Rage (6 page)

Layla

I reached around Cullen’s body and held myself tight to him, inhaling his scent as it mingled with the night air.  It was a beautiful mixture, and it brought me all the way back to the two of us on his very first bike—a small, foreign model meant to help build his balance while he learned to ride.

It was like we were back in high school, me riding on his bike, holding him close to me while we both tried not to feel guilty about the feelings we shared.

Except those days were gone, and now we were just two people brought together by grief.

I clung tighter to him as he rounded the corner and burst through the Squirrel Hill Tunnel, weaving between the two double lanes of traffic, playing with danger.

If it was anyone else, I would have yelled at them, but I knew Cullen too well.  To yell at him would mean that he would go faster, pass tighter, and put us even more at risk, so I kept my mouth shut and I hoped we would make it out safely.

Finally he shot out of the other side of the tube into the night and gunned it, and we were going even faster than before.

When we rounded that one last turn, it was worth it.

The Steel City burst before us in all its brilliance, the blue and silver lights leaping out at my eyes as I took in the skyline.  It was at night that it stood out the best, the lights of the homes and skyscrapers bouncing off the three rivers’ reflection, making it dance.

The confluence was so beautiful to behold, the yellow bridges crossing each of them.

It put Chicago to shame.

This was my home, I remembered suddenly, all the emotion of the view rising up into my chest.  These rivers.  This view.  These people.

They belonged to me, and I to them.

This was why my brother wanted me to come home.  This was why I fought so hard never to look back into my past.

Because as soon as I realized where I was, who I was, I knew it would be impossible to leave again.

Staring at the city now, I wondered how I’d ever walked out in the first place.  How I could have ever walked away from all this.

From Cullen.

I hugged him tighter and leaned into him.  I still wanted him.  All these years later and he was still the one who had the most sway over me.  The one I gave a shit about.

I should’ve listened, should’ve come home as soon as college let out, but I was too fucking stupid.  Too stubborn.  Maybe if I had come home Sean would still be here, looking out for me.  Maybe he wouldn’t’ve take off that night and hung out at home with his sis.  I’d never know, and I had to live with that.

Cullen signaled and took off down an exit, following the winding path down a sharp hill and over a bridge, the winding and twisting of the Pennsylvania road providing an excellent obstacle tour course for the bike.  I’d forgotten what it was like to ride on the back of a motorcycle holding a man as he took those curves and potholes.

I knew I was squeezing him too tightly, but I couldn't help it.  Some of my very first experiences on a motorcycle were with Cullen.  I tried to forget about that now, though, and focus on nothing but the ride.

Gradually, all my pain and suffering and grief ebbed away.  It was just for the moment.  I knew that.  But it was a temporary reprieve.  All I was left with was the ride in the view of the city as we made our way down the South Side slopes to the flats.

Cullen pulled into a private parking lot and killed the engine.

“Where are we?" I asked.  I didn't want his bike to get towed.

“Don’t worry, Lala.  It’s owned by a buddy of mind.  I can park anytime I want.”

“Buddy, or club contact?”

“Do you really want to know?”

I didn’t.  But I waited anyway.

“The mob.”

Shit.  I knew they were involved with them.  Hell, I was sure that they were at the funeral.  But the last thing I needed to think about was the Irish Mob.

The inner workings of the club were never something I ever cared to be a part of.  I knew that when you became part of that inner circle, there was no turning back.  Every dirty detail was a part of your life, something you could never walk away from.  If I knew, I would never sleep again.  And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

I honestly didn’t understand how they could live like that.  Lying and scheming.  Killing.  Involved with the mob.

I shook my head and tried to block it from my mind.  I was forever intertwined with the club, and there was nothing that I could do to escape it.

Might as well learn my limits and get comfortable.

I quickened my pace to catch up with him, following Cullen as he walked down the narrow streets.

Once a place of industry, this former blue-collar neighborhood had since been revitalized, and filled with college kids and urban professionals.

I didn’t understand why we were there.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a friend who owns a nice little bar.  Figured if I was going to take you out, I’d take you to someplace that you would deem ‘appropriate.
’ 
”

I nodded.  He sure had a lot of contacts.

