other women are doing to her when I’m not around. I thought I’d made it clear that shit wouldn’t fly but her face tells me she’s still having a shitty time here.
No more.
I’m fixing all of her fucking problems.
“Sorry for taking so long.”
Her voice is different when she’s out of the getup she wears on the stage. It’s softer, more hesitant and full of ghosts, and it sets my teeth on edge.
I can’t think about whatever demons she’s hiding, whoever it is that she’s running from. Whichever piece of shit beat on her and has her scared of her own shadow.
“You’re good? Let’s get out of here.”
She falters a little, that big bag of hers that she drags around everywhere with her over her shoulder. It’s as if she packs her whole life to come to work just in case she might need something.
It’s fucking weird.
I check the security cams before pushing the back door open with a palm, gesturing for her to go ahead now I know there’s no one out there waiting for us both. “What’s going on in that head of yours? From here out, Angel, you need something, you come to me.”
She hesitates for a second and then shrugs, walking ahead of me and leaving me with that sweet honey smell of hers.
Makes a man fucking ravenous.
I get her bag strapped onto my hog all while she fusses with her helmet nervously. I switched out my spare to make sure it would fit her head properly. I’m a fucking sap for this woman who’s wrapped in secrets, coated in broken armor and trip wires.
Once her arms are wrapped around me tight and I can feel every fucking inch of her pressed against my back I get us onto the road and I let the hog fly, the deep rumble of the engine loud in my ears and like a balm on my soul.
It’s fucking perfect.
For a second I can forget all about the endless bullshit I’ve got going on in the club, with my brat of a sister, with my cousin fighting for life, and with the beauty on the back of the bike. I can just pretend everything is exactly the way I want it to be.
I can pretend I was lovestruck at the sight of her and she’s mine for keeps.
I’m still not sure that’s what’s happening here but at least I can say I tried. It’s fucking perfect while it lasts but, as always, we make it to the club way too fucking fast and I feel the tension start to fill her the second the gates of the compound come into view.
I fucking hate how uneasy this place makes her.
Was the guy who beat her a biker?
I’ll fucking fill him with lead or, better yet, beat the life right out of him. I pull up into my usual spot and huff out a laugh at Rue’s missing rig. Guess he really is off stalking his little flower child again. It’s a good thing tonight, means there’s another set of eyes on Trink too.
I still need to find out what the hell is going on with her too.
Fuck.
Angel takes a second before she climbs off, her arms squeezing me tighter right before she lets go like it’s hard to separate from me.
Fuck, what the hell is going on with my head tonight?
Seeing her cry at the sight of Speck, knowing she’d rather sleep on the streets than tell me she needs help, the shaking, the broken phone… she doesn’t want to be touched.
Fuck.
Who the hell has hurt my girl?
Is she still being hurt? Is she lying to me about it?
Nope, can’t wander down that thought spiral. If I think about if someone is still hurting her or, fuck, how they’re hurting her, I’ll be dead by dawn.
Killing rampages don’t go down well in Coldstone. It’s too fucking small to get away with that shit.
She glances up at the clubhouse and wraps her arms around herself like she’s cold but it’s still warm enough out. “Is there a party going on? I’d rather not go in there. Is there… somewhere else we can stay?”
“Nope, this is home,” I say, trying to keep my cool. Pushing her isn’t going to help my case but it takes everything I have not to just shake the answers outta her.
She sighs and scuffs her foot on the ground. “Okay. I guess… I mean, Speck said—”
“Stop fucking talking about Speck. You’re sleeping in my bed where I know you’re