Rayna glanced around, wondering how long it would take for the place to go up in smoke.
How long would it take for the cops to show?
She was out in the sticks, sure, but it wouldn’t take too long for the police to get there.
With nary a glance over her shoulder she tossed the heavy Zippo in her hand onto the ground.
The flames ignited instantly, swallowing the miserable hell hole where they’d undeniably broken her.
She threw the rifle into the flames and grinned- a sadistic, heartless, cold smile tugged at the corners of her torn lips.
She knew that all the ammunition was going to blow this place sky high and she couldn’t wait to watch her prison burn.
But, she had to hurry if she wanted out of the blast zone.
Crossing the road to garner herself some semblance of safety, she watched the flames lick higher and higher, suffocating the clean air and making her surroundings hazy.
Rayna had no idea how long she stood there, watching the blaze, before the sound of a bike had her drawing the handgun from her waistband.
She had it pointed into the smoke when a man finally came through.
A glimpse of one headlight kept her from pulling the trigger, and when a large shadow moved through the smoke to reveal a SEVEN DEADLIES cut and a patch that read Fury , she sighed with relief.
He hadn't seen her yet so she decided to speak up.
“You must be Fury.”
His head jerked up immediately, and she could feel those coal colored eyes on her, but it didn’t register.
Now that the hard part of her evening was over, the adrenaline was beginning to fade, and the unbearable pain was beginning to suffocate her.
“Rayna Claire?”
“The one and only,” She choked out.
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and she fucking knew it, but Fury only lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his dark jeans.
“Did you do this? Did you blow up their fuckin’ clubhouse?,” He rasped.
His husky voice was doing strange things to her, but she couldn’t comment, because all of a sudden the world was rotating at a weird angle, and all she could think about was sleep.
When her vision tilted sideways Rayna expected the ground to catch her like it always did, but instead, two muscular arms caught her.
Her face made contact with a hard chest that smelled like leather and nicotine and some sweet cologne.
She wanted to tell him that yes she’d murdered all of those backwoods disgusting fucks, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she said the only word she could muster.
“Hospital.”
Chapter Two
Fury didn't know what was going on.
In fact, he had no idea what was going on with his life a lot these days.
Ever since their war with the Steel Ponies, he'd been a savage-mean-fighting- machine.
Prettyboy may have gotten his revenge on the bastards that ruined his face, but Fury was still reeling from what they took from him-his sister, Lizzie.
Ox seemed to know that Fury was failing, that he was spiraling, but Fury couldn't help it. Lizzie was his only family left, the sunshine in his life, and now she was gone.
Murdered.
Fury could handle just about anything...except that.
Tonight was no different either; the club had a couple of other MC's visiting for a lot party, and his favorite opponent, Axel was standing opposite of him in the cage.
Axel was a hardened war veteran with more muscle than sense, and he was an absolute monster when it came to the cage...but he could never best Fury.
So, Fury and Axel would fight and bleed each other until eventually, Axel would give in and tap out.
They were in the middle of a fight, a good one, too- and Fury didn't catch many of those anymore.
The fight was almost over, and Fury could practically taste the victory on the back of his tongue.
He needed the victory.
The anticipation for his next fight always helped to battle the guilt that almost immobilized him.
The universe didn't seem to be in his side, however.
One second he was tearing through the cage like a mad man, his fists pummeling his opponents face in, ready to win and the next Ox was screaming at him to call the fight and get his ass cleaned up.
“What's going on, boss?”
Ox shook his head, his long hair swinging.
“We've got a problem. A big one. Get your ass dressed, Fury. Rayna fuckin’ Claire just called me from some burner phone. She's in Kentucky and the Blazin’ Eagles have been holding her hostage.”
Fury swore as he wiped his hands down with a wet rag.
“Rayna Claire? She's been missing for, what, three months? Where's her old man?”
Fury watched as Ox's haze strayed to the wooden floor before he sighed.
“They killed him. Look we don't have time to talk about this now, she's hurt and she needs our help ASAP. We're the closest of her father's allies, so I told her we'd come get her. Get your shit together and head out. I'll have Rider text you the address.”
Fury only nodded before he rushed to do as Ox said.
Rayna Claire.
Rayna fuckin’ Claire.
The bubbly, outgoing daughter of their biggest gun distributor, Jonathan Claire.
He'd never met her himself, but Ox was good friends with her father and Fury had heard about Rayna many times.
They'd both gone missing about three months ago during a routine drop off, and no one had been able to find them since.
Fury tried to remember the last solid piece of intel they'd received in regards to their whereabouts as he slipped into a dark pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt.
His brother, Rider, was a damn good hacker, always had his tablet in his hands, but even he hadn't been able to track them.
For all the Seven Deadlies knew, Jonathan and his daughter Rayna were dead...
Until now.
Fury slipped his boots on as he grabbed his keys from his nightstand.
He knew Ox wouldn't be rushing him unless he had a damn good reason, so he didn't want to dally- especially if what Ox said was true, and Rayna was out there with the Blazin’ Eagles, hurt and all alone.
