ANGEL_Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  Two days later, lockdown is over. Whatever danger the club was in has passed. Angel gives the word, and the families are allowed to leave the compound and go back to their houses.

  Everything goes back to normal.

  Well, not exactly normal. Not for me, anyway.

  I’m still tending bar. On the outside, you’d never know anything had changed. Angel sure as hell acts like nothing has happened.

  But inside, I’m a cyclone of emotions. Every time he comes into the room, I’m afraid my heart is going to leap out of my chest. Every time he leaves, my stomach clenches in disappointment. Sometimes, I want to fly at him — claw at his face in rage, ask him why he made love to me that night, if it meant nothing to him? How could he care so little about my feelings? How could I matter so little to him that he can continue on now, like I don’t even exist?

  Other times, I want to cry. To sink to the floor and just let myself sob. Because my body aches with need and longing. It aches from the absence of him. And knowing he doesn’t feel the same way undoes me.

  It’s so much worse than I thought it would be. I always tried to keep my distance from Angel because somehow I just knew a small taste of him would leave me craving more. But I didn’t know just how much my body would feel like it was starving for him. That the hunger would consume me, every day — and especially every night.

  As the days pass, I start to come to a conclusion. No matter how I think about it — no matter which way I turn — it’s always staring me in the face.

  I need to start looking for another job.

  A job where I won’t come to work every day feeling miserable. Because even though I’ve been here for practically as long as I can remember — longer than most of the old ladies, even — I have come to the realization that I just don’t belong.

  I always knew I was just an employee of the club. Sure, an employee most of the men and the old ladies liked well enough — but still, just an employee. That was always okay before. Even though sometimes I longed to really feel like I was part of the Lords of Carnage family. It was enough that I felt like they had my back, and that everyone liked having me around.

  But now, after what’s happened between Angel and me, I can’t stand it anymore. Knowing that I’ll never be anything to him — that ultimately, I was just a convenient fuck during a lockdown — it’s too much. I can’t stand seeing his face every day. His clueless, cocky, sexy, infuriating face.

  And if I’m no longer employed by the Lords of Carnage, it’s time to admit that maybe I should be saying goodbye to Tanner Springs, too. What’s really holding me to this town, after all? I spend practically all my time at the clubhouse. And when I’m not here, I’m just running errands or sitting in my apartment reading or watching TV.

  I’m furious at myself for never building a life here beyond the club, but there it is. I didn’t. I spent all these years treading water, never moving forward. It’s time to admit it, and move on.

  I won’t be so freaking stupid next time.

  The only bright spot in the week following the lockdown is that Jude is at least doing a little better. In an amazing development, he has started working with the Lords at Twisted Pipes. Hawk has hired him on to replace Smitty: to help with demolition, and with rebuilding the shop. He’s giving Jude a decent wage and full-time employment. He even says that Jude can stay on if he wants after the garage reopens, to learn how to fix engines and do car and motorcycle repair. Since my father doesn’t know anything about that and wouldn’t have taught Jude even if he did, this is a real opportunity for my brother. And fortunately, he even seems to recognize it. He comes home from work every day exhausted but looking sort of proud of himself. Whenever I’m there, he talks about the Lords non-stop. Especially Hawk and Angel.

  Which is sort of painful, if I’m honest.

  But I’m not about to let on that it’s hard to hear Angel’s name so often from my brother’s lips. I’m too happy that he seems to be finding some direction.

  Just at the exact same moment when my life is starting to spin out of control.

  “Hey, Jewel,” Jude’s voice comes over the receiver of my cell phone one afternoon. “I was wondering if could keep your car until later tonight. A couple of the prospects wanted to go hang out, and I was hoping I could drive there so I don’t have to bum a ride.”

  I listen to my brother’s hopeful voice as I wipe down some tables recently vacated by a couple of the club girls. Jude sounds younger than he has since he got to Tanner Springs. Once again, I’m reminded of how good it is for him to have this job at Twisted Pipes.

  “Sure,” I say. “That’s totally fine.”

