by LeAnn Ashers
“Angel.”
Opening my eyes, I immediately see Jordan, who is lying next to me, propped up by his arm.
“Hey,” I say sleepily and rise, kissing him loudly on the mouth. I lie back down and tuck the blanket under my neck.
Jordan moves his arm behind himself, and when his arm comes back around, he has a small, black box in his hand.
Is that…
My stomach drops, and I sit up. Jordan smiles at me and reaches for my left hand.
Oh my God.
I gulp and stare at the black box as he opens it. Right there in the center is a ring. There’s a huge diamond in the middle, and the band has small little diamonds on it.
“Angel, marry me? I want to be by your side forever. Loving you, protecting you, making you happy, and most of all, I fucking love you, angel, and I want to spend the rest of my life doing just that.”
Oh my God! “Yes!” I scream really loud and then burst out crying because I want this more than anything else in this world.
He grins and slides the ring on my finger.
I grip his face between my hands and look into his eyes. “I love you too, more than anything.” I kiss him and climb onto his lap, my legs on either side of him.
I slide one of my hands between us. I grab his hard dick and place it at my entrance. I slide down on it and moan into his mouth. Taking my lips from his, I rest my forehead against his as I move.
His hands are on my back, gliding up and down, leaving goose bumps on my skin. “My turn.”
I’m flipped onto my back, and I laugh as he takes over. He slams inside me, and I cry out. He pounds inside me, and we both come a minute or so later.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I have never been happier in my life. I didn’t think life could get any better.
But I was wrong.
It’s been two months since I got engaged to Jordan. His mother was over-the-moon happy, his dad was happy for us, but the MC was over-the-top happy, especially the girls I have gotten very close to.
Lanie is moving to town in three months or so to be closer to her brother, but we all know the real reason—Trey and Vinny.
My phone rings on the kitchen counter, and I walk over, pick it up and answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, girl. I’ll be over in fifteen! Be ready!” Jean says and then hangs up.
Jordan walks in the room, so I tell him, “Babe, Jean will be over in fifteen. I guess we are going out.”
“I will tell one of the prospects to join you guys.”
I nod and quickly kiss him on the lips before hurrying up the stairs to slip some clothes on.
I hurry and get dressed. I walk down the stairs and into the living room and look out. I see Jean in her car with two prospects behind her.
“Babe, she’s here!” I yell. Walking over to the door, I slip on my sandals. “Give me some love, Jordan!” I yell, and I hear him laughing before he walks into the living room.
I meet him halfway and make a smooching sound with my mouth. He laughs and bends down, kissing me soundly on the lips. After reaching my arm behind him and bringing my hand down to his ass, I slide my hand farther and grab his balls. I give a light squeeze, and he jumps.
Whack!
His hand lands hard against my left butt cheek, and I grab his bottom lip between my teeth, pulling while slightly biting.
Jordan gives me a smothering, hot look. “When you get home, this ass is mine.”
Smirking, I peck his lips. “Can’t wait.”
“Come on!” Jean yells.
I pull away from him. I turn around, grab my phone off the couch, and stuff it in my back pocket. Jean is standing outside the door, waiting for me. I step outside onto the porch and shut the door.
We get inside of her car, and Chrystal and Shaylin are in the back. Jean starts the car, backs up, turns, then speeds out of the driveway. There are two prospects behind us. The gate opens and we are out. I totally expected to see Butch hanging out but he’s not there.
“Y’all ready to bust in some heads?”
Huh? I arch my head back in shock and I look at Jean. What did she mean?
She catches me looking and grins. “My sister is leaving her man because he hit her. So we have to help her move, but the ex is there. I have to beat his ass for touching my sister, of course.”
Well, fuck me!
“Let’s do this!” Shaylin yells.
Then I hear a loud cracking sound. Shaylin is holding one of those Tasers that shoots out, like, twenty feet and the prongs stab them.
