Angels and Ashes (Heaven's Rejects MC Book 2)

by Avelyn Paige

  “Nothing to be sorry about, darlin’. I didn’t mind having you in my lap, even if it was an accident.”

  “Why do you do that?” I whisper. “Why do you flirt with me?”

  “It’s just how I am wired, darlin’. I think it helps lighten the mood.”

  Just from the shit-eating grin on his face, I know that he is lying out of his teeth. My accidental slip into his lap wasn’t an accident at all, but deliberately planned by him long before I tried to sit down on my own. He may not own up to it, but I can tell his intentions were far from pure.

  “Yeah, sure. So what do you want to talk about that it required a trip all the way up here?”

  Raze sighs as he adjusts his sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes are glazed over with an unreadable emotion, and even under his shirt, I can see his muscles are filled with tension.

  “I needed to get away from the club and everything that has been going on lately. Figured you did, too.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Raze.”

  “I know you can tell I’m stalling, but I don’t know how to just talk and not demand shit. I’ve been in charge far too long to just shoot the shit with someone.” He sighs again as he fumbles over his words. “We need to talk about what I walked into last night when we got back between you and Slider. Did you really mean that shit about the club? About what happened with Jagger?”

  “I’ll be brutally honest that I don’t remember half of what I said, but judging not only from the look I got from Slider as we left and now the line of questioning from you, I can only imagine it’s bad.”

  “You told Slider to get out for the sake of his future family and for his own life. Do you really think that being a part of this MC signs away your life?”

  My heart beats wildly within my chest because I know the next words that come out of my mouth will need to be well thought out and meticulously planned if I want to keep being in this club to search for confirmation of Brent’s wrongdoings.

  “Do you ever feel like the one person in your life that you should be able to trust with your life may not be the same person everyone else sees or knows?”

  Raze winces at my words, and I know he’s instantly thinking about his ex-wife.

  “Think about having the happiness in your life ripped away from you in an instant. Ripped away so quickly that no matter how hard you pray, cry, or fight, there’s nothing you can do to change the past. That’s what happened the day Brent died. In my fucked up reality, I am alone and your club became the target of my aggression. Hating you and everyone involved became my outlet because it took away my family.”

  Raze turns instantly to face me and grabs one of my hands that is lying freely on my lap. The zing of the connection instantly snaps my eyes to his face as I watch pain and sorrow swirl within the crystal-blue pool of his eyes.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Darcy. An MC is a family.We support each other when shit hits the fan and laugh when things actually go right for fucking once. Brent wanted you to still be a part of this family, and this is where you need to be.”

  “And that’s why I shut myself off from this world. At times, he was a man that I feel like I barely knew because of all the secrecies of the club. Being a woman in this world isn’t exactly easy when you can’t express your demons to the one person who is literally on this Earth to help you battle them. It’s been a year, and even though I miss him with every fiber of my being, I feel like I didn’t even know him at all.”

  Raze squeezes my hand harder in his version of comforting reassurance.

  “Darcy, he loved you. You have to know that, right? Just because he couldn’t share everything with you doesn’t mean it was because he didn’t trust you. It was to protect you and the kids from anything blowing back on you if shit hit the fan.”

  “But, that’s the point. I couldn’t help him then any more than I can help you because my place isn’t in your meeting room. It’s outside of it hoping that when you walk out I still have a place in finding the answers.”

  “The answers aren’t for you to find out, darlin’.”

  I rip my hand away from his in a defiant motion as I scramble to move away from the heat radiating off his body. The heated pool between my legs is nearly at its boiling point even with the grim topic of our conversation. The need to flee overwhelms my sentences as the words I am about to say fly out of my mouth uncontrolled.

  “That’s where you are wrong. He was my husband, and I deserve to know what really happened. I deserve to know how he died, Raze. I know it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Don’t,” he orders gruffly.

  “Don’t what? Seek the answers? Seek revenge?” I fire back with a slight hit of anger.

  “Don’t call me Raze. To you, I am Michael.”

  “Wait. What?” I stutter. “I’ve always called you by your road name. Why can’t I call you that anymore?”

  “Because that’s what I want you to call me.” His eyes flare, and I know with just that look he’s serious about this.

  “That still doesn’t answer the question, Raze. Why are you so insistent that I call you by your given name?”

  “Michael, Darcy. My name is Michael. Raze is for the club. Michael is only for you,” he sternly demands.

  I don’t question his request because I know he is trying to throw me off this line of questioning, but I will not relent. I need to hear it from his own lips.

  “Stop trying to distract me with this name bullshit and just admit Brent was murdered. That’s all I want to hear. Please, give me the absolution of knowing the truth.”

  Michael shoves off the towel into a standing position, and I follow his actions, making for damn sure that I am face to face with him. I square my shoulders and purse my lips in defiance. Michael begins to walk away before abruptly turning around and grabbing me by the shoulders. I push my hands against his hard chest to force him to keep his distance from me, but he pushes hard against my hands and moves closer to my body.