Damn, the thought had Fury’s hands shaking- he didn't know much about Rayna, but everybody knew about the Blazin’ fucking Eagles.
A renegade club who sold their souls to the devil when they started dealing to the cartel.
They'd always been a disorganized group of idiots, but that decision alone cost them all of their allies.
No decent MC messed around with the cartel, not if they wanted to keep their heads or their cuts.
“You ready?,” Rider asked as Fury entered the clubhouse lounge.
Fury nodded and Rider turned his trusty tablet in his direction, his tattooed fingers tapping the screen.
“Can't get an exact location, but she's within a mile of that red dot. Shouldn't be too hard to locate her, their clubhouse is out in the fuckin’ boonies,” Rider said.
Fury shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking the time.
Fifteen minutes.
He'd already wasted fifteen minutes and he knew he didn't have time to spare.
With one last glance in Rider’s direction, he sent him a small wave and sprinted for his bike.
The metal beast rumbled beneath his muscular thighs as he started her up, loving the purr she made.
Fury didn't waste anymore time as he peeled out of the lot, only pausing to shove his helmet on and a pair of riding glasses.
The North Carolina air was muggy and thick, but the breeze felt amazing against the back of Fury’s neck as he sped down the winding road that led him out of the smoky mountains and directly onto the interstate.
All he had to do was find Rayna Claire before she got hurt, or worse, because if anything happened to the little girl it would be his ass and Ox’s foot tearing up the cage n
ext time.
Rayna Claire...
What the fuck happened to you?
~`~
Fury was just slowing his bike when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.
He easily slid it from the confines of the tight denim and sighed when he saw Rider’s name scrolling across the screen.
“Yeah?”
“You’re close. Right up ahead.”
Fury caught the barest hint of smoke in the air and pulled his bike over to the side of the road, pausing to look behind him.
“Man, I smell smoke-”
Fury’s words were cut off the by the sight of a fireball exploding into the night sky, the sound like a clap of thunder.
Smoke was now billowing into the open air like a leaky faucet, painting the midnight sky grey.
“Shit! I think I found her, man, if there’s anything left,” Fury cursed as he hung up and kicked his bike into gear, speeding directly towards the explosion.
He was gritting his teeth the whole way, wondering what the fuck he was getting himself into and if he would be able to find his way out, when he saw her-
A slip of a woman standing near the tree line, watching the fire burn, what was presumably the Blazin’ Eagles’s clubhouse, to the ground.
Fury could just barely make out the foundation through the inferno.
As he slowed his bike, he noticed the tiny woman didn’t even turn to look at him.
Even in the dark he could see her disheveled clothing and the blood coating her bare thighs, climbing upwards towards the hem of her jean shorts.
Her t-shirt clung to her slender frame, the torn edges falling off one shoulder.
She had shaggy short hair, but it was too dark to make out the exact color. Fury thought it looked like a light brown, but he wasn’t sure- and it didn’t matter anyways. As he heaved himself over one side of his bike, she turned towards him, a glock clenched between her
fingers and aimed directly at his head.
He held his hands up beside his face and used that opportunity to study her.
Yeah, slender wasn’t exactly the word Fury would use anymore; he could tell that she was half starved if her hollow cheeks and emaciated limbs were any indication. He had no idea how she even held the gun steady with her skinny arms.
Her hair was limp and obviously hadn’t been washed in a long time.
That wasn’t what caught his attention, though- no the bruises lining every inch of visible skin caught his eye and he had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining the twist of purple, black, and blue that marred her ivory panes of flesh.
Her stare was calculated, stormy, turbulent.
“You must be Fury.”
Her voice was raspy, coarse, like she hadn’t spoken in a long time and Fury winced at the thought.
“Rayna Claire?”
Her bloody mouth twisted into a grimace as she lowered the gun and stuffed it back into her loose waistband.
“The one and only.”
She sounded anything but happy as she said it and Fury couldn’t begin to imagine what the fuck she’d gone through in the last three months.
Something terrible enough to make her burn their damn clubhouse to the ground.
Abruptly, she stumbled, spreading her hands wide to catch herself.
As Fury neared her he could see how hard she was struggling to breathe, and her bloody nose was making a high-pitched whistling sound as she inhaled sharply.
Fuck.
She’s worse off than I thought.
Fury stepped forward and caught her just before she hit the hard pavement.
She only muttered one word, “Hospital.”
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her back towards his bike, and watched the fire burn for a second.
He’d have to hold her against him the entire ride back if he wanted to get her to the clubhouse safely.
Fury knew he needed to move quickly too, otherwise he’d get caught up in whatever shit storm the local P.D. brought with them when they came to douse the flames.
Already, he could faintly hear the whine of the sirens.
Rayna didn’t stir as he pulled his phone out and called Ox, his gaze lingering on her slack face.
Ox answered on the first ring.
“I got her. Call Laura, tell her we need her at the clubhouse immediately.”
