by V. Theia
She put it out of her mind, or she’d fret for days about greased up men thrusting their nasty crotches in her face.
“What are the boys doing about the possibility of new Rebels?”
“They’re looking into it to see how true it is,” Zara answered Ruby. If anyone knew what they were capable of, it was Ruby. The two women shared an understanding look. Zara nor Ruby needed a reminder of that time. She hoped for both their sakes that her imagination was a rampant whore.
Yeah, she could confront dark thoughts all day long. It was the recurring reminders of a time she was trying hard to bury deep that bothered her.
It was going to come to nothing, she decided.
Then she could concentrate on greased up gyrating men with a clear mind.
* * *
Rider was convinced Grinder was part dog. Especially when the tracker walked into the club that day with the info they’d been waiting for.
Confirmation that Rider’s old lady had two good working eyes.
“They have a clubhouse in Henderson. It’s more like a shack, nothing to write home about. One of my sources down there says they’ve been making noise lately, petty thefts, fights, that kinda thing.”
Just far enough out of Denver, they’d know they weren’t treading on any of the MC’s in the area. Rider might share real estate with Steele, but Denver belonged to the Souls. Any new MC, by rights, should have approached Rider as a courtesy. The fact that the Rebels 2.0 did fucking exist, and they hadn’t reached out, spoke volumes, and put anger through his blood.
“Motherfucker.” He spat.
The moment he got the intel, he’d wanted to storm the building, blowing them the fuck up, but he had to play it smart.
It didn’t stop him from seething for hours.
They were both awake early the next morning, but neither had spoken yet. Zara took his hand from her stomach and brushed it up to her breast. He didn’t hesitate in squeezing her gently, feeling its fullness. Burying a contented groan in the back of her neck, he inhaled her delicious morning scent, the fragrance which could get him hard in seconds, and hammer the organ in his chest. Rider curled his hips forward, brushing his erection against her covered ass.
He loved her being naked, but he also loved her in her sleep things because it meant he could peel her out of them.
Things naturally had to alter in their relationship along the way once the kids came along. They still could and did fuck at any time. They just became sneakier about where they could have sex. But early mornings were his and Zara’s time to be at peace with each other before the house came alive. He loved this time to hold her while she came awake.
There was electricity under his skin, little shock waves traveling through his hand while he toyed with her nipple.
Zara moaned. It wasn’t a worked-up noise. It was one of contentment, and he took that as a positive after she’d been jittery for the last few days. He couldn’t always reach her with a conversation if she were feeling unsettled, but their bodies had a way of communicating beyond the realm of normalcy. They loved deeply and with a lot of obsession for the other, with no end in sight.
For all the ways Rider could be a Neanderthal, and there were plenty if you asked his woman, a leftover to the earliest Souls one-percenters at times, he had progressive views on a woman's role within the club.
Up to a point.
The old lady’s, and even the groupies, added something to their place.
His girl most of all. Zara had brought fresh eyes to every part of the business. She didn’t know how much she’d changed him as a prez for the better.
In the glimmer of the first light of dawn, there was only want and need in each breath.
Steady, possessive sweeps of his hand moved from breastbone to stomach and up again, warming her already silky skin, making her squirm underneath the covers.
Zara’s pulse fluttered under his fingertips when he stroked around the front of her neck. “Good sleep, Icy?”
“Yes, you?”
“Sleeping next to my queen, so yeah.” The extra sleep had done her good.
He said it so she’d chuckle – which she did – but he meant it too.
“Smooth talker, Marinos.” She flipped around to face him, and her hand came to his cheek. He pressed a smile onto her shoulder. The moment was too right to ruin, but he said what he had to, anyway.
“Why don’t you stay home today?”
She pulled back. All sweetness from her voice vanished. “No way. And have people assume I’m scared?”
“No one thinks that.”
“You know if a woman stays home, they’re going to assume it is fear keeping her there. I’m not afraid, Rider.”
“No, you’re not. My woman is badass.”
“Damn right.” She poked his chest and smiled up at him.
He saw the fear she wasn’t acknowledging behind her pale eyes.
It was something he was going to sort out today.
“You know I’ll make it right, don’t you?”
“Never doubted it. So don’t you either.”
With Zara, he could be someone other than The Prez. He couldn’t give her answers other than he’d do what needed to be done, but he’d given her the truth last night. She’d handled it better than he thought she would.
He felt her shiver, though her skin was warm to the touch. He tightened an arm around her and let her find a spot under his chin to burrow into.
His girl craved affection. Years back, he didn’t see it; he was too busy trying to win her. Trying to make up for everything that had hurt her.
Rider would never stop. It was his whole life’s mission.
That and to keep his family safe.
But now, he was more aware of her needs. She liked physical touch and affirmations. When she needed it, he was more than happy to drown her in affection.
She’s easy to please. A purr pumped out of her when he stroked along her spine, making her soften under his hand.
He would always give her the truth.
And he would, without fail, love his woman until she felt smothered by him.
