Page 9 of Angel

“And I’m just saying he deserves it. So, whatever, I’m perfectly happy going about my business, and not giving a damn about him.” Her attention’s been on the door for the entire conversation. “By the way, I hardly ever see you at the gym, let alone this early.” I snap my fingers together, trying to break her out of her trance. “And why do you keep looking at the door?”

“What? I’m not. I have to look somewhere, and the door happens to be in my line of sight.”

“Uh-huh. Just so you know, Throttle took his dirt bike to the shop this morning. So, he won’t be working out.”

“Oh.” Disappointment washes over her like a bad storm. “Wait! I wasn’t looking for him.”

“Lies—it’s written all over your face.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I smile, stretching my arms behind my back to loosen my muscles. “No? You have no idea what I’m talking about? Okay, need I remind you of the way you look at him on a daily basis, or how he practically threw his body on top of yours at Club Beat. Or when those pricks over at the Skulls almost kidnapped you… how he was ready to go pound in some flesh. All because of you. Or—”

“Okay, stop, I get it. But we’re just friends, and he didn’t do that because he wants to throw me up against the building and fuck me until my knees go weak.” Heat swirls in her eyes. “He was just looking out for a friend. That’s it. Besides, say I do think of him as more than a friend, it’s not like he feels the same way.” She picks the invisible lint off her leggings.

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way? Did you ask him?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t ask him. What…? Are we in high school? Oh, Throttle, I think you’re super dreamy. Will you go out with me? Girl, please, pass. I’ll save myself the humiliation.” There’s heartache and misery written all over her face, and I feel bad. She’s my best friend, and I hate seeing her so torn up… especially over a guy. Every time Throttle brings back another hang-around, or some random chick, it’s like another gut punch. And it couldn’t be more obvious. “And you’re one to give relationship advice. I love you like a sister. But, girl, for as long as I’ve known you—which I believe has been forever now—I have never seen you in a relationship.”

“You’re right, and I’d like to keep it that way.” I rise up, brushing off my ass. “Come on, let’s go do some sprints on the treadmills.”

“Oh, Lord, you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I’ll try to go easy on you.” I wink, practically skipping over to the machines.

This is a place where I feel powerful, where I don’t feel weak. And it’s something I feed off, like an addiction. It’s a different high from the one I have with clients. Although, I think it’s safe to say I’m past that dependence, and finally admitting to myself I wish I could walk away from it all.

After about twenty minutes of on-and-off sprints, Tequila sags onto the side handles. The audible vibrations of breaths being heaved in and out sound next to me. “This…” Another wheeze. “This particular moment is a perfect reminder of why I hate running with a passion. Actually, this is why I hate working out in general.”

“You’re just lucky you were blessed with good genes,” I tell her.

Tequila’s a drop-dead knockout. She’s shorter, but her frame is perfectly sculpted, her ass is amazing, especially for someone who hasn’t squatted a day in her life, and her shiny chocolate hair makes her green eyes pop. Throttle would be lucky to have her; he just doesn’t know it yet.

We grab some water and walk our sweaty bodies back into the clubhouse, where Mags greets us with fresh orange juice. The bright, fruity scent is cheerful and comforts me like a blanket on a warm, sunny day.

If we were to tell people about our club, they would never believe us. The way our MC is versus how others are, it’s incomparable.

“Thanks, Mags. You’re a lifesaver.” Tequila downs her drink, sinking into one of the bar stools. “Angel practically put me into cardiac arrest. I’m just not as fit as you are, girl.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have you running a marathon before summer is over,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. I love being a motivator. A fitness coach, per se. It’s just as much a rush as working out.

“Ah, to be young again.” Maggie smiles, sending her maternal vibes soaring through my chest. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother. At this point, she and Chain are like parents to me—to us. I think we all feel the same. Well, maybe not Bullet, considering he’s forty.

“Are you kidding, Mags? I’m pretty sure you’re in better shape than I am.” Tequila massages her thighs. “My legs already feel like jelly.”

“Actually, I’ll let you girls in on a little secret.” She leans forward, smiling. “I used to be a pro body builder back in my prime.”

“What, seriously? How come we never knew that?” Shock oozes from my voice.

She shrugs. “Eh, not something you just bring up at the breakfast table.”

“Yeah, that’s way cool. Like, it makes sense, because you’re one badass bitch. I would not expect Chain’s woman to be anything less.” Tequila nods.

“You girls are not wrong about that. Every strong man needs a strong woman by his side, to catch him if he falls.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Tequila smiles.

I jump off my stool. Sure, there might be some truth to those words, but I think everyone can stand on their own. “I better go get ready for this meeting.” I kiss Maggie on the cheek and say goodbye to Tequila.

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