ANGEL_Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  Angel tosses the shot back and sets it on the bar. “Again.” As he takes the second shot, I steal a glance at his handsome face. With surprise, I notice that he’s looking kind of tense himself. Normally, Angel’s a man who seems almost supernaturally in control. Nothing seems to shake or faze him. But there’s a tautness around his eyes and forehead that I’m just noticing now. It’s not something everyone would notice, but I’ve spent enough years watching him that it’s obvious to me, now that I look closely.

  For some reason, his edginess makes me want to say something — anything — to give him a distraction. I’m not ready to talk to him about Jude, but I can still ask him about what I saw earlier today. And maybe if I play my cards right, he’ll forget he sat down to grill me about what the hell is up with me today.

  “Angel,” I begin, leaning against the bar. “Do you know anything about something called the Krow Klan?”

  Angel looks up at me, his eyes sharp. “Yeah? Why do you want to know about them?” he growls.

  I swallow nervously, trying to think of how to answer without giving away too much. “I, uh, saw a bunch of young guys today in town, at Cooper’s Park. They all had on jackets that said that on the back.”

  Angel’s lip curls. “Those fuckin’ pieces of shit,” he mutters. “Yeah. Those ain’t the Klan themselves. More a bunch’a wannabes. They’re kinda like our prospects. They wanna get into the Krow Klan itself. Its leader’s named Kane, and he’s more than willing to have those punks hangin’ around, doin’ whatever shit job he wants them to.”

  “I haven’t really seen them around before,” I admit. “Are they new?”

  “Not really.” Angel takes the bottle of Jack from me and pours himself another shot. “The kids are. The Crow Clan itself has been around for a while. They used to spell their name with two C’s. But Kane is a bag of shit with pretensions of being some sort of Great Leader for the White Race all of a sudden.” Angel’s voice turns dark, angry. “He’s nothin’ but a two-bit punk, but once he started all this Mein Kampf shit, he began attracting a bunch of lowlifes who were more than willing to beat up brown and black gangs and take their shit because of the white power bullshit Kane was feedin’ ‘em.” Angel throws back the shot. “Those kids you saw in Cooper’s Park are Kane’s little lackeys. They’ll do anything he says, hopin’ one day he’ll let them officially join his ranks. Meantime, they pretend they’re already in the Klan, wearing jackets that say the name. Kane doesn’t do anything to stop that. Why would he, I guess?” Angel snorts. “Makes it seem like he’s got more men than he actually has.”

  As I listen to Angel explain, my eyes prick with sudden tears that I have to fight to hold back. As he finishes speaking, I turn my back to him abruptly, afraid the shock and fright will be plain on my face. Jude is getting mixed up with neo-Nazis! my mind screams. How am I going to be able to stop this? I’m about to lose him! What if I can’t make him see reason? What if I try to talk to him, and I just end up making it worse?

  I start to feel light-headed. Gripping tightly onto the beer cooler, I steady myself for a few seconds. I’m worried Angel will see the shock in my face, but fortunately he’s looking down into his shot glass when I turn back around.

  “By the way, Jewel,” he murmurs. “There’s some shit going down right now with the Lords. Some shit that is gonna get serious. A lockdown might be coming soon. You’ll need to prepare for it.”

  “You want me to be here at the club?” I ask, fighting against the dizziness threatening to overwhelm me. I’ve been around for previous lockdowns, but usually the president gives me the option of whether I want to be part of it.

  “Yes,” Angel says flatly. “It won’t be safe for you out there for a few days, either. It’s better if you’re here with the rest of us.” His brooding slate eyes meet mine, causing me to shiver.

  “But…” I murmur, ignoring the thudding of my heart. .

  “No arguments.” Angel pushes the shot glass away and stands up. Amazingly, he seems to have forgotten why he sat down in the first place. “I’m not taking any chances, Jewel. Hopefully, it’ll only be for a couple days. But be ready for it.”

