Silver Runners MC

Bad Angel

I leaned back in the bar stool, watching the way the girls danced on stage. The dark club's loud music beat right through me. Black neon and multicolored lights spun around the large circular stage and above my head. Running my hands through my hair, my fingers itched at the low buzzed sides. Just another typical night. Drinking, smoking, scheming. My fellow brothers from the Silver Runners Motorcycle Club were all around me; some taking shots, some getting lap dances, and others just goofing around, laughing boisterously, relaxed and drunk.

We usually came to the MC owned strip club, the Death's Sirens, after a long meeting in our clubhouse conference room. The meetings were called "church" and as close to any kind of religion that we outlaws practiced. One percenters. Tonight's meeting had been about the lines our rivals had crossed. My blood was still boiling, hearing about all that this rival MC was trying to pull over on us.

"You good bro?" My club's Vice President, Luca "Wolf" Gold walked up to me, smiling his pretty boy smile at a raven haired waitress who just walked by. She winked at him, setting three longneck beers on the bar in front of us.

"Yeah. Everything's great, man." I replied, sitting up straighter and tugging on my long, blonde bushy beard. I was the Death Reaper MC's new enforcer, it wasn't something I would take lightly. "Just amped up. I'm ready to take down the Raging Bastards once and for all." A low growl emitted from my chest at the thought of our rival MC, intercepting our gun runs and beating up two of our prospects last night.

"s**t, I know." Wolf groaned, running his hand through his bright white blonde, shoulder length hair. He did this move a lot, and the girls swooned every damn time. I heard cat calls screamed out to him from the strippers on stage, and some patrons around the bar. I lowered my head, smirking. This guy was built like Thor, with bright, mischievous blue eyes, and standing at 6'3", just an inch shorter than me. He was known as a man slut around the MC, but was a good loyal dude and leader to his fellow brothers.

"How would your last Enforcer have handled this?" I asked, taking a large gulp of my whiskey neat and nodding at the hot bleached blonde bartender for a refill.

"Old school. Probably guns a'blazing. He had been a trigger happy motherfucker... But Trace has other s**t on his mind right now, so we have to play it cool. Play it smart." Wolf turned his head in the direction of our club President, Trace McKenna, who was currently trying to completely ignore a small brunette giving him a lap dance. Dry f*****g was more like it. Trace stared moodily ahead, his attention switching from the front entrance to the back entrance and then back to his phone screen.

"Hey, say the word and I'll bash heads. Just give me an address." I replied lowly, turning my attention back towards the stage. It had been too long since I had fought someone. Felt the pain in my fists and the sick sounds of bone on bone. Violence was something that came naturally to me. It had been a while since I'd played with fire, too.

Wolf chuckled beside me, pulling out his iPhone and tapping on it furiously. Moments passed, a different girl coming on stage and dancing sensually.

"You heard that Trace's sister is on her way back to the clubhouse, right? We might need to chill on all our recreational activities for a bit." Wolf was muttering lowly to me and biting his lip, all of his attention still on his phone.

I squinted over at the stage, watching as the svelte blonde bartender, who just served me whiskey, started to take off her clothes. My mood began to improve immensely. f**k yeah.

"Uh yeah, Lily, was it?" I asked, my eyes watching the bartender's every move. She started to slide down her skin tight, holey jeans, revealing barely there underwear.

My head snapped forward from Wolf's sudden pop to the back of my neck. I growled loudly in response.

"No, dumbass. Rilyn. Rilyn Kenneth." Wolf glared at me darkly before smiling back down at his phone. "Can't wait til she's here though, man. This place hasn't felt the same without her. My babygirl."

I studied Wolf's face, watching the way his eyes sparkled and he jumped up and down on his toes in excitement. The smell of tobacco and leather drifted from his Silver Runners Vice President cut.

"You boning her or something?" I replied, still new to all of the dynamics of this particular club. I had been a loyal member of a northern chapter of the Silver Runners until about two months ago. The VA Beach chapter were too small and unambitious for my tastes. At 26 years old, I needed to move on with my life and fight hard with the top guns. Savannah, Georgia is where the Runners started originally and where the most club business was. This is where I transferred to when the old club enforcer was killed in a hit and run by a car to motorcycle accident three months prior.

"Gross." Wolf snarled, his bright white teeth nearly blinding me. "I grew up with the twins and their older sister. Rilyn's always been my best friend." He shrugged, his eyes dark as they tracked the room. The corners of his mouth tugged downwards.

I shrugged, my attention on the hot blonde twirling on the pole in front of me to Nelly's old song "Ride Wit Me." This girl really knew how to grind on the pole. s**t. At the lyrics "come on boo, gimme kiss" the blonde locked eyes with me. I coughed, smirking and turning away as Wolf gave me a slight head nod and left to go over to Trace.

I turned back towards my drink, running my hands through the long ends of my blonde hair again. I pushed the overgrown Mohawk to one side, tugging it back into a low bun at the nape of my neck. I grabbed a pack of Marlboro reds from the back pocket of my black jeans, not bothered that the carton was mostly crushed. I pulled a cigarette out, lighting it quickly and enjoying the smoke filling my lungs. Smoke and whiskey, nothing like it, baby.

"Hey honey, can I get a light?" The cute blonde bartender was back from her routine, practically taking a seat in my lap. She was wearing nothing but a see-through white tank top that read "DRMC" with a motorcycle on it. Her black g-string left little to the imagination. I smiled coyly, leaning towards her and lighting her cigarette for her with my zippo.

Her navy blue eyes blinked up at me sleepily, her eyelashes reminding me of spider's legs. She pressed her huge, perky breasts into my arm, kissing me on the cheek in thanks. When was the last time I was even laid? s**t. Tonight had to be my lucky night. I grinned lazily.

"I'm Aspen, by the way. And you're the infamous Angel. Hot." The blonde bartender introduced herself and then immediately went right for my mouth, her tongue tasting like some fruity girl drink. Her hand went straight to working over my d**k. She let out breathy little moans as she continued to give me a thorough dental exam. I went with it, just drunk enough to not care, and just horny enough to need some immediate relief. Our cigarettes fell to the cement floor, forgotten.

Loud shouts and commotion at the Siren's front entrance had me ripping my face from our embrace. I was off my bar stool in three seconds flat, my hand on the glock tucked in the back of my jeans. Aspen stumbled back, her eyes glaring over at the commotion. Her pink lipstick was smeared across her mouth comically, like the Joker's. The rest of my brothers had their attention to the front door, most grinning big and cheering, the rest whispering to each other with concerned looks.

A young, beautiful woman with long red hair had her arms around Wolf's neck, her slender legs hugging him tightly around the waist. She was giggling into the crook of his neck. I could hear her delicate laughter from my far position at the bar. Wolf kissed her cheeks and the girl playfully swatted him away, landing back gracefully to the floor on her floral combat boots.

She turned towards Trace, giving him a sheepish awkward hug. He stiffened, looking uncomfortable, shaking his head as she whispered something in his ear. The woman threw her head back in laughter, and I watched, utterly fascinated at the way the club's lighting caught gold and strawberry strands of her wild shimmering hair.

Trace laughed loudly, his mood changing to rare excitement and bear hugging the woman, twirling her around in the air. Maybe this was Trace's new old lady? He never had the same woman for more than a day, if he ever let anyone see him take one to bed. Trace was as private as they come. The dude was 24 years old, and already the President of Georgia's largest, most badass MC. His stress and worries screamed responsibility. He was the definition of mysterious.

Wolf caught me staring and waved me over. I reluctantly turned to the bar, downing the rest of my whiskey and placing it back on the countertop with a loud thunk.

"Catch you later, baby," I called out to Aspen, not giving her a second glance as she stomped back behind the bar.

The red headed woman turned, watching me over the frames of her sunglasses as I walked towards their group. She whispered something to Trace, who nodded in return.

"Angel, my brother, I want you to meet someone." Trace's gravelly voice rasped out to me and I noticed that my notoriously hard and stoic president was actually smiling. He clapped me on the back, pulling me in close to his side.

I stopped in front of the group, eyeing the woman from head to toe. She was wearing a black cut off Iron Maiden tank top with a long flowing maroon skirt, and boots. Her red hair was long and wavy, with blonde tipped ends falling past her ample cleavage. Her skin was pale porcelain and blush, complimenting her hair color. A delicate hoop was pierced through one of the nostrils of her freckled nose. She was all kinds of f*****g hot. And this hotness was holding hands with Wolf. I licked my lips, raising an eyebrow at Trace to continue.

"This is my baby sister, Rilyn." Trace smiled, giving Rilyn the warmest look I've ever seen him manage. The stone cold Prez does have a heart after all.