Ace (Syns of Desert Angels MC Book 1)

by L. M. Reign

  “Here,” she patted her leg. “Lay here. I’ll rub your head and you can rest.”

  I was about to protest when she leveled me with a stern glare that brooked no argument. Laying my head on her warm skin, she smelled like sunshine and magnolias.

  “Were you out in the fields again today?”

  “I was.” She started to filter her slim fingers through my messy hair, making my eyes flutter.

  “You smell good,” I told her, slowly drifting into darkness.

  She giggled, and we settled into silence. Me and the only girl who knew how to soothe the ache that ran deeper than my bones. The one that was in my soul. It was the most comfortable silence I’ve ever known.

  “One day, Cole... I’ll be the one protecting you. I promise,” she whispers. I felt her lips on my cheek before the darkness claimed me.

  I still remember the look on her face when she promised to protect me, and the lingering scent of magnolias on her skin.

  That field was her happy place. And she was mine. Fuck. She is my happy place. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the ghost of her fingers running through my hair, and all I know is I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how I let us get to be this broken. What I do know is that I can’t think of a future without her.

  _____________________

  Mila

  Murderer.

  Coward.

  Those words kept playing on loop, badgering me, clinging to my skin like poison. I focus on the bag in front of me, homing in on all the major organs, imagining the sounds of all the damage I was inflicting.

  I never understood the power of those words until he said them.

  They only hurt so much because he matters.

  I keep seeing the look on his face when he first saw me holding that picture. The happiness and excitement when he thought that I was carrying his baby gutted me. I almost wished I was pregnant just so I didn’t have to tell him.

  You should’ve fuckin’ told me!

  No matter how much I thought I was ready, I wasn’t prepared for his explosive reaction. I should’ve known that he wasn’t one to listen or attempt to understand reason when he’s angry.

  He’s a murderer, too. Yet, somehow, his sins are more absolvable than mine.

  Fucking hypocrite.

  No matter how upset and angry Cole is with me... it will never compare to the hurt and anger that I harbor towards myself.

  It was my body that suffered. My body that still acted pregnant for weeks to come while dispensing the remnants of my baby.

  “Hey,” Milo interrupts my lurid thoughts, forcing me to catch the bag when it swings back. Noticing my hands, he immediately grabs me, pulling me towards the med station. “You fucking went to the bag without wrapping your hands? What the fuck, Mila?”

  I sit in the chair beside the table, waiting while he grabs supplies. I look away when he pours the alcohol on my ripped skin, wincing at the sting but welcoming the pain.

  The relief of releasing that burden was short lived when I now carry the burden of hatred from the only man I’ve ever truly loved.

  “Dash and I have to go to the club. Bodi called church. Another run. How’s the plan coming?”

  “Ness and I have a solid one. She’s ironing out a few more kinks just to finalize those details before we go in. We’ll send it off for approval before nightfall. I think she’s crafted a contingency plan for every other contingency plan.”

  He chuckles, shaking his head while wrapping my knuckles with white gauze. I test the flexibility of my fingers, thankful they all flex and bend. I’ve hurt so many people with these hands. And I’ve loved with them, too.

  “Hey.” Milo gets my attention. Looking up, I see him.

  I see how my brother has grown. How this life, Stella, and mom has impacted his features. He both wears and conceals his pain all at the same time. He’s a beautiful disaster. Not that I’ll ever tell him that.

  “Yeah?”

  “Stop hurting yourself, okay? He knows. That’s what you were worried about this whole time. Now, he knows. He just needs time, Mi. Give the man that, at least.”

  “I never said I wasn’t giving him time.”

  “The look in your eyes say it’s over, but I know your heart is hurting. Give him time.”

  “I’m not running,” I protest weakly, knowing damn well I’ve retreated so damn far in my own mind that not even my brother can reach me.

  But isn’t that what it means to stop running away? Stranding yourself somewhere that you can only wait for someone to come along?

  If he ever comes along.

  _____________________

  Cole

  “It’s ‘They don’t know their asses from their elbow’, stupid!” Dimebag yelled at Rook.