  “I can pick you up from work,” he continues, sounding a little less than enthusiastic. “If you need me to.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I reply. “I don’t get off until late tonight. I’ll figure it out. But keep an eye on your cell, just in case I need to call you, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks, Jewel.”

  As I listen to the click signaling that he’s hung up, I’m stopped in my tracks.

  My brother actually thanked me for something. Maybe he’s not a lost cause after all, I chuckle to myself.

  I wander back to the bar, feeling an unexpected wave of sadness even though I should be happy. Just then, the rumble of engines approaching catches my attention. A few moments later, the front door opens, and a group of Lords strolls in. They’re laughing and giving each other shit, and they’re clearly in great spirits. From the raucous tone of their conversation, I get the feeling that tonight’s gonna be a big party night.

  “Hey, Jewel, set us up!” Tank calls easily. I do as he asks, doling out drinks as fast as they can order them. I know what every man’s preference is, to the point that they barely even notice I’m there. I might as well be invisible. A drink dispensing machine, I think to myself sardonically.

  Even though I never imbibe on the job, I find myself grabbing a shot glass from the shelf. I pick up the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter and pour myself one.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Bullet’s lazy drawl reaches my ears just as he slides into a stool across from me. “You buyin’?”

  I laugh and grab another shot glass for him. He takes it from me and raises it. I do the same, and we clink the glasses together.

  “You guys seem like you’re in a good mood,” I observe as I raise the glass to my lips. Unlike Bullet, who slams his, I take a small sip, grimacing as I set the shot down.

  “Yeah. We had a good run today,” Bullet grins back at me. “You, on the other hand, do not seem like you are in a good mood.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Bullet’s laughter rings out through the bar. “Darlin’, you look like you just lost your best friend.” He nods at his shot glass and I pour him another one.

  We raise glasses again, and I take another sip to his shot. The whiskey burns my throat as it goes down, but the pain feels good. Whiskey’s not my favorite drink, but I get why people like it. It doesn’t mess around. On second thought, I tip back my head and pour the rest of the shot down my throat. Bullet makes an approving sound in his throat.

  “So what’s up with you?” Bullet asks. “I ain’t never seen you drink on the job.”

  “Oh, nothing. Maybe I feel like I did lose my best friend,” I admit. “Or maybe I just realized I don’t have a best friend to begin with.” Ugh. I should just shut up.

  “Darlin’, you’ve got lots of friends.” Bullet sweeps his hand around the room. “You know anyone here would do anything for you.”

  I pour another shot for the two of us, filling both of them to the brim. A little of the amber liquid spills over from mine. “That’s not friendship. That’s charity. I’m a charity case,” I say glumly. Tilt head. Lift glass. Burning liquid down throat.

  “Hey, whoa. Wait for me,” Bullet chuckles, tossing back his own shot. “Darlin’, you ain’t no charity case.” He leans forward, looking me in the eyes. “What’s brought this on?�
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  I stare back at him, noticing not for the first time how incredibly handsome and hot he is. Any woman who caught a second’s worth of attention from him would soak their panties through in seconds. When the other Lords bring women here to the clubhouse, I see the way they look at Bullet, with unconcealed lust on their faces. Just now, as he cocks his head and gives me a wink, I realize I could put Angel out of my mind for a little while, if I let my guard down and let Bullet in.

  You should do it, I think recklessly. Bullet would probably be amazing in bed. And I bet the next morning, things wouldn’t even be that awkward. That would show Angel that what happened between us didn’t matter to me, either. I’m gonna be looking for another job, anyway. Fuck it.

  While I’ve been arguing with myself, Bullet seems to have poured yet another round of shots for both of us. This time, I don’t even hesitate. I grab the glass and throw the liquid down my throat, slamming it on the counter afterwards.

  “What’s brought this on,” I finally answer Bullet, “is I’m sick of being invisible.”

  The whiskey is starting to take effect now, and invisible comes out a little slurred. But that doesn’t stop me from raising myself up to my full height and staring at him defiantly. He suppresses a smile and whistles low.

  “Sweetheart, you have never been invisible,” he drawls. “But I do think maybe we better slow down on those shots, before you end up taking a nap on the floor behind the bar.”

