kicking at the door, adrenaline and fear to get to her coursing through me.

The door splintered a bit, slamming open after a few good kicks. My alert senses searched the blacked out room, finally honing in on Rilyn's silhouette in the window. A small trash can next to her was in flames. I rushed in, my arms wrapping around her and pulling her away from the small fire.

"Oof!" She grunted as I threw her back on the bed. "Angel, what the hell!?" Her earbuds were ripped from her ears.

I reached for a vase of wilting tulips on the dresser. I paused, watching the beautiful flames lick up the side of the trash can. I shook my head, taking the tulips out and using the flower's dirty water to sizzle out the fire. I peered down into the trash can, seeing the note card from the black roses and several destroyed pictures, their surfaces bubbling up at me.

I turned my head slowly, my eyes nearly popping out of my head at Rilyn sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, wearing nothing but a large black Sons of Anarchy t-shirt and black lacy underwear. She was smoking a cigarette, her eyes glued to mine. My words became thick in my throat.

She arched an eyebrow at me, smirking slowly. She stood, walking over to the wet trash can and tossing her cigarette inside. It fizzled out loudly.

I cleared my throat, wanting to reach down and readjust my jeans. "What the f**k was that?" My voice was hoarse, seeing her bare legs looking so damn inviting. I was amped up from the small fire she had created. Pyromania was a hell of a thing.

Rilyn let out a small chuckle, leaning back on the bed. "I was just getting rid of some trash, Angel. Not a big deal." She muttered lower, "no need to get all sexy fireman on me."

I smirked back at her, running a hand over my long beard and studying her. She had no freaking idea, did she? Her face was bare of makeup, her freckles making her look so much younger. Her red hair was braided down her back. Tattoos of different artwork of skulls were placed scattered on her pale legs.

I bit back a growl. I wanted to kiss some f*****g sense into this woman. Starting fires in Trace's house was no way to behave. Definitely not a way to mend their relationship. The tension in this house was palpable, awkward.

My phone in my back pocket chirped, signaling a text. I pulled it out with dread of ruining the moment. Speak of the devil.

Trace: church in 1 hr. tell Rilyn she needs to be at the party tonight

I cleared my throat, grinning at the way Rilyn's eyes slid appreciatively over my body. "You done eye f*****g me, babe?"

Rilyn blushed, blinking her green eyes rapidly before pulling her bed covers over her head. Adorable.

"I have to go to church, but we can finish whatever this is later." I let out a low laugh, highly amused. "You want a ride?" I paused, meaning it in several ways...

Rilyn remained quiet. "To the clubhouse for the party?" I asked, my tone becoming stern. She needed to get out of this room. She was losing her marbles a bit, starting fires and s**t.

Rilyn peeked at me from over her lavender duvet. "You go ahead. I'll find my way." She avoided my eyes, her cheeks still a delicious color of pink.

"You are going though, right?" I asked, tucking my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and pulling out the keys to my bike.

Rilyn nodded. "You're gonna be there?" I nodded, giving her a wink.

"Is Wolf?" She asked, looking uncomfortable. My ego deflated a little bit.

"Whole club will be there, princess... Save me a dance." I muttered, turning my back on her and striding out of the dark room.

....

"Alright, alright!" Trace banged his wooden gavel on the room's table. The table seated sixteen, with a huge Grim Reaper etched into the hardtop lacquer.

Everyone quieted, waiting on his next words, the reason we were here. Trace gave Wolf, who was sitting at his right, a pointed meaningful look.

"Watson Wills is out of jail." Trace's gravelly voice sounded angry, irritated. He was met with grumbles from the other brothers.

I was sitting on his left, my spot as the club's enforcer. "Um, who is Watson Wills?" I asked, running my hand through my long hair. I'd never heard that name before.

"Rage is his club name. He is the Raging Bastards VP. And a piece of shit." Wolf slurred angrily. What was he so f*****g bent out of shape for? His drinking had been getting excessive.

Trace turned towards me, his eyes weary. He rubbed at them, the mint color glowing. "He's obsessed with Rilyn. They dated a little bit in the past." Diablo snorted loudly.

I groaned, clenching my hands on the table in front of me. This was news to me. Of f*****g course this girl would have a stalker.

London, across the table, whistled slowly at me. "Down boy." I glared at the computer and tech genius of the club. I wanted to jump across the room, take him by his long playboy mane of hair and bash his face into the table.

Diablo chuckled next to me, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry tío, you're way prettier than he will be once we get finished with him." Diablo snarled, flashing me a diamond in his upper incisor.

I wasn't sure what in the f**k that bastard was talking about, but I felt a little better.

"So what's the plan? We cap him before he can think about coming near her?" I asked, looking around at my brothers' faces.

Wolf growled, shaking his head slowly. "We need to just f*****g kill him already!" His voice rose to a roar through the small, soundproof room.

Trace glared at Wolf, signaling him to get his emotions in check.

"Look... We need to be smart about this. We'll leave to take a hit at the Raging Bastards first thing in the morning. Word is they're trying to run some H down to Savannah, to hit the streets. We'll stop them." Trace spoke clearly, his eyes bouncing to each one of us. Trace hated hard drugs, especially in his town.

Diablo grinned creepily. "I've been wanting to get my hands on this d**k for a year now."

"You want your hands on his d**k?" London retorted across the table. This time Diablo was the one glaring and growling at the young brother.