  “You want the truth?” he asks with his heated breath warming my face. His lips only inches away from mine as I suck in a breath deep. His scent wafts from him, filling my nostrils with smells of warm leather and the cleanness of the ocean breeze. “He was murdered for his involvement with the club. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Yes. That’s all you had to tell me. But, it’s not enough. I need to know why.”

  “You got your answer, and that’s all I am prepared to give you. I shouldn’t even have told you that much.”

  “But, that’s not—” I stutter before his hands slide from my shoulder to the back of my neck and his lips crash down roughly onto mine. He cradles my head in his hands as the softness of my lips feel foreign against the roughness of his, but they draw me into the embrace as my hand instinctively reaches up from his chest and slides around his neck. His hands grip tightly on the braids on either side of my head while he draws me closer, sealing our bodies tighter together until my breasts are smashed against his hard chest.

  Each moment our lips are intertwined, I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching in rhythm to my own. His lips part and his tongue breaks my pursed seal and invades my mouth. His tongue caresses against mine before he suddenly rips away from me and takes a few steps back leaving us both breathlessly panting from the kiss we shared.

  I see his face fall in guilt of what transpired between us as it must mirror in my own face. My hand brushes against my swelling lips as guilt is soon replaced by a sense of betrayal of my husband’s memory or even his own wife’s. How could one man that leads so many others wear his heart on his sleeve this much? Michael has always had this presence of power, but standing in front of me is a broken man who needed something as simple as a kiss to ground himself than the gavel to lead. I doubt even Maj would realize how much she has destroyed this man, and in that process, the heart and soul of this club. All along I have thought that the loss of my husband would be Michael’s undoing, but it’s the betraya
l of his wife that dealt the killing blow.

  “Michael?” I quietly question. “Is Maj dead?”

  His eyes lift to mine before his shoulders slump in a sigh. That one momentary show of weakness is instantly wiped away when his shoulders once again square off and his face hardens.

  “My ex-wife is none of your concern, Darcy. It would be best if you leave the ghosts of my past buried.”

  “But, Michael, I—”

  “I said leave it alone, Darcy,” he firmly states before grabbing the towel and stalking toward his bike. As I stand alone in the blowing ocean breeze, I realize that him walking away is just him slamming the walls back up between us and shutting me out.

  Only one question remains.

  What has he done with his wife?

  I berate myself the entire trip back to the clubhouse with her warm body pressed tightly against me. In one moment, I lost the control I had on my desire to feel her and look where I ended up: riding home with her while I forcibly try not to lick my lips to relive her taste of her tropical fruit lip gloss while I inhale her scent. I’ve never noticed a woman’s smell before, but she smells like sunshine after the rain. Maybe it’s the type of lotion or shampoo that she uses, but it’s fucking intoxicating.

  I thought for a split second that maybe that kiss would be the turning point in my attraction to Darcy, but all hopes of that was obliterated as soon as she muttered my ex-wife’s name. I know it was a heat of the moment question, but feeling what I did when my lips pressed into hers and then hearing Maj’s name killed the mood for me. Who am I kidding to think that maybe I have a chance with her? She is still in love with a ghost, and frankly, that alone should deter me from my conquest. He was my fucking brother, and I shouldn’t feel the things I feel when I see her and that perfect ass walk in and out of a room. I shouldn’t want to watch her every move, feel her writhe underneath me as I fuck her senseless, and I damn well shouldn’t want to know what it’s like to feel her brand of love.

  Get a grip, man. I know you thought this was a good idea, but hit the fucking abort button while you can.

  It’s late evening by the time we pull into the clubhouse parking lot, and as soon as the bike’s kickstand is down, Darcy bolts off of it like her hair is on fire and rushes in through the clubhouse door leaving me alone with my dangerous thoughts. I sigh and swing my legs over the bike when a slow clap echoes off the building. I jerk my head toward the noise and find Hero and Ratchet with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces as they clap.

  “I take it things didn’t go well out there, Boss?” Hero prods.

  “No fucking shit. What was your first clue? How pissed off she looked or the fact she ran away from me like I was Typhoid Mary?”

  “I was going to go with the sprint to the door, but I’m thinking that you being a relationship patient zero seems more likely,” Ratchet chimes in while snuffing out his cigarette. “You do look a little pale and sickly.”

  “Keep cutting up, assholes. I see some bikes that need polishing and two officers that look like they’re in need of a prospect crash course.”

  Both of them laugh at my gruffness, not giving a damn that I am serious as shit on a hot summer day about my threat.

  “Relax, Boss. No need to take out pussy-whipped frustrations on us. Seems to me if I were in your shoes that there’s only a couple of options to go with,” Hero says.

  “And what would those be exactly?”

  “Fuck her out of your system or just fuck her.”

  “You go from one spectrum to the other, don’t you, Hero?”

  He shrugs as Ratchet offers him one of his smokes from his pocket, but Hero waves him off. Ratchet pops one out and sticks it in his mouth before retrieving the lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette.

  “He has a point, Raze,” Ratchet says, taking a drag. “I mean, we can all tell from a mile away that you got a hard-on for the angry bitch. Either stick it in or stick it in someone else. Seems to be the only cure for the disease that’s ailing you.”

