Angel: RBMC: Ankeny IA

by Kristine Allen

  “Aunt Jazzy? I’m scared,” he said as he clutched my hand in his dirty one. His brown eyes looked exactly like my brother’s and threw me for a minute. It was still so strange to suddenly have a nearly eight-year-old nephew—especially one that looked exactly like my brother. Yet he’d already captured my heart.

  “I know, sweetheart.” I didn’t have anything better to offer him. Until that moment, I’d forgotten how young he really was. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d blown me away with his maturity, making it easy to forget he was just a little boy.

  After they had shoved us in the small room, I’d immediately looked for a way out. The single window was boarded up, so that option was out, unless I could find something to pry it open with. More rummaging had turned up slats of wood from under the plaster of the walls, but mostly just trash. The place was obviously condemned for a reason.

  “Maybe when they come in, I can distract them and you can take the boy and run,” Lynda said to me, pulling me out of my head.

  I glanced in her direction. “No. We’re not leaving you here.”

  “With my knee, I can’t run, Jasmine. Even before they tackled me, I was recovering from surgery.” She shook her head. We’d been sneaking across the field from the clubhouse to the farm when the assholes had caught up to us. I still couldn’t believe they mowed down two women and a child like we were in the NFL.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t let Angel help you out to begin with,” I muttered to the stubborn woman, who huffed at me.

  “Because when I fell and hurt myself, I ended up in the ER. They had all the X-rays, and I couldn’t even walk. How would it have looked if I was suddenly right as rain?” She gave me a frustrated shake of her head.

  I sighed. “I suppose, but you could’ve let him fix you after.”

  Glancing down, I saw that Trace was listening to our conversation with concern on his young face. “If your leg was better, we could go home?” he asked.

  “Oh, baby,” I said as I pulled him against my side. “It’s not that easy.”

  He broke free of my embrace to crawl over to Lynda, where he tugged at the hem of her leggings. Lynda gave him a fond look as she humored him and pulled her pant leg up over her swollen and bruised knee.

  Why had it never occurred to me, nor had anyone bothered to tell me, that my nephew would have his father’s abilities? Yet as we watched dumfounded, the little boy laid his hand on her knee, and the bruising began to fade as the swelling diminished.

  “Trace! Wait!” Too late, I realized I should’ve stopped him. My brother still got weak after a serious healing, but when he was a child, it damn near knocked him out cold for the better part of a day.

  “Oh my God,” Lynda said as I grabbed Trace right as his shoulders slouched and his head dropped. I was pissed that no one had thought to mention Trace’s abilities. It wasn’t like that shit was a secret within the club, and I was family, goddamn it!

  “We can go now,” he said on a whisper as his eyes closed and his body became deadweight in my arms. Lynda and I stared at each other with wide eyes. Tentatively, she stood from where she’d been seated on the dirty floor.

  “Holy shit! Girl, this old leg is better than the one I didn’t injure.”

  We heard the doorknob rattle, and she dropped back to the floor, hurrying to pull her pant leg back down. The door swung open with a crash, and there was a guy in a motorcycle vest pointing a gun at us.

  “What’s wrong with the kid?” he asked with a suspicious sneer.

  “He’s exhausted,” I snarled. “The poor thing has been through a lot, thanks to you jerks.”

  He stepped into the room, grabbed my hair, and shoved the gun to my head. “Don’t get mouthy. Where you’re going, they don’t appreciate their toys being bitchy.”

  His words struck terror in my heart, and I cast a glance at Lynda. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they planned to do with us.

  By her expression, I was pretty sure she had come to the same conclusion.

  Without warning, he jerked me upright, and I lost my hold on Trace. Like a rag doll, he fell forward. Thankfully, Lynda caught him and pulled him protectively to her chest.

