One Taste of Angel

by Violetta Rand

  My brothers agree.

  Time to put the idea to a vote. “All in favor of bringing Angel Orani here, say aye.”

  It’s unanimous. For the first time since the inception of the Iron Norsemen, a woman is going to attend church.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Serafina

  Two days after my confrontation with Eagle, the big biker standing guard outside of my apartment finally knocks on the door in the late afternoon. I’ve been wondering if the guy ever needs to take a piss or eat. I open the door.

  “There’s a car waiting for you.”

  “Excuse me?” I didn’t ask for a ride anywhere. In fact, I don’t know anything about anyone, I’ve been locked up for two days.

  “Pack an overnight bag and let’s go.”

  I look him up and down. He’s twice the size of Eagle and a bit older. Scary. Like some kind of barbarian in a movie. I retreat a step, refusing to cower or get pushed around. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Yes you are.” He steps inside uninvited. “We can do this the hard way or you can come peacefully.”

  “Where’s Eagle?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “How can you expect me to cooperate if you won’t tell me anything? For all I know, you’re going to slit my throat and feed me to the gators.”

  My concerns elicit a laugh. “If Eagle wanted you dead, you’d be gone already.”

  True. “Where are we going? Can I get your name at least?”

  “Cannon.”

  I roll my eyes. Of course it is. “How original.”

  “About as original as Angel Orani,” he shoots back.

  Then I know. Eagle told his brothers what happened. I’m wanted for questioning and my future hangs in the balance. “I need to go to my bedroom.”

  “Hurry up.”

  Five minutes later, I’m escorted to a black van with tinted windows waiting in the parking lot. The side door opens and another guy I don’t recognize, wearing Iron Norsemen patches, greets me. “Climb up, Angel. My name is Garrett.”

  I pause. Cannon tosses my bag inside and glares at me. “Need me to carry you?”

  “No.” I step up and my hands are immediately tied behind my back and then I’m pushed down in a nearby captain’s chair and seat-belted in. “Are the restraints necessary?”

  “Just a precaution,” Garrett says as he slides the door shut and taps on the ceiling. The driver starts the engine and the van drives away from my building. “Eagle wouldn’t like it if our precious cargo got away.”

  “Eagle doesn’t like anything about me,” I complain. “If I get lost on the way, you’d be doing him a favor.”

  Six hours later, we arrive in Holly Beach. I’m not thrilled at the idea of being back here, not under these circumstances. If ever. The ride here was uneventful. We stopped once for burgers and a second time so I could go to the bathroom in the woods. Fortunately, Garrett took pity on my sore wrists and retied my hands in the front. So when he helps me down from the van, which is parked next to the Iron Norsemen’s clubhouse, I’m able to walk with some dignity.

  I’m rushed inside. There’s no one there. I’m surprised when Garrett ushers me to the one place I know women aren’t welcome. He knocks on the door to the meeting room and I hear Eagle say, “Come in.”

  My heart instantly starts to flutter. Garrett places me at the opposite end of the long table from where Eagle is seated. The overhead lights are off, but there’s two torch lamps on. If Eagle is trying for ambiance to set the tone of what’s about to take place, the only thing he’s accomplished is making me wish we were in his bedroom together. Not here.

  I sink into a high-backed leather chair while Garrett walks across the room to where Eagle is waiting. They exchange words and then Garrett leaves us alone.

  I gaze around the spacious room. The side wall is a monument to the fallen members of the MC—their patches and photographs perfectly displayed. The Iron Norsemen patch is painted on the other main wall, their motto scrolled across the top—FEAR NONE, RESPECT FEW. The conference table can accommodate dozens of men; I count thirty-eight chairs.

  “What do you want me to call you—Serafina or Angel?”

  “Which do you prefer?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should come up with a hybrid of both names,” he says sarcastically, pain evident in his eyes.

  “Whatever turns you on, Eagle.”