We rounded the corner and almost ran smack into a group of giggly college girls who parted while looking Cullen up and down.

I felt the urge to glare or say something snarky, but I bit back my jealousy.  He wasn’t mine.  I’d lost that chance a long time ago.  A chance that I told myself I didn’t want.

But the anger and jealousy were bringing up the bile in my throat.

“Ladies.” He grinned and looked them over before turning his gaze to me.  He grabbed ahold of my hand and pulled me forward.

“Don’t want you to get lost in the groups,” he said, his breath heavy in my ear as he kept me close.  “Place is filled with college kids, these days.”

I let him use the excuse.  The feel of his touch against my skin was enough to quiet any jealousy.  He was there with me.  Touching me.  His eyes on me.

I didn’t need to work to get his attention.  I already had it.

He tugged me off to the side and into the open door of a small, packed bar filled with the smell of leather cuts and jackets.  It was a biker bar that looked like it served college kids too, and professionals pretending to be hard.  One of those places that looked like it was trying to be a hole in the wall, but it was clearly a bit too upscale.

“This is your friend’s place?” I asked, looking around.

“Yeah, he’s an investor in the club.  We do some work for him, provide some protection for his place.  Even though it’s a bit out of our way.” He grinned and walked up to the bar, leaning against it.  “Don O’Grady’s cousin.” Irish Mob.  Again.  They were everywhere.

The bartender greeted him.  “What’ll you have, Cullen?”

“Bourbon, neat.  And something for the lady.”

“Miss?” the bartender asked.

Drinking wasn’t usually something that I did.  It reminded me of the way my dad had clung to the bottle.  It was the only thing he’d loved.  I didn’t want Cullen to know that.

“Whiskey sour, please.” It was the one drink I knew I liked.

“A whiskey girl, huh? I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” Cullen’s devilish grin was back.

“Oh?” I asked, looking at him.  Despite the smirk on his face, his eyes were so angry, so sad.  A deep and murky green that swirled like a maelstrom.

“I always knew you would go to college, make something of yourself.  That you were better than all this.  Better than me.”

“Yet here I am without a job, sitting in a bar with you.” I reached for the drink that the bartender poured and swirled it, looking into the glass.

“Where would you rather be?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.  You and I, we have a past that we can’t repeat, Cullen.”

He nodded like he agreed, but even as I said it, I wanted to take it back.  I wanted to repeat that past.

“I don’t know that I can do much about that, Lala.  When I look at you—”

“Fuck.”

“He was proud of you, you know.” Cullen’s voice was low, quiet.  “Sean.”

I should have taken solace in that, but it just made me so damn angry.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I stayed he wouldn’t have wound up dead.” I bit back the tears that were threatening to fall.  I’d spent the whole day crying.  I didn’t want to do it here, now, in front of him.

After we’d both finished our drinks in silence, he looked around.

“Let’s get out of here.” He waved to the bartender on our way out.

“Wait, don’t you have to—“

“Price included in our protection.” He wasn’t smirking now.  He looked angry.  It felt like there was something—guilt, resentment—right there beneath the surface.

The fury was building.

There was a reason they called him Rage.  He was calm and cool until all of a sudden he wasn’t, like a tornado that touches down out of a calm sky.  And I was the only one who could read him.  The only one who could predict the coming storm.

I didn’t ask any questions.  I just followed him back to his bike and hopped on, putting on his helmet as he peeled out of the gravel driveway.

The memory of my brother hung over us like a cloud, reminding us of everything we’d lost.

Of what we could never have.

I didn’t want to sit and talk.  I didn’t want to be around people.  I just wanted to get lost in the ride.

***

We drove down alongside the Monongahela River until we reached an industrial complex, then we pulled into it and parked so that we could look out over the river.

It was the same river that ran through Braddock and provided the steel mill transportation for its coal.  But here it was used for something else, probably shipping goods from factory to factory.

Hell, even this late there were people in their boats just floating down the river.

The one that reminded me I was home.

