Silver Runners MC

Grin

"Rilyn? Hurry!" Brynn's voice called to me. I was running up her apartment's concrete stairs, trying to get to the fifth floor. To get to her. The August night howled in pain. A blood-curdling scream pierced my ears.

Brynn's screaming died out with a terrible gurgling sound.

"What did you girls think was going to happen?" A familiar male voice whispered from behind me. A blade cut into my throat, sawing left to right.

I woke with a start, my body in a hot sweat from the nightmare. Every night they happened. I blinked rapidly, coming to the realization that I was safe. The clock at my bedside read 10:06am. I yawned, deciding it was time for me to get up anyways. I needed to find a job, go to therapy, move on with my life. Rehab was over, this was reality.

I threw back the silky lavender comforter in Trace's gray guest room. My brother had really decked it out for me, leaving me pink tulips in a crystal vase and my favorite sparkling apple juice on the dresser. I threw on a cream and floral kimono and cat slippers, tip toeing down the large oak stairs to the kitchen.

The house was quiet, meaning Trace must have already gone to his day job at his tattoo shop. I was pretty proud of him. He had many successful businesses to keep the cops off the scent of whatever illegal things the MC might be doing. I used to know what they were into, running guns up the coast and all that. But I'd been gone almost a year now. I peered out the huge window over the kitchen sinks that faced the large ten acre back yard, noticing Angel shirtless on a riding lawn mower. Holy mother of Pearl. His tattoo covered chest and torso were glistening in the sunlight. That man was hotter than a Georgia summer. I fanned myself, admiring the view.

I lazily made a PB&J sandwich, grabbing two ice cold waters. My mind wandered to what the people I had met in rehab were doing at this time. Extensive art therapy, medication checks, group sessions, scheduling lobotomies. I opened the back French doors and placed the sandwich and ice water out on the patio table. You know, for whenever Angel was finished with yard work. Just being a friendly room mate, I thought to myself.

I paused for a moment outside, tilting my face to the sun and letting the hot summer breeze blow through my messy hair. I caught Angel staring and waved my hand in greeting. He nearly drove into a tree stump trying to wave back. I smiled to myself, returning hastily into the air conditioning.

I returned to my new room, shutting the door loudly in the process. I reached into one of the duffel bags I had yet to unpack, and pulled out my windows surface laptop. I hadn't messed with it in a while. Today was the day, I was moving forward. I turned on the portable printer I had and connected it to the laptop.

I took a sip of my water, pulling my kimono around me to combat the chills. I hadn't seen her face in 376 days. No pictures, just my memories. I was arrested with a DUI days before her funeral, and even then they wouldn't have had an open casket. I didn't allow my mind to wander to that night.

I clicked through the hard drive, pulling up the file named "Childhood." My breath caught in my throat at seeing the first glimpse of her face.

Her bright blonde hair was braided long and hanging down her back. She was smiling back at the camera and riding her favorite old black and white horse. Our Dad had gotten her that horse when she was a kid. She must have been a young teenager in the picture. I clicked to the next one, one of all three of us. Trace and I were building a sand castle, maybe 7 years old. Our hair was dripping wet from the ocean and our smiles ridiculously huge as Brynn placed a star fish on top of the tall castle in the photo. Brynn was five years older than us, always the watchful mother figure.

Growing up in the MC life, you'd think that I didn't need a protector. Our dad, "Grim Ben" McKenna, was the MC president until his death from a police shoot out six years ago. Our mom was dead from a narcotic overdose when Trace and I were still babies. But Brynn was always like our mom, making sure we had new clothes for school and packing our lunches for us. She took care of us. When Trace was a freshman,he decided to drop out of high school and prospect for the club. My dad had taken him under his wing and groomed him to take over the Silver Runners, something Brynn never agreed with. When Brynn was 21, she cut herself off from the MC completely, and started hanging out with the their nemeses, the Raging Bastards Motorcycle Club. As you can imagine, that never went over well with my dad or brother. Brynn's connections were how I eventually met my first and only twisted love, Watson "Rage" Wills. Ugh.

I pushed the thoughts of Rage out of my head as I clicked through more pictures. One of Wolf and Trace, both 17, and new members of the Silver Runners, smiling drunkenly. Me and Brynn on my 21st birthday, our arms around each other as we held up shots of liquor. Wolf as my prom date, looking uncomfortable in a tux. Trace, Wolf, and I on the beach as teens, laughing and carefree. Brynn in her graduation gown, blonde hair long and waving in the wind, holding her high school diploma. The last one was my favorite, just of her, and I stared at it for a good five minutes, soaking in every detail, my fingers fumbling for the print button.