  “This isn’t a fucking game,” he says. “All of this . . .” He gestures between us with his hands. “Was a big fucking mistake.”

  I stare at him, admiring his chiseled features. Even when he’s angry, Caleb is beautiful. “At the cabin or in my apartment?”

  His purses his lips. “You think I’m just talking about the sex?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about exactly, Eagle. I don’t believe you, though. Or do you want me to call you Caleb?”

  He pounds his fist on the table. “Unbelievable. Some things never change. You’re still a smartass.”

  “You never seemed to mind it before.”

  “That was a lifetime ago.”

  “If you’ll just give me a chance to explain . . .”

  “That’s why you’re here. Only I won’t be a part of it. I’ve recused myself based on our sordid history. Tonsils will oversee the interview. The only reason we’re alone is because I wanted to ask you a specific question.”

  “Why? It appears as if you’ve already made up your mind about me.”

  “Maybe I have.” He stands up. “This is personal, Angel, and has no impact on the MC.”

  I can’t believe he said my name. I close my eyes for a brief second, letting the emotions roll over me. “Ask me anything.” I open my eyes again.

  “Why did you sleep with me at the cabin? You were a fucking virgin.”

  He’s confused and angry. So am I. For too many reasons to explain. “Do you really need to ask, Eagle? Think about it. You loved me. We adored each other. What other man could I have possibly given myself to?”

  He rubs his face, glaring at me. “I’m sure you had plenty of offers.”

  “Maybe,” I say noncommittally. “Do you think I changed my identity and moved to Texarkana to party?”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  I snort. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  He comes at me and stops short of my chair. “So help me . . .”

  “What? You want to fuck me again, Eagle? Need to be inside me but can’t admit it because it’ll make you look weak? Give me an advantage?” I use my legs to slide the chair back from the table. “Look at me. What danger can I possibly pose to you tied up? I’m just the girl you loved. The woman you swore to protect no matter what. Well, guess what, asshat. This situation qualifies as a no matter what.” I’m baiting him on purpose, using the only weapon I have at my disposal, my body. If I can get him to open up to me this way, he might listen to me after.

  His jaws tighten. “Angel.”

  Hearing my real name slip from his mouth is the best kind of aphrodisiac. My body ignites. “Eagle. Please . . .”

  He’s on me. He lifts me from the chair and spins me around, leaning me over the table. I thank whatever higher power deserves the credit for granting me the foresight to wear a skirt today. Eagle shoves it above my waist and yanks my panties aside. Warm, thick fingers invade my core and he groans.

  “So fucking wet,” he hisses.

  “For you,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I deserve to suffer some. And I want him so desperately. I want him to fill and stretch me, to claim me again. To make me his old lady. I want to be patched—permanently marked as property of Eagle and the Iron Norsemen.

  He withdraws his fingers and I hear him unbuckling his belt. The anticipation is killing me as I struggle to get comfortable, the edge of the table biting into my stomach.

  First entry is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. My insides light up, all my nerve endings tingling with pleasure. His movements are methodical. He f
eeds me every inch of his cock, then pulls out so slowly. Every fifth or sixth stroke he hammers deep, taking the edge off, but then slows down again.

  He leans over me, sweeping my hair aside, exposing my neck. He nibbles lightly, then bites. “Why?” he whispers in my ear. “Why did you leave me, Angel?”

  “Because I loved you. I wanted to save your life.”

  He freezes. I can hear his heavy breathing, his fingers still circling up my back. I’m quickly flipped over and spread out on the table. Eagle pulls my flats off my feet. “Bend your knees, baby.”

  I do as he asks, balancing my heels on the edge of the table. I tilt my hips upward as he positions himself between my legs, so ready to feel him inside me again. So ready to come with him.

  “Tell me again, Angel.”

  “I love you.”