  “I’m gonna call bullshit,” Rook retorts.

  “Hey,” I interrupt them. “Who the fuck are they?” I poke my thumb over my shoulder at some guys hanging around Pierce and Hopper at the front. They all wear cuts with the ‘Prospect’ rocker at the bottom.

  “New ‘spects,” Dimebag yells from the bar, nonplussed.

  “Says who?”

  “Bodi. Says we need more members. Went out and recruited those dumbasses. Brought them in this morning and handed over the cut like it was a goddamn piece of gum,” Gibbs hollers from the other end. His eyes bloodshot.

  “Without a club vote?”

  “Yup!” Gibbs huffed. I could tell by looking at him, the scent of Jack would be heavy on his breath.

  “Ol’ man, you drunk this early?”

  “Goin’ through some shit with Fi,” he slurred. I shake my head at the mention of his ol’ lady. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Heavy boots fall on the stairs until Bodi comes into view, zipping up his pants. Gibbs throws him a disapproving look. He might be a bastard, but at least he’s always been faithful to Fiona. Bodi and Dimebag are always drowning in pussy, fucking around on their women.

  Fuckin’ cocksuckers.

  “Let’s get this shit over with,” Gibbs downs the rest of his drink, steadily making his way into church.

  “Who are they?” Brass asks.

  “New ‘spects.”

  “Says who?”

  “Guess,” I jut my chin towards Bodi.

  I don’t stick around for his response as I file into the room, taking my seat at the table. Waiting for the rest of the guys to join, I remember the day I earned this spot at the table.

  We were on a run when Rev found out his brakes weren’t working. We were riding at breakneck speed in enemy territory when he told Bodi, who signaled for us to form a circle around him. Keeping him safe until we found somewhere he could wipe out.

  Rumbling came from the corner when a semi flanked with bikers flying Mongrels MC colors came into view. They were barreling straight towards us, guns drawn, and we couldn’t keep the circle around him without taking some damage.

  “Break off!” Bodi yelled, deciding to retreat. Drawing his weapon, he kept glancing back. The brothers did the same, speeding up while leaving Rev behind. Rev couldn’t slow down or speed up. He was just stuck.

  The man was the closest thing I had to a father in this club, and I wasn’t going to let him die. Drawing my gun, I stayed behind with a plan.

  “Get on!” I yelled at him, getting as close to his sled as I could. I kept the Mongrels in my rearview, ready to take some of the bastards down.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Cole. Get your goddamn ass out of here!” He kicked at me.

  “Get on!” I demand, getting even closer.

  Neither the bikers or the semi was slowing down, and Rev wouldn’t be able to wipe out safely on this cliff.

  Huffing, he kept himself steady, maneuvering his way onto to my bike. At the last moment, he pushed off his sled, sending it the opposite direction and clung onto me.

  We watched as his custom bike was demolished against the railing, pivoting over the cliff. He didn’t say another word until we got back to the clubhouse.

 
; “You fuckin’ crazy, Cole!” He hopped off, yelling at me, smacking me upside the head. The brothers started to gather round, watching me get a fucking lecture.

  Rev stood there, wiping his hand over his beard. I kept my gaze on the ground, waiting for him to start yelling like he always did. When he didn’t, I peeked up, seeing him fail at covering a smile before laughing. “You a crazy motherfucker, Cole. Got some real tricks up your sleeve. A real Ace.” Everyone voiced their agreement and my road name was born.

  A few days later, Bodi called church while I was out on a job. I hauled ass to make it back in time. Sneaking into the room, I settled into a vacant seat at the end of the table and looked at Bodi only to realize all eyes were on me. I found Rev, sitting beside Tank and Jolk.

  “Boy,” Bodi barked. “That shit you pulled, savin’ Rev’s life, stayin’ behind to take on the Mongrels by yourself. It was fuckin’ stupid. But Rev thinks it’s earned you this,” he threw something at me. I watched the object slide down the table, stopping an arm’s length away.

