Raiden (Satan’s Angels MC #2)

Chapter 5

Raiden

T he next morning, I ride out with Widow at my back. If she wants to put a knife into it, she’s more than welcome to try.

I’m taking the lead on this. It’s going to be me going through potential threats first. Keeping her behind me is actually a point of protection, even if from the daggers she stares at me when we stop to fuel up before we head up into the mountains, she doesn’t see it that way.

She doesn’t want to be on this trip with me at all. She asked me straight up if she could sub me out for Bullet, Gunner, Odin, Atlas, or literally any other one of my club brothers. She even went as far as to say that she’d rather take Lark herself and drive up in a cage.

I’m obviously way the hell down on her list of people she can stand.

When I said no—that the club needed to see us unified and not at each other’s throats, threatening an already tenuous agreement—she finally gave in.

I considered apologizing to her when I went to her room to talk, but there was so much hostility radiating from her, I changed my mind. The open road doesn’t seem like the right place either. I’ll have to wait until we get to the cabin.

The thought of doing it eats me all the way up those winding mountain roads, and eventually through the old corduroy log mud backroad. I get a vivid flashback of heading this way not so long ago, my club brothers in front of me, an army bent on saving their leader and inevitably on vengeance, me in my ancient pickup, grinding gears and double shifting my way through a road just barely wide enough for me to pass.

Gray said the property owner is old and wants to sell. I’m not sure who’s keeping the road open to even get to this place.

The woods are thick, many of the leaves already turning yellow. It hasn’t frosted in the city yet, but up here, I can’t be sure. The mountains always lend a new dynamic to the weather. The night is probably going to be a cold one. As much as I don’t want to go inside, I don’t want us outside the cabin either, exposed to the elements and at the mercy of anyone or any animal that might be out here.

We left early so we’d have plenty of daylight to get there, but also to get ourselves set up as much as possible in a cabin that, as far as I remember, has a dirt floor and no windows.

After riding down the track for a few miles the road just ends and the trees give way because someone’s cut them back, but barely. There’s a small clearing around the dilapidated log cabin. When we shut our engines off, the silence is ominous.

Living in the city, you forget how quiet it is to be in the middle of nowhere.

I wrench my phone out of my jeans. No service. My stomach wrenches just looking at that cabin. Seeing Gray there, half dead, is going to be emblazoned in my brain for a long time. The thought that he’s considering building a home for his family here seems crazy, but maybe that’s how he deals with his demons? By facing them head on.

I finally turn around and face Widow. We’ve haven’t exchanged a single word this entire time. Standing there by her bike, wearing ripped up skinny jeans ending in shit kicker boots, her leather jacket snugged around her so that it accentuates her lush breasts and narrow waist, blonde hair whipped behind her by the wind, she looks anything but vulnerable. She’s a goddess of the road up here too, but her eyes lock with mine and I see the naked misery there. I sunk barbs into her and even though she wants everyone to believe she’s made of the hardest steel, they got through. If she’s tried to untangle herself, she’s only worked them deeper.

I failed to realize that though she might pretend to be impenetrable, she has a soft heart underneath and her sparring with me was really her offering up pieces of herself in the only way she knows how. We’re alike that way. Trained never to be vulnerable but needing it all the same.

So very human, though we don’t want anyone to ever know it.

I dig the toe of my boot into the soft dirt of the road. “Gray wants us to check out the land. There’s a hundred acres so we had better get started.”

She nods. She’s been briefed.

My saddle bags are bursting with supplies, and I’ve got my sleeping bag rolled and strapped on the back. I leave it all that way but get out one of those portable backpacks that scrunch down to nothing and throw in my compass, water bottle, and phone. It’s useful for the camera, if nothing else.

I feel Widow’s hot stare on me the entire time.

I start off without a word, because god fucking damn it, I can’t think of how to approach the conversation we need to have. She follows behind, her steps light while mine crash through the woods.

There’s a mix of trees out here, some towering giants, others skinny and new, most in between. It’s the deadfall that’s the problem. It makes walking nearly impossible. There are roots all over the place and branches that tear at our clothes and our faces.

Widow doesn’t complain. She trails directly in my path, a silent ghost dogging me. Since I’m breaking it, she probably doesn’t get smacked and scraped nearly so often.

The mosquitoes are thick, biting hungrily. The flies too, although this time of year they should be long gone. The forest is a different place. It has its own code.

I stop occasionally, glancing up at the blue sky above us, noting the way the sun changes position as the hours pass. My feet start to ache. Soon, I’m wishing I brought a set of hiking boots. I take photos occasionally, even though everything looks the same. Gray gave me a map provided by the property owner when he got permission for us to come out here and check it out. I remember when I reach for it, that I left it in the bottom of the bike’s saddlebag.