  “Why the fuck should I take advice from the guy who can’t seem to keep the girl he wants from trying to flee to another state?”

  Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.

  Hero winces as Ratchet grimaces and storms off into the clubhouse.

  “Low blow, Raze. You know he doesn’t know how to deal with his shit with Ricca.”

  “I know. I feel like an asshole now,” I say with guilt stabbing me right in the fucking gut. Ratchet is far from a stable man with normal relationships, and it’s not for me to judge how he manages his love life. “I need to go talk to Darcy, and then I’ll make it up to him later.”

  “Mend the fences, Raze. Don’t let the club fall apart because you don’t know how to handle your shit,” Hero retorts before disappearing toward the garage on the back of the property.

  I yank on the heavy back door and step into the room while music rattles the walls. The fact that a party is going on isn’t a surprise to me because of our absence and the need for some of the guys to cut loose while we have some down time. I pop my head into Voodoo’s lair as he feverishly types away on his computer.

  “Anything new to report?”

  He jerks back with a start and removes the headphones around his neck before choking himself.

  “For a big man, you sure are a quiet fucker.”

  “A skill you learn when you have kids and naptime, brother. What do you have for me?”

  He returns his attention back to his computer and clicks on a few icons which pulls up two live video feeds on the house we raided in Tijuana. The place looks quiet, and the motion detectors aren’t registering any movement.

  “When did you put up surveillance cameras?” I question.

  “When you were downstairs playing hide and seek in the dark. Figured it would be easier to watch it ourselves instead of relying on the somewhat questionable information from the snitches we put to work.”

  I walk into his room and slap him on his shoulder in thanks.

  “So, since we’ve been back, it’s been quiet. A little too quiet if you ask me for having a cut house in the basement.”

  “Maybe they’ve got the federales on their tails.” I offer up as an explanation.

  “Nah, I don’t think that’s the case,” he says, spinning around in his chair and narrowly missing running over my foot with the wheel. He slides the unfolded map that I retrieved from the house and smooths it out on the table behind us. “See here,” he says while pointing at as space on the map. “According to Google maps, this is just a wide open space, but on this map, it has a house drawn on it. I’ve looked at all the locations on this baby, and this is the only one that I can’t find an actual structure on the satellite map.”

  “You think it’s their base of operations?”

  “It’s got to be something important if it’s not showing up on a satellite map that according to online records was just updated a few months ago.”

  Studying the map, I mentally trace the lines and estimate the location in question to be about two hours east of Tijuana near El Diablo. The name sure does fit if this is their hideout.

  “I’ll send a couple of guys down to check it out. See what they find.”

  “Sounds good, Boss. I’ll keep digging into what I can find in Mexico’s shitty land purchase records.”

  “Do I even want to know how you accessed those?”

  He just smiles before he turns back to his wall of computer screens without saying a word. Remind me not to fuck with him. Leaving Voodoo to his work, I pop my head out into the main room and call for Thrasher and Irons to follow me to my office. I give them their marching orders on the way and send them off to V for additional briefing on the equipment he’s sending with them. Those are some of the best men we could have picked up from a disbanded club. They’re loyal, they’re tough, and they don’t ask questions. I wish I had more like them some days.

  Just as I am about to continue on my quest to apologize to Darcy
for the kiss we shouldn’t have shared, I walk past my office and hear rustling. I step closer to the door and notice that the once locked door is now cracked with light scruffs on the wooden frame from being forced open. I inch the door open slightly only to find Darcy rummaging through a filing cabinet behind my desk. Her tight ass moving in the air while she thumbs through the files. I open the door more and slide into the room quietly without disturbing her search.

  “Can you explain to me why the fuck you broke into my private office?” I yell.

  She jumps with a start and quickly slams the filing cabinet door shut. As she turns to face me, her features are racked with fear. Her eyes are wide, knowing that I caught her red-handed snooping in my office.

  “Michael, I—” she stammers before I raise my hand and hush her pathetic excuses. I know why she’s in here, and it pisses me off that she’s going behind my back and stealing the information I have tightly locked in the floor safe is the best way to discover the truth. Stealing from a man is one thing, but stealing from an entire MC is punishable in far worse ways than she could ever imagine. Had she pulled this shit at another club, she’d have died for her attempted thievery.

  “Don’t give me some bullshit answer, Darcy. I know why you’re in here so can the sob story.”

  I step closer to her, watching while she backpedals and circles around to the front of my desk. I keep moving, matching her step by step until I make it to my black, leather deckchair, and take a seat in it. Her face is unreadable as she steps to the front of my desk, laying both of her hands on the wood and staring me point-blank in the face.

  “We need to talk,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “I’d say we do. How about you park that sexy ass of yours down in the chair behind you instead of you trying to ruffle your feathers in a dominance display you’re not going to win?”

  Her eyes narrow with the first readable emotion, but she stays where she is.

  “It’s fine by me if you wanna stay standing like that since I’ve got quite the view. Nice tits, by the way.”