Page 35 of Angel

I wait for Tequila after I park and answer a call from Chain. I don’t even have time to say hi. “I don’t know if you’ve been avoiding me, or you’ve just been MIA for the last twelve fucking hours.” He’s right. I have been avoiding him. I skipped out on breakfast at the club, because I didn’t want to hear about how I shacked up with a certain Skulls member. Or how I ended up at Venom’s because I actually wanted to see him. Reason being: I have completely lost my fucking mind.

“If I said I was avoiding you, would that hurt my case.”

“Watch the sass, girl. I can’t wait to hear about your little slumber party last night with our recent prisoner. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Yes. Yes, I am. At least it doesn’t sound like Charger told him about my battered face.

“You told me to help out, right? So, just trust me.” I hate lying—or should I say omitting certain information—to him.

“Trust you? Goddamn it, Angel, you’re going to give me grey hair. More than I already have.” He sighs into the receiver. “We need to have church soon. A catch-up meeting. So when I call you tonight, you better answer your fucking phone. Because don’t forget: I’ll know exactly where you’ll be.”

“Tonight’s not good. Got a club party at the Skulls’. I’m going to try to find some stuff out.”

“Jesus Christ, I should have never signed you up for this. You’re supposed to be there to watch Venom, and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. You’re not supposed to play fucking detective.”

“Stop worrying about me. It’ll be fine.”

Another sigh. “Just don’t get yourself hurt. You hear me?” He hangs up, and I slip my phone into my back pocket. I smile, because I know he really does care about me—it’s the reason for the fatherly berating. Everyone seems to be telling me to stay out of trouble lately. But haven’t they figured it out by now…?

I am the trouble.

Tequila walks up, pulling her hair back into a bun and zipping up her workout hoodie. “All right, I’m ready to learn how to kick some ass.”

“Me too. I’ve got tension and anger built up for days.” I swing my leg off the bike, and Tequila gives me a stern look.

“That’s because you’re shacked up with the Hells Angels of Ohio.”

“I think I would actually prefer them over the Skulls.” I smirk.

“Good point.”

We head inside and into the locker room, so I can change. I keep a spare set of clothes here for these classes. I’ve missed the last few, due to my current situation, but I’m excited to have made it back.

After we get dressed, we walk into the matted area. About six women, including myself and Tequila, line up as we listen to the instructor tell us what move set he wants us to try out. His partner walks up to the mat—he’s a fairly scrawny guy. Or maybe I’m just used to being around my brothers.

“He’ll be your training partner today. Any volunteers?” Our instructor stands with his hands cupped behind his back. My arm shoots up so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t detach itself from my body. “Perfect. All right, Kyle here is going to approach you from behind, like so.” I sense the man advance, and he gently grabs a fist of my hair for demonstration. “What do you do when someone approaches you like this? How do you get away?” I recall the teachings from the previous classes. I trap his hands tightly with both of mine and take a step back with my left leg. Turning underneath his arm, I’m able to twist it and slip away. “Very good, perfect. It’s a crucial move because, ladies, attackers like to approach you from behind. And when you least expect it. So, well done. Okay, who’s next?” He praises me, and I smile proudly.

“You are seriously my hero,” Tequila whispers.

I laugh to myself, because if she knew the whole story, she wouldn’t be saying that. Each of the women takes turns repeating my actions. It’s not a guaranteed escape, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to learn. Something I wish I knew when I was younger. But how does an eight-year-old, or even a fifteen-year-old for that matter, learn to defend herself?

She doesn’t. Because she can’t.

Tequila and I walk along the small side strip of shops after class, and with each passing person, I get hit with judgmental looks. Only me. Tequila isn’t a member, so she doesn’t have a patched leather like I do. When is society going to realize that biker clubs are not all bad? Just because I’m wearing my leather jacket with my patch, it doesn’t mean I deserve to be stoned.

“That was fun, but now I’m reminded of how bad I suck at self-defense. If I ever need to use it, I might as well just accept my fate,” she groans.

“I’ll teach you. Don’t worry, I won’t let my friend get hurt.” I hook my arm around hers.

“Thanks, big sis from another miss. If only I could say the same for you. I wish I could keep you away from all this bad stuff. I just can’t wait until Scorpion is found.” She looks down. “But what if they never find him?”

I shrug. “As long as he’s still calling the shots from the sidelines, we have to try.” I stop in front of a store. This could be perfect. I need a dress for tonight. Something that draws attention. “Come on, I want to buy something for the Skulls’ party.”

Tequila gives me a blank stare. “Aren’t you hot enough? Do you really need to buy something so skimpy? Those guys are going to devour you.” She may be right. And not because I’m conceited, but because the Skulls are ruthless. They love their women and what they like to call snatch.

“I need to dig deeper, and I think this will help. Come on.” I grab her hand as I rush us inside.

“And dressing like a stripper is going to help… how exactly?” I ignore Tequila’s comment as I browse the racks. I take the little red number off the hanger and head straight for the dressing room. Inside, I shimmy into it. Since deep down I already know Mouse is interested, this dress isn’t for him, and that realization terrifies me even more.

“Hey, help me zip this.”

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