  “Since you were living with the Bastards, I’m doubting you’re a virgin. Regardless of who your brother is, I bet you warmed a lot of those beds. Which means there’s nothing saying I can’t sample the merchandise before we ship your ass down the road.” He dragged me by my hair to the door. With my eyes, I begged Lynda to take care of Trace. In my heart, I prayed as hard as I could that my brother and his friends found us soon, but I was afraid it was a prayer that would go unanswered.

  As the guy locked the door behind us, he shoved me against it until my cheek was smashed to the rough wood. With a dark chuckle, he was grinding his dick into my ass. Thankfully, there were two layers of denim between us.

  “I’m gonna enjoy this. Might even video it to send to your brother,” he whispered in my ear.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I stared at the lethal-looking scorpion tattooed on his face.

  That’s when it dawned on me that he wasn’t making any effort to hide his identity.

  By the time I was shoved back into the small room, I ached from the roots of my hair to my toenails. I was bruised, battered, and broken. Yet, I tried to stay strong, because my nephew was counting on me to keep him safe or find a way out.

  “Let me fix you, Auntie Jazz,” he whispered as I curled up in a ball.

  “You can’t do that. It makes you so tired, and I need you to stay strong for Miss Lynda,” I said as I coughed, then groaned. Lynda’s eyes teared up, and I begged her with my gaze to stay strong.

  “Let’s try to get some sleep,” I said, because I was too tired to talk anymore. Closing my eyes, I tried not to remember the things he’d done to me. The three of us curled up together for warmth, and I fought breaking down.

  The next morning, I woke to being dragged up by my neck. A cry escaped me, waking Trace and Lynda. When I fought to gain my feet, Trace jumped up and bolted toward the man pulling me out of the room.

  “No!” he shouted as he charged. Lynda went after him and spun him away right as the man struck out with a booted foot. I heard the crack of bone as Lynda screamed and fell to the floor with Trace held in her arms.

  As the door was being slammed shut, I saw Trace swing wild eyes my direction, then he crouched over Lynda. I groaned at the knowledge that he’d do what was natural to him and heal her at the detriment of himself.

  I was thrown down on the bare dirty mattress with my blood dried on it, and I knew in my heart there would be more.

  For two days, I was used by the man with the Scorpion tattoo.

  I’d begun to give up hope.

  “Angel”—Cascade

  “Baby, wake up.” The words registered at the same time the shaking sifted through my sleep, waking me. My head was groggy, and I was disoriented. Then I remembered taking the pill Angel had given me for anxiety. I hated taking medication because it always hit me so hard.

  “Mmm,” I mumbled as I stretched, still caught up in my sleep.

  “Baby, I would’ve liked to let you sleep, but this is important.” Blinking as I rolled my eyes to clear them, I watched Angel’s face take shape over me.

  “Trace?” I asked hopefully.

  Pain flickered in his gaze, and I knew there was still nothing. He took a deep breath and heavily exhaled. “No. Your mother is here demanding to see you.”

  My eyes shot open, and I was suddenly wide awake. “What? How?”

  “No clue, but she won’t talk to anyone but you.” His expression was stoic, but I knew he wasn’t happy either.

  When I sat up quickly, I got light-headed and clasped the soft leather of his cut. His rough fingers wrapped around mine. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  “Let’s go see what the dragon wants,” I said with a grimace.

  Gripping his hand tightly, I stood, and he led me to the common room. My mother was
standing instead of sitting in any of the available seats. Chin raised, her cool gaze tracked me and followed each step as we grew closer.

  “Korrie,” she said cordially, but I didn’t miss the slight disdainful curl of her lip and then the narrowing of her eyes when she looked at Angel. Blonde hair tightly coifed, hard glint in her pale eyes, expensive pale pink cashmere suit, and red-bottomed beige heels, she exuded money and power.

  “Mother,” I replied as we stopped in front of her.

  “I need you to come with me.” Her demand was almost laughable. As if she thought I’d actually give her two seconds of my time.

  “Fuck, no,” Angel growled out. I gave him a glance that said I could take care of myself.

