One Taste of Angel

by Violetta Rand

  If I don’t tell Bear who I am, he’s going to rape me.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Eagle

  The next morning, three more brothers show up at the cabin. Tonsils sent two additional members to search Shreveport and the surrounding area yesterday. I’m a madman, unable to stay calm. Angel might be dead, it’s a reality I face now. This situation reeks of revenge—Dead Dog style.

  After making a dozen phone calls and getting nowhere, Cannon brings me a cup of coffee and his cell phone. “I think you need to take this call,” he says.

  “Who the fuck is it?”

  “Tito.”

  “Tito?”

  “Lazaro’s cousin.”

  The motherfucker who tried to rape Angel? I hold the phone to my ear. “Don’t waste my time,” I warn.

  “Missing something you want back?” he asks.

  I slam my fist on the table and lean forward in my chair. “Where the fuck is my wife?”

  “Calm down, vato,” he says.

  “Where is she?”

  “Safe for the moment,” he answers. “But I can’t guarantee it for too long. Its gonna cost you.”

  I switch the phone to speaker. “How much?”

  “Twenty G’s, bro.”

  “Where and when?”

  Cannon writes all the information down while I keep the lecherous bastard on the phone. When he’s finished giving me the details, I give him dire warning. “If this turns out to be bullshit, Tito, I’m coming for you.”

  He chuckles. “I just want the money.” He hangs up.

  Luckily I have a safe stocked with fifty thousand in untraceable bills. It doesn’t take long to gather the money and ride to the rendezvous point Tito designated. Three of us arrive at a pavilion on the Red River, five miles from the cabin.

  An hour later, a late model Ford pickup truck slowly approaches us from the south. It parks a few yards away from our bikes and two men get out. One has a high-powered rifle and points it in our direction while Tito struts over, confident he’s safe.

  It takes everything I have to keep from beating the shit out of Tito and then putting a bullet through his skull. I pat the Glock I keep in my waistband. Cannon steps in front of me and deals directly with the motherfucker.

  “There’s twenty thousand in this envelope,” Cannon says. “Show me what you got.”

  Tito offers him a pile of photographs. After Cannon thumbs through them, he hands them to me.

  There’s shots of Angel and I from outside her apartment in Texarkana, at the cabin, and in Holly Beach. Even one of us making love in the front yard a couple days ago. I crumple the photos and drop them on the ground, growling as I launch myself at Tito. I grab a fistful of his shirt and land two punches on his face before his partner shouts.

  “Touch him again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

  I immediately back off.

  “Enough evidence to get your attention, bro?” Tito asks.

  I nod.

  “Give me the money.”

  Cannon turns it over and Tito tears the envelope open, eyes the content, then gestures at his friend. “Start the truck,” he orders.

  “Where is she?” I ask, losing it.

  “The address is written on a piece of paper taped on the roof of the pavilion,” he says. “Don’t make a move until we drive away.”

  He walks backward at first, grinning. Then he turns and makes a run for his vehicle. As the truck drives away, Cannon is the first to pull himself up and scramble to the top of the shelter.

  “Got it!” he shouts and hops down with a piece of paper in his hand. “Sonofabitch,” he says. “She’s in a warehouse on the west side of Shreveport.”

  We rush to our bikes and I make a quick call to Tonsils, letting him know where we’re going.

  As we fly down the highway, doing a hundred in a fifty-five-mile zone, all I think about is finding her dead. How will I live without her again? I try to shake the fear off, letting what shreds of hope remain inside my heart. It’s not working. The lines in the center of the road fade in and out as I envision her death—hear her cry out in pain.

  We park half a mile away from the building and walk the rest of the way. This part of Shreveport is all industrial buildings, half of them abandoned after the financial collapse a few years ago. As we walk, a compact car zips by, but we don’t see anyone else around.