  “I like to come out her on my rounds sometimes.  There’s so much out there.  It reminds me I’m small.

He pulled the helmet off and let me brace on him to get off the bike.

“It’s my fault, Layla.  My fault he’s dead.  Not yours.  I shouldn’t have gone when Bones called me.  I should’ve made Sean go.  Then it’d be me instead of him.  Or maybe not.  I don’t know.  I’ll never know.”

It was the first time he’d said those words aloud.  I could tell by the pain in his eyes that surfaced as he said them.  He meant it.

But I knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s not your fault.  It’s the fault of whoever killed him.  Not mine.  Not yours.  There was nothing we could do.  We can’t turn back the clocks and change it, Cullen.  We can’t do anything except mourn him.”

“Oh, there’s something we can do.  We can get revenge.”

I knew retribution was part of the cost of living in the club, but I didn’t want to see this turn into a war.  There’d been enough killing, and if it was caused by another group, there was going to be a lot more death when it was all over.

I didn’t look at Sean’s death as something that should be repeated.  Revenge was just an excuse to dominate.

But I couldn’t tell Cullen that.  I knew him too well.  Avenging my brother was the only thing that was keeping him going.  He would find Sean’s killer and dole out justice.  Or what he thought was justice.

But would he survive in the end? And if he did, would he still be Cullen? Or just Rage? I understood that he was both.  Now.  Who would he be when this was over?

“You do what you need to do to bring you peace.  I’ve got to find it my own way.” It was the only thing I could think to say.  I wasn’t expecting was what he did next.

Without a word, he pulled me to him, his arms warm and strong around me.

It was the first real touch I’d felt in a very long time.  People hugged me, but no one embraced me.  Not like that.  I couldn’t breathe.  I didn’t care.

It was just like he used to hold me when we were together.  When we were kids.  Like were drowning and burning at once.  Holding onto each other for dear life.

I did the only thing I could think of.  I clung to him and I let myself feel the fear and the burn and thrill.  I held on for dear life while we stole one another’s breath.

And then I cried.  Right there in the middle of a dimly-lit parking lot against his shoulder while the river raged on.

I thought he would back away, or say something.  Instead, he held me tight, and I felt like he might never let go. 

It was exactly what I needed.

Layla

I reached into the dirt and pulled the little weed out by the roots, shaking off the excess dirt and flinging it into the wheelbarrow behind me.

A week of neglect was a lot of time for a garden, and weeds were popping up between the herbs and seedlings everywhere.  I grabbed them one at a time, concentrating all my energy on what I was doing.

Maybe that was why I didn’t hear Cullen come up behind me.  He’d gone out for the afternoon, and I hadn’t cared where.  Or I told myself I didn’t care where.  It was more that I was so mad, no good could come of talking to him.

I wasn’t angry anymore.  Now I was just tired. 

“I meant to get to that,” Cullen muttered, his eyes watching me work to avoid mine.

“I know you did,” I replied.  “But you’ve been really busy, and I’ve been… here.” I had been mostly crying, or in bed.  Never in my life had time passed so quickly and yet felt so slow.  Between the pain of grief and my quest to do nothing but sleep, I’d lost an entire week.  When I was awake it was miserable, so I opted for passing out.  Until this morning.

This morning, I had gotten up, got myself a cup of coffee and looked out into the garden.  The mess had called me out of my cocoon of misery.  Got me doing something. 

Kept me occupied.  I missed my brother.  I’d lost my freedom.  Didn’t mean I could cry forever.  I needed something to do.

“We plant in it every year.  Sean liked to put in things that grew easily.  Zucchini, carrots, even wanted to put some raspberry bushes towards the back of the property.  A present for you.”

My brother had known I’d love it.  When we were kids, we’d had a garden.  A shitty little thing, dirt poured into old kitty litter buckets, filled with a tomato plant each, and then a couple of herbs that grew well with them.  Donna’s idea.  Our mother...  She’d had other things to do.

Sean had done the same in this garden, potting complimentary herbs with each different type of plant, but he’d gone bigger with the whole idea.  This was an entire big garden bed for me.  The works.  Familiar but better.  He’d wanted it to tempt me to come home.  To stay.