They stayed in bed, sharing quiet words, Rider holding her until the kids woke up and wanted to eat. He was the tribute, and he left her in bed, putting a kiss on her lips.
He hated leaving her that morning. Rider put Pretty-Boy in the picture because the brother cared for Zara like his own sister, so he’d stick extra close to her today.
It was Hawk riding at his side an hour later when they headed toward Henderson. There was no announcing their arrival. This wasn’t one club reaching out to another and giving a courtesy call. Rider was the bigger dog, and he was hoping this new prez wannabe would kick off with his ego, giving Rider any excuse not to be reasonable.
All but vibrating under his skin as the pair approached on foot what passed for a clubhouse. It was no bigger than a shed, and a ram shackled one at that.
Rider slowed his breathing and listened.
“Keep your head,” he told Hawk, who only snorted.
“Doubt it’s me that’s gonna go off half-cocked, Ri.” Hawk thumped on the door. It opened almost immediately. A reedy sly-looking man was standing there in jeans and a cut. The younger man’s eyes widened like stunned deer when he saw the pair of them.
“Boss around?”
“Maybe. Who am I saying it is?”
Little shit already knew. He’d taken in Rider and Hawk’s cuts through their unzipped jackets.
“Rider Marinos.”
“And you?” He addressed Hawk, who only curled his lip in a vicious sneer.
“My watchdog, you don’t want to piss off.”
The kid disappeared, slamming the door in their faces. It was a few minutes more before it opened to show an older guy.
“Rider Marinos as I live and breathe. Thought my man was lying when he said you were out here. But here you are, shit, man. Can’t believe it. The Rider Marinos.”
The guy spoke with admiration in his
voice, though his eyes were shrewd, bouncing between him and Hawk.
“You know me, but I don’t know you.”
“Robert. But they call me Titan.”
Titan. Sure.
“You guys wanna come in?”
“Nah, we’ll talk right here. I’ll get to the point,” Rider started, sharing a look with Hawk. Hawk was mistrusting by nature. It wasn’t hard to see he didn’t like this guy. “Who’s big idea was it to resurrect the Raging Rebels?”
“And which one of you in there is related to Hades?” Asked Hawk. Chances were they were also related to Hawk, which was gonna put his VP in a pissy mood.
“What? No one. We don’t know that guy, just heard about him.” A bite to his tone now, but he backed down from Rider’s stare. “Look, I know we’re probably stepping on your MC’s toes.”
“Hardly. But an annoyance to see a troubled MC brought back to life, fucking A.”
“We don’t want no trouble. We’re a hobby club.”
“Hobby club.” Repeated Hawk, darker, more murderous in tone. “And I’m the Easter bunny.”
“No, for real, man. My brother was a low-ranking officer in the Rebels when I was a kid. I grew up helping him fix his bikes. There are only thirteen of us. You can come in and check. We respect the Souls. All we do is hang out and ride.”
Robert was losing his asshole under Rider’s stare. Rider turned his head and looked at Hawk, who shrugged, but he made it known he was carrying a piece when he opened his jacket. Robert whistled. “Seriously, man, we ain’t gonna cause waves or anything. We all got day jobs. My VP is a plumber. I work on construction. We wanted something to do, and I remembered my brother’s old MC, he’s dead now, thought it would, I don’t know, honor him or some shit. Seemed a good idea.”
If he was going to wear a road name like Titan, he needed better ideas.
Rider and Hawk looked around inside. It was nothing to write home about. It reminded him of building a forte when he was six in the backyard.
Pitiful.
This was the new enemy he’d been imagining?
He disapproved of them using the Rebels name, but far as he could see, it was Robert’s only crime.
“We good then?” A nervous Robert asked, following them outside again. Rider arched his brow, facing him. “We don’t have a good history with the Rebels, so you better hope you’re telling me the truth today, Robert. I don’t give second chances with my generosity. I’ll take it as a personal insult if one word of what you’ve told me checks out to be a lie, you get me?”
“Sure, sure thing, man.”
“You keep out of Denver. You never step foot in Armado Springs. And I fucking mean ever. If anyone sees your faces in my territory, we’ll be back, and Hawk won’t be as happy as he is now.”
“You have my word. And if ever you need backup with anything, we’re here, you know?”
Highly unlikely. Rider hated ass kissers. However, this meeting hadn’t gone as he first thought. A lot less bloodshed, he was not happy about the Rebels being associated with nostalgia. That’s how hero-worshipping started.
He noted Robert stayed in the doorway, watching them stride to their bikes.
“What’s your read on them?” He asked his VP.
“Don’t like it. You notice he wouldn’t say which Rebels his bro was.”
Yeah, he had.
“We can put a prospect on watch, see if Robert is true in what he said.”
Only time would tell if Rider’s gut was right.
It was rarely wrong.
NINE
“Heavy is the head who enforces the hard decisions.” - Rider
Wedding: T-minus 13 days.
Telling Zara everything that night, Rider didn’t have to brace for his woman’s breakdown. She was stronger than that, taking in everything he shared with calmness. After a beat of silence, she asked all the right questions.
So proud of her.
