Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

xi.

Angel
I would've bled out if you told me your favorite color was red.
—

Red was an expert at explosives. There was no doubt about it. His time in Afghanistan as a marine ensured that. In result, he had his demons and cross to bare. Everyone in the club had heard his horrific screams in the middle of the night, the night terrors. Him and I looked over the blueprints from the back of the club's van, bouncing at every bump Wes took. That old guy drove like he had a fucking death wish. I'd almost be scared if I wasn't so excited.

"It smells like shit," Red gagged.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Because it is." We had pounds of manure behind us, and the smell was overwhelming and foul.

"And the silverware and marbles, brother?" Red grimaced, shaking his head. "That's some fucked up shit. Who thinks of this stuff?" His eyes connected with mine, genuinely curious. I saw no judgement.

I grinned lazily, leaning back on the mounds of duffel bags in the van like a king. "You should meet my sister, man." I didn't talk much about her, but she really was something.

He shook his head, frowning. "There could be women and children in their compound, Angel." Red dragged his hands through his beard, his eyes up ahead on the road.

"The Raging Bastards have taken enough from our club. Taken enough from Trace, from our family, don't you think?" I asked, my fingers pointing to the piles of explosives waiting behind us.

Red glanced at me warily. "Is there a way to get them out first, brother? You don't want that on your shoulders. Not when you hear their screams from being burned alive. Trust me," he muttered. And I did trust him. He was my brother, I trusted him with my life. He was right. I'd seen my fair share of fiery death as a firefighter.

I nodded, "okay then, we send a message somehow first? Or we'll clear rooms." Red looked relieved, relaxing.

"I have just the thing to do that." He nodded once before continuing to stare out the window, in his own little world.

I'd started hating the drive to Augusta, Georgia. Hating the Raging Bastards more and more for their hold over Riley and the way I saw it affecting Trace. He was on edge, snapping at Wolf and anyone who brought up her absence. Then Wolf would be pissed off and it was a big domino effect. He'd never admit how much he missed her. Their relationship wasn't good, and anyone from the outside looking in knew that. She barely showed her face anymore. My mind always went for the worst, thinking she was sleeping with Rage, making herself known as a Queen among their ranks.

I had a bad feeling about today.

Another hour passed and we didn't talk, thinking about the mission. We parked a few miles west of their compound, behind the other vans. We had bags of manure, several gas cans full of diesel fuel, and explosives in duffel bags. Everyone grabbed a haul and we began to make the trek through the thick forest. Night had just fallen, giving me confidence.

London walked next to me, grinning and nudging me. "I'm excited to finally see you in action. I was thinking your arson speciality was a myth."

Diablo snorted. Kane fell in step beside us. "The man, the myth, the legend?" I hadn't spoken to him much since his prison release and couldn't tell if he was ridiculing me.

"Guess we'll have to see," I smirked at him, hard.

Kane cocked an eyebrow at me. "You know, at first I didn't see why Trace didn't tell me about Gentry's replacement of Sergeant-at-Arms. You're the exact opposite of him." He shrugged, veering left to avoid a fallen branch.