  The building where Angel is allegedly being held is surrounded by a chain-link fence with barbed wire across the top. There are holes in the fencing, though, and the exterior of the warehouse is dilapidated. I spot two Harleys parked along the side of the building. I motion for Cannon and Big Jim to surround the structure and await a text message to go inside. Before we make a move, I want to know what we’re facing. I won’t gamble with Angel’s life.

  I’d rather die than see a hair on her beautiful head hurt.

  Serafina

  Bear circles me again and again, taunting me, threatening to rape me. I’m sitting in the middle of the mattress, my knees tucked under my chin, long past the point of crying and begging him to leave me alone.

  Last night he personally served my dinner, oatmeal laced with maggots. I took one look in the bowl and threw it against the wall. He laughed and left the cell, leaving me hungry and afraid. Then, early in the morning, he offered me a stale granola bar, which I greedily took and devoured. Now he wants to collect payment for giving me something safe to eat.

  “Pull your pants down and show me that pussy,” he says.

  I shake my head.

  “Want me to do it for you?”

  I glare at him, knowing he doesn’t make empty threats. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?” I ask.

  He rakes his fingers through his greasy hair. “I don’t kiss my mama, but I do plenty of things to her.”

  The long-awaited confession. Yeah, I know, asshole.

  He slinks closer, obviously turned on by the idea of taking me by force. Only after it reaches a certain point will I break down and tell him who I really am. I’d rather get beaten to death or shot than have his hands on my body again. Even Bear isn’t capable of incest—I hope.

  “Look at those perfect tits,” he comments, kneeling on the end of the pallet, just out of my reach. “I want to suck those nipples and stick my fingers inside you.”

  Every time he says something like that, a part of me dies inside. Please God. Send Eagle. Send anyone. I’m willing to fuck my way to freedom if I have to, just not with my insane brother. Let one of the other Dead Dogs claim me.

  He grabs my ankle and yanks so hard I fall back. As he climbs up my body, I club the side of his face with my hands. It doesn’t do anything to dissuade him. In fact, violence turns him on more. He straddles my hips and holds my hands over my head with one hand and lifts my bra with the other, ogling my exposed flesh.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he says, dipping down to taste me.

  Just as I’m about to scream out that I’m Angel, someone comes into the room.

  “Evander!” a woman’s voice sounds, using my brother’s real name.

  Bear freezes and his face flushes, like he’s heard the voice of a ghost.

  I lift my head, fighting to break free from his grasp. “Let me go, goddamnit!”

  I hear a click and that’s when Bear releases me, rolling off of my body, and turning around.

  My mother is standing just inside the doorway with a gun pointed at her only son. I gasp and cry out to her. “Mom . . . please.”

  “Angelique?” she asks, slowly coming closer. “I didn’t believe it. Someone called me and told me my daughter was alive and gave me this address and I just knew I had to come. Hold on for a minute longer, baby.” She frowns at Bear, her handgun still pointed at his chest. “All your life you’ve been nothing but trouble—a curse to anyone who had the misfortune of meeting you. I tried, Lord knows. Tried to love you, tried to set you on the right path.”

  “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Bear finally breaks his silence. “And why did you call that bitch Angelique?” He looks at me, hatred in his eyes.

  “Why, Evander? Why did you and your brother get your father killed? Why did you target your only sister? Get me addicted to drugs? Destroy our family?”

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still confused by the idea of me being Angel. “We were never a family,” he spits. “And that bitch isn’t my sister.” He climbs to his feet and staggers in my direction. “Angel didn’t look like that.”

  “Get away from her,” Mom commands, waving her gun. “Now.”

  He laughs. “What are you going to do, shoot me?” He keeps coming and that’s when the pop-pop sound echoes in the room.

  I scream and everything goes black.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Eagle

  “Cannon, check Angel.” Though I want to take her in my arms, I’m going to finish what I started first. I stalk to Bear’s side, brushing past his mother, and then jam my boot in his ribs, seeing if he’s still alive. He groans and I smile. “Told you I’d get you alone one day,” I say.