  “I don’t wanna stop,” I say obstinately, leaning back over the bar. I rest my elbow on the counter and prop my chin on my hand. “This’s good. I feel better.” I lean closer, until my face is only a few inches from his. “You have very pretty eyes, Bullet. You know that?”

  I’m flirting with him, even though I know at the last moment I’ll chicken out. I don’t want to have sex with Bullet. It’ll just make me feel worse. But I can’t lie: having such a hot, sexy man pay me some attention does take a little bit of the sting out of being ignored by Angel.

  Bullet snorts. “Thanks, darlin’. You sure you’re doin’ okay? You wanna maybe take a break? Take a little rest, up in one of the apartments?” He comes around the bar and puts an arm around me. He feels warm, and solid. In spite of myself, I sink into him.

  “No, that’s okay,” I mumble uncertainly. “I gotta do my job.”

  “Come on, now,” Bullet soothes, gently leading me away from the bar. “Just take a little nap. You’ll be good to go in an hour or so. We can do without you until then.”

  “But…” I protest, trying to pull away. I stumble once, falling into him, and he catches me up and pulls me closer. “Bullet, I’m not even that drunk,” I mutter crossly as he leads me toward the stairs. “Just let me get back behind the bar and…”

  “What the fuck are you doing?!”

  Bullet stops, which means I stop with him, falling forward and basically crashing into his chest.

  I right myself and turn around to see Angel standing there, fists clenched, eyes stormy.

  “Just takin’ Jewel upstairs, prez. She needs a little rest,” Bullet says, grinning.

  “Like hell you are,” Angel growls, taking a step forward. “Put her the fuck down.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I said. Put. Her. The. Fuck. Down.” Angel’s voice is ice. He moves closer, grabbing me by the arm. “First of all, she’s workin’. Second of all, you can have your pick of any woman around here, but you fuckin’ leave her alone. Jewel ain’t a club whore, brother.”

  I glance between the two of them in confusion. Then it hits me: Angel’s actually jealous. The selfish prick wants to be the only one to use me for his own pleasure! Sure, I’m not a club whore. Apparently, he thinks I’m just his private whore.

  A dry laugh rips at my throat. Well, fuck that.

  “Let me go,” I say coldly. Bullet instantly releases me, but Angel’s still got hold of my arm. “I said, let me go!” I cry, wrenching away from him. Angel stares down at me in surprise.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls.

  “I am not your property!”

  “This is between me and Bullet. You stay out of it,” Angel snarls, turning to confront Bullet. “You understand me, brother? Or are we gonna have a problem?”

  “Just who do you think you are?” I yell. “I’m a grown woman, Angel! If I want go with Bullet, that’s my decision, not yours!”

  “The hell it is,” Angel roars back at me. In a second, his fist shoots out, catching Bullet hard on the chin. Bullet staggers back, falling against a high-top table. A couple of stools crash to the floor as he grabs onto it, trying to right himself.

  “Jesus! Stop it!” I cry, launching myself between the two of them as Angel starts for Bullet again. Bullet stands, fist clenched and squares off against Angel, but I fly at him. “Please don’t!” I beg. “I’m sorry! This is my fault!” Turning back to Angel, I whirl around. “Bullet was only trying to take care of me!” I cry.

  “I bet he fuckin’ was,” Angel mutters darkly.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, stop it! He was worried about me because I’ve been drinking! But I’m fine! I’m not drunk!” I whirl on Angel. “And I don’t need you telling me what to do! I can make my own decisions. And pretty soon you won’t be my boss anymore, anyway!”

  Angel freezes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Fuck you, I say to him in my head. Fuck this.

  “I’m turning in my notice,” I spit. “Giving you my two weeks.”

  Angel seems to forget Bullet is even in the room. “Like hell you are,” he rasps.

  “You can’t stop me. I quit, Angel.” I draw myself up to my full height. Suddenly, all the alcohol seems to have vanished from my blood stream. “Find a new bartender.”

