// 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...
Riley "I wanted to destroy something beautiful." - Fight Club ---
Last night was interesting, to say the least. How all of that drama went down was wild. Wolf almost let it out that Emery and Macy were secretly friends with Rage. And I've wanted to make out with Angel from the first time I laid eyes on his hot tattooed body, overgrown blonde Mohawk, and big blonde beard. Bad boys are my weakness, and I knew Angel wasn't someone innocent. He was the club's certified killer, for god's sake.
I took a deep breath, nervous as hell. It was Wednesday. The day I had to meet Rage for this Raging Bastards strip club interview or whatever. Would I really be stripping for money? I knew if I didn't go, he'd find me. And their would be repercussions for me and the ones I loved. I tried to channel Brynn and her confidence. Brynn... I was doing this so I could find out more about her killer. I was sure the Raging Bastards knew something about my sister's death.
I stared at a picture of her I had recently framed and set on my night stand. She was wearing a small plated necklace that said "brynn;" the very same one I wore everyday now. My gut swirled with anxiety. Fuck, I missed her. I would do this for her.
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I continued to search through my closet, throwing reject outfits everywhere. My room at Trace's had become an absolute wreck. Where were girlfriends when you needed them? Oh, right, I had none. The nursing school friends ditched me when they found out I was doing drugs. Growing up, all I had was Brynn, Wolf, Trace and the kids running around the club.
I sat in front of the closet, feeling defeated. Maven snuggled into some discarded floral and silver dresses, puffs of black dog hair floating around her. I smiled at her, letting her lick my hand with her little pink tongue.
Trace was working at the tattoo shop, and Wolf was ignoring me, once again, after his hissy fit at his party. I hadn't seen Angel since last night, when I pulled myself away from him to get home early. All so I could be ready for my early morning therapy session, but he was less than enthused.
Therapy went like it always did. I sat there as Doctor Langley droned on about the importance of sobriety, of abstaining from sex during this critically vulnerable time, of going to NA and AA meetings for a better future. I never talked, just listened. He always wanted to talk about the traumatic event of finding Brynn's mutilated body; but I never budged. It was the worst hour of my life every time I went in there. But I didn't want to be thrown in jail, so I was now compliant. As compliant as I could be.
After cleaning up my room, I putzed around and drank a Red Bull outside in the mid afternoon sun. I wondered where Angel had been all night. He hadn't come home. I stuffed down feelings of jealousy. He was not mine. We just kissed. I swayed on Trace's hammock, which was snuggled into some trees a few yards from the side of the house. As I watched pine needles and green leaves fall from the robin egg blue sky, an idea occurred to me. That new bartender at the clubhouse, Daisy, Dixie, or Dallas? ...whatever the heck her name was, she was practically my size! Maybe she would let me borrow some clothes for tonight. It was worth a try.