When my feet start to feel like there are shards of glass in my boots, my skin is scratched to shit from clearing paths, and every single fucking thing is starting to look the same, I get out the compass.

I realize immediately that I have no idea what direction we started, so knowing what direction north is doesn’t really help much. We could find the road, but that would probably take hours and then we’d have to figure out where the hell we came out and how to get back to where we need to be, which is probably miles and miles away.

Widow paused six feet away, her back to me like she doesn’t want to watch what I’m doing because she’s sensed for a while that I’ve fucked this up. In the spirit of why we’re out here in the first place, she’s decided not to say anything and now she won’t look at me because it would be like poking an already provoked bear.

I’m no tracker, and tracing our steps back seems nearly impossible when we zigzagged all over the place to try and choose the path of least resistance.

I should have been dropping stones or letting out string. Something. Anything that wasn’t so stupidly brazen and self-assured. It’s my own damn fault, if I’d gone into this in a better frame of mind then I’d have checked I had the fucking map.

There are rocks jutting up all over the place, a big one not twenty feet away, poking out of the moss and covered in lichens. I walk over and sit down on it, letting the cool of the earth seep into my ass. I just need a second to figure out what the fuck to do.

Widow walks over. She clears her throat and finally looks up, eyes as unnaturally green as the moss that’s beneath my boots.

“Were you a Scout when you were younger?”

There’s nothing taunting in her tone or face. I catch the slight spark in her eyes that says that she’d desperately like me to say yes.

“Yeah. When I was real young. Gray too. Zale didn’t give a shit if he went or not, but my parents made sure we did it together. My dad didn’t like me hanging out with Gray, but I heard my mom telling him one night that he was just a kid, he didn’t have to turn out like his father. My mom wanted to save Gray, but it went the other way, at least in her mind.”

“He pulled you into the darkness.”

“I went willingly, but it wasn’t dark at all. Prospecting with the club was the highlight of my life, and patching in? It was beyond the best day I’d ever known.”

She eyes the endless trees. “Do you know where we are?”

“Honestly? No fucking idea.”

“Oh.” She spins in a tiny circle and makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“You ever been camping?” I ask gruffly.

She shakes her head. “Not like this.”

My hands curl into fists. An uncontrolled rage sweeps through me, as devastating as if a real wildfire ripped through these woods. Just a spark would soon burn out of control. All that anger is directed at myself. This isn’t the man I was raised to be. Sure, I deviated way the fuck off that morally righteous path that my parents put me on, but I’ve never been one bit ashamed of who I am until now.

I’m the reason we’re out here. I chose to marry this woman, made her promises, and I’ve done nothing but cause her pain. That wasn’t my right, no matter how angry I was. She’s not her father. I never stopped to even think what her life has been like. She’s not some pampered princess. She’s hard because she has to be, covering up her real feelings with brassy sass and snark. I’ve treated her like an enemy and an obligation, uncaring and cruel. I’m a man through and through, a hell of a lot rougher than my upper-middle class rearing, but I’ve acted like a child.

Seeing her stripped of her usual ballsy, tough as nails shield, presses into my protective instincts, flaying me open like the lash of a whip.

“I’m sorry.”

Her head snaps up, a halo of sun kissed soft gold surrounding her beautiful face. “Excuse me?” She’s wary of a trap, waiting for me to snare her and trip her up. Her eyes are heavily lined, and they narrow into black kohl slits.

There’s no trap. No heat. Only me spreading my palms like an offering. “I’m sorry for what I said and how I said it. It wasn’t fair by half. You can’t help who your father is.”

“He wasn’t in my life growing up. You know that, right?” she snaps.

“Given that he was here, and you weren’t, I guess that’s obvious.”

“He sent money. My mom kept in contact. That’s as far as it went. She was a badass.” She jerks at her own words, pressing on nerves that are still raw.

I feel that same pang deep in my chest thinking about my own mom. She was most definitely not a badass. I’d barely made my peace with her—not even really sure that’s what it was—and she was gone.

“I guess when Zale was finished here, he decided to check up on us. I had my life together, but I knew from the second he showed up, offering that rough kind of freedom, that I needed it. The only thing I regret was that I wasn’t there when she died.”

I stay quiet. I haven’t earned the right to ask her to share any of her pain. She tells me anyway. Maybe she needs to talk about it.

“It should be some kind of warning to me that she died on her bike. She would have wanted to be around for quite a while yet, but if it was between that or dying in her bed an old lady or wasting away with sickness…” She inhales sharply. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I know your mom just passed and I know it was cancer. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive. I normally think before I speak.”

“Me too.” I clear my throat. It’s so much louder in the silence that engulfs us. “I’m better with numbers than with words.” I let out a humorless laugh because I’m always saying that, and I realize what a copout it sounds like.

“I get that.”

“I realize that no one properly explained to you how things are here, so I’m going to tell you, so you have it as your truth. People see biker clubs as no good. They see the bike and the patches and they think outlaw like it’s a bad thing and most of the time, it can be. Not us. Your grandfather—Zale’s father—started this club. Peterson Grand wanted it clean. He had a few buddies that were fucked up, coming back from the war and other hard shit. Clubs were popping up all over, getting popular for all the wrong reasons, attracting all the wrong kinds of guys.”

“Very true.”

I can barely concentrate because I’m watching her. Sticking out in all her biker glory, she still looks so elemental out here with the birds trilling and the mosquitoes whining, the sun dappling through the leaves and plants.

I force myself to continue and not get distracted again. “They were virtually lawless, even if they didn’t start out that way. We don’t have many rules, but one of his was no hard drugs. Guys could drink their face off, but he didn’t truck with anything more than weed. It kept the violence down, I’ll give him that. He wanted to be a family and that’s what we’ve always been. If you want to give up your colors and do something else, you’re free to go. We believe patching in should be for life, but no one’s getting shot because they want to do something different. People grow and change. That’s just a fact. We’re man enough to understand. But while you’re in the club, you’re a brother, and that means having each other’s back. It means acting with honor.”

Widow’s eyes are on me, she gives a nod of understanding, and I continue.

“We wanted to look after this city, not terrorize it. Sure, when we ride out it’s awe inspiring. All that power and all those bikes rumbling like a thunderstorm of wrath brought down by Zeus himself. Violence talks, but so does kindness, compassion, and peace. Even Zale didn’t believe in people fearing him. We thought he was a good prez, and he was, until the power went to his head. It’s hard, leading all of this, making all those tough choices and knowing no one can outvote you, dealing with all the money and being on top of it all. Zale used to be a different kind of man and that’s why we’re a different sort of club. It’s all due to his raising and his own dad’s ideas. It’s common sense, really. You’re the maker of your own destiny and the creator of your own problems. You start that shit and you’re just opening the door for a bunch of lives ruined, but also for others to step up and take you on because they want a piece of that empire. We might rule Hart in our own way, but the city tolerates the club because of the good we do. We’ve eliminated the small-time dealers so there’s a fuck of a lot less violence. Gray’s working with the council right now to rezone some buildings for low-income housing.”

“Don’t pretend you’re saints.” She interrupts dryly. “You still have your strip clubs and you’re doing well because of drugs, whether they’re hard or not.”

“Yeah, we’ve got our clubs. Got tons of legit business, like any smart club. Not all of what we do is illegal. The only other club rules we have came directly from Zale’s father himself. Don’t dishonor your club. Don’t walk around acting like you’re above anything or anyone else or like you own Hart because we’re all just a part of building something we can be proud of. Our families live here. We’re raising our kids up here. We want it to be the kind of place that they can be safe and free in. This club does good things even though we might not be the best sort of men. Don’t ever harm a woman. That’s where we’re different. You can’t tell me in your experience you’ve seen the club whores worth anything. No doesn’t mean no if you’re a biker. You’re above caring about what other people think.”

She rolls her eyes hard. Far beyond the regular eyeroll. “You’re so high on your own importance.”

“Because we treat our women well and refuse to see the club whores as non-humans? Guess what, princess, they’re the ones servicing you. That the kind of woman you want to abuse and piss off? We don’t allow underage girls at our strip clubs or anywhere else. Fucking makes me sick what other clubs are doing. You think riding a bike gives you the power to determine the worth of another person, to make them small and keep them there?”

“I’m sorry. No.” She laughs because she clearly can’t help her incredulity. “You can’t expect bikers to conform to that though.”

“We’re a small club. We’ve always been careful about who we let in.”

“How has that not bit you in the ass? Someone you turn away looking to make a point of the embarrassment?”

She has a point. “We’re the only chapter and won’t be expanding anywhere anytime soon. You can’t control the men who you aren’t with every day. How can you think of those men as your club brothers when you don’t even know them? How can you die for a stranger?”

“So none of you have violent, fucked up pasts.”

“Not saying that.”

“Anyone can become an animal. It just takes the right situation.”

“Sure. But we try not to get ourselves into that kind of shit.”

She crosses her arms and stalks off. I’m not sure where she thinks she’s going. She as lost as I am. At least talking about this has done something to take my mind off my growling stomach and the unease at not knowing where I am.

She turns when I follow her. “You sound more like a group of small-town whiners going to Sunday school than a group of outlaw bikers getting their hands dirty, riding and living hard on the wrong side of the law.”

