Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

iii.

Riley 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 fucking 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 riley she needs to be at the party tonight

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

Riley 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...

Riley 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 shit.

Riley 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.

Riley 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 painted on 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 fucking 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 Riley. They dated a little bit in the past." Diablo snorted loudly.