The Rage(22)

The place is in need of repair, just like the old busted up broad sitting out front. Paint’s chipping off everywhere, the front door is cracked down the middle with a screen door hanging on by a hinge. Even the old, dusty glass windows are cracked and broken. The large sign on the roof reads bacco. My guess? It used to say Tobacco.

“Stay out here,” Rampage grunts, leaving Cali and I at an old worn table in the corner of the store, or whatever it is. I turn to watch as he and the guys disappear though a back hall. I’ve been looking around, but neither Cali nor I can figure out what the hell this place used to be. There’s no front counter or glass cases for Tobacco products. No bar… no shelves.

“Bomb shelter?” Cali suggests.

“You honestly think this thing would survive a bomb?” I ask waving my hand around. Laughing, she says, “Maybe. Mrs. Saggy Titties out there looks like she lived through

one.”

A ringing cell phone pulls Cali out the front door, grumbling about shit cell service. Great. I’m alone in this dusty dirty bacco store. I have nothing to do but take another look around the place again, and that’s when the front door swings open. Three men walk in and I see Cali being drug behind one of the guys. My heart leaps into my throat. Shit.

Cali doesn’t look hurt or terrified, but she looks pissed, “Let go of my arm, ya nasty shit stain,” she screeches, trying to pull away. Letting go of her, he smirks and looks between the two of us with a very satisfied look on his face.

“Look at this. Two for the price of one.”

“Fuck off, septic tank scum. God, you fuckin’ stink,” Cali grumbles. Oh hell.

The man that was holding onto Cali has long, dirty blonde hair. He looks to be in his forties and he looks like he’s had a rough life. His two compadres are both big, bald brutes, and they all look mean. My stomach knots with ideas of what they’re going to do.

“Knew this one was feisty, but that one,” he nods his head at me as his lips curl in delight, “isn’t gonna be a challenge.” I’m not a challenge? Come and touch me and see what kinda challenge I am. The long haired dirt ball takes his time looking me up and down while taking a leisurely stroll around me. My back straightens and my body goes rigid. Cali’s right. He stinks and he’s fucking gross. Walking up behind me he touches my hair, running his fingers through it, making my skin crawl. My heart beats feverishly in my ears as he leans in to smell my hair.

I try to step away, but he wraps an arm around my waist, “So. You the reason my brothers breathing through a tube, bitch?” His brother? What? “He might not be able to get a taste, but baby, I can do it for him,” I’m confused. Who’s his brother and why is it my fault he’s breathing through a tube?

“Stitch!” Cali’s high-pitched voice rings through the room, and a loud commotion pulls my head toward Cali. With a backhand, baldy slaps her across the face.

“Fuck!” Stitch growls as he runs into the room with a face full of fury. Picking Cali up off of the floor, Stitch looks to Rampage.

“C’mere, Lala.” Rampage’s irate voice grumbles from the hallway. Stringy hair guy lets me go, but not without a fight. Jerking my body away from him, I throw myself at Rampage. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he tugs me into his chest, pressing his rough lips to my forehead.

“Go into the bathroom. Lock the door until I come get ya,” With a little push toward a door down the hall, I start to go, but stop.

This life, his life, is crazy. Not that mine is much better, but something about his is terrifying. Looking over my shoulder, back down the hall, I watch as Rampage strides up to stink pot and punches him square in the face. The man staggers back and starts to fall before Rampage kicks him down. My eyes catch Tags, who gives me a soft smile and nods me back down the hall.





9


On Stage


Rampage



Jesus Christ! I swear shit is always trying to fuck with this shit I’ve got going with Lala. I’m looking into who’s been using her as a punching bag, and now I’ve got the Tyrants to shut the fuck down. Shaking my hand out, I wipe the blood off my knuckles.

“Next time you’ll remember to keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” The asshole raises his hands in defeat from his fucked up state on the floor. Fuck. I’d like to kick him in the fucking face.

“Ye-yeah. Gotcha, man.”

“Look at her again and I will kill you.”