Chrystal raises her hands, and she has pink brass knuckles on. “There’s a baseball bat for you under the seat.”
Okay, then.
Now that I think about it, it pisses me off that a man thinks he has the right to put his hands on a woman. A man should never do that. Ever. Doesn’t matter what she’s done. A man should never hit her.
I know that life. I lived it, and nobody ever should have to. Jean’s sister is getting out, and this guy needs a lesson, and that lesson is him getting his ass beat by a woman.
“Yeah, let’s do this.” I reach under the seat and grab the bat.
We pull up outside a small, white house and park beside a truck. There’s a car closer to the front porch with clothes spilling out of the open trunk, and some are on the ground. Why do I get a bad feeling?
Jean jumps out, and I step out, carrying the baseball bat. The others climb out behind me, and we follow Jean, who is sprinting up the porch. Speeding up, I hurry after her, not wanting her to get hurt.
Inside the house, a woman who resembles Jean is holding her face, and she has a split lip and a black eye. My guess is the fucker just hit her again. He looks around at us, and I grin. This man is nothing, and he is about to get his ass beat. I hear the prospects turn off, and I know they won’t follow because Jean told them not to because it’s her sister’s house.
He looks at Jean then to her sister. “Stupid bitch! You had to call in the MC whores!” he yells.
Oh, hell no!
Swinging my baseball bat, I hit him hard right on the kneecap. He screams like the little girl he is and hits the floor. He lifts his right hand, and I swing again, hitting him on the wrist. I hear a noticeable breaking sound. Oops, I must have broken his hand.
He screams again and starts crying.
Shaking my head in disgust, I step back and let someone else have a turn. Nobody makes a sound, and I look over at Jean. She has her phone out, recording what’s going on.
Damn.
“My turn!” Chrystal yells in a singsong voice. She fixes her brass knuckles and punches him straight in the face.
His head bounces back, and she throws another punch, and he hits the floor, groaning. She steps back, and Shaylin steps forward. She raises her Taser and shoots him. He starts shaking and screaming. Then I hear someone running up the porch, and I look over just as the prospects step in. They take in the scene, their eyes wide.
“What the fuck in going on?” One of them steps inside, walks over to Shaylin, and takes the Taser from her.
All she does is smile.
“Fuck, call the men. We are getting our asses beat.” The one who took Shaylin’s taser voices defeat.
The man on the floor starts yelling, “Help!”
Jean’s sister comes to life and walks over to him, kicking him in the face. “Oh, shut the fuck up!”
Shit. We are told we can’t leave and our men are on the way. I am really going to get my ass spanked tonight, but what am I going to do? He hit her again, and I can’t let that slide. A man like that needs to be taken off his pedestal.
For the next twenty minutes, we help Jean’s sister pack her stuff and put it in her car. Then the men pull up. Every single member of the whole club. Yep. We are in so much trouble.
They all park on the street and walk side by side over to us like they’re in some kind of action movie. Jordan is staring directly at me with a pissed-off expression. I smile sweetly at him, and h
is eyes narrow.
Yep, in so much trouble.
“Hi, honey,” Chrystal says to Kyle, and his lips twitch slightly.
“What did you do?” Jordan says once he reaches me.
Clearing my throat, I nervously look around at everyone. “He hit Jean’s sister and I may have gotten carried away with the”—I lower my voice—“baseball bat.”
Jordan’s face softens, and I step forward, wanting him to hold me. He sighs deeply, his nose flaring with expressed emotion. Stepping forward again, I wrap my arms around him, placing my head to his chest, snuggling into him, I close my eyes, breathing in my man’s scent.
“Well, let’s go see the fucker the women beat up,” Vinny says.
Trey follows after him. They burst out laughing, and I smile into Jordan’s chest.
“I have a video!” Jean yells, and then everyone’s phones buzzes.
Tell me she didn’t just send that to everyone?