  Picking it up, I read it, unsure of what was going on. “We’re trustin’ you to protect our club and to discipline our chapter’s jurisdiction. Don’t fuck it up,” Bodi tells me. My brothers started clapping me on the back, urging me to take my spot at the table as the Sergeant at Arms of DAMC.

  I smile at the memory of Rev, missing the man today. He wanted to retire, giving me his spot, but died from a bike accident a few years back. We still take care of his family, giving them money every now and then. It was eerie how much his boy looked just like him.

  I hope he doesn’t join.

  Bodi scans the room deviously, putting me on edge. He’s up to something. Milo and Dash are the last to file in, sitting at the end of the table.

  “The past few weeks have been goin’ well. The dagos are happy their cargo is makin’ its way to where it’s ‘posed to be.

  Manny and I have been personally workin’ on a venture that could bring us even more money. That’s why tonight will be our best run yet,” he puffs cigar smoke into the thin air.

  “This will be the most lucrative business we’ve ever had, besides fostering the Syndicate’s bastards, no offense,” he waves a hand towards the end of the table. Milo curls his fist and Dash holds his stare, quirking an eyebrow. Daring Bodi to say more.

  “It’s important that this run go smooth. We’ve paid up on Tank and Jolk’s hospital bills.” The boys release a celebratory shout before banging their fists on the table. “In even better news,” Bodi took his time scanning each of our faces. “They’ll be gettin’ released in two weeks.”

  Another round of cheers and banging on the table has me looking around, watching those that were celebrating. Only Diesel and Brass are stoic, their demeanor matching mine. Brass glowers at me, no doubt pissed at my declaration from earlier.

  This club’s started to lose its way. Or maybe my priorities have changed. I used to see a brotherhood. Men who were close, honest, and loyal. Now Bodi’s only focused on money, running off and recruiting prospects without notice. Making club decisions without a vote, devaluing our purpose to have a voice - to have equality. And yet, no one seems to fucking care that this is becoming less about us as brothers and more about him as President.

  “Tonight is the biggest cargo run the dagos have trusted us with. I want Ace, Brass, Rook, Diesel and Rig on this one. Milo and Dash will tag along.”

  “We need seven people for this run?” I question.

  “Yeah. Yeah, you do,” Bodi responds sarcastically.

  “That’s half the club. Who’ll be here if we need ‘em?” Gibbs cuts in before Bodi starts to lecture me.

  “That’s why I went out and got us some ‘spects. You saw ‘em on the way in. Greet ‘em when you get back. They’ll be comin’ in to take some places around here. We need manpower since we’re uppin’ our involvement with the dagos. Tonight, you’ll be escortin’ skin and merch.”

  “What kind of merch?” Diesel grunts. Sounding unhappy at the sudden change of plans. Transporting skin meant we didn’t have to touch. Merch is usually a hands-on job.

  “Nevermind the merch. Just make sure it switches the trucks with the skin and gets to the checkpoint safely.”

  “Those ‘spects don’t know their dicks from their assholes!” Gibbs smacks the table. The sudden influx of alcohol making him brave.

  “See!” Rook smacks Dimebag’s arm. “They say it that way!”

  “Motherfucker, shut up,” Dimebag snarled, his eyes blazing with fury at Gibbs.

  You don’t disrespect your Prez.

  “I’m the goddamn President of this chapter. We’re doin’ shit how I fuckin’ say we do it. Are we clear?”

  The warning was evident in his words. The room settled into a tense silence. Gibbs was seething, growing rabid by the second. Growing up DAMC meant he lived and died by the bylaws of the club. And Bodi is breaking every damn one of them.

  “They requested you dress in black. Conceal yourselves while movin’ the cargo. You’ll ride out and meet them at the usual drop point. Transfer the cargo from one truck to the other, and escort them the rest of the way. Are we understood?”

  A light chorus of Aye’s circulate the room.

  “Dismissed,” he banged the gavel on the table. The heavy thud sealing our fate.

  “Ol’ man is losin’ his shit,” Gibbs grumbles at me on his way out.