  He grips me by the hips, tugging me closer, impaling me on one thrust. This time I can see and feel the love radiating from inside him. Though he still has some doubts about me, he can’t keep those feelings hidden. Not when we’re joined like this, not when our gazes are locked, seeing the best and worst of each other. Not after we survived what we did. Not after we loved so hard. Love like that never fades. It just grows into something more potent and powerful—completely uncontainable.

  I stifle the cry when my orgasm hits, knowing he’s doing the same thing. His face contorts with pleasure and pain. “Angel,” he says. “God help me, but I still love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Eagle

  Angel has hardly had time to finish cleaning herself up in the half bath located inside the meeting room when the doors open and Tonsils and five other brothers join us. I’m seated in my regular spot, waiting for her to come out, wanting to see her face a last time before I go. No matter what happens, the girl knows how I feel deep inside. I never stopped loving Angel Orani, but I would have patched Serafina in as my old lady. I was falling for her.

  Tonsils makes a strange face and sniffs the air, then throws me a what-the-fuck look. He knows we had sex. I shrug. What can I say?

  “Did she tell you anything new?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, stretching my arms above my head. “I believe she’s prepared to tell the truth. Angel was never a liar.”

  She emerges from the bathroom, looking as fresh as she did when she first arrived. Her gaze darts from me to her old friend, Tonsils. “Hi,” she says, sounding nervous.

  Tonsils gives her a sideways look. “Is it really you, Angel?”

  “Yes,” she says, claiming the chair Garrett left her in.

  I untied her hands after we made love. There’s no reason to disrespect her like that, she doesn’t pose a threat to anyone but me. And rope can’t protect the part of my body she’s capable of destroying. My heart is already wide open. What she chooses to do with it will likely determine my future.

  I walk to the doors. “I’ll be in the dining room, no matter how long it takes.” I don’t direct my words at anyone specific because I want Angel and Tonsils to both understand I’m here for them. I close the doors, intent on having a double shot of Jack Daniels.

  Serafina

  Tonsils introduces the brothers before he sits down. At least I know him. Whether I can depend on him to be fair remains to be seen. They’re under the impression I conspired with someone to hurt Eagle and the club. That’s the only reason I’m here. My faked death obviously caused some nasty fallout, but I’d do it all over again if I knew Eagle would live.

  “Angel, before we get started, I want you to know, I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “Thanks, Tonsils.”

  “However,” he says, “it doesn’t change what you did. This club bled for you, girl.” He points to the memorial wall. “Remember Panther? Davy Crockett?”

  How could I forget them? Panther always used to tease me about how young I was. As for Crockett, he wore a raccoon cap like his historical namesake. “I do.”

  “Crockett took a bullet for you. Panther got caught in the crossfire in the same fight. We attacked the Dead Dog stronghold because we thought they murdered you, Angel.”

  My shoulders droop and tears fill my eyes. There’s no words worthy enough to express the totality of my sadness. “I’m deeply sorry,” I say. “But I had to protect Eagle. And myself.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Bear told me he put a hit out on Eagle for twenty-five thousand dollars, the base value of the first bid on me for the auction. My brothers were intent on brokering a profitable match and expanding their powerbase. Sixteen-year-old virgins are a rare commodity these days.”

  A brother snorts.

  “I understand that part,” Tonsils says. “But you were here with us. Protected and safe.”

  “For how long?” I ask. “Until the Dead Dogs picked you off one by one? I knew my brothers. Reggie was the worst. I know that’s why Eagle killed him.”

  “Eagle killed him because he thought he was responsible for your death. Do you know how it affected Eagle? He changed overnight. Became half the man he used to be. Drowned his sorrow in whiskey and pussy like a fucking maniac with no reason left to live. You did that, girl. Left him exposed and careless. That’s how Reggie got his hands on him. Plucked him out of a whore’s bed in the middle of the night and dragged him to a warehouse.”

  “Bear kept in close contact with me after I started living here. Every day he bombarded me with threatening emails and texts on what he was going to do to both of us if he ever got his hands on me or Eagle. I was sixteen, Tonsils—a stupid kid afraid to even take a breath. What did you want me to do? Eagle wouldn’t let me go anywhere alone. I couldn’t leave the clubhouse unescorted.”

