Page 81 of Angel

“Okay, fine, say you’re right. One, Chain and the others will never be okay with it. And two, he hasn’t even called me. God, why hasn’t he called?” I drop my forehead to my arm and groan. “Jesus, I sound like that teenage girl with a crush on a guy at school, and he’s been ignoring her.”

Tequila and Jules laugh. “Actually, you’re just that girl in love with a bad boy.”

I pop my head up to look at them.

Jules shrugs. “Stop being so damn depressed, because we need our Angel back. Go get your man.”

“That’s not me. I refuse to chase after him. If he wanted me, then he would come for me.”

“Oh, I bet he’s coming for you… by way of his right hand.”

I smack Jules’s arm. “No, but for real, I cannot chase him. I refuse.”

“Okay, hear us out,” Jules says, and Tequila nods. “You go there, lay it all out on the table, and if he finally stops being dumb and accepts you, awesome. Because guys like him need a little push. But if he doesn’t.” Her voice turns sympathetic. “Then you have your answer and you can move on. Because you are a badass bitch, who doesn’t get sad for no man. Ever.”

Is she right? Should I do that? I want to be with him. I crave him when he’s not around. I crave his arms, his lips, his kisses, and everything that follows. I crave it. Want it. Long for it.

I can’t break this addictive poison.

“Fine.” I push off the stool, straighten my club leather, pull down my tank, and hold my head high. “I’m going to go get my man.”

“Oh, thank God.” Tequila huffs out a breath.

“Go get him, girl!”

I strut out of my club with a boost of unexplained confidence. How dare he not give me the respect I deserve, and if he doesn’t want to be with me, then the least he could have done was fucking call me. Dickwad.

I knock my kickstand up and take off for his club. When I arrive, I stare at the front door, because any courage I had just went out the window.

Crap. “Okay, Angel, breathe and walk in there. You got this. You can do this. You just killed someone for Christ’s sake. You can handle Venom.”

I strut inside and some heads turn, but mostly they ignore me. I sigh in relief, because I know I don’t belong here. I know I wasn’t invited. Not welcomed. But at least no one is stopping me.

I pause to get a look around.

“Well, shit, thank fuck. I was sick of seeing him all depressed and shit around here.” A husky voice sounds next to me, and I scan over to a tall, tattooed, gorgeous biker. His wavy dark-blond hair lines his tanned face.

“What?” I deadpan, blinking the life back into me.

He crosses his arms and nods to the bar. “He’s over there.” He knows I’m here for Venom.

I smile. “Thanks.”

I start making my way toward him but skid to a stop. There, at the bar, is Venom with some hussy on his lap. She runs her nasty-ass fake nails all over him, petting him like a puppy. Oh, no, this woman has no idea what I’m capable of. A wave of jealousy roars through me, and my stomach turns. But he’s every bit uninterested. So, at least there’s that.

I stalk forward, with only one destination. Him. And if that means I have to take on the world around me, so be it. He’s mine.

I don’t stop until her nauseating, flirtatious giggles pierce my ears. Venom doesn’t pay any attention—doesn’t notice me—while he sits there, sipping his beer with the slutty hang-around pawing all over him.

I lean forward until I’m parallel with her. “You have thirty seconds… no, ten… to remove your whore of a snatch up and off him.”

She lets out a startled gasp. And he pauses midair, bottle in hand, then slowly turns.

“Um, excuse you?” Oh? Did she not get it?

I smile, a venomous smile. “Since you didn’t seem to understand…” I grab a piece of her hair and pull hard, until she stumbles off his lap.

“Ow! What the fuck, bitch?”

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