5. Silas
FIVE
SILAS
PRESENT
I hadn’t stopped riding for twenty-four hours.
My legs were sore, my back ached, and I smelled like shit, but fuck I didn’t care.
I knew I needed to sit for one fucking second and think, but if I stopped moving then the rage and fear would consume me as effectively as fire. I couldn’t breathe around the ball of fear expanding in my chest with every breath I took.
I needed to do something so this rage wouldn’t devour me.
The gravel parking area near the front of the Death Raiders clubhouse was busy with members catering to their bikes while others watched me with a sense of unease.
The doors opened easily under my boot as I kicked them open, which sent a few stoned members skittering. A cloud of smoke rose above the large sectional set up in front of the flatscreen. Heavy metal played quietly in the background while two chicks were fucking on the large flat screen.
That rage reared and all I wanted to do was smash everything in the room until there was nothing left. Better yet, I wanted to burn it all to the ground .
I settled for kicking the coffee table, which had a few bongs on it, and other shit for rolling joints. It all fell to the ground with a crash.
“The fuck, Silas,” Geo screamed, getting to his feet, while blowing out a stream of smoke. He was mid-thirties, stocky and high as shit. A waste of space and resources. He had orders and was clearly ignoring them, which was something I wouldn’t tolerate.
I gripped Geo by the throat and threw him down on top of the flipped coffee table and broken glass.
He moaned, trying to roll to his feet, but I gripped him by the cut, halting him. “Get these colors off, now.”
A few members sitting around the space shuffled back, gaping at the scene unfolding. What I was doing wasn’t done in clubs, not typically. There usually needed to be a severe reason for someone to be kicked out of a club, but on the rare occasion it could simply be because they pissed off the president.
“I’m patched, Prez…you can’t,” Geo sputtered in a weak argument, but I let him drop and then pulled out my knife and began cutting around the letters defining the club he belonged to.
Geo shrieked. “Wait, no…Prez…please.”
I didn’t do begging. It was a complete waste of my time and only worked to further annoy me. Once I had his patches cut out of his leather cut, I stood and looked around the room.
“Anyone else not understand the fucking orders I gave?”
When no one responded, I tossed the patches down on Geo’s chest. “Get the fuck out of my club.”
People moved, a few guys flicked an angry glare at me, but didn’t say anything. Geo had been in the club for years, but he’d gotten lazy and complacent. Besides that, all my men understood the message I’d given them, which was to be scouting and looking for Natty. Not getting high while watching porn.
“Turn this shit off.” I threw a look over at Dozer, one of my captains, and then walked into the back of the club where my room was located. It doubled as my office, which some people in the club didn’t approve of, but I didn’t give a fuck. It meant I didn’t have to see naked bunk bunnies or sweet butts stumbling out of rooms or have to hear them fucking .
I could have moved into the old house my mom lived in, but the memories were too difficult to deal with.
The door to my room was locked as usual, so I pulled out my key and pushed inside. The space was dark because I had picked a room without a window. The small space illuminated when I clicked on the desk lamp.
Nothing had changed. My twin bed was still shoved against the back wall. The oversized wardrobe my mother and I used to hide inside sat against the adjacent wall, which held my clothes and guns. A small bathroom was cut into one of the walls, where a shower, sink and toilet were. Two chairs sat in front of the desk on the other end of the room, along with filing cabinets and a few bulletin boards.
Simple. Dark. Lonely.
Just like me.
I pulled off my boots and shed my clothes, then walked to the bathroom. I let the cool concrete under my feet calm me before stepping under the spray of my shower. The hot water nearly scalded my skin as I scrubbed and tried not to think about the fear tearing at my insides.
Instead flashes of gold would come back to mind. Memories that felt more like snapshots of a different life invaded my skull, making tears burn the backs of my eyes.
Silas, keep the Jeep straight, I’m going to fly.
Natty’s closed eyes while she stood on the seats of the Jeep and threw her arms out. The way the wind pulled at her hair, as if the very sky wanted to take her from me. The way I was enraptured by the glow of her love. Something I never once deserved but claimed just the same.
My gut churned as memories assaulted me. An entire life with her, and yet we hadn’t even begun living ours.
Not the one owed to us.
I flicked off the shower and quickly dressed, pulling my boots back on over a fresh pair of socks. There was a knock at my door, and I already knew who it was.
“Come in.”
I turned from the door, checking my guns to ensure the clips were still full.
“You scared the shit out of them.” Lance, my vice president, spoke up from behind me .
I smirked, still turned from him.
“They deserved it.”
I heard him hum but then he shifted. “I was out scouting, otherwise I would have been here to keep them in check.”
I already knew that, but I finally turned to face my friend to let him know.
“Figured.”
Lance nodded, and I realized he looked tired. Standing at nearly six foot four, he was a tall motherfucker. Built like a truck with lean muscle; he was toned from years in the military. He was Black with more tattoos than even me, most of which I was still too chicken shit to ask about. He was a few years older than me, but the fucker seemed to be aging better than me, as you wouldn’t know he was older than thirty.
I was about to turn twenty-eight, which made me remember Natty making me a birthday cake last year while working at The Drip. She’d left it in the display case.
Written in white frosting were the words:
Felix natalis mea tenebris silva Happy Birthday, my Dark Forest
I’d give anything to see another in that stupid glass case again. This year, I wanted to watch her bake it from the privacy of our own kitchen.
I blinked away the image and faced my vice president.
“Any leads?”
Lance shook his head. “Nothing yet…have you talked to the Stone Riders yet?”
I shook my head, moving over to the desk. He was leaning his ass against it, his long legs stretched out before him with his arms crossed.
“They might have video footage…might be something there as far as making an alliance with them. Especially if they care about her.”
Lance knew Natty. He’d started as a prospect in the club back when Natty was still here. Many of my members remember her, but out of respect for me, they never talk about her.
“Want me to head over?” Lance tapped his arm, his only tell when he didn’t want to do something. I didn’t blame him. He had a history with Killian Quinn, one where Killian had promised to gut my vice president the next time he saw him. Lance could hold his own; I wasn’t worried about him, but the focus had to be Natty .
All other bullshit aside.
“I’ll go. Just keep things going here, no more of that shit that I walked in on. All members are scouting or visiting their connections in other clubs to see if anyone has heard anything.”
Lance nodded, then shoved off the desk.
“You gotta take care of yourself, boss. Just remember that.”
I scoffed while we exited the room. “Finding her is the best way I can care for myself.”
My second let out a sigh and walked ahead of me. I veered to the exit and walked over to the abandoned house that still stood like a relic on the side of the club.
Stepping inside, I inhaled and immediately wanted to tear my fucking lungs out.
Bad idea.
I turned around and walked right back out, slamming the door as I went.