  I watch my brothers with rapt attention as they leave the room one by one until it’s just me and Brass. No words are exchanged as the tension clings heavily in the air like a noose around your neck. I’ve had comfortable silences with my brothers - enough to know that this isn’t one of them.

  “You want to leave the brotherhood?”

  I just stare at him, trying to shred him apart to find one reasonable explanation that would make him understand - make him relate - to the reasons why I want out. I don’t belong here, I need to move on. Escape this cycle.

  This time, I’m choosing her. I’ve never been so sure of what the future holds until now. The fate of my club and the fate of my relationship hangs in the balance. I’ve chosen the club once and it’s gotten me this far. Choosing her will only drag me into my next journey. One where I’m with her.

  “Would you leave for Emily?”

  His lip curled up in a snarl as he roams my face, most likely deciding which part of it to strike first. Ma always said there was a tide in the affairs of men. A steady push and pull of wills that pave the way instead of waiting for the flood to rebuild. This is ours.

  “She’s got nothin’ to do with this.”

  “Would you leave for her?” I repeat myself, taking advantage of the secrets in his past. The one where his wife and son were killed by a drunk driver on the way home from the hospital after she gave birth.

  He was silent for a while, surprising me when he spoke. “In a heartbeat,” he stared at the table, his shoulders slumped forward.

  “Then you know why. I have a chance here, man. We have a chance here. You with Ness and me with…,” I threw my hands up in frustration.

  Moments pass before he raps his knuckles on the table and scoots his chair back. “Then let’s go get your woman.”

  _____________________

  A few hours later, we pull into the empty lot. The cracked streetlight offering slim chances of lighting. Rook assured us that the security cameras were down on half the street to avoid any unnecessary attention. Milo, Dash, Rig, and Diesel are already waiting for us when we pull in.

  I kill the engine and pull out a cigarette; lighting it. “Where’s Rook?”

  “Here he comes,” Rig mutters as we hear the rumble of a Harley before we see him.

  “What the fuck is that dipshit wearin’?” Diesel snorts.

  I inhale a deep drag before turning around to witness the disaster that is, no doubt, Rook.

  I spiral into a coughing fit by just looking at him. “Goddamnit,” I wheeze, my eyes starting to water.

  “This stupid m
otherfucker,” Brass laughs as the rumbles dies down. Our laughter echoes throughout the lot.

  “What’s so funny?” Rook’s muffled voice makes us laugh harder.

  “Why do you look like you’re about to steal some kid’s lunch money?” Milo questions, giving him a onceover.

  “He said dress in black to conceal. This is black. I am concealed,” Rook gestures to his black pants and shirt, complete with a balaclava mask.

  “Because that’s real subtle,” I point to his face. “Take that shit off. You ready?”

  I make eye contact with every man here, assessing their appearance, and checking for any identifiable weapons. The last thing we need to do is spook those bastards into a firefight.

  Hopping on my bike, I start her up; relishing the sound she makes when I push her. I rev her once more just for the sheer power I feel at my fingertips.

  Falling into formation, we speed down the highway; following all the traffic signs within city limits until we hit the open road. Once I see the sign that tells us we are now leaving that shithole town, I let my beast fly.

  In Bodi’s absence, I take rank at front with Brass and Diesel flanking me. Rook and Rig ride after them with Dash and Milo taking up the back. I always thought that being at the front of the formation would be the single greatest accomplishment of my life, but now I realize how naive I was to fall prey to that bullshit notion.

  The only thing I want to be at the front of is a family, with my girl by my side. I need to get this over with and get back to her. We’ve got a lot of shit to work out.

  Half an hour and one long stretch of road later, we pull off onto the unmarked turn. Dust kicking up behind our wheels as we navigate the rocky terrain, slowly moving into the hidden cover of jagged rocks and lush trees.

  We circle the abandoned warehouse before parking. Leaning against my bike, I note that the sun is slowly beginning to make its descent into the ground, soon to plunge us in absolute darkness.

  “Where the fuck are they?” Rook growls, his usually hyper mood shifted somewhere along the ride. Suddenly oppressively sober. Almost manic.