Page 4 of Angel

With each unsatisfied, emotionless movement, I shut everything down.

The guilt.

The humiliation.

The disgust.

I flick it all off like a light switch.

Then nothing but darkness.

I touch up my makeup in my rearview mirror, fluff my roots, and swipe a subtle maroon color on my lips before starting up my Camaro. He roars to life as I make my way out of the parking lot.

Steve paid for an hour, and an hour is what he got. He was quick, which was both good and bad. Good, because I didn’t have to endure the agonizing silent pain of being with a stranger, but bad, because we had time… left over.

I’ll just leave it at that.

I study the road that stretches out into the darkness before me. And I try to forget… I want to make it disappear like it never existed, but each time it gets more and more difficult. Inked into my flesh like a new tattoo. I don’t want to remember the feeling of some stranger’s hands all over me, or the sensation of him inside me.

But I never forget.

This was my choosing, and now there’s no running from it. I’m left with the hand I dealt.

The clubhouse is closed to any hang-arounds tonight. The only ones allowed are those invited. We don’t want to raise suspicions if someone were to find out about the piece of dirt we have locked away in the pit’s basement. I hope he rots in hell. And I’m pretty sure the guys will see to that fate exactly. Two days he’s been locked down there, two days since the night Jules was almost sold into human trafficking. He was the only member left behind. The only one who may have answers to where Scorpion, the President of the Steel Valley Skulls, is hiding. Or my brothers would have buried him six feet under by now.

It does sound a bit morbid to have a celebration party while someone is chained up in our basement.

Charger finally made Jules his ol’ lady, which is a huge compliment for her. In her eyes. She’s his, off-limits, claimed by no one else. The patch she wears—the one with his name—is a symbol of all of the above. That might work for Jules, but it sure as hell will never work for me. I will never belong to anyone but myself. I don’t need some biker claiming me, possessing me. My patch will only ever read: Angel. Not some guy’s name. There will be nothing that says property of on my back.

Huffing out a nervous breath, buried deep within my lungs, I put on that fake smile I know how to wear so well. It’s challenging after a meetup, to pretend like everything’s okay. But it’s either that, or break down. And I never break down.

At one end of the clubhouse, Jules surrounds Chloe—her daughter with Charger. The girl’s giggling and shoving one of Maggie’s cookies in her mouth. Cute kid. Jules did a great job raising her on her own all those years. Being a single parent could not have been easy… It’s a good thing Charger finally got his head out of his ass. It must have weighed heavy on him, to find out he had a daughter.

I like them both together. They mesh well, they work, and it makes sense.

Heat rises on my cheeks as Tank whistles at me. It’s not from flattery, but rather a sudden rush of humiliation. He, Charger, and Chain each stare at me like they know. They don’t, but I always feel so vulnerable afterward. Like I’m wearing my secret, as if it’s being displayed front and center, instead of my patch. But the reason for their extra attentiveness is because I’m dressed like the prostitute I am.

“Damn, girl, where you going tonight? Or should I ask where did you come from?” Tank questions, while eyeing me up and down, then back up again.

I pluck the lime out of his drink. The sour taste tingles the insides of my cheeks, hitting my tongue and grazing my lips. “What? I need an excuse to look this good? And I see you guys started the party without me. What are we celebrating? I mean, besides Charger here finally sealing the deal with his woman.” I playfully nudge an elbow into his firm abs.

My smirk drops when I see Chain. The coldness from his glare freezes the blood in my veins and runs deep into the depths of my body. I’ve been on his shit list since the night at Club Beat, because I may have overreacted a bit when the huge biker bumped into Jules. But I’m protective of my friends. And of course, the huge biker belonged to another club from a different territory.

I love my brothers, and even though Chain patched me in despite traditional rules, I still don’t feel like one of the guys. As long as I have a vagina and tits, they will never take me seriously. They wrap me inside a bubble and stamp me: DEFENSELESS.

“Well, since you’ve been a pain in my ass lately, I came up with the perfect job for you.”

“Chain, you know I’ve apologized like over and over to you. I know I fucked up that night.”

“Broken promises, sweetheart.” His muscles bulge under his intimidating, inked-crossed arms. “You know a certain person of interest in the pit out back, yeah?”

My stomach sinks to the floor, taking all my blood and oxygen with it, and I forget how to breathe. I despise Venom for what he did to Jules. “Please, please, tell me that whatever it is you want to punish me with, it has nothing to do with Venom?”

“See, you got beauty and brains. Meet me in my office first thing in the a.m. Got me, girl?”

My body goes stiff, numbingly stiff.

What does he expect me to do with Venom? Give him a sponge bath? Wash his clothes after he sits in them for God only knows how much longer?

---