"London, shut up." Wolf snapped, his eyes on mine. "Rage thinks that Rilyn is his possession. He doesn't want any Runners around her or she'll pay some consequences." I nearly flew out of my chair, my own rage boiling tightly under my skin. What the f**k did mean? I gritted my teeth, nodding at him to continue, because surely he wasn't done.

"He's beat on her, fed her drugs, and even stalked her in rehab." Trace sighed heavily at Wolf's words. Meanwhile, I felt like I was going to start breaking things.

"Rage is one brutal motherfucker. He's not only the VP, but basically their club's superior enforcer. Because he's one of the best. He's killed hundreds, for pettier reasons. We really need a good plan for him." Wolf's eyes bore into mine.

"I'm in. Whatever it takes." I straightened my back, nodding at Trace, who frowned in response. Plans of torture reeled in my mind. Blowtorches melting skin and bones. Pigs taking care of the bits of body I missed.

"I thought he was put away for a while?" Twitch, a newly patched member like London, asked, his fingertips bouncing on the table top anxiously.

"Guess he got out for good behavior." Diablo snorted. The tension in the room rose a few levels.

"I've been tracking his cell phone coordinates, who he's been talking to in jail, where he's been." London and Trace exchanged a heavy glance. "And it looks like this guy is stocking up for a war. Gun shipments, trading arms, drug dealing, possible money laundering, robbery." London muttered, running his hands through his tangly brown hair. He was all seriousness.

Wes, one of the older brothers from Grim Ben's days as president, cleared his throat. "Runners ain't afraid of no war."

"f**k no, we aren't." Diablo quipped back, sitting up straighter.

Trace hit the gavel harshly into the table. "My sister is my only blood family left." He paused. "If I know anything about Rage, it's that Rilyn is his Achilles' heel."

"Are you talking about using her as bait?" Wolf all but shouted at Trace. Trace lifted a hand in response to silence him, his face stoney.

"No. God. I'm talking about a security detail on Rilyn. He sent her some kind of message that's got her running scared."

It finally clicked. The roses, the note, Rilyn burning the pictures today. She was scared of this guy. I wouldn't let him lay one finger on this girl.

"I'll do it." I offered, leaning back in my seat and adjusting my leather cut on my bare shoulders. "I'll look after her."

"Like hell you will!" Wolf all but jumped across the table to me. "She's my best friend, I know her better than anyone in here!" Wolf bared his perfect teeth at me menacingly. His hair flew around his face from his messy man bun, making him look more deranged.

"Luca! Calm the f**k down and shut up!" Trace shouted, his hands fisting across the table into Wolf's cut and shoving him back in his seat. The room quieted, not used to seeing the president and VP at odds. I've never seen Trace lose his temper.

"Angel," Trace turned towards me, his eyes resigned. "You look after Rilyn. She will try to give you the slip though. She knows the Raging Bastards better than any of us." He paused. "Maybe she'll tell you something."

"She would have f*****g told me something if there was anything to know!" Wolf shot up from his seat again, his blue eyes glaring down at me and then Trace.

"Luca, get the f**k out and go sleep the alcohol off before I smash your goddamn head in!" Trace roared, jumping to his feet and standing toe to toe with Wolf.

The room quieted, the air thick with tension. Twitch pulled out a switch blade from under the table. Wolf glared at Trace, his nostrils flaring. They stood that way for a good twenty seconds before Wolf bowed his head and stormed out of the conference room, the door slamming shut.

"Jesus Christ. What's his problem?" A more reserved brother named Cowboy, muttered quietly. He fiddled with the camo hat in his hands, his accent so thick it was sometimes hard to understand.

"Who f*****g knows." Trace rolled his eyes, pulling on the top of his dark hair. "Get packed what we need to intercept these drugs. I want double the ammunition and guns on this run. If Rage is out, then the Bastards are already planning something. London, stay behind and watch the old ladies. I don't want the prospects protecting them this time." London opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when he was met with a death glare.

I looked around the room, not liking those words. I was met with uneasy eyes all around the table.

"Then... I guess let's f*****g party. Angel," Trace's voice commanded my attention. "I want you on Rilyn. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid tonight." My heart beat erratically in my chest. Oh, I'd be on her alright.

Trace hit the gavel twice, dismissing us and ending the meeting. I lingered back after everyone had left.

"You okay man?" I asked him softly, slightly worried.

"Just hoping Rage is on this run tomorrow, and not out trying to find Rilyn. I thought this s**t would be over after Brynn died..." Trace trailed off, clearing his throat. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I nodded slowly. "Start watching her tonight. Whatever it takes, man, I don't care. I can't be constantly watching her." I gave him a chin lift, slapping him on the back and exiting the room.

I walked towards the dorm areas, ready to find some AR and AK-47s to pack in my duffel bag. Maybe some switchblades and brass knuckles. I needed to release some anger. I was excited for this run tomorrow.

Wolf was huddled in the back corner of the hallway, his back turned as he slurred into his phone loudly. I paused before entering my room, listening.

"No, I can't pick you up, baby, got to set some stuff up. I'll call you a taxi, okay? I'm so glad you're not mad at me, baby."

I grimaced at his words, hoping like hell that he wasn't calling Rilyn all that lovey dovey s**t. My fists itched to hit him. I'd have to have a talk to him about that if things went my way.