I feel Jordan shifting to the side, and I see his phone pop into view.
I hear the noises of the baseball bat cracking against the man.
“Fuck, angel.”
I wince, but I laugh under my breath slightly because I didn’t think I had that in me. All the anger I had for my father came out in the moment, and it felt amazing to dish that out to someone who needed their ass beaten.
“Let’s get out of here.” He tucks me into his side.
We walk together toward his motorcycle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Butch carrying Shaylin, his arm wrapped around her middle. He looks pissed off, but Shaylin just smiles.
She is too sweet for her own good and the total opposite of Butch, but they clash in a good way. His dark to her soft, light-blond hair, petite body and beautiful features.
Jordan pulls my vest and my helmet out. I pull the vest over my head and Jordan slaps the sides and then puts the helmet on my head, while I snap the buckle.
I am kind of hungry. Maybe we should stop and get a nice steak? Yum.
“Jordan, want to stop and get food?”
He grins at me, his eyes lighting up. My heart skips a beat. This man does things to me.
“Anything for my, angel.”
I’m swooning big time right now. Grinning, I lean up and kiss him on the lips.
“Ass on the bike.” He smacks me on the ass.
I climb on. He climbs on next, grabs my calves, and pulls me flush against him.
He starts the bike, and we are off.
Nodding, I stand up and take one last drink of my drink. Then I slide out of the booth. We just ate our amazing dinner. Jordan places his hand on the small of my back as we walk out. A bunch of men laugh as we walk by a booth, and I look over.
Holy shit.
It’s one of the MC men. The Devils Slaves.
Jordan sees the same thing. He looks at me and then at the men. His arms curl around my belly, and I twist to the side.
“Call the men now,” he whispers and hands me the phone. He bends down, my body curling with him, and power-walks out of the building with me.
We step outside and hurry to the bike. I click Kyle’s number.
“Yeah.”
“Kyle, the Devils Slaves are at the steakhouse.”
“Where’s Techy?”
Turning around, I see him with a knife in his hand. He’s going bike to bike slitting their tires.
“He’s slitting their tires,” I whisper for some unknown reason.
“Angel, tell him we are going to the clubhouse.”
“I heard him,” Kyle says.
I go over to Jordan’s bike, pull my vest over my chest, snap the sides with one hand, and slip my helmet on next. “We will see you in a bit,” I tell Kyle before hanging up.
Jordan walks over to me and climbs on. I climb on behind him, pressing myself hard against his back. The bike starts, and I see the door to the steakhouse open and the men pile out. They look at us then to their bikes.
Jordan laughs, reaches between us, grabs his gun, and points it at them.
Holy shit. Is he going to kill them?
He pretends to shoot them, and the guys just stare at him. He backs up with his feet, and then he drives out of the parking lot, The Devil Slaves are still staring at us. It’s kind of creepy, and I wish they would have done something because it feels like they are planning something. I kind of figured they were already, but this makes it more real. You know?
Laying my head on Jordan’s back, I run my hand up and down his stomach. I don’t feel scared at all. Jordan makes me feel safe even when we are in dangerous situations. I know, with him in my presence, I will never be hurt.
A few minutes later, we pull up outside the clubhouse. We see all of the men waiting outside. A prospect opens the gate, and we barely have our back tire in before the gate is slammed closed.
I climb off and Jordan climbs off behind me. Locke comes up to Jordan, handing him an iPad. Jordan immediately starts pushing a lot of buttons. Peering over his shoulder, I see a couple of buildings.
A piercing alarm comes on, and I wince, putting my hands over my ears.
“They are a mile away. Two of them.”
Oh shit.
Jordan’s hand wraps around my forearm, and I am pulled close to him. We all stand and wait. My chest is beginning to hurt because of the anticipation of what’s to come.
“Want me to DTB?”
Kyle shakes his head.
I hear the rumble of the bikes, and Jordan steps in front of me, letting the arm behind my back fall. I see the bikes come into view. They have their guns raised and I jump as shots ring out.