  As Angel walks away, I see the tension in his shoulders and in his gait. I’m hit with the familiar sense of longing that often strikes me on the rare occasions when I can watch him unobserved. I know he’s strong. I know he doesn’t need anybody. But I also know that tonight, he might take one or more of the club girls with him up to his apartment, and ease the tension by losing himself in them.

  God help me, I wish it would be me he’d take upstairs tonight. I need some release, too. I haven’t been with a man in so long. And battery-powered love just doesn’t cut it, sometimes. With a tremble, I let myself imagine what it would feel like give myself to Angel. To feel his strong arms lock around me. To have him release himself deep inside me, so that for just a moment or two, there’d be something that only the two of us shared — locked away from the world, and from our troubles.

  Shaking my head with a soft sigh, I rub my arms, feeling chilly and exhausted. It’s been a long time since I’ve let my mind go down that road. I know from experience that these thoughts only get worse if I give into them. The last thing I need is to whisper Angel’s name as I shudder through my orgasm in the darkness of my room. The dreams of him afterward are even worse, because when I wake up the next morning the fantasy version of him is all I can think about for days. I know better than to put myself through that, on top of everything else.

  Even though my head isn’t really up to focusing on my work, I decide to start on the booze inventory I’ve been putting off doing for a couple of days. It will at least give me something to do that doesn’t involve thinking about Jude or Angel. I’ve just started going through the B section on my spreadsheet when a female voice behind me cuts into my thoughts, startling me.

  “Hey, there!” I look over to see Brooke, Beast’s old lady smiling at me.

  “Hey, Brooke, I didn’t see you standing there.” I try to smile back at her, aware that it probably looks fake as hell. “What are you doing at the clubhouse?”

  “I came to drop off a fresh change of clothes for Beast,” she says with a quick shrug. “He’s working at the garage tearing out some of the fire-damaged stuff, and he wanted to grab a quick shower here before church.” Her tone is chatty, but an expression of concern furrows her forehead as her eyes linger on my face. She hesitates for a second, then adds: “You okay? You seem… I dunno, tired or something.”

  I open my mouth, ready to reassure her I’m fine, but something stops me. Brooke and I aren’t friends, exactly, but we’re definitely friendly. She’s former FBI, if you can believe that. Back before she quit the agency, she was here in Tanner Springs working on a case, and ended up needing help with a young girl from Ukraine who showed up suddenly but didn’t speak any English. Since my neighbor Olga happens to be from Ukraine, too, I ended up inviting the girl to stay in my apartment for a few days so Olga could keep an eye on her and the girl would have someone to talk to. Ever since Brooke and Beast got together, she’s been one of the nicest of all the old ladies. She’s always struck me as a good listener — someone who would do anything for a friend.

  So, instead of pretending there’s nothing wrong, I decide to just tell her the truth.

  “Is it that obvious?” I sigh. “No, I guess I’m not okay. But to be honest, I’d rather not talk about it. I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind all day. I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t sound rude of me.”

  To my relief, Brooke doesn’t push it. “No, not at all. I get it,” she smiles gently. “But you definitely look like you could use a pick-me-up.” She pauses a beat. “How late are you working tonight?”

  “Only a couple more hours, since it’s not a weekend.”

  “Well then,” she considers. “Look how about coming out for a drink or two with me? And maybe with Isabel and a couple of the other women, if they’re free? Frankly, I’ve had a long day myself. I woul
dn’t mind unwinding.”

  A number of reasons why I should decline come immediately to mind: I’m tired. I need to go home and figure out what the hell I’m going to say to Jude about what I saw today. Brooke’s probably just being nice. But in the end, more than anything, I just want to forget about things for a little while. I don’t want to think about my brother’s involvement with Krow Klan, or, how lonely and sad I feel lately, or why I can never seem to completely rid myself of these ridiculous fantasies about Angel. In the end, I just want to go out and have a drink with someone who feels like a friend.

  “Sure,” I hear myself saying. “That sounds like a lot of fun, actually.”

  “Great!” Brooke’s pretty face lights up, making me instantly feel like I’ve made the right decision. “I’ll call Iz and find out if she’s free. Can I text you the time and place?”