Willis, the Tyrants President, stands by the door, watching me beat the living fuck out of his brother. He isn’t gonna do shit about it ‘cause they need us. We’re a bigger club. We offer them shit they can’t get anywhere but with us. They need the alliance too goddamn much.

“Get up,” Willis grumbles at the man, “and get the fuck outta my sight.”

“Your brother talked about raping one of our girls. Had to show him a little ‘bout respecting bitches that don’t belong to him, ‘n that little fuck in the other room was askin’ for it by touchin’ her.”

Willis shakes his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. Sitting down around an old card table, he pours himself a drink, “Gino’s been causin’ problems.” I had it my way, he won’t be a problem to anyone anymore.

“Might want to handle that problem before I do.”

Nodding his head, he sighs heavily, “He hurt her?” He’s fucking lucky he didn’t lay a finger on Lala. They’d all be six feet under if that was the case.

“Don’t worry ‘bout mine. Handle your brother.”

“We good then? No problems with the Disciples?”

This is Tank’s shit. I’ve got no interest in this alliance bullshit, but since he was to goddamn occupied with Sis, I’m here doing this bidding. “You clean up your house ‘n we’re good.”

Once that shit is over and done with, I go to the bathroom. Tapping on the door, I wait for Lala to answer it.

“Rampage?” She asks through the door. Trying the handle it rattles, but doesn’t open.

“Open the door.” Pulling the door open, she peeks out at me through dark lashes and blonde hair. She looks a little freaked, but she’ll be good.

“You okay? Is Cali okay?” She asks. That shit makes me wanna smile. She fucking cares about me.

“I’m good. Stitch took Cali out the front. You okay?”

“Yes. I just want to go home,” she whispers. I’m right there with her. Holding my hand out to her, she comes right into me.

“Lets go home, baby.”



We’ve been home for a few days now, and Lala is still here with me. I don’t question it, ‘cause it is what it is. I don’t want her gone and she seems to like it here. Not sure how it happened, but I’m not fucking with it. I’m happy about it.

I wake up to her every morning and that shit works for me. I get to keep her. She goes to school with Lil every day for a few hours while Blade tags along, keepin’ them safe. I get shit done around the shop, and when she gets back here after class, she’s all mine, and I don’t waste a second of my time with her.

Shit works. It’s fucking effortless. There is no arguing about shit with her. She just fell right into this shit with me and with the club. The bitches love her and my brothers don’t mind her. She gets us and understands how this shit goes. We fit, and it’s working for me.

Standing in the bathroom doorway, I watch Lala rummage through a pile of papers and shit on the bed. Her hair’s in that mess on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tight white tank that stretches across those perfect fucking tits, and some tiny pink panties.

“Whatcha doin’ today?” Looking up from her mess, her eyebrows pull together and she shrugs.

“Not sure. What are you doin’?”

Hopping up off the bed, her question is forgotten. I watch her bring that perfect body right to me. I’m caught in the way her hips sway. I love the way her tits bounce with each step, and the way she fucking knows she’s got me wrapped around her finger. Leaning against the doorframe, tooth brush hanging from my mouth, I stare at her. I’m one lucky motherfucker.

Walking right up and into me, she leans her chest into mine, those hard nipples press into my chest through that thin white tank. Looking down at her, she’s looking up at me smiling. Standing on her toes, she kisses my chest, making my dick salute her, desperate to fuck her.

Reaching that sneaky hand out, she pulls the toothbrush out of my mouth and plops it into hers, “I think I might hang out with Lil,” she says around my toothbrush, hopping up onto the bathroom counter. Punk’d by my girl, as usual.

“You gonna take over my toothbrush, just like you did my bed?” I ask her, pushing my way between her thick thighs. Rubbing my dick against those thin, pink panties, she shudders and moans. That’s right. Running my hands up and down her thighs, I revel in the soft skin and sweet smile she’s giving me. Fuck. So good.

“My bed,” She corrects me, her voice breathy. And she isn’t wrong. That shit is hers. She’s got a shitload of blankets on it. Clothes. Her mess of school shit. But I wouldn’t have that shit any other way.

“Yeah, your bed, Lala,” I concede. No use in fighting her. She knows she’s got that shit as long as she wants it.