Are they dangerous to us?
Did they show signs of sycophant worship?
Are any of them from years ago?
Do they want to move on the Souls turf?
“They were pathetic, Zara.” He shared. “It was like a den for kids, hardly a MC at all. I filled Jamie in. He’s gonna put a man on the look-out. We’ll see what it brings.”
Rider came up behind her, scooted her ice-white hair over one shoulder, and he dipped down to kiss her exposed neck. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, honey. You would have sniffed out trouble a mile away. I trust your gut instinct. If it’s just silly boys, then they have nothing to do with…before. I can’t condemn men to a fate they had nothing to do with, can I?”
His woman had a heart. She had a conscience. Though she dreaded mention of the Raging Rebels, her steadfast morals would never allow her to put a head into the guillotine if they didn’t deserve it.
It’s what he loved about her most.
She kept him right.
Rider didn’t have any such scruples.
He saw in black and white, and though he’d seen nothing outwardly wrong in that new club, he didn’t trust it.
* * *
Hawk knew him too well.
They’d grown up in the club together.
Going through grueling times, which forged their trust and friendship.
There was no one else who Rider would want as VP, someone to tell him like it is with no sugar-coating bullshit.
Pale eyes, cold as dick rot, watched him as they cradled bottles of beer.
“You’re worrying,” Hawk spoke finally, resting an arm on the table.
“Hm.” He answered, taking a long pull on the Carlsberg imported beer. He wanted whiskey, rum, tequila. Anything to get him as drunk as possible.
But he didn’t do that shit much anymore. Not now he had a family to take care of.
The need to get out of his mind and fuck something up with his fists was there, chewing through his brain.
Would this shit ever end for his Zara?
Could he ever get her to a place she felt safe enough if something were always going to rear its fucking head to frighten her?
Rider felt useless.
She said she was fine and was fine with the outcome he’d shared with her.
Fine. His woman was not fine.
It was less than two weeks until their wedding. She should be on top of the world in Bridezilla mode, not feeding him shitty, lying words like fine and okay.
“You made it clear to them, Ri. They’d be fucking idiots to step into Colorado again.”
He’d made the wrong decision.
It had hit him almost immediately.
Trying to be fair.
Far as he knew, those assholes hadn’t done a thing yet.
They were boys trying to play at being men.
But letting them live… he’d made the wrong decision.
His Zara would forever worry she was going to see the Raging Rebels insignia around every corner. Putting her mentally in that place once more, she’d worked too hard with her therapy to be pushed back.
Zara thought he was a good man. She wouldn’t hate him for letting those men live. But he wasn’t good, was he? He could get as dirty and as evil, as needed.
Drumming his fingers on the ancient table where every Souls decision was made, he didn’t feel much like the Prez. He was thinking entirely as a husband.
Too much was vying for his attention in his brain.
Didn’t matter that he was dead. Hades always made a comeback, like a goddamn monster in a horror movie. And even though she pretended she was fine, he knew differently. He knew Zara inside and out. Could read her every mood and mannerism. What she wasn’t saying when she told him she was fine.
Goddammit, he hated that fucking word, wanted to shoot it out of existence.
If she was scared, she wasn’t fine. And it was down to him to make it right for her. As her man, the buck stopped at his feet.
“I keep failing her.” He spoke and was surprised at h
is emotionally angry voice. Fingers tightened on the bottle, and he drained it in one.
“Zara? That’s bullshit.”
Rider locked eyes with his VP. “I was the one who kicked her out, remember? Look what happened to her for three-fuckin’-years.”
“She got a scare, that’s all. She’s stronger than she was; she isn’t gonna let something like this hold her down. You know it.”
She was strong, so fucking strong was his Zara.
Loving her felt like a disease sometimes. This huge thing inside him, growing out of control. He loved her until he felt mad with it. He’d kill for her, no question.
But he hadn’t, had he?
“You were the one who killed Hades.”
“Any of us would have taken our shot at him. I was in the right place.”
“Shoulda been me. I’m her man, and I keep fuckin’ failing her.”
Hawk wasn’t the type to indulge him, tell him shit that wasn’t true, and Rider was grateful of it. They sat in silence, a six-pack of beers disappearing between them. Hawk lit up a blunt, toked a few times, and then passed it to Rider. He took it automatically, smoking half before giving it back. The smoke went directly into his blood, calming the rage within.
But not by much.
Because he knew, giving those few Rebels room to grow, he’d fucked up. Made the wrong choice.
Giving second chances wasn’t who Rider fucking Marinos was.
He wasn’t a fair man, not when someone had crossed him.
Those fuckers might not have been the ones to hold his woman down and rape her, but by choosing to wear the Rebels name, they were guilty by proxy.
The more he chewed on it, the colder he grew inside.
They wore Hades’ insignia. Following in his footsteps.
They were Raging Rebels.
And he’d let them live.
The head of the table was his spot.
Where he ruled.
And governed his MC.
He set out the laws.
He said what could happen in his town, and now his woman felt violated all over again.
This wasn’t right.
This wasn’t fucking right.