Page 63 of Angel

She smiles, and more demons disappear. “Despite what you may believe, I’ve come to learn how good of a man you really are. You’re anything but a monster or a snake. You’re more Deacon than you realize.”

I grunt, shaking my head. “Do you hear yourself? A good man? Are you forgetting what happened with Jules? I helped kidnap her. Fuck, I put my goddamn hands on her. So, no, Angel, I am anything but a good man.” Even though I let Charger beat the bloody shit out of me after, it still haunts me. The sting of a smack to the back of my head takes me by surprise. “Ow, what the fuck?” I rub at the spot. “What’d you do that for?”

“You went back for her, didn’t you? At the cabin, you went back to try to save Jules. That’s why we caught you, isn’t it?”

For some reason, the snowy mountains on my beer’s logo pique my interest at the moment. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does matter. Jules was going to be taken, whether you were there to help or not. And she told us you saved her from that piece of scum, Scorpion. So, if it wasn’t for you, she might have endured a lot worse. Stop kicking yourself in the ass, and stop calling yourself the venomous creature you aren’t.”

A deep breath leaves me as I sit and ponder Angel’s words. “I wasn’t gonna let her get hurt,” I tell her.

“I know you weren’t. Deep down, I know. And I really knew when you took care of me at your house.”

“You hold me on a much higher pedestal than I hold myself.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” She winces. Friends? She might as well have just jabbed the knife into my chest, twisted, and put me out of my fucking misery.

“I don’t have friends, peach.”

“Well, then, think of me as your first.” I raise a brow, taking in her beauty. I smirk and shake my head, giving her the satisfaction of letting her believe that we are, in fact, friends. “It sounds to me like you hate your President as much as we do.”

“You’re not wrong about that. I’ve been trying to get rid of him for a while.”

“So, the entire time, you were just faking playing nice with him?” she asks me, crossing her sexy legs.

“Yup.”

“And what are you going to do once we meet up with him here, in the sunshine state?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” I don’t have a plan. I honestly can’t give her an answer. What am I going to do? Put a bullet between his eyes? Maybe, maybe I will.

“So, what’s your last name, Deacon?”

My stomach sinks, but I tell her. “England. It’s Deacon Oliver England.”

“That’s strong. I like it.” She chuckles. “Want to hear something crazy?” she asks, and normally this small talk would feel unsettling. But I want to hear. Listen to everything she has to tell me. “I’ve never been to Disney World.” A sadness overcomes her.

I begin to open my mouth, to let her know she’s not alone. That I’ve never been there either. But the door next to the bar opens, and a stocky man walks out wearing club leather. I want to pound the fucker to the ground for interrupting us. An Orlando club name is patched on the side, and underneath, it reads: Prospect. The guy stands. Staring. No, more like sneering at us. Actually, he’s sneering at Angel. I challenge him with one back, because she’s mine. No one else’s.

“Follow me.” He nods. We both get up. I slap some money down for the bartender, and then we head through the back. We hike toward another door at the end of the hallway. I stop when he stops, and Angel bumps into me. The prospect turns around and gestures for me to raise my arms out to the side. “Gotta make sure you ain’t packin’.”

I agree, but only because I can’t afford any more trouble. Not until the trade is done. He pats under my leather cut and over my t-shirt, before quickly working his way down. When he’s done, he nods. Then his eyes fill with excitement as he stalks over to Angel, bumping into my shoulder along the way. I stay facing the door because if I have to witness this prospect putting his hands on her, I might just kill him.

“Spread ‘em, babe,” he tells her.

“You might wanna watch where your hands are going, bud,” Angel orders him, and my nostrils flare. The burning, sizzling heat rises from deep inside me. Why does she make me want to murder every man for her? Fuck, at this point, I’d die for her if it meant she’d be safe.

I would tear down walls, mountains, and take on the world for her.

“I think I may need to strip search you, babe. You might be hiding something under all those clothes of yours.” My blood turns to fire, and I don’t even think. I spin around, grabbing the fucker by the nape of his neck. Squeezing. Squeezing hard. I want to snap it like a goddamn twig—I could snap it if I wanted to.

I yank him to me, and Angel’s eyes widen. “I will cut off every single one of your fingers. One by fucking one. If you touch her again.” My voice is deep, low, and dark. I’m like an animal. My heart hammers, and my breathing’s fast.

I’m the only one who will ever see her naked. From now on, there will be no one else.

“I apologize for my prospect here. Seems he doesn’t know his manners.” I don’t let go. Apparently someone else entered the room, but my vision is blurred with rage, and I barely hear the onlooker as my barbarian grip tightens.

“Venom.” Her soft voice is the only one I hear, the only thing able to break me from my psychotic state. I release my hold on his neck, and he curses under his breath while rubbing the area I marked with my fingers.

---