  Hardly able to move, he lifts his head, holding his shoulder and bleeding from his mouth. The shot to the head only grazed his cheek. “Eagle,” he whispers.

  “Yeah,” I confirm. “Time to pay your debt.” I turn to his mother, pluck the gun out of her shaky hands, and give it to Big Jim. I’m more than sympathetic to her situation. “I don’t know who tipped you off, but I’m grateful for what you did to protect my wife.”

  She stares at me for a long moment. “Is she really, Angel?”

  We both eye Cannon. “I’ll explain everything later. Do you have a car?”

  “In the back.”

  “Leave with Cannon. Take Angel to the cabin.”

  I watch as Cannon uses the handcuff key on his chain to free her hands. Then he lifts my unconscious wife off the mattress and cradles her gently in his arms. I nod at him and he walks out of the room with Angel’s mom in tow.

  “What do you want to do with the asshole?” Big Jim asks.

  We both hover over Bear. He’s still alive and slipping in and out of consciousness. If I call an ambulance, he might survive. But the line in the sand has been crossed. There’s no mercy left to give. No sanctuary for a Dead Dog motherfucker who was about to rape my wife—his own sister.

  I spit on his face. “Sit him up,” I direct Big Jim.

  He kneels beside Bear and forces him up. Bear mumbles something incomprehensible. I walk to the mattress where Angel was lying and grab a bottled water off the floor. Twisting the cap open, I fling it across the room, and then return to where Bear is sitting on the concrete. I dump the whole bottle over his head, enjoying the way his eyes pop open, stunned and in pain.

  “Where’s my mother?” he asks.

  “Gone,” I say.

  “And your bitch?”

  Growling, I pull my Glock out, twist my fingers in Bear’s long hair, and force his head back. Our gazes lock. He’s cognizant enough to know what’s about to happen. “That bitch is my wife, your sister, Angel.”

  “That’s a fucking lie.”

  I’m in his face, our foreheads touching. Big Jim stands up and retreats several steps, leaving me to deal with him. “Angel wasn’t murdered. She staged her own death to get away from you. To start a new life. And now we’re married. There’s nothing you can do to ever hurt her again.” I chamber a round and hold the gun to his temple. “Say hello to Reggie for me.” I pull the trigger and blow half his head off.

  Blood spatters across my face and chest and covers the wall behind him. I don’t care. I’m numb to anything associated with the Dead Dogs, especially Angel’s brothers. I’m responsible for both of their deaths now. Justifiable homicides. Like plague, these two were a threat to public safety. No one will miss Bear. Just like no one mourned Reggie’s loss except the junkies he sold meth to.

  Big Jim taps my shoulder from behind and I slowly rise, unable to look away from Bear’s corpse.

  “We need to get out of here,” my brother says.

  I hold my hand up. “Take a picture of that motherfucker.”

  “Understood,” Big Jim says.

  I leave the room and make my way outside. When I step into the sunshine, I’m shocked to find a dozen brothers waiting for me.

  “Jesus Christ,” Tonsils says as he rushes over. “What happened?” He brushes a chunk of brain matter off my cut.

  “The Dead Dogs are without a president today,” I inform him. “Angel is safe.”

  “That’s solid, brother.” We fist bump.

  “Burn the place down after Big Jim comes outside.” Done with everything, I walk through the open gates and down the road. Once I reach the place where I parked my bike, I drop to my knees and thank God for giving me yet another chance with my beloved Angel.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Eagle

  As soon as I get back to the cabin, I take a long, cold shower in the outdoor bathroom where we wash up after a hunt. One of the brothers brings me a fresh set of clothes. My cut needs to be cleaned and I hand it off to the prospect in the kitchen making coffee. He takes one look at the blood-soaked leather, nods, and hurries outside to do whatever it takes to make it wearable again.

  Angel is resting peacefully in the bedroom, her mother keeping watch from a bedside chair. I step inside and she stands. “No need to get up, Miranda,” I say. “How is she?”