  I have Brooke’s number in my phone from when we were helping the Ukrainian girl. “That sounds good.” I look down at my black mini-skirt and simple white tee with a smirk. “Just make it someplace where I don’t have to feel like a weirdo wearing this.”

  “You look fine!” she laughs. “But we’ll definitely choose someplace casual. See you later?”

  I nod at Brooke and she gives me a quick wave. Seconds later the door to the clubhouse closes behind her. I turn back to my inventory. And suddenly, in spite of everything, I feel better than I have in days.

  11

  Angel

  Within a week, going off the info Wexler gave us, Tweak has found the Outlaw Sons hideout.

  “Get your families ready,” I tell the brothers in church. “They need to be in place here at the clubhouse when we go in. In case the Sons have more men and more ammo than we think.”

  I can see in my brothers’ eyes that they get what I’m saying. This war is a battle to the death. We go in to destroy. One or the other of our clubs won’t survive the night intact. If it’s us — I don’t think it will be, but it could — then they’ll come for the old ladies and the children if they can. It’s who the Sons are: a bunch of spineless pussies.

  We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.

  “Brick, Ghost,” I bark. “You’re in charge of putting together security for the lockdown. Talk to Tweak about how many men you need to stay behind, to protect the families. Make sure the prospects know what to do.” I wait for the two of them to nod before continuing. “Thorn, Hawk, and Gunner. I want you with me. Each of you pick two men to flank you. Beast, meet me in my office after church to go over plans. I have a call scheduled with Oz to bring the Death Devils in.” Oz is the president of the Death Devils MC, and a recent ally of our club. It doesn’t hurt our alliance any that his daughter Isabel is Thorn’s old lady.

  Tank speaks up. “How long you think the lockdown’s gonna last?”

  Next to him, Striker snickers. “What’s the matter, brother? You got a dentist’s appointment to keep, or somethin’?”

  Tank throws a quick punch that hits Striker hard in the shoulder. “Fuck you, brother.”

  “I’m gonna want to keep the families under guard for at least forty-eight hours after we take down the Outlaw Sons’ hideout,” I answer. “If everything goes as planned, and we wipe out their ranks, that should be long enough.”

  Around the table, the Lords nod and murmur their agreement. I see a few of them start to grin, the glint in their eyes betraying their anticipation. Despite the danger we’re about to walk into, they’re all primed and ready. We’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.

  The end of the war. The end of the Outlaw Sons.

  The men are in high spirits when we file out of the chapel. So much so that when I go over to the bar to talk to Jewel, she’s elbows deep in bikers wanting booze and beer. I stand back in silence, watching her work to fill each man’s request. She’s busy and concentrating, and doesn’t notice I’m there. It’s kinda… I don’t know, comforting seeing her there. Jewel’s been part of the club for so long I forget there was ever a time when she wasn’t tending bar for us. And I’ve been resisting the urge to pull that simple bartender’s uniform off her for just as long.

  I’ve always told myself I’ve left her alone because she’s a damn good bartender, and the club would hate to lose her. But now, standing here days before the club goes into a battle that could end us all, for the first time I realize maybe that’s not exactly it.

  Maybe I’ve been shovin’ my dick in the club girls and pretendin’ they’re Jewel for so long because I would hate to lose her. I’d hate like hell not to see her every day. And I know from experience how crazy and clingy women get after I’ve fucked them. It never seems to matter how clear I make it that I’m never gonna be anybody’s old man. What they always seem to hear instead is, “Once I get my dick wet inside you, we’re gonna go ring shopping the next day.” Shit, even the club girls get like that sometimes. And they should know a hell of a lot better.

  If somethin’ happened between Jewel and me, I don’t think shit would be the same between us afterward.

  She’d probably think it meant more than it did, for one thing.

  But the part I’m more worried about is something I don’t like admitting, even to myself:

  Once I fucked Jewel, I’m pretty sure I’d want more of her. Not less.

