Page 15 of Angel
“And you claim you don’t know where he is. Is that right?”
I steal a glance at Angel—same sour expression. “You would be correct,” I tell him. Fuck it. I have no reason to lie.
“For some strange damn reason, I might actually believe you. But I also don’t have time for games, so here’s the deal. You’re going to go back to your club, play nice, and you’re going to help us find out where your President is hiding.”
I laugh. “And what makes you think I’ll help you and your club?”
“I don’t know.” He squints, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes more prominent. “There’s just something that leads me to believe you can’t stand your President either.”
He’s not wrong, and if he wants me to play nice, I’ll play nice. It just so happens that, yes, I do want him found. Destroyed. Because I will be the one to take over my club. Mark my fucking words. This could work in my favor too.
“All right, fine. It’s not like I have much else to do, so I’ll cooperate. It’s getting kind of boring down here.” Boring and suffocating. The walls have been closing in, and it’s only getting worse the longer we talk like this. I try to focus on the leaky pipe, but the massive body in front of me is blocking my view.
Flick. Flick. Flick. He studies my weird stress habit, glaring at me.
Charger’s fists clench down at his sides, right above Chain. But I don’t grant him the satisfaction of giving a fuck. I’m trying like hell to count the fucking drips. The room is a rotating door, except we’re not moving.
I can’t help it. I look over at my goddess again, and the rotation slows. She calms me. Her eyes soften, but why? Maybe it’s pity. Don’t pity me. Loathe me.
Charger walks up. He wants to see me underground so badly we can both taste it. It’s comical, because he won. Doesn’t he get that? He got the girl. He got the perfect little family. He’s part of the good club. Isn’t that enough? I get it. I pissed him off by touching his woman, and even though she was never mine, I became obsessed. The feelings I had for her scared me. I never had those feelings before. I didn’t know what to do with them. I lost control.
As I sit here thinking about Jules, a question arises: Why me? Why are they putting their faith in me? “I’m fucking humbled that you guys are trusting me and all, but let’s be real. I know that’s not the case. So, what’s the catch?” I ask them, and the sheer curiosity runs down to my bones.
“Ha! You’re right. I don’t fucking trust you. But I think we both have the same goal. That being said, it’s not going to be as easy as just letting you walk on out of here. You’re not going in by yourself, and you sure ain’t going in without a way for us to keep tabs on your sorry ass. So, before you get any ideas of running like a fucking coward, or doing something stupid, just know we will be watching you.”
I crack my neck, because patience is not my strong suit, and I’m running out of it.
The nausea rises, and it’s rising fast because I can’t see that stupid fucking pipe.
Fuck. All I want to do is slam my fist into this fucker. “Not that your club is very memorable, but I’m pretty sure my club knows who you all are. Did you forget about the night at the cabin?”
The pain is immediate, shooting all the way down to the tips of my fucking feet. I double over to the side, coughing, eyes watering, gasping for what little air I can manage to suck in. Yeah, he just landed one hell of a gut punch.
“Forget? Oh, no, asshole, I didn’t forget. In fact, maybe you should be thanking that President of yours because he’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”
When the air finally returns to my lungs, I rest my head on the cement wall. My eyes challenge Chain’s because I’m fired up, but that punch affected me more than it should have. If I were in my right state, it wouldn’t have been as bad. Although, this guy looks like he could bench press a car. So, I don’t know how true that statement may be.
He stands, dragging the chain up with him, and the veins in his forearms look like they’ll explode any minute. My arm is raised, forcing me to mimic him. The dizziness has me seeing stars for a good couple of seconds before they disappear.
Fuck, I feel like shit. But something—no, someone—appears in front of me. Like an angel. The highlights of her hair glisten even in this dark shitty place. Her eyes shimmer like diamonds, and her scent warms the cold in my blood.
“You get me, asshole.” One side of her plumped lips turns up, and I furrow my brows. “Looks like me and you will be working together. But I must say, it doesn’t excite me.”
What the fuck? I didn’t hear her right. I know I didn’t hear her right. There is no way. They’re sending her into my club? Into my devil’s lair. Feeding her to the wolves? My wolves.
I steady my wobbly body against the wall before I faceplant, trying to recover from the gut punch a minute ago, the ache still lingering.
“I’m sorry, peach, but I’m not exactly in the right state of mind right now, so you’re going to have to repeat what you just said.”
I don’t even have time to blink. Charger pushes around to get to me, pulling me forward by a fist full of my shirt. Dude is pissing me the fuck off. He’s lucky I feel like shit right now, although I’m clearly outnumbered.
“Listen here, dickweed. You do anything, and I mean anything, to harm a hair on her head, and I swear to God I will chop your balls off. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I have orders not to, or your ass would be mine.” His teeth grind in anger.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Got it, captain.” I salute, and he tosses me back to the wall.
Our mutual hate is fun, but I’m over this fucking game.
My club will rip her apart and eat her for breakfast. That being said, if they want to send their woman inside, that’s their prerogative. I’ll suppress any underlying feelings I may have on the subject. I’m using them just as much as they’re using me.