  Our gazes meet. “Considering everything she’s been through . . .” Her sorrow-laced eyes flick to her daughter. “She’s strong.”

  “Yes,” I agree, sitting on the edge of the mattress by Angel’s feet. “As far as I’m concerned, you redeemed yourself back there.”

  “No,” she disagrees. “What you said to me at the cemetery holds true . . . where was I when my sons wanted to sell Angel like a farm animal? I failed miserably as a mother. Choosing drugs over my family—losing myself in the grief following my husband’s death. I should have done better for my kids.” Tears stream down her face.

  I reach for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t know the details behind your addiction before.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Angel is in possession of some hard-core evidence that your sons purposely targeted you by lacing your drinks with drugs.”

  She sucks in a breath, looking surprised and heartbroken. “Reggie and Evander didn’t exactly make me drink. That addiction started long before the drugs.”

  “I understand more than you know,” I offer, remembering how much I drank after I thought Angel had died. “Evander didn’t make it.”

  She nods. “I didn’t think he would.” She stands up and heads for the door.

  “Stay at the cabin for a while. I’m sure Angel will want to see you.”

  After she shuts the door, I climb into bed with my wife. I wrap my protective arms around her, holding her as close as I can, letting her cheek rest against my chest so she can feel what she does to me. She’s the reason my heart beats at all. Running my fingers through the length of her blond hair, I close my eyes and try to remember a time when we were just able to relax and enjoy life.

  From the beginning, Angel and I faced opposition. No longer. I won’t let anyone or anything get in the way of our happiness again. She deserves better. I deserve better.

  Just as my eyes start to close, Angel shifts and lets out a tiny moan. Desperate to talk to her and look into those deep brown eyes, I sit up, taking her with me.

  “Eagle?”

  “Hey, baby.” I kiss the top of her head.

  “W-where are we?”

  “Home.”

  “Holly Beach?”

  “At the cabin.”

  She pulls back and looks up at me. “Oh, God.” She covers her face with both hands. “It feels like someone drove a spike through the middle of my skull, I have the worst headache. Where’s my mother? My brother?”

  I wanted to spare her all the details until I
was sure she felt stronger. But she has a right to know everything. “Miranda is here.”

  “She saved me from Bear.”

  “I know, baby. I know,” I soothe as I rub her back. “That’s why I asked her to stay with us for a bit. I’m sure the two of you need some quality time together.”

  “And Bear?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone? As in sent away?”

  “Dead.”

  She swallows and doesn’t say a word.

  “Did my mother . . .”

  “No,” I say. “She didn’t need to.”

  “What about the Dead Dogs? Won’t there be retaliation? The police?”

  I hold my finger to her lips. “Shh. There’s nothing to connect us to his death. I promise. That’s all you need to know.” Inquisitive by nature, Angel will take a while to get used to the no-questions policy the old ladies are expected to follow. It’s better that way. “Did he hurt you?” I finally ask, hoping to stop the pain eating away at me inside.

  “No,” she whispers. “Almost.”

  “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

  “No.” She sinks back down, resting her head on my shoulder. “I just want to stay here with you. Forget everything. Pretend we’re just two normal people starting our lives together. You’re a plumber and I’m a grad student. We just bought our first home and adopted a puppy from the local animal shelter.”

  I chuckle at her imagination. Angel always talked about the way things should be. The way she wished she’d grown up. “All right, Mrs. Perfect,” I say, playing along. “If I’m condemned to be a turd chaser for the rest of my life, what’s your future career?”

  “Interior design.”

  “Interior design?” I repeat. “That’s a frivolous job.”

  She slaps my arm playfully. “Someone needs to beautify the world.”

  I squeeze her tight. “You do that by just being here, baby.”

  “I love you, Eagle. I’m sorry you had to get your hands dirty for me again.”

  Upset that she thinks she needs to apologize for something she didn’t have any control over, I shift away from her, easing her onto her back so I can look directly in her eyes. “Why are you apologizing, Angel?”