The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(36)

"What about the kids and the bitches?" Tiny pipes up.

"Mary, Kiki and Peaches take the kids up into the mountains," Tank says.  Fuck. At least that's one less group of people we've got to worry  about.

"Why not all the old ladies?" King asks, taking a swig of beer.

"The second those motherfuckers see all the women gone, they'll know  what we're doing. They don't give a fuck who they take, and if they see  the whole lot of women and kids leavin', they'll know what the fuck is  up and instead of coming for us, they'll take them. We leave the  majority here, they'll think they are just going on some day trip or  some shit and they won't think nothin' of it ‘til it's too late. They're  watching us, so we make things look like business as usual."

"Sending them alone?" Gin glares at Tank and I swear, Tank looks close to shooting him.

"Wayne, Kash, and a few others will ride up with them. We've got Trace,  Tyler and Danny, Lil's uncle, meeting up with them. It's a five hour  trip, so they will be with us for three hours of the trip. If they are  followed and someone catches on, it will be too late. They'll have no  choice but to bring that shit to us, here. So no, Gin, not alone. I'm  sending Ty with them, so I could beat the living shit out of you for  thinking I would send him alone with no protection. You are one stupid  motherfucker, Gin. I appreciate the fact you think I would do something  so fucking stupid."

Kash won't be a whole lot of help, but if shit goes down, he can still  shoot a gun. He'll be better off there, keeping an eye on the family and  getting the rest he needs, than being here in a fight.

We get that shit locked down and get down to business. We discuss how to  handle our little buddies. We figure some shit out and we hammer out a  plan.

"We gotta be careful. Those fuckers play dirty. Been avoidin' this shit  for years now, but since Rampage decided to throw down, we're throwin'  down." Tank says.

Don't know why that fucker is acting like that wasn't exactly what he  would have done if it would have been Sis. That asshole would have shot  every last one of them. He's crazy that way.

"Stop fuckin' throwin' accusations my way. Didn't do shit you wouldn't  have done. Let's not forget, he wasn't flyin' his colors. I wanted to  kill Ryan, but I knew he was into them for a shitload of money, so I'm  pissed that I didn't just shoot them all and be done with it."                       
       
           


///
       

"Calm your panties, asshole."

"My panties. I'll show you panties, asshole," I mutter under my breath.  Tank throws his head back and laughs like an insane idiot. Slamming down  the gavel, he shoves away from the table and announces loudly, "This  shit's done. We kill ‘em when we see ‘em. Now, let's get the fuck outta  here. I need some pussy."

****

Tonight is the night. Told Lala I'd take her to my place, so that's what  I'm doing. We've been held up at the club and it'll only be getting  worse here soon. I'm guessing she needs that space thing woman are  always bitching about. Figured I'd bring her here before she starts  complaining. When I told her, she got all excited. Don't know what she's  excited about. My house ain't nothing to get excited about. She's going  to be disappointed if she thinks she's getting Sis and Tank's place, or  Gin and Peaches, but Lala wants that shit, so like everything else,  imma give it to her.

"You ready, baby?" She smiles at me and nods. She's pretty damn good  with this whole riding on the back of my bike thing. I get on and she's  right there behind me, pressing that perfect body up against mine, hands  around my waist. It never fails to make my dick hard. Thinking I'm  gonna fuck her on the bike real fuckin' soon. Leaning into me, I know  she's ready when her weight rests on me. Starting my bike up, we pull  out.



Kicking the front door open with my foot, I let Lala in first. This  place was my grandma's. She died before I was born and left it to my  mom. When my mom died, it became mine. Not much of a place, but it has a  roof, walls, and a foundation. It took me two years after mom died to  come back here. Still don't spend much time here.

The day I turned eighteen, I cleared out the entire house, throwing  every single fucking piece of furniture, plates, pots, and pictures,  out. I have two things that were my mom's; a photo album and a ring, and  those things aren't even here. They're stored in the safe at the club.  Other than that, I have nothing from my shit childhood. I fucking like  it that way. No need to hold onto that shit.

"This is the front room." Not that you could tell with its lack of  non-existent furniture. Not a single piece of furniture in this room. No  need, there's no use for it.

"Where do you sit? Where do you relax?" She asks. Looking around, she seems confused.

"I don't."

"So you sit on the floor?" she retorts. Fucking smart-ass.

"Sure the fuck don't, Lala."

"You stand in here then?" She does this shit just to fuck with me, because that smile gives her away.

"Yeah, baby. I just lean up against the wall ‘n stare out the fuckin'  window." Her laugh is soft, almost musical. It's that laugh that gets to  me. It's so fucking hard not to stop and listen to her. I enjoy that  shit.

"Sounds comfortable."

"Fuckin' smart-ass" Her eyes widen as her hands fly to her chest. A  dramatic gasp leaves those lips, and I can't help but wonder why is it  that Lala can make me smile. I've got shit running through my head. I'm  plotting deaths and shit, but here I am, laughing and smiling with her.

"Me?" she laughs.

"Yes, you." Women. Never understood them, but I think I'm getting the hang of this one. Fuck, I hope so, at least.

"This is the bedroom."

"Never would have known that, considering the bed is the only thing in here."

That's it. Coming up behind her, I scoop her ass up by the hips and toss  her smart-assed mouth onto the bed, "Still feel like givin' lip, babe?"

"Kinda like the no furniture look. I can decorate it."

Whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. This is not turning into that. Looking all  excited and enthusiastic about the idea, I don't tell her no, but she  starts bringing in curtains and shit, I'm putting a fucking stop to it.

****

Lying in bed, Lala's got her leg thrown over mine and her head propped  up on my shoulder. We got the TV on, I got a smoke in my hand and a  drink in the other. She fed me, and now we're just relaxin', watching  shit TV.

"Rampage?"

"Lala," I counter. She hesitates for a second. That brief hesitation's never good.

"Why are you taking care of me?" Taking care of her? She's not a fucking infant.

"I'm not."

"You are. You're helping me. You gave me a car and a place to stay. Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? Is it because we're having sex?"                       
       
           


///
       

Not even fucking close. Sex is not a good enough reason to go through  all of this shit. Sex with Lala is good shit, the best shit I've ever  had, but it wouldn't be the reason I do this shit. I started doing this  shit before I fucked her, anyway. I'm not sure why though. It's not like  she's broken or lost. I know she can take care of herself. Maybe for  the first time in my life, I feel like I've got some sort of purpose,  other than hurting people. Feels good to have someone need me, and I  like that she really wants me. I've got a reason to do good shit for  someone. For once in my life, I give a fuck about someone other than  myself and it's nice.

"Don't know, Lala."

"Well I hope you know I appreciate everything you've done for me."  Wrapping an arm around my stomach, she tugs me close to her and sighs.  Never in my life have words and a touch from someone hit a nerve. I've  been called terrible shit. Bitches have told me they love me. I've been  fucked over. I've had people do nice shit for me. None of it did shit  for me. Lala says one thing, one goddamn thing, and that shit settles in  my heart.





Lala

"Got shit to handle, baby."

Rampage is tense. Sitting on the edge of the bed at the club, I watch  him tug on his jeans. Throwing on a gray shirt, he sits down next to me  to slip on his boots.

"You stay here, you hear me? Not a foot outside. Got some shit goin' down so we're on lockdown, baby."

"Lockdown?" Narrowing his eyes, his face morphs into hard and serious when I ask.

"Yeah, Lala. Lockdown. Means your ass stays in this club. Not a single  part of your body steps foot out this motherfucker, you got me?"  Nodding, I feel a trickle of fear settle in. "No, baby. I need those  juicy lips letting me know you got me."