Jordan pushes me behind him, and I peek from the side of him. The bikes are parked at the front of the gates, shooting toward us, but they are hitting the bulletproof glass.
Grinning, I step out behind Jordan. Raising both hands, I flip them off. One of them glares at me, and I see his mouth moving. Then another shot rings out and the man falls off his bike. The other man drives off, leaving his man lying there.
What happened to never leaving a brother behind?
Locke climbs down from the tower thing, a gun in tow. The gate slides back. Two prospects grab the guy and pull him inside. Locke walks over to us, but all I can do is stare at the gun in his hand. The one he just shot the man with.
“Why did you shoot him?” Kyle asks.
Locke looks at me. My stomach sinks. I lick my parched lips and lay my head on Jordan’s shoulder.
“He called her a bitch.”
I stare at him in shock. He shot that man because he called me a bitch.
Jordan smiles. “Thanks, man.”
Locke nods at Jordan and then winks at me.
Well, then.
“Take him to room four,” Kyle yells, and the prospects drag him inside. “Take your woman home, Jordan, but come back here.”
Jordan nods and leads me back to his bike. A prospect follows close behind and then climbs onto his own bike. He will be standing guard outside the gate until Jordan gets back.
As I walk into the room where the man is detained, I see Butch walking over to him, getting in his face. The man jumps back, and I smell something awful.
Well, fuck me. The man shit himself.
What’s up with all of these men not being able to control themselves? Torch has made a couple of men piss and shit themselves multiple times over Kayla.
“Tell me, motherfucker. What was your motive for coming on our land?” Torch asks.
“You slit my brothers’ tires, made two explode, and burned a car,” he deadpans, his face pale from being scared shitless.
“Who were you planning on killing coming to the club?”
He looks over to me. “The plan was to shoot the bitch he was with.” He looks back at Kyle. “And then any other ole ladies I can get. Or kidnap them if I have to. He is gunning for this blond girl that belongs to one of the members and for Lane’s sister. He has a hard-on for her.”
Well, the fucker just signed his death warrant.
Kyle is shaking with laughter. If only the fucker knew.
Butch stiffens and steps over to the man, and as the man looks at Butch, he pales. Butch grins that smile. “The blonde.” He gets in his face, staring down at him. He bends closer. “Is mine.”
Piss hits the floor.
“How many bullets were fired?” Butch asks him.
“Eight.”
Butch walks over to the wall, and Torch follows. Torch gets a torch and a knife because we know what Butch is about to do. Butch turns back around with a pair of plyers. Not in the mood to hear crying and wailing, I grab the duct tape and tape his mouth shut. Butch steps in front of the man and grabs his right hand. He sees what he is about to do and starts jumping around.
“Your dick, then?”
He stops at Butch’s words.
Butch grabs his pinkie finger and snaps the plyers closed. He hands the pinkie to Locke, who puts it in a bag. Torch cauterizes the wound with a hot knife and his torch. The man is screaming, and his face is red. What did he expect? He shot at my woman and flat-out said that the president wants Shaylin.
Butch moves to the next, taking it off and handing it to Locke, and Torch cauterizes the wound. One by one, they do this until all his fingers are gone but his thumbs.
Then it’s my turn!
I step up to him and pound his face. Tooth after tooth hits the floor until ten are lying there. Good enough.
The man is still conscious, and I smile at him. Raising my hands, I wiggle my thumbs while grinning. Reaching for the bag of his fingers, I say, “Open your mouth.”
He does it immediately, and I shove the bag into his mouth. I tell him to bite down, and he does.
“Don’t let go of them or I will take your toes.”
He visibly tightens his mouth.
“Good boy. Locke, load ’em up. We have a delivery to make.”
We all grin. We are making a huge-ass message and that is: Don’t fuck with us. They knew better before, but their boy is an example of what will happen.