Page 84 of Throttle

“Okay!” Chloe skips with her, to what is a safe enough distance. Just in case.

The bikers rest against their motorcycles, smoking and casting a menacing glance in our direction. I can’t see their cuts from here or what club they’re from, but they don’t look familiar.

“Are you kidding me? On the day of my shower.” Jules gets up, getting ready to throw down.

“No way, Gi Jane. Sit.” Angel points to the vacated seat.

“Ugh fine. But if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d kick some ass.”

“Sure, honey.” Maggie pats her shoulder. “Think we should send an SOS to the guys?”

“Maybe they’re just taking a smoke break? Stretching their legs,” I suggest, but knowing damn well that isn’t the case.

“I’d say no to the smoke break because they’re walking this way.” Angel sets a hand under her cut, assuming she has a weapon hidden in there. A knife or a small gun.

Maggie moves in front of Jules, blocking some of her body with her own.

I join Angel as she steps up because I wasn’t letting her face them alone. Whoever they are. Do I have any chance of being effective in a fight against a man? Not really, but I’d throw one hell of a knee to the balls.

Fortunately, we're the last ones remaining at the party, and everyone else has left.

My hand quivers while I type a text to Throttle. It's like that night at Club Beat this past summer when I had to send him an SOS message. Why can’t the biker clubs play nice?

“Is crashing parties your thing or are we your first?” Angel sneers.

A bearded man with a slight beer belly smirks. He tosses the finished cigarette onto the ground and then eyes Angel up and down like he wants to devour her.

“Such gentlemen. It’s not polite to litter either.” She holds a wide stance, one hand on her hip, the other still clutching her hidden weapon.

Two bikers stay stationary, while the bad-mannered guy circles us like a shark, taking in the surroundings. “Seems I owe someone a congratulations.” He grins. Their club's name isn’t on their cuts, but I suspect they're here to intimidate us.

“How sweet of you. Now if you could go the fuck away so we can get back to celebrating. Thanks.” Jules peeks around Maggie and we’re silently yelling at her to keep herself unknown.

“You’re a pretty thing. Your ol’ man is a lucky guy.”

“He is. And he’s on his way here to beat your ass, so move along.” Her hand shoos at him.

The playful smirk disappears as he advances toward Jules.

“I don’t think so.” Angel whips out a small shank from under her leather, pointing it to the guy's throat. “One more move and I’ll be happy to push this into your ugly neck.”

Maggie is eager to intervene, but she doesn't want to abandon Jules.

He comes to a stop with his hands raised in surrender. “Hey now. All that won’t be necessary. Just came to check out the party and say hi.”

Angel chuckles, keeping her knife pressed against his throat. “Doubtful.”

He grabs her wrist, causing me to gasp, but she quickly retaliates by outmaneuvering him and twisting his arm. I sigh in relief, but then realize he was playing with us, knowing that he and his men could easily attack.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Angel's voice shakes with rage.

“Like I said, just stopping by to pay my respects.” His words quake when she tugs at his restrained arm.

The two guys who came with him stand there, wearing smiles that suggest doubt about Angel's ability to defend herself. They shouldn’t underestimate her.

“Well, you can tell your President he fucked with the wrong club.” Angel drips venom in his ear.

He laughs. “You are good girl, I’ll give you that, but I swear I’ll behave if you let me go.”

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