  I bang my hand on the table, frustrated. “How many times do you think I could handle being told my nipples were going to be cut off and shoved down my throat? Or that the Dead Dogs knew a woman from Yemen who specialized in female circumcision, and for a nominal fee she’d be happy to perform the surgery on me. She even guaranteed her work, convinced my brothers that women without clitorises were more obedient and faithful to their husbands.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me or tell Eagle what was going on?”

  I shake my head. “You’d already done so much. How could I ask you to face more danger? To risk your lives for the sister of the president of your arch rival?”

  “You were raised in an MC, Angel,” Blue says. “Surely you understood what it meant. We take care of our own.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Your own. Not me. Not a Dead Dog.”

  “Women aren’t patched members,” Tonsils points out. “There was no reason . . .”

  “You’re wrong!” I jump up. “Two things happened you know nothing about. The first one I can prove. I need my cell phone.”

  Tonsils gestures at one of the brothers on the far side of the table. He immediately leaves the room.

  “And the second issue?” Blue presses.

  “You’ll have to take my word on.”

  “Tell us,” Tonsils says.

  “Do you remember a girl named Allison Giles? She lived on First Street with her alcoholic mother.”

  “Yeah,” Tonsils says. “A mousy thing.”

  “Shy,” I correct him, still protective of my former best friend. “Bear called me one night and told me he’d kidnapped Allison after school. I begged him to let her go, to send her home. He told me there was no reason to, that he’d left her at the park. It was two o’clock in the morning when I slipped out of here, hoping to find Allison.”

  “Did you?” Blue asks.

  “Yeah, I found her.” Hot tears make it hard to see clearly, but I swipe them away. “I found her in a ditch without any pants on, bleeding profusely from her rectum.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Tonsils says.

  “I got her home and cleaned her up as best I could. I stayed the rest of the night with her. She was in bad shape. The next day an ambulance took her away. I never saw her again. Never heard from her again. And her mother died a y
ear later. I questioned Bear. He said five of the Dead Dogs raped her repeatedly, and if I didn’t come home, they’d do the same to Belle.”

  “My wife?” Tonsils shoots up from his chair.

  “Yes.” It pains me to share these details after all this time, but they need to understand my reasoning from back then. I never meant to hurt anyone, only to protect the only real family I’d ever had.

  There’s a long pause in the conversation then. I know my words have hit them hard. Allison’s story is enough to silence most men. The door opens and we all turn. I spot my cell phone in Charlie’s hand. That thing is more than just a means of communication to me, it’s a lifeline. I hold my hand out but Tonsils takes it from Charlie first.

  “No games, Angel.”

  “No games,” I repeat.

  I quickly scroll through my files. “Eagle always blamed my mother for what happened to me. But he’s wrong. After my father was murdered, Reggie and Bear lost it. Started hanging out with the wrong people, drug dealers and gang members. That’s how they met the Dead Dogs. Reggie became a hangaround, invited by some asshole twice his age. My mother tried to put an end to it. He was only fifteen.”

  “Hobbit,” Blue and Tonsils say at the same time.

  “My mother didn’t know anything about MCs. As soon as Reggie’s grades started to slip and he refused to keep curfew, Mom drove down to the Dead Dog compound and marched right in like she owned the place. It didn’t go well. She threatened to call the police.”

  I show them a series of photos featuring Reggie shooting my mother up with meth and heroin. “Proof for the Dead Dogs. Instead of having her killed, the president thought it would be profitable to make her a long-term customer. Reggie used to slip powder in her coffee and water. She got addicted pretty quick. Soon the powder form wasn’t enough, she needed a more potent delivery. Reggie would get her drunk and then shoot her up. That’s how he earned his patch so quickly. The youngest member in the history of their club.”

  My phone is passed around. The evidence is damning.