Page 42 of Angel

“W-what. A-are. You. Doing, brother?” He pleads for his freedom. For me to let go.

Fuck that. I get in his face, so close I can see how bloodshot his eyes are. His pupils are dilated, but not from the drugs he’s consumed. It’s a result of fear. That’s right…

Fucking fear me.

“You listen to me, you fucking asshole. I’m VP of this club. What does that mean, you ask?” I tighten my grip, and he coughs under the increased pressure. “Let me break it down for you in terms you might understand. This is my club, while Scorpion’s not here, you hear me? Not yours. Not anyone else’s. Mine. I’m tired of your fucking shit. You get me?” I squeeze more when he doesn’t answer. “Do. You. Get. Me?” He nods, but I’m not done yet. I lean in closer and whisper for only our ears. “Your hands ever go near her cunt again, and I will carve them off your body, like a fucking pumpkin on Halloween. I will fucking tear you to shreds.” I drop him like the useless object he is. “Anyone pulls any fucking shit—shit I don’t know about. Or anything that gets us dirty with the heat. And I will end you. I don’t give a fuck who it is. From here on out, this is my club. And you fuckers answer to me. Do you understand?” The blood boils in my veins, heat rises to the surface, and a trickle of sweat slides down my forehead. I’m livid, and there’s not a calm eye in the room.

Heads nod with consent all around, and some yell out, “Yeah, brother,” in the far distance.

Angel stares at me, wide-eyed. That’s right. Be scared. Be afraid of me.

I close the distance between us and grab her wrist. Despite my rage, I’m gentle. I would never hurt her. I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t. She welcomes it, like I’m her fucking hero. No, peach, I’m not your hero. You’re supposed to fear me. I need her to fear me.

Mouse tries to regain his oxygen on the floor as I drag Angel out of there by her heels. When we get out to the porch, the crowd inside returns to normal.

“What the fuck?” I stand so close I can see a tiny freckle above her lip, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. There’s an emptiness to her eyes, and she’s clammy and pale. I recognize the signs, the signs of a panic attack. I’ve had them, still have them, but I learned to cope. “I don’t know what happened in that room, but you just broke my guy’s fucking nose,” I huff. “Did he hurt you?” I try to be as calm as possible, even though I want her to be afraid of me, but I can’t stand seeing her like this. She’s terrified, and it’s taking every last ounce of my willpower to not go back in and rip Mouse’s head off. She continues to ignore me, staring at the floor. “Angel…” I gently touch her chin and lift her head.

She finally blinks, bringing her angelic eyes to meet mine. “W-what?”

“Did he hurt you?” I ask her again. She slowly shakes her head. No. I’ve never seen my angel so weak and fragile. My angel. “You need to get those taken care of.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Your panic attacks. You need to take care of those. Learn how to deal with them, before they fuck you up in a situation like the one back there.”

“How did you—”

“How did I know? Because, peach, we aren’t so different—you and I. I know those oh so well, and you can’t let them take you down. They will make you weak. They will leave you powerless.” I just gave her a huge part of me that I’ve never told anyone before. Fuck.

Her sparkling blue eyes haven’t left mine. But it’s not pity; she looks at me with understanding. She gets it.

I rub the back of my neck, because this is getting uncomfortable. “I think you should go back to your club.”

She averts her attention back to the ground and nods. Her issues run deep, baggage that’s going to swallow her whole. Consume her. It has consumed her, and she’s not going to be able to resurface from it. All I want to do is jump in and pull her out.

Quick on her heels, she almost takes a spill right off the first step, but she catches herself on the banister.

“Jesus Christ, can you even walk?” She doesn’t say a word as she leans on the only thing keeping her from falling. “Give me your keys.” I hold out my hand.

“No, I’m fine. I can drive.”

“You can barely stand. Now, give me your keys.”

She hesitates before handing them to me. “My club is not going to be okay with this,” she tells me softly.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit. They’ll chew my ass out more if I let you drive like that. Now, let’s go.” I wrap my arm around her delicate waist as we walk to her car.

I help her into the passenger’s seat, then push aside my own demons. For now. Car rides terrify me. They’ve terrified me ever since that day. But I swallow back my anxiety and take off for her club. As long as no one follows us, we’ll be fine.

I glance over at her, and she’s staring out the window. Silent. I’ve been through it, and it fucking sucks. It’s like you don’t have any control over what’s going on inside your body. It’s a scary feeling. She folds her trembling hands in her lap when her phone lights up—her burner phone. The phone that holds those dark secrets she keeps. I ignore the unknown text, even though it pains me to do so. Her other cell rings, and Chain’s name comes across the dashboard.

“Fuck.” I glance over at Angel again. I guess I’m answering it. “Yeah?”

“What the fuck do you mean yeah? What are you doing answering Angel’s cell?”

I sigh, turning down a side street. “Your precious angel is safe. I’m driving her car because…” I can’t tell him about her panic attack. I don’t know how much her little family really knows about her. “…she may have had too many drinks, so I’m taking her back to your club.”

“Let me talk to her,” he demands.

Her blank stare out the window tells me she’s not about to answer him right now. “Uh, well, that’s kind of impossible at the moment.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “GPS tracker says you’re headed this way, and if she doesn’t come back in one piece, heaven fucking help you.” With those nice parting words, the other end goes silent. The dude’s wound tight. Though, with Angel as one of his members, I can see why. Trouble seems to follow her wherever she goes.

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