  I stomp back toward the bar. Behind me, there’s nothing but shocked silence. I don’t look back, though. I’ve had enough of this drama. And I’ve had enough of suffering for a man who barely even knows I’m alive.

  With trembling hands, I pick up the shot glasses and turn to the sink to wash them. I fight back tears, but this time they’re tears of rage. At myself, at Angel, at everything.

  When I turn back to the bar to put away the whiskey, Angel is standing there. His face is like stone.

  “If you’re gonna quit, you’re gonna do it right,” he says icily. “My office. Now.”

  20

  Angel

  I’m so fuckin’ furious as I stalk back to my office, it’s an effort not to punch a hole in the goddamn wall. Rage flooded my veins at the sight of Bullet leading Jewel upstairs to fuck her — I just barely restrained myself from tryin’ to kill my own brother. If Jewel hadn’t jumped between us, no telling what would have happened.

  This out of control fury takes me by surprise. I’m used to keeping a lock on my emotions. Even when I was exacting my revenge on T-Jay Wexler, I took out his eye with cold, calculating deliberation. Nothing like the all-consuming savagery I feel now — a wild animal inside me that I’m struggling to put a leash on before I’m alone in my office with Jewel, who has just told me she’s quitting.

  I push open the door and motion brusquely for her to go inside. She lifts her chin and brushes past me, refusing to meet my eyes. Without my permission, she flops down into a chair and crosses her arms, glaring at me. She looks like an angry kitten.

  I lean against the wall and flex my hand, sore from punching Bullet in his goddamn iron jaw. “Talk to me, Jewel,” I bark.

  “What?” she barks back. I roll my eyes. She’s seriously, seriously pissing me off right now with this attitude. She’s gonna fight me every goddamn step of the way right now, I can tell.

  “Tell me what the hell is going on!” I almost shout. “You’re drunk, you’re lettin’ Bullet put his hands all the fuck over you, and now you’re quitting? What the fuck is going on with you?”

  “Okay, one,” she begins to argue, holding up a finger. “I am not drunk! I have been drinking. There’s a difference.” Her middle fin
ger goes up, a little too aggressively as far as I’m concerned. “Two, Bullet was trying to help me, even though I didn’t need his help. Not that it was any of your business, by the way.” Her eyes snap with anger. “And three, I just turned in my notice, so if you have a problem with any of that, I will be more than happy to quit right now instead of putting in my two weeks. Except I don’t have my car right now,” she continues, her voice faltering for a second, “But that doesn’t matter, because I can call my brother for a ride! So just say the word and I am out of here!” she finishes defiantly, crossing one leg over the other so abruptly she almost falls over.

  Jesus. I have never seen Jewel so angry. In fact, I’ve never seen her angry at all. Somehow, it completely defuses the rage flooding through me, like an antidote, until I’m just standing there wondering what the hell has gotten her undies so bunched up. I’m tempted to let out an amused chuckle at how feisty she is right now, but I don’t, because even though it’s cute as hell — and to be honest, kind of sexy — she is dead serious. I can tell she’s just one cross word away from blowing her stack and walking out of the clubhouse door forever.

  “You do know Bullet was takin’ you upstairs to get in your fuckin’ pants, right?” I ask, a last vestige of jealous rage slipping out in spite of me trying to control my damn self.

  “Oh, my God, Angel, would you let it go?” she cries. “No he wasn’t! And even if he was, what of it? We’re both adults! Stop treating me like a child you have to protect! Why the hell do you even care, anyway?”

  The direct challenge in her eyes isn’t something I’m prepared for. I don’t have an answer for that. Not one I’m prepared to say, anyway. “What’s the deal with you quittin’, Jewel?” I ask instead in a gruff voice. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you talk to me if somethin’ wasn’t right?”

  My question seems to suddenly deflate her like a balloon. Jewel’s eyes flick away from me, to a spot somewhere on the wall. She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I’ve been working here for more than seven years, Angel,” she says tiredly. She reaches up and pulls the elastic band out of her ponytail, letting her hair fall free around her face. “It’s time for me to move on. The Lords have been good to me. But let’s face it. This is a dead end job. I need to find something more. Something where I actually have some sort of a future.”