Fury didn’t wait for a response as he slid his only helmet onto her head and wrapped her limp body around his. He’d never let a woman onto his bike before, so he had to shake his head at the fact that Rayna Claire was already breaking his rules.
She didn’t know it, and he doubted she’d even care, but the feel of her soft skin against his had Fury’s heart pausing for a moment.
It was barely a blip, couldn’t even be classified as a stutter- but the feeling was so foreign, so utterly surprising, that it had him running his calloused fingers along the gaunt line of her jaw.
Chapter Three
Fury came roaring onto the lot so fast, his bike rocked when he finally slammed the brakes. Green and Limit were waiting there for him, Laura hot on their heels. Laura was the club doctor, and he could see the steely determination in her eyes before she even caught up to him.
Fury wasn’t ready to let go of the sleeping Rayna Claire when Laura reached for her, though.
“Just hold on a second, Laura. Tell me where you want her, and I’ll carry her.”
Her blonde eyebrows hit her hairline at the tone of his voice, but she didn’t argue.
“I’ve got a bed ready in the infirmary, Fury.”
Fury only nodded as he slipped his helmet from Rayna’s head and cradled her small form against his chest. She didn’t stir, not once, and that whistling sound was still happening as he carried her into the clubhouse.
Ox was headed towards them when he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Fuck, is she dead?”
Fury shook his head tersely.
“No. Gonna have Laura fix her up.”
What she can fix anyways.
Fury knew that her flesh wounds would eventually disappear, her body would heal, but her undoubtedly fractured mind was a different story altogether.
He’d suffered his own fair share of pain, and he’d recognized the look in her eyes when she’d pulled a gun on him-
Dead.
Cold.
Angry.
She was angry and he knew that feeling all too well; Fury didn’t get his nickname from picking daisies and singing love songs.
No, he’d earned his nickname from the countless drops of blood he’d shed over the years. From the unending madness that warped his mind, the rage that fueled his every move.
“Lay her down gently,” Laura instructed.
Fury did his best to do so, as he leaned over the gurney Laura was pointing to.
Just as he was getting ready to stand up straight, Rayna’s bloody fingers latched onto his cut and he finally caught a glimpse of her eyes- blue. A cerulean color that bordered between green and blue, like a tropical body of water.
“Don’t leave me,” She whispered.
Fury wrapped his big fingers around hers and nodded, unable to say anything at all.
What could he do?
Tell her no?
Fury knew he was a heartless bastard, but even he couldn’t manage to look down into her fearful eyes and say no.
He gently released her hand and moved to sit in a chair in the corner of the room while Laura got to work. Her quiet muttering was the only sound in the room besides a noisy machine tracking Rayna’s vitals.
Fury knew the second Rayna started to struggle against Laura’s hold that her examination wasn’t going to go smoothly.
Laura tried her best to soothe Rayna, but the second her hand strayed south, tugging on the button to her jeans shorts, Rayna fought back like a wild cat.
Fury had to look away when Laura slid a needle into Rayna’s thigh.
“I’m going to have to sedate her for this, Fury. You
don’t have to stay. She won’t know either way,” Laura said softly over her shoulder.
Her green eyes met his briefly, but he shook his head.
“I’ll stay.”
Laura cleared her throat.
“I have to examine all of her.”
When she nodded towards the bloody jean shorts, Fury nodded stiffly.
“I’ll look away.”
Laura watched him for longer than he thought necessary before she turned back around and began working on Rayna again.
Neither one of them spoke, but Fury didn’t think they needed to.
What could he even say?
For some reason I like the way she feels against me?
Even though she’s in rough shape, I can’t stop wondering what her mouth tastes like?
Fury sighed in frustration and glared at the back of Laura’s head while she worked.
He wasn’t angry with her, no, he was angry with himself.
He was worried about Rayna, and that didn’t bode well with him.
Fury didn’t care about anyone.
He did his job as the VP, worked his shifts in the garage, and busted fucking skulls when he needed to.
Fury never hesitated to spill a little blood, to get his hands filthy, to do what was required of him for the club- and here he was, waiting by some little girl’s bedside like he was her knight in shining armor.
He’d never be anything close to a knight shining armor- maybe a devil in worn out leather, maybe a demon in a fitted cut, but never anybody’s prince charming.
Laura cleared her throat and glanced at Fury.
“She’s got a broken nose and a deviated septum. That’s where the whistling sound is coming from.”
Fury nodded, not surprised by the news at all.
“She’s severely dehydrated, starved. She’s got a full array of bruises and contusions, many at different points of healing. Her left arm is fractured in two places, so I’ll have to set it and cast it,” She trailed off, peeking at Fury again.
His face was emotionless, expressionless, and he knew Laura expected nothing less from the scary Vice President of the Seven Deadlies.
His dark eyes were trained on Rayna’s bruised face, and the intensity Laura saw there was hot enough to make her blush.
Wrath (Seven Deadlies MC) Page 2
