Seasons of Change (Bleeding Angels MC Book 1)

by Stephens, Olivia

I jump at the outburst and remind myself that it doesn’t pay to make the Angels angry. It never works out well. I don’t speak as I watch Ryan take a few deep breaths, trying to get himself under control.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says after a few moments. “Take a load off.” He gestures towards the seat opposite him.

  “I’m fine, Ryan, I’m on shift so I need to keep an eye out as clients come through the do—”

  “Sit. Down.” He says the words slowly and deliberately, and the hard glint in his eye makes me stop arguing and sit heavily on the booth. “Good,” he says, his weedy voice sounding sickeningly pleased.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, wondering where all this is going and wishing that I was anywhere but here, opposite a man who gives me the creeps more than any rerun of Nightmare on Elm Street.

  “So what’s up Ryan?” I ask eventually, when I’m tired of him staring as if he wants to take a bite out of me.

  “I just thought we could talk.” He spreads his hands and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “And also, I wanted to apologize for last night,” he adds slowly, and my head snaps up as the words come out of his sneering mouth.

  I don’t think I’d ever heard an apology from him, not since I’d known him back in kindergarten. With Ryan it was always someone else’s fault, always an excuse that had nothing to do with him.

  “Go on,” I say stonily. I’m surprised, but that doesn’t change what I think about the sad excuse for a person that’s sitting in front of me.

  “Things got out of hand and Elvis shouldn’t have treated you that way. He was way outta line. He won’t be bothering you again,” Ryan tells me with a self-assurance that he never had as a kid. He’s growing into his position as second in command, I think to myself, and the idea that this sadistic man will one day be the leader of the Bleeding Angels MC is scarier than even I would like to admit.

  “So what’s changed?” I ask him, sitting as far back from him as possible. “Last night you were more than happy to watch all the drama play out and even get involved in a little, trying to start a fight with Jake,” I point out. As if my best friend’s name was enough to light the fire of aggression in Ryan, he slams his hand down on the table again and looks like he wants to reach over and grab me, but he manages to rein himself in.

  “Summers should know better than to get involved in MC business,” Ryan says quietly through tightly-gritted teeth. “Elvis was just messing around, trying to get a rise out of the prissy-boy.” Clearly he finds something funny in the memory of Elvis threatening Jake with a knife.

  “And what about Suzie? Is Elvis just ‘messing around’ with her too?” I ask, wondering why Ryan has come here with such bullshit.

  “You’re way too protective of her,” Ryan points out, leaning over the table to get closer to me. As if he’s trying to give me some helpful advice for my own good. “She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. And Elvis really likes her. She’s good for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks her to be his Old Lady,” Ryan says wistfully, as if that’s something he’s looking forward to.

  “Good for him as in she’s sane so she balances out some of his crazy?” I ask, unable to contain myself but regretting it nonetheless. Think before you speak, Aimee, I remind myself.

  “Watch your mouth,” Ryan replies instantly, pointing at me with his index finger like a warning. “If you said that to anyone other than me, you could find yourself in a whole world of trouble. No one talks about a member of the brotherhood like that—not if they value their life. You get me?” he asks, looking me straight in the eyes so that I can see the coldness lurking in his.

  “I get you,” I agree quietly, nodding, knowing that I don’t have many free passes left. Not even with Ryan. “So you’ve apologized now.” I motion as if I’m about to stand up but Ryan’s hand shoots out and takes hold of my wrist to pull me back down hard onto the seat.

  “I’m not done yet,” he says, the quiet tone of his voice in stark contrast to the danger that I can see lurking in his eyes.

  “Everything alright out here, Aimee?” George’s voice pipes up as I see him come into view. He’d probably seen Ryan grab me and that was the last straw for him; he wasn’t going to wait to see things get any worse before intervening. But after having been stabbed through the hand I figure that George has already paid more than his dues to the Angels. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of dispatching any more of their own brand of justice on to him again.

  “It’s all fine, George,” I assure him, nodding and managing to raise a smile that probably looks as natural as a plastic flower. “Ryan and I are just catching up.” I nod to affirm my words, hoping that George understands I’m trying to keep things under control for all of our sakes.

  “Alright,” George’s voice booms. “But if you need anything I’ll just be back here.” He points towards the kitchen, more for Ryan’s benefit than for mine I imagine, to show him how close he’ll be to see everything that goes on.

  “Thought he would have learned to keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him,” Ryan chuckles, looking at his own palm, as he presumably thinks about George’s hand being stabbed through by his cronies.

  “Sorry,” I say automatically, looking at my clasped hands that I’m holding in my lap. I hate myself a little for being so submissive, when all I really want to do is to tell Ryan exactly what I think of him. But we both know how that would end and, for me, it wouldn’t be well.

  “That’s better,” Ryan says encouragingly, as if he were talking to a dog learning to behave. I have to stop myself from shivering as I feel my skincrawl. “You’re so much prettier when you’re not all bent out of shape about something or other.” He shakes his head as if it’s a waste that I actually have a personality. I sit in silence, waiting for Ryan to tell me what he really wanted to say. “You were seen leaving Summers’ place this morning,” Ryan says slowly, tilting his head to look at me, as if to assess my reaction. “The boss just wants to find out what you two were talking about until so late.” He asks the question casually, folding his arms and leaning back in the booth, looking me over.

  “You guys have been following me?” I burst out, unable to contain myself. “What the fuck?”

  Ryan has the good grace to at least look a little embarrassed at the admission that he’s had a nineteen-year-old girl followed without the slightest provocation. “You know Summers is about to become patched,” he reasons, recovering quickly. “We make it our business to know what’s going on with our boys at all times,” he says pointedly. “So what did go on?” he asks, threading his fingers together, creating a steeple and leaning forward on his elbows.

  “Nothing that has anything to do with you,” I tell him, folding my arms, trying to contain the anger that I can feel bubbling up inside of me like lava and threatening to explode at any moment.

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong Aimee,” Ryan says, seeming nonchalant. “When it comes to one of our soon-to-be patches, everything has something to do with us.”

  “So if this is about Jake instead of me, why aren’t you over at his place, bothering him while he’s at work, asking him these stupid questions?” I ask, gnawing on my lower lip.

  “Because we know that you know how important it is to answer truthfully and to tell us everything,” Ryan points out.

  “Who is this ‘us’?” I ask after a beat. “Why is the chief so interested in the nocturnal habits of his crew? I never took him for a pervert, but I guess people never cease to amaze,” I say sarcastically.

  “Bitch, don’t you dare talk about the chief that way,” Ryan explodes and grabs hold of me from across the table, squeezing my arm until it hurts.

  I’m fairly sure that there’s going to be a pretty impressive bruise there. I sit in my seat, frozen. After a few moments, the heat in his eyes dims to a low glimmer, but I can still see it there, flickering just under the surface.

  “You need to start watching that s
mart mouth of yours Aimee,” he threatens between hard breaths. “You don’t want to end up with someone slapping the smile off of it, do you?”

  “No.” I shake my head and manage to bite back further comment. I know the rules with the Bleeding Angels. I know better than to unleash my sarcasm on them. