// NO ONE EXPECTS AN ANGEL TO SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. //
Riley McKenna is fresh out of rehab following her sister's brutal death, and decides to come home to her brother and the motorcycle club (MC) that raised her. But she's only back with one missi...
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 Death Reapers, 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 Death Reapers, 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.
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"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.
