Page 12 of Fallen Angel
“Hey, what the fuck, man? We’ve been waiting for two hours,” a tough voice snapped from further back in line.
Ethan froze, then turned on his heel and walked up to the man who had complained. “That’s not my problem. And it’s not his problem,” he said, motioning to Props. “You chose to wait.”
Greasy blond hair fell across one of the guy’s beady eyes that shifted back and forth between the ground and Ethan’s hard, unwavering gaze.
“Yeah…well…fuck you,” the guy spat.
Ethan thrust his arm out, stopping Props who had lunged forward. Then his eyes narrowed on the trouble maker. “Why don’t you get out of line and go home before I help my friend, Props, here, kick your sorry ass.”
The guy’s eyes widened the instant before he jumped the rope and darted down the street, disappearing behind a large group of thirty-something ladies out for a night on the town.
“Hey, Bobby, where ya goin’?” A woman cried after him.
Ethan pressed his lips in a grim line as he undid the barrier rope and motioned for the woman to step through, but he couldn’t resist grabbing her arm as she passed. “He’s an idiot, and you’ve been tricked by some asshole along the line, your father, an old boyfriend, into believing he’s the best you can do.”
Her fearful eyes warmed as they made an appreciative journey down the length of him, but Ethan released her arm and backed away, shaking his head. “I’m not the one. Trust me. You want nothing to do with me. I’m no idiot, but I’m an asshole, and that ain’t gonna change. The difference between me and that guy is that I’m not gonna lie and tell you otherwise.”
Ethan left the woman in line and strode into the club. The large room pulsed with music, muted lights, and sweaty undulating bodies.
He walked up to the bar, his blood boiling hotter than ever.
“Hey, Jacob,” he said to the bartender.
An instant later, Jacob set a shot of whiskey and the bottle in front of him.
“Saw you coming,” Jacob said.
“You seen Nathan?”
The bartender nodded. “Come and gone. You know the ladies can never resist the golden boy of motorcycles.”
Ethan smiled, then grabbed the shot and threw it back. He set the small glass down next to the bottle. “I’ll take another.”
Jacob held out his hand, which Ethan firmly shook. “I know,” Jacob said. “That’s why I’m leaving you the bottle.”
Ethan poured another and raised his glass in thanks. Then he turned and leaned his back against the bar and scanned the crowd. He saw what he wanted straightaway. She had black hair and endless legs. She wore a burgundy corset top, which whittled her waist and pushed up her creamy white breasts. He filled his shot glass, downed half, then walked right over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her eyes widened in surprise, but then a sensual smile spread across her face. He gave her his glass, and she threw it back. Amber liquor dripped down her chin. He bent his head and licked the thin rivulet, drawing a low moan from her lips. Her arms came around him then, and she pressed her hips against his arousal, which was still as hard as ever.
“Hey, you want to go someplace and show me what you got in there?” she whispered in his ear.
∞∞∞
Angel left Bake Off by the back door just as a cool September breeze tunneled through the tall buildings, lifting her hair off her shoulders and soothing away some of her weariness. She breathed deep the fresh air. It was after one in the morning, and she was ready to go back home and ease into a warm, lilac and vanilla bubble bath. Briskly striding toward the small back parking lot, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.
“Damn it,” she muttered as the reality of her transportation woes came crashing down on her. The harried pace of work had allowed her to blissfully forget that she was car-less. Slumping her shoulders, she sighed and considered her options.
The subway would soon be closed and was too terrifying to even contemplate. She still had no cab fare. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and crossed to the front of Bake Off. She gave Matty a wave through the window and headed down the narrow street, which was lined with tall brick buildings. The second and third stories were expensive apartments and condos, but the first floors were reserved for businesses, fresh grocers, numerous bakeries and cafes that competed with Bake Off, and a multitude of Italian eateries. Most of the restaurants had stopped serving food for the night, but the scents of rich marinara sauce, aromatic breads, and seafood made her stomach growl.
A fifteen-minute walk later, the buzz of Landon Street reached her ears before she even stepped onto the cobblestone pedestrian way. She turned the corner and took it all in. People trickled into the streets from bars and clubs, some shuffling home, alone and defeated, others still energized for after-parties. Bands of college girls her age, girls who had families at home to pay for tuition and nag them about checking in, moved in safe groups—like the particles of an atom, connected to make an unbreakable whole. They laughed in unison as they all squeezed into the same cab. Angel imagined they were heading back to their dorm or shared apartment where they would carry on enjoying the security of each other’s company.
Angel could not help but envy girls like that. They seemed light, like an easy summer breeze or the soft spray of tropical waves. She wore life heavier, her brain anything but light. Hell, had she been more like those girls, she probably would never have seen her stepfather for what he was. She, too, would be using her daddy’s credit card to charge her latest pair of designer shoes and to buy her friends top-shelf cocktails.
She turned away from what might have been and renewed her focus on the road ahead. People who weren’t aware of their surroundings were the easiest targets for muggers. Up ahead a series of notorious frat bars were letting out. She hunkered over a little, kept her eyes down, and sped up. But then she froze. A brawl had broken out on the next block. Heart racing, she turned off down the nearest alley to bypass the mess.
She dug her hands deep in her jeans pocket and barreled down the narrow, dark street as fast as she could without running, passing dumpsters and openings to smaller alleyways. Ahead, her path narrowed and grew darker still. A chill shot up her spine. “This was a bad idea,” she whispered and turned around to go back the way she’d come, but she spotted shifting silhouettes. Sucking in a sharp breath, she stopped in her tracks. Three guys stumbled toward her.
“Where you goin’, honey?”
“Why you walkin’ so fast?”
“We just wanna talk to you.”
Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of their taunts. A strangled whimper fled her lips as she turned back around and sprinted farther down the alley.