I sighed.  If I’d known what was going to happen, I would’ve said yes.  If it would have saved him, I would’ve been here with him, working on this. 

I blinked and brushed my forehead with the back of my wrist.  Thinking about him would only put me right back down in that funk, and I needed a clear head.  I shook away the thoughts that kept trying to creep in and focused on what I was doing.

It felt good to actually be doing something.

“I should’ve never left.” The words escaped before I realized what I was saying, but they were out.  We were going to talk about it.

“Why did you leave?”

I shrugged.  Explained as honestly as I could.  “It was too much for me, losing my dad.”

He nodded.  Toed the dirt, still not meeting my eyes.  “It was hard, but we could’ve gotten through it.”

He was mulling aloud. 

I knew what he were this was going before he said it.  Knowing didn’t take the sting out of it though.

“You didn’t just leave your brother.  You left me.  Why?”

I thought after all these years he’d let it go, but that was stupid.  Cullen was not that kind of man.  He was always the kind to hold a grudge.  To hold onto his anger.  To hide fear and pain and keep it close so he could use it to push himself.  He didn’t forget.

To be fair, I hadn’t either.

I knew exactly why I made the choice to go to Chicago.  I hadn’t lied.  It really did have a lot to do with my father’s death.  But there had been other reasons too…

I looked at him and bit my lip.  He wanted to know.  He needed to know.  He wasn’t going to like it, though.  I told him anyway.  “Because I knew who you were, and I knew you were never going to change, Cullen.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I sighed, went back to the weeds.  We had still been in high school.  I was a freshman and he was a senior, but we were basically joined at the hip.  Whenever I wasn’t in class I was all wrapped up in him.  His arms always around me.  His body always touching mine.

We had been shy as kids, but by then? Well, we hadn’t thought were we kids anymore.  And it had blossomed fast.  By that time, things were so intense, we couldn’t stand to let the other go.

One day after school we were in the parking lot.  He’d just gotten his new bike running and he wanted to show it off.  It was an old junker, a piece of shit he’d spent months working on.  He was so proud of it.  He and Sean started bragging a little.

Maybe they pissed Nick Flannigan off, strutting around like peacocks, or maybe Nick was just an ass.  Whatever it was, the jock rolled his eyes when he came out of the school and got on his Asian sports bike.  But before he took off he spat out, “Dumb shits.  That thing is a pile of junk.”

The guys would have been pissed off enough at that, but Nick didn’t stop.  His eyes raked over me, his lip curling.  “Heh, is this one training to be a club whore like your mom?”

Nick took off before Cullen could grab him, but he didn’t let it stop him.  Next thing I knew Cullen was on his “pile of junk” and racing after Flannigan, speeding through the parking lot to catch up. 

Nick must’ve realized what was up because he gunned it, and the two of them took off down the long drive, taking corners way too fast.

They were neck and neck on the last one, but it was too much speed and the two of them wiped out.  I remember screaming, their bikes sliding away while each of them lay in the road.

Except Cullen stood up, and he walked toward Nick and pulled him up off his ass.  Nick staggered, but Cullen beat him anyways.  His fist flying into his face over and over again.  Blood splattering across the asphalt and cloth and Cullen’s face.

That was the day Cullen earned his nickname.  That was the day he got sponsored.

And that was the day I decided I needed to leave.  It was before my dad died, before any of that happened.  But I knew I had to find a way out of that life, out of that club, and away from Cullen. 

His rage scared me.  It was blind.  Violent.  I had seen it all before, how a stray hit from a man could knock a woman out.  Cullen would grow stronger.  He would become a man.  And I knew I couldn’t live my life afraid to say what I thought, afraid to do what I needed to.

I was afraid of what could have happened.  It all seemed so inevitable then.  So I started making plans to leave.  I didn’t talk about it.  I just did it.  Got ready to go, and went when I could.

Ten years later, here I was.  Back again, kneeling in the dirt.  Looking at Cullen.  Same green eyes.  Same murky moods.  I could see it.  His anger was closer to the surface these days.  But even so, I realized something I couldn’t have known then. 