  “In this case, I heartily agree with him,” I said with a fake as hell smile. Anger simmered in her eyes, but she held her cool—always the perfectly poised politician.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” she asked me as she obviously snubbed Angel. The squeeze of his hand gave me courage.

  “We can talk here. Would you like to have a seat?” Motioning toward one of the tables, I waited for her answer. It was the only time I’d offer. If she wanted to stand, then maybe her visit would be brief.

  “No.” Her lip curled again. “However, I think you might want some privacy for this.”

  “No, I don’t think I do,” I replied with a raise of my brow.

  “Fine. You want all of your new friends to know our family’s dirty secrets, so be it. Oh wait, I forgot you’re well acquainted with your little friend Jude,” she said with a sneer. “You’ve whored yourself out to him before.”

  “Mother, that’s unnecessary,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “If you have something to say, ma’am, I suggest you say it and get the fuck out of here,” Angel said. Repressed rage practically shimmered off him like heat on the summer asphalt.

  My mother tipped her head as she turned to him. “Tell me, Mr. Bearheart. Did you know your mother was a two-timing whore?”

  “Mother!” I shouted as I slapped a hand on Angel’s chest when he made a move toward her. His chest was heaving as his jaw clenched, the muscle on my side ticking wildly.

  “Yes, be a good lapdog,” she crooned sarcastically.

  His brothers edged closer—a united front, dressed in leather. Venom and Raptor flanked us. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Voodoo’s grandmother quietly staring at the drama unfolding.

  My mother lifted her chin defiantly yet appeared to think twice about her position. “I didn’t come here to discuss old news, anyway.”

  “Then please tell me why you’re here. This isn’t a good time,” I said as I fought a shudder of anger. No way was I telling my mother that Trace was missing, because she didn’t deserve to know anything. She’d never been a grandmother and had in fact been a vile human being regarding her own flesh and blood. We’d been nothing but a commodity to use, abuse, and exploit.

  She glanced around. “Maybe I should preface this by telling you that I know what all of you do. I’ve compiled quite the little dossier on your club, its members, and your businesses. Anything happens to me, and those files end up in places you don’t want them.”

  Fear choked me at the thought that Angel and his brothers could be compromised because of my mother. I didn’t know everything they did, but I did know they had killed and disposed of Lester Damon. They also had mad hacking skills that allowed them to create a realistic, iron-clad smokescreen for what they’d done. That alone told me they boldly skated the lines of legality.

  “You have five minutes to spit out what you crawled in here to say,” Venom growled. No one else said a word, but tensions were high as hell. My mother sent a silent glare in his direction.

  “Lester’s father knows what happened to him, and he’s coming after each and every one of you. You made a very dangerous enemy.” Then she turned to me. “All you had to do was your fucking job, Korrie. Keep shit quiet, and you continued to live your cushy life. Instead, you ruined everything and jumped back into his bed the first chance you had. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t follow through. Debts needed to be paid,” she said cryptically.

  “I didn’t owe anyone anything. You threatened me with my son. That’s not a debt, that’s blackmail.” She was insane.

  “Sometimes you do what you have to do to get where you want to be in life. You make decisions about who and what are expendable. I regret none of my decisions. It’s all about the greater good. Perhaps you should have stopped to consider your allegiances at length before you chose your sides.” Her jaw ticked, and her nostrils flared slightly.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, though I was afraid of the answer.

  She stepped into my personal space, but I refused to back away. “It means, dear daughter, an eye for an eye.” The last she said in an ominous whisper as she cast a glance at Angel.

  Straightening haughtily, she turned her back to me and walked toward the door with her heels clicking on the concrete floor. Before she exited, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Jude? Just so you know?” She opened the door, and a gust of icy air swept through the room. “You’re never going to see your son again, and you can blame yourself and Korrie for that. You made a colossal mistake.”

  The door slammed as she stepped out into the cold morning, and everyone sat in a momentary stunned silence. Then Angel roared as he raced for the door. Several brothers grabbed him before he made it out. He was thrashing and fighting to free himself.

