Page 17 of Angel

“Well, this is going to be fun,” I say under my breath.

“Really? Because all I can think about is how much I want to stab you in the eye with my heel.”

Fuck me. I’m going to need a goddamn miracle to survive this. Maybe I will feed her to my club if she continues to annoy me. And, by the way this is going, those guys would swallow her whole without an ounce of remorse. They’re the dirtiest pieces of shit I’ve ever hung around. I would know. I’m one of them. But she can take care of herself, and if she needs something to help shut that pretty little mouth of hers, I may be able to assist with that.

My amusement fills the void.

There is something intriguing about her. She might be annoying, with a sarcasm-dipped tongue, but I am curious.

Come on, Angel, show me your wings.

SIX

Angel

“We got a prospect tailing you to the club. Any funny business and we’ll know about it,” Chain threatens, running a hand over his face. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m letting this happen.”

“I said I’ll cooperate and I’m good on my word.” The sincerity in Venom’s voice shocks us.

Chain grunts. “Yeah, real stand-up guy. All right, keep us informed. I want to know everything that goes down, Angel.”

“Got it.” I open my Camaro’s door and go to slide in, but pause. Venom turns pale and his eyes go blank. “Something wrong?”

“I just don’t like cars much.” He breathes in deep, practically ripping the passenger door off the hinges.

“And I don’t like riding in cars with kidnappers. But look where we’re at.”

“I told you before. I didn’t—never mind. Fuck it.” He scrunches his large frame inside, and we take off for my hopefully not doomed fate.

Five minutes in, and he hasn’t stopped aggressively tugging at his seat belt, nor has he stopped flicking his stupid ring. He’s nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous. I’m the one who should be scared out of my mind. But surprisingly, I tough it out, because there’s only one man (maybe two) who can shoot terror down to my bones. But being stuck in a car—my car—for twenty minutes with Venom is enough to raise my blood pressure. I have more hate for him than fear. Also, if this isn’t the most awkward thing I’ve ever experienced, I don’t know what is. It may even take the cake over being in bed with complete strangers.

“I don’t fancy you much either.” Did he just read my mind?

“Yes, because you have so many reasons to hate me.” I make sure the sarcasm burns a hole through him. The more I think about it, the more I would love to strangle the snake of a man sitting beside me.

He shifts again, flicks his ring again, and I groan. “I fucking hate cars,” he mumbles, but clearly I heard him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He shifts in his seat, looking in the side mirror. “Is that prospect of yours gonna follow us the whole way to the club, because I would advise against it.”

“Why? So you can kill me without any witnesses?”

He snorts. “Peach, if I really wanted to kill you, I would have already. I might not be a fan of yours, but I’m not all that eager to have your club on my ass, seeking vengeance for their little angel’s death.”

I chew the side of my cheek to restrain myself. My blood boils every time he calls me peach. I hate pet names. And I really can’t stand them coming from him.

“Okay, then why should he stop following us? Please, enlighten me.”

“Well, for one, he’s by himself. Not very smart in my opinion. Two, my guys got two members a block away in every direction of the club. They see him trailing behind us, and our little cover is blown. Not that I think we have much of a chance at this anyway, but it’s obviously not going to help.”

I shake my head. I’m annoyed, but I do consider my options. I can’t trust Venom as far as I can throw him; however, if he is right, then we are screwed.

I voice activate my console’s Bluetooth, sending it straight to our prospect’s cell. I let him know to hang back—it wasn’t easy to get him to comply. But with a little threatening and a reminder I have seniority over him, he backs off, and his bike becomes a distant memory.

Chain’s not going to like this.

“So, how does someone like you afford something like this? Or was it a gift from Daddy?”

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