Page 48 of Angel

I haven’t been with a guy—who wasn’t a client—in forever. Nope, never been with a man who wasn’t hired, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like. To be with someone who actually cares about you, or has the same mutual attraction.

I hang back, while the guys walk inside the diner, and watch as a father crouches down to scold his little girl. “I said behave. You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

My mind immediately freezes, and I return to that dark place. It’s uncontrollable. Unavoidable.

“You’re such a fucking brat, Audrey. After everything I have done for you! Clothed you, gave you a roof over your head, kept you fed. And this is how you repay me?”

That was the last time I saw Josh. The kid ran off, so fast, when my father threatened to beat his ass. He had kissed me under the oak tree in the backyard. My first kiss. I was seventeen, and I had never been kissed before. We started talking a lot in school, so when I thought my father was working late, I invited my classmate over. My mom had already left us—the year after he beat her. She took off one night and never looked back. She didn’t take me with her. Why didn’t she take me?

I envy her, for being free. I wish I could get away from the monster I call Dad. But even distance doesn’t grant me that reprieve.

The shooting pain from his vise grip on my hair burns as he drags me inside the house. “You kissin’ boys now? Huh? I bet you’re fucking them too!”

I can smell the beer on his breath; he’s always like this when he drinks. I can’t remember a time when he isn’t drinking.

“N-no, you’re hurting me.”

“Good, it’ll teach you a goddamn lesson.” He raises his hand, and I brace for what’s about to happen…

“Hey, Angel, you good?” Throttle nudges my arm, and I’m wrenched back to the present.

The little girl and her dad hug, and he wipes the tears off her face. With a kiss to her small forehead, he offers her a hand and they walk into the diner.

“Yeah, sure, I’m good,” I lie, knowing damn well I’m not.

After a short wait, the waitress comes over and brings us our food. She lingers near Throttle, and her eyes widen when he smiles at her. “Um, is there anything else I can get you guys?” Her voice squeaks—she’s nervous.

“I think we’re good, babe. But we appreciate your gorgeous presence.” Throttle rests his muscular arm on the back of the booth. The waitress’s cheeks turn pink as she clears her throat. The poor girl doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to his messy hair and chocolate-brown eyes. I’d be swooning too.

“I think we’re okay. Thank you.” I smile. And she nods, spins around, and practically runs right into another waitress carrying food. “Can you stop making panties drop everywhere we go.”

“I can’t help it. These good looks cannot be hidden, even if I tried.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair.

“You know, you should try being more like Hush here.” I clap a hand on the silent fucker’s back, and he just shakes his head, letting out a low groan. “He doesn’t say much. Nice and quiet.”

Hush’s jaw ticks before he flings a fry into his mouth, causing every tattoo on his neck and hand to dance. The mysterious butterfly on the outside of his palm flutters to life with the gesture. Another one peeks out just above his hoodie, resting under his club cut. The sides of his hair are kept short while the rest is long, like he’s trying to hide his dark, haunting eyes.

“Me, quiet? Not a chance.” Throttle laughs. “No offense, man. I mean, I’m sure you’re a hit with the ladies.”

Hush finishes chewing, scoots out of the booth, and goes to lean against his ride parked outside the diner. He lights up a cigarette and lifts his hood, staring into the nothing in front of him.

Throttle shrugs. “Was it something I said?”

I shake my head and smile. I love these guys. Like brothers. They help me forget about the bad shit, and that’s something I want to hold on to.

Venom

The cute bartender returns, holding a tray with our beers. Wrench thanks the honey, and I offer the same with a nod. She gets the point.

A strip club… this is where he wanted to go tonight? Jesus Christ. I haven’t been to a strip club since I was eighteen and discovered I loved tits. But now? Not so much. You’ve seen one pair, and you’ve seen them all. Unless they’re Angel’s. The blush-pink of her nipples and her porcelain skin aren’t even comparable to these silicon balloons.

“See? This is what we needed, brother, to get away from the bullshit and unwind. Too much stress, you feel me?” He grins, watching one of the girls spin on the pole while taking back his beer.

“Yeah, sure, man.”

It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and Angel flashes in my mind, her presence on a continuous loop. What the fuck? I feel like a kid with a crush on the girl who sits in front of him in class. It doesn’t matter how many I rub off; I can’t seem to shake this woman’s hold on me.

One of the dancers smiles at Wrench, sliding her body down the pole. “Damn, she’s sexy.” Sure, if you like fake tits and a bad dye job. “Hey, man, I know we aren’t supposed to talk business right now, but how long do you think it’s gonna take for our Prez to call?”

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