Now I wasn’t as afraid.  Now I looked at him and his violence didn’t seem so inevitable.  It was real.  It could be terrible.  But now I understood it. 

Maybe it was because I had grown up.  So had he.  It wasn’t just his body, although I would have had to have been blind not to notice that.  The pull of muscle against cloth.  The line of his jaw.  The weight in his eyes.  That is when I realized what it was that struck me about him.  Those beautiful green eyes had become weathered. 

He had done it all.  Seen it all.  He had become a true brother of the MC.  He was a grown man, a boy who had lost his innocence and illusions.  He didn’t want them back.  But he’d lost something he hadn’t meant to along the way.  I wasn’t arrogant.  I just knew him too well not to know what that something was. 

For better or worse, what he regretted losing was me.  He was mad about that.  And he had made it clear he still resented my leaving.  Didn’t he know I regretted it too?

I shivered and looked away.  We were still so attracted to each other, I could feel the pull of my body towards his.  And even now I just wanted him to put his arms around me.

We were so close.  I could reach out and touch him.  Hell, I could kiss him.  But that wouldn’t fix everything that had happened.  I was willing to bet his kisses were still incredible, but life didn’t work like that.

“You are who you are, Cullen McFadden.  And that serves the club well.  But that isn’t who I am.  That isn’t what I want.  And when you beat up that kid that day in high school, I knew you were dangerous.”

His eyes flashed, like he remembered that moment all too well.  He should.  It got him expelled and he’d started working full time at the garage, and with the club.

“What was I supposed to do? Just let him insult you? Insult my mother?”

“No but –”

“Oh come off it.  Your entire fucking family dealt in death, Lala.  It wasn’t like you didn’t know what we were.  What we have to be.”

That was the problem.  I
hadn’t
known.  My parents had shielded me from as much as possible, Aunt Donna always whisking me away when things got rough.  Where my brother was readied to take up the cut, I was taught that bad things happened and protected from them.  I’d never really seen what my brother and Cullen were learning so well.  That life in the MC could be brutal.  That you had to look it in the eye and be ready to fight – really fight – or the life would take everything from you.

I’d made sense of some of it over the years, looking back.  But that didn’t mean I liked it any better.

Cullen resented that, too. 

Leaning down into my face, he ground out, “You act like you’re above it all.  Like the club is beneath you.  But you need it as much as I do - hell, you need it more.  And whether you like it or not,  defined you.  Still does! If you didn’t have it to hate, you’d have nothing.  You act like you have it all together, like your life was perfect after you left, but you don’t have anything to go home to, do you? No job, no real family.”

I flinched.  Somewhere in the middle of it all, his fingers had tangled into my hair, half to hold, half to control. 

“Face it.  This is your home.  We are your home.”

The words stung with the harsh truth, his face inches from mine.  So close I could smell his breath.  Maybe it was the cold truth he was snarling.  Or maybe it was his nearness.  Suddenly I felt dizzy.  His hold of my hair would make it so easy to sway towards him. 

But I couldn’t forget.  He was still the same boy who beat a kid so badly he had to be hospitalized.  He looked like a man.  His eyes were old.  But somewhere in there, he was still that angry boy, so ready for a fight.

So full of rage…

This time, when I shivered, it was sobering.  Didn’t he see it? I didn’t belong here anymore.  It was too dangerous to even be around him.

In spite of the warmth of him, in spite of his grip on my hair, I looked him in the eyes and pushed him away.  “Just get the hell out of here.” I ground out each word, my voice low, as threatening as I could make it.

Cullen let me go.  He stood back up and spit into the dirt.

“I don’t need your shit anyways, Lala.  But you’ll change your mind.  You’ll see.  You have just as much of the club running in your veins as I do.”

I knew in that moment he was right.  I was a part of the club, and a part of him.

I couldn’t fight either off forever, but I could try.

I told myself that I wanted nothing to do with Rage and his world, but I was already trapped in it all.

And there was nothing I could do.