  Venom shouted for Ghost. “Follow that bitch!”

  If someone had plunged their bare hand into my chest and ripped out my heart, I couldn’t have hurt more. Thankfully, Raptor wrapped me up in his arms, because I would’ve collapsed to the floor when my knees gave out. The wail that slipped through my cold lips was enough to rattle the windows as I unraveled.

  Through the rushing in my ears, I vaguely heard Voodoo’s grandmother as she tried to soothe me. Then Angel calmed down, broke free of his brothers, and held me close. He didn’t say anything, just clutched my hair as I pressed the side of my face into his chest.

  As I fought to maintain a minimal level of sanity, a cold realization washed over me.

  Before this was over, I was going to kill my mother.

  But first, I needed to speak to my father.

  While Angel and his brothers sequestered themselves with Madame Laveaux and Julia went to the room she had down the hall from mine, I waited impatiently.

  Imagine my surprise when Voodoo and Kira came through the door with an infant carrier.

  “Oh my God! How is the baby doing?” I exclaimed. Kira looked exhausted as they shared a glance.

  “I didn’t sleep a wink last night for fear that someone would try to take Parker again. I couldn’t stay there another minute,” Kira admitted with a shudder. I couldn’t say I blamed her. They couldn’t have a lot of faith in the hospital’s security.

  “How are you holding up?” Voodoo asked me with concern in his hypnotic eyes.

  Blinking away the tears, I tried my best to stay strong. “I’m doing okay,” I whispered in a small voice. Empathy filled Kira’s eyes as she took my hand in hers and squeezed.

  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked with a sniffle of her own.

  A tear slipped free as I shook my head. “You just take care of that sweet little boy,” I said with a sad, watery smile. She threw her arms around me and squeezed. Silent sobs shook me, but I could only whimper.

  “Let me get you settled, baby,” Voodoo said as he kissed her cheek. She nodded and followed him down the hall. Briefly, I saw him again as he passed down the hall to their meeting room. The not knowing was killing me, and panic clawed up my throat.

  Once they came out, Angel made a beeline for me. He framed my face with his hands.

  “I need to go out, but you’ll be safe here. Several of the brothers and prospects will be here. We have a good lead. We’re going to get them back, baby. I promise you.�
� His lips feathered over mine before he embraced me tightly. He kissed my temple as he stepped back. “Keep your phone on you. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Angel, maybe we need to call the police,” I said as I desperately gripped the front of his thick sweatshirt. That was when I realized he was no longer wearing his cut and was dressed more like a thief than a biker.

  “No way, not until we’ve exhausted all our efforts. We have better resources than they could ever hope to have anyway,” he said, full of a confidence I wasn’t sure I believed. Softly, and full of gentle promise, he gave me one last kiss before he stepped back. “I love you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I was terrified my mother was telling the truth. Knowing I’d break down if I opened my mouth, I simply nodded.

  Most of them left as I sat on a couch pretending to be absorbed in my phone. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. I breathed a sigh of relief when Hawk disappeared into the back rooms, presumably to check on Julia and his grandbaby. The two older guys were sitting in the recliners watching TV. Jameson and Sadie sat at the bar.

  They got up and stopped by where I was sitting. “I’m going to get Sadie settled. Will you be okay out here?” He glanced around, obviously making note of where all the people were. He was good-looking but, in my opinion, a little terrifying. He was gruff and broody, but that must’ve appealed to Sadie.

  “Yeah, there’s no way I can relax. I’m going to wait and pray,” I said in a trembling whisper. Waiting sounded like the absolute worst form of torture. I needed to do something. Anything.

  So I paced. And paced. Then paced some more, until I was sure I’d worn a path in the concrete floor.

  How much more could I handle? Every fiber of my being seemed as if it was unraveling. Barely hanging on to my sanity, I didn’t know what to do. Did I sneak out to aimlessly scour the streets? I was at a loss.