Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

v.

"I don't know why she goes back to him. And she won't tell me. It's no secret we aren't close anymore." I nodded, of course knowing this. "I love her, but I can't let her distract me from club business. We have a big gun run coming up, and I have to figure out what Shooter and the Bastard's revenge will be for us jacking their heroin."

"What's the plan going to be with that?" I muttered, tracing the morning dew in figure eights on the patio table. There was just too much shit going on.

"We'll worry about the guns and making that money first. We'll just keep more brothers back to watch over the clubhouse. In case the Bastard's come there." Trace pulled out his phone, quickly shooting off a text. He stood up, quickly draining the rest of his morning coffee.

"I got to go pick up Wolf. They're releasing him."

I nodded, not moving from my chair. "Trace..." I started, not sure what I wanted to even say. He rose both eyebrows, pausing, waiting. "I want free reign to take out Rage."

Trace smirked to himself, his eyes dancing in amusement before quickly sizzling out as they landed on me. "Hmm. You like my sister, Angel?" Trace's voice was low and raspy, as if he had smoked a whole carton of cigarettes.

I choked on my cigarette, coughing loudly and gasping for air. "Uhhh."

Trace gave me a small smile, his eyes tracking the backyard. "I don't care, brother. Honestly," he sighed dramatically, very unlike my MC president. The fewer words, the fewer facial expressions, and emotions, the better. This must really be bothering him. "I'd rather you be there for her than him... But you'll have to talk to her first about killing her boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend." I automatically growled in response.

"Does he know that?" Trace tugged violently at his hair. "He doesn't care. He was given the name Rage for a reason." Trace's green eyes bore into mine. "I've seen Riley's bruises and black eyes. Seen some other shit too." Nausea rolled through me and I turned my head away.

Trace continued. "All I'm saying is you have to ask her permission. You know as my club sergeant, you have mine. But when you go after him, you better make sure it's good. Because as cliche as it sounds, he's really not going down without a fight."

I avoided his eyes, staring down at my heavy boots on the wooden porch, thinking. Minutes passed and I could feel Trace studying me. I rubbed my hands up and down my face, frustrated. I was always frustrated lately.

"Just have a bulletproof plan, man. Then plan B, maybe plan C. Wolf would want to be involved, too." Trace opened the back doors, stepping through. He turned back to me. "Can you get Riley from therapy? If he's already seen her once, he'll be back for more. She's his weakness; he can't stay away." I knew that feeling all too well.

I nodded to him, my own anger flaring hot in my veins.

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