Page 74 of Angel

“What!?” The rage drips from his snarl.

“We got company. He’s back. Want me to take care of him?”

“Don’t you touch him!” I scream. “I’ll kill you both! I swear to God!”

“Motherfuck—” The anger leaves him as violently as the blood from his nasal cavity. “I don’t feel like staining my new suit.” He leans forward, discharging his hot breath on my skin. “I will be watching you. You are mine. Even if you are a bitch.”

I want to murder this man. I will murder him.

TWENTY-FIVE

Venom

By the time I make it back, my arm throbs like a bitch, and the piece of fabric I have wrapped around it is soaked in my blood. Damn it. I didn’t realize I’d be losing this much...

I park, but I notice a black Mercedes reverse and start to speed past me. The windows are tinted, but not enough to stop me from connecting eyes with the guy in the back. They’re haunting. Dead. Blank.

I study his license plate before he’s too far gone. I don’t like it. Someone with that type of car doesn’t hang around a shitty motel like this one. I swing off my bike, and at first, I walk up toward our room. But then I jog, taking the stairs two at a time. When I grab for the door, it whips open at the same time, and my stomach fucking drops.

Her face… my angel’s beautiful face, battered and broken.

“Angel?” She’s frantic, her breathing’s heavy, and she flies toward me, trying to get by. But I grip her shoulders as she flails around. My blood turns to fire as I get a good look at her. Her swollen eye. Another open cut on her face.

This makes me want to kill… again.

My eyes travel down to her ripped shirt and the exposed lace from her bra, before darting back and forth, as undeniable anger and rage tear through me. This is different for me, and I’m ready to spill more blood. “What the fuck happened? Angel, look at me, damn it.”

She doesn’t even realize I’m holding her when she finally snaps out of it. “Move! I’m going to kill him! I’m going to fucking kill him!”

Me. I’ll be doing that. Not her. “Stop! Angel, eyes on me. Eyes. On. Me.”

And just like that, she stops. “I-I have to find him. Let me go. I have to find him, and I have to kill him! I have to kill him!”

She goes to dart past me. But my arm catches her, halting her escape, and I pull her to me. “Trust me, when I find out who did this to you, you won’t have to kill him. Because I will. Now, tell me what happened. Who the fuck did this to you? We have to get you to the hospital.”

She shakes her head. Panicked. “No.” She grips my cut and stares up at me. Begging. Pleading.

“What the fuck do you mean no? Angel, who did this?”

Her body’s trembling, but not out of fear. It’s more like rage in its purest form. She sinks farther down, hands clutching my leather as she cries. This is the second time I’ve seen her break, and I don’t fucking like it. I bend, scooping her up in my arms, and she lets me. I kick the door shut and sit down on the bed with her in my lap, removing the pieces of hair plastered to the dried blood on her cheek. I will massacre whoever did this. Slaughter them. Strangle them with my own bare hands.

“It’s him… it’s Victor. Victor Galiente.” I know that name… The brother of the guy the Chains killed. Why the fuck was he here?

“He did this?”

“He’s… I work for him. I didn’t know it was him. I just found out before we left.”

It all makes sense now. “And that’s why you followed me, isn’t it? Because you were running from him?” She burrows in—closer to me—and I have a split-second of pride. She followed me because she knew I would protect her. Even though I clearly fucking failed. “Why didn’t you tell your club?”

“Because I didn’t want to involve them and… I didn’t know if this would be considered a betrayal.”

“Angel, your club would never hurt you, if that’s what you were thinking. I know some nasty clubs. I’m part of one. And yours… yours isn’t that. You didn’t know.” She nods slowly, then winces. Fuck. I’m sitting here with her on my lap as her face is battered and her shirt is ripped open. “Did he… did he touch you? Because if he did, I will—”

“No, he didn’t get the chance. I head-clocked him.” I sigh a breath of relief. That’s my girl. But I know what I’m going to do once I get back to Ohio: find this fucker. She gasps, breaking my murderous trance. “Oh my God. Your arm!”

Is it still bleeding? I hadn’t noticed. My injury’s insignificant. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Just a through and through.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She unglues herself from me. “May I?” I nod with approval, and she unwraps the makeshift torniquet. I’m waiting for the burn, the sting; however, her gentle touch makes it better. I’d hate to tell her this, but there’s not much she can do. I need stitches. That being said, like hell am I leaving her. And, well, with bullet wounds, they tend to ask questions. She makes a face as she studies the circular mass of missing flesh. “Hang on, I know how to fix this.”

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