  But that goes against all the rules I’ve set for myself. No attachments, other than the club. Especially not with someone who doesn’t deserve to get hurt.

  Is it worth it? my brain nags. Why the fuck are you stayin’ away from her when you want her so bad? Jewel’s a big girl. She can make her own choices. Why not just go for it, and deal with the consequences later? Why are you actin’ like a fuckin’ priest about this?

  “Shut up,” I growl to myself. “You fuckin’ dumbass.”

  The crowd in front of the bar is finally thinning out now. I take a step forward, and Jewel looks up and starts a bit as she finally notices me.

  “Oh, hey, Angel,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Yeah, you were workin’ pretty hard there.” I ask for a beer and sit down on a stool as she grabs it.

  She lets out a laugh. “Church must have been thirsty business.”

  “It was.” I wait as she grabs me a bottle and flips the top off. She hands it to me, and instead of letting her set it down on the bar, I take it from her instead. My fingers meet hers briefly, and she startles again, almost like I’ve burned her. The skin of her cheeks and neck flushes. Her lips part as her eyes dart toward mine and then away. Fuck. My cock jumps in my pants. Stifling a groan, I force myself not to think about how easy it would be to just take her hand in mine and lead her upstairs. I know — somehow I’ve always known — that Jewel wouldn’t say no.

  “How’s your brother doin’?” I ask instead, ignoring the ache in my balls and hoping to change the subject. “He stayin’ out of trouble?”

  Shit. Seems like that might have been the wrong question to ask. Jewel’s face instantly falls. “I wish I knew,” she murmurs in a soft, flat voice. “He’s not home much. At least, not when I’m around. And he’s still not really talking to me.” She crosses her arms, holding onto her elbows tightly. “I thought things might get better between us, the more he got used to being here. But… they really don’t seem to be.”

  “He still not goin’ to school?”

  “No. Or a job. Or anything, really.” Her eyes are dull. “All I know is, he’s hanging out with some people…” Jewel’s voice trails off. “Well, as far as I can tell, they’re probably not the best influence on him. But I don’t know how to tell him not to, when he doesn’t have anyone else here but me.”

  Again, I find myself wondering how the fuck Jewel isn’t gettin’ any help on this from her family. “What do your parents say about all of this?”

  Jewel sneers, and her voice sounds more bitter than I’ve ever heard it. “Nothing. They don’t care. They just wanted him gone.” She shakes her head in disgust. “Same thing happened wit
h me, back in the day. The only difference is, I left on my own steam. Jude got kicked out.” She looks up at me, and her expression changes, as though she just realized she’s said this out loud. “I’m sorry, Angel,” she breathes, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t really mean to say any of that. Just… thinking out loud, I guess.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Look. I get it.” I lean forward and take a swig of beer. “Jenna’s and my dad, Abe, he didn’t give much of a shit about us either, when we were younger. He was too busy with his own life to pay attention to a couple of little kids. Most of the time, we were just an inconvenient distraction. Luckily, we had my mom, but…” I shrug. “She died when we were pretty young. I know Jenna always felt kind of abandoned by Abe. Like she didn’t really have much of a family to speak of. Me,” I continue, sweeping a hand around the room, “I found the club.”

  “Huh,” she says, crinkling her nose. “I guess I never really knew any of that.”

  “Yeah. Well.” I don’t know why I got into any of that shit. I wanted to make Jewel feel better, not climb onto some goddamn shrink’s couch and start talkin’ about my childhood. “Listen,” I say, changing the subject, “I didn’t come over here just to grab a beer. We’re gonna have to go on lockdown. It’ll start in three days. Maybe go on for two or three after that. You’re gonna need to be here, too. And your brother.”

  “Jude too?” she asks in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  I grunt. “Yeah. Something’s gonna go down, and things are gonna be too dangerous outside for anyone associated with the Lords until we can evaluate the fallout.” Jewel’s eyes go wide, but she doesn’t say anything. “The good news is, assuming everything goes according to plan, the danger will be pretty much over after that.”

  “Wow. This…” she trails off. “This sounds pretty serious.”