A knock at the door startled me and I quickly shut the laptop, haphazardly pushing it under a pillow behind me, feeling waves of guilt jolt through me. "Come in!" I called out, assuming it would be Trace, or maybe Angel. My heart thundered in my chest at that last idea.

I was surprised to see Wolf in the door way. His bright blonde hair was pulled back low in a bun. He was wearing a black hoodie under his leather MC cut. His jeans were loose and hung low on his hips. He had a joint tucked behind his ear. It had been days since I'd seen him at the strip club. In his hands was a box of pizza, from my favorite local shop.

"Hey babygirl," he whispered. His blue eyes were unsure as he entered my room. He sat on the edge of my bed, his eyes roaming and honing in on my closed laptop peaking out from my pillows.

I pulled my hair up high into a messy bun, snatching the pizza box from his hands.

"Let me guess, pineapple and bacon?" I teased him. I smiled tentatively up at him, trying to shake the awkwardness that was thick between us since I had been in rehab. A year was a long time.

Wolf snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Uh no. Basic pepperoni for a basic bitch." He gave me a half smile.

"Hey!" I shoved him, laughing. Wolf laughed with me, his eyes lighting up before settling back on my laptop.

"What are you doing?" He pulled on his beard, eyeing the unpacked duffel bags, the dead cell phone on the bedside table, and back to the laptop. He never missed a detail.

I hesitated, taking a bite of pizza to stall. "Just looking for jobs, ya know."

Wolf nodded, standing and snatching up the laptop and opening it quickly. I didn't make any move to take it back, knowing that he'd win anyways.

He gasped, nearly falling back at the picture lighting up the screen. It was one of Brynn, months before she had died. She was dressed in a turquoise ball gown, her eyes smokey and happy. She was going to a military ball with one of the many guys she always had around. It was the happiest she had ever looked. She didn't look cheap, like she sometimes did for her job as a stripper for the Raging Bastards. She always liked dancing and performing and told me that the job paid well. She had just turned 29, and didn't look a minute over 21. She was so effortlessly gorgeous.

"Wow." Wolf mumbled, his voice low and thick with emotion. Wolf had grown up with all of us, a street rat in foster care. He and Trace were best friends in school and therefore the MC practically adopted him. Brynn's death affected him just as much. He was practically the fourth McKenna sibling.

"Yeah, I know." I muttered, putting my half eaten pizza back in the box. I had lost my appetite.

Wolf shut the laptop, tossing it back on the bed. He sat back down heavily, his elbows on his knees as he ran his large hands over his face. Minutes passed as I waited for him to say something.

"Why did you never reply to any of my letters, Rilyn?" He asked, his attention on the opposite wall.

I blinked a few times in surprise. I guess we were just jumping right into it. I opened my mouth and shut it, searching for the right words to say.

"I...I knew you and Trace had been unhappy with me. Because of Rage. And then after.. after I had found her, I wanted to be alone." I cleared my throat, my heart racing at the flashback.

"I can barely remember the days after that. I was stealing liquor and shooting up drugs I didn't even learn the name of. I was out of control." I continued, scratching my neck and bowing my head in shame. "Rage and I were fighting and it was bad. I got the DUI, and they found a s**t ton of drugs in my car. They had offered me a plea deal if I agreed to the completion of rehab with some kind of PTSD therapy. They at first wanted me to roll on the club but I refused. So they tacked on some bullshit community service hours and left me in jail a couple of days. I took the deal, Luca. Because I felt like I had to. Rage was going to kill me." I grabbed his rough, warm hand, pulling it into my lap.

He stiffened, refusing to look at me. "You could have responded to my motherfucking letters Ri. I lost her, but then I lost you too." He still refused to look at me, swallowing thickly. "It was really rough around here for a while."

"I know. I'm sorry." I whispered, leaning over and hugging him from behind, my head resting on the "Vice President" patch on his cut.

Wolf relaxed, his head bowing to stare at the tattoos on my forearm, wrapped around his waist. We had matching wolf eyes in the crooks of our left arm, a show of our solidarity and friendship since we were scrappy kids running around.

"You know I love you, you little Rebel. But don't pull that s**t again." Wolf turned his head, smiling at me and giving me a wink.

"I wouldn't dare, pup." I grinned, giving him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Wolf groaned, wiping his cheek and pretending to gag. But his blue eyes sparkled and I knew he loved it. He was glad I was back, and I was glad to be back with him and Trace. The only family I had left.

Wolf stood, all 6 foot 3 inches of muscle, and stretched slowly. "Get dressed babe, I'm taking you somewhere."

I hopped off the bed, my feet carrying me to the second story bedroom window. I stared down at Angel on the back deck as he drank from the water I had left out for him. He was already staring up at my window and winked at me, grinning like he knew all my secrets.