“Yeah? Does abusing women and snorting blow make you tough?”

“What happens when someone comes for you, and you’re not prepared? You have to take them on their terms. What happens when someone makes a mistake and it gets personal and that enemy has the manpower and the desire to wipe you off the face of the earth? Where does your self-preservation plan get you then? What happens when your golden boy of a prez makes a mistake? Why does he get a pass and not my father when they both betrayed their men?”

Fuck, I really don’t want to talk about that. “Zale took away our freedom.”

“ Your freedom,” she corrects. “But how is it not currently the same thing? Was Zale incorrect in assuming there’d be a mutiny in favor of his son? Where’s the morality in betraying your prez?”

“I forgot that the only prez you’ve ever known is one selfishly out there for his own interests. Men join up because they want a brotherhood. They want to get out from under the fuckers telling them what to do and not giving a shit that they’re nothing more than a cog in a machine. That’s the kind of prez you and the rest of your ridiculous Berserkers serve.” She gives a shrug.

We’re circling around, which is exactly what I don’t want to be doing. I came out here to apologize and I want to leave it at that. Besides, it’s getting later and later in the afternoon. I’m wasting time talking, when I should be figuring out how the hell to get back to our bikes before we have to spend the night out here.

“Trust comes hard when it’s been shot to all fuck and gone, which isn’t your fault.” I stick my hand out. “I said vows I didn’t mean at the time, but like you, I obey my prez. I wanted what was best for Hart and for our club, wanted to have my brothers alive and our families whole and together. I wanted to live free. I meant that. I mean it right here and now. Truce?”

She studies my palm. I don’t lower it. This is something I’m not backing down on. We’re not leaving here until she takes it.

We probably won’t be leaving here even if she shakes my hand.

We’re still lost as all holy fuck.

“And Zale? You don’t still want to kill him?”

“Oh, I do, but don’t worry about him. Lark’s already sworn vengeance.”

Her brows shoot up her forehead and then crash back down. “What the fuck? You can’t let your sister anywhere near my father. Have you seen her?”

“I’ve seen her. Gray will protect her and Penny with his life, and I’ll do the same as her brother and as his through the club. She’s vowed she’ll do this, but we won’t let her. She’ll have to see that she has to let that hate go.”

“Will you?”

She grasps my hand tightly. It makes my throat feel thick, seeing her small hand in mine. “I don’t know if I can. I’ll do what Gray says, but just because I’m backing down now, doesn’t mean I’m not every bit as lethal as the rest of the men you’ve grown used to.”

“Trust me, I know that every biker is a walking bundle of red flags.” Her fingers curl tight around mine.

“But you agreed to the marriage even though I was the devil you didn’t know.”

She finally withdraws, but the current of heat her touch generated stays with me, making me feel half feral with the need to touch her again.

“There was a time when my father was a good man. If people can change, they can also change again.”

I shake my head at that. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“The marriage or the peace?”

“Any of it.”

A wide smile splits her face. Gray’s always had this golden touch, where he could magically make everything alright. His sister has that same animal magnetism, packaged so differently. They’re total opposites, each with a different brand of honesty that makes it impossible to dislike them.

“What about the truce?”

“I’ll do my best, but in all honesty, there’s a lot of room for uncertainty.”

“There’s attraction at least,” she whispers. “That’s a good start.”

“Christ.” I have to look past her. I don’t know what to say or think. I’ve never met a woman like her.

I’m no saint. After five years locked up, I enjoyed what the club whores had to offer very much. Not just them, but also had a few nights with women in Hart who thought taking an outlaw to bed was hot shit. I didn’t mind being a notch on their fantasy belt. I’ve always made sure I hold back, keep the dark shit bottled up, and make sure any woman I’m with feels safe and enjoys her time. There’s something dark inside of me that wasn’t there before I became an animal in a cage. I’ve never even come close to unleashing it. If anyone could handle it, Widow could, but I’m not even going to think about going there, even if I feel fevered again.

Widow turns her face up to the sky. Even I have to admit that the sun is sinking pretty low. Evenings in September turn to night real fast. It’s about as good of a subject change as I could hope for.

“It’s going to be dark soon. We’ll be walking through it. We should probably try and trace our way back before we can’t even see a few inches in front of our faces.”

“We’ll figure this out.”

That’s definitely what I should have been doing instead of having a heart to fucking heart with my nemesis of a wife.

Alright, not nemesis. She doesn’t feel so much like the enemy anymore, and I just offered a truce.

I guess I accomplished what Gray wanted, even if I did get lost out here like an imbecile. He probably counted on it. Figured that’s what it would take to get me out of myself enough to apologize.

Fucker.