The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(16)

"Lil, can I sit in one of those hammocks?" Looking at the hammocks and back at me, she raises an eyebrow.

"You're seriously asking?"

"Yes. It's the polite thing to do," I answer hesitantly.

Rolling her eyes, she says, "You can use whatever the hell you want  around here. Only a few things are off limits; Chapel, the guys rooms  –   unless you're invited in. Their bikes  –  again, unless you're invited on,  and the locked door by the front door. Other than that, have at it,  baby."

Slapping a kiss to her cheek, I clumsily try to skip my overly tipsy ass  to the hammocks. I fight the twisted up mesh, but make it in alive and  in one piece. Getting comfortable I lie back and push off, letting  myself sway.

Swinging back and forth, I stare at the stars for a while. The air is  crisp, but nice, and the sounds of the Eagles' Hotel California play  through the air. Voices and laughter swim around the yard, fire casts  shadows on the cinderblock walls. I'm really starting to think this  might be a little piece of heaven. I finally feel like I can breathe on  this little secluded island, made of concrete, steel, and cinderblock.

"Sit up," Rampage says from somewhere beside me. Rolling my head to the  side, I stare at him standing over me. He seems calm and relaxed, but I  shake my head no. I'm not giving my hammock up.

"Not movin' ya. Joinin' ya," he grumbles, giving my side a little nudge with his hip as he lifts an impatient eyebrow.

"Fine," I mumble, but I can't stop the smile creeping across my lips.

He shakes his head and sits his beer on the ground. I sit up, straddling  the hammock with my feet dangling off each side. Throwing a leg over  the hammock, he sits himself behind me. His head rests on the high end  and I'm sitting in between his legs.

"Lean back, Lala."

Wrapping an arm across my shoulders and over my chest, he pulls me back.  Sticking a leg off the hammock, he gives it a good push, making us sway  back and forth. He keeps his arm wrapped around me while reaching down  for his beer with the other.

We swing. He doesn't say anything and neither do I. I just enjoy the  soft rocking and Rampage's arm holding me close. Tilting my head to one  side, I hear his steady heartbeat. Pressing closer, I listen to its  slow, even rhythm; soothing and comforting.

"Never sat in this thing," he grumbles out of nowhere. I'd sit in this  thing all day, every day if I had one. Hell, I'd even sleep in it.

"Yeah? Why not? I love these things."

"Figured they were Lil's or somethin'. Guess I never cared enough to ask."

"Well, I'm claiming this one," I tease.

Throwing his head back, he lets out a deep laugh. "Whatever ya say, babe. You want it, it's yours."

"You know, for a big, scary biker, you're a fuckin' push over."

"That shit's only for you, Lala."

For what feels like hours, we swing and talk about anything and  everything. Rampage points out different people, telling me crazy and  hilarious stories about each and every one of them, then he tells me a  little about himself. He talks vaguely about club life, but he loves  talking about his bikes. He asks me questions about myself, but he keeps  it light. He doesn't ask the questions I know he's dying to, but by  this point, if he did ask, I might tell him. I feel so safe and  comfortable here in his arms, and the thought of sharing my burden, just  being able to say it out loud to someone else, feels like it would be a  blessing, but I know I can't. It wouldn't be right, so I keep them to  myself. I don't accept fault or feel I deserve what happens to me, but  life isn't always fair, and I have no choice but to accept that. For  now, all I can do is hope and pray that Ryan gets what he deserves  someday, whatever that may be.                       
       
           


///
       

"You like being in the club?"

"Yep."

"Can I ask why?" I really want to know.

"Why?" He repeats slowly.

"Yes, why?" I repeat.

Taking a deep breath, he's quiet for a moment, "Because, babe. This shit  is all I know. They're my family. No matter what goes down in our  lives, we look out for each other and got each other's backs. You're in  the club, you've got more support than you could ever ask for."

To me, it sounds like the kind of family I'd always wanted, but I don't tell him that. I just nod in return.

Tank comes over, handing Rampage another beer. They do some strange guy eye contact, grunt, and chin lift thing. Men.

"Ya goin' to the rally this weekend?" Tank asks him.

Rampage shakes his head and grunts, "Don't think so."

Lil hollers over from her seat by the fire, butting in instantly, "Yes  you are, Rampage. The whole lot of us are going, and that means you,  too." Rampage looks at her, then back to Tank and shrugs.

Shaking his head, Tank grumbles, "Pushy little shit, ain't she."

Lil proceeds to toss her empty beer can at Tank, missing him by a mile, "Imma slap the shit outta you, Lil," Tank warns her.

She just waves him off and laughs, then turns her attention back to Rampage, "You're not goin'?"

"Nah. It's that family ‘n couples bullshit. I'm fine hangin' out here."

"Rampage! If you bring Lailah, you would have a couple," Lil adds from  across the yard, sounding pretty proud of her solution. Tank glares at  her and Rampage lets out an uncomfortable dry laugh, while I try not to  squirm awkwardly.

"Baby, shut it," Tank yells back at her, "but yeah, brother. Bring Lala.  If it makes ya'll more comfortable, you two are friends, at least  that's what it seems to me, so I don't see any issues. Go and have fun  with the rest of us. " Turning his attention to me, he nods  encouragingly, "Ya wanna go, little girl?"

"Well …  I don't know?" I shrug awkwardly. I've no fucking clue what a rally is.

"You're going, Lialah," Lil adds, giving me a look.

"I don't know …  Rampage?" I look for his opinion. This is his club, his  thing. I don't want to interrupt or intrude on something I have no  business in.

"You wanna go, Lala?" Rampage asks.

I do. I want to get away, do something different and fun for a change,  but I don't want to intrude on whatever plans Rampage has. I especially  wouldn't want to ruin his time there if he's looking to hook up with  anyone.

"Of course she wants to go. I can see that gleam of excitement in her  eyes. We're gonna have a fucking blast," Lil squeals as she bounds up to  us, smiling from ear to ear. Clearly, she has no intention of this  going any other way but hers, "Isn't that right, Rampage? It will be  sooo much fun," she adds, clapping her hands in excitement.

Her enthusiasm is contagious. Tank scoops her up and throws her over his  shoulder, done with the conversation, "Come on, ya pushy little shit."

"See you in the mornin' …  ," Lil calls as Tank starts to walk away with her.

"Brother, Lala." Tank nods back at us as he strides away with a laughing Lil.

"Do you wanna go?" Rampage asks, bringing my attention back to him.

"If you don't want me to go, that's cool. I really don't wanna get there and cramp your style …  "

"Nah. It'll be cool, babe. Ya gonna go to a rally, this should be the  one. It's tame compared to most, and I'd rather be with you to keep an  eye out for you."

"Then yes. I REALLY want to go."

Pulling me back into him and cuddling me closer, he says softly into my hair, "Yeah. I really want ya to go too, babe." 5





6


Jameson


Rampage

Lying on this hammock with Lala is the only place I wanna be. I can't  even think of a better fucking way to spend my evening, except for  fucking her, which I don't see happening tonight. I wanna be right  fuckin' here with her. She makes shit feel so goddamn easy and natural.  No pressure for shit, just happy to chill and enjoy each other's  company.

I'm not sure what I'm doing with her, though. All I know is I'm losing  my fucking edge. Lala does that shit to me. Being around her feels like  there is no other shit worth worrying about, making me forget I'm a  fucking asshole. The woman makes me soft. I fucking hate it, but in all  reality, I like it. I feel so goddamn lost in her that I can't see three  feet in front of my face.                       
       
           


///
       

Tank reminded me of that fucking rally, knowing damn well I had no  intentions of going to the damn thing. A charity rally isn't my shit. A  lot of old ladies, kids, and families, concentrated in one area, is just  too fucking much for me. Shit can still get crazy and it will at night,  but for the most part, it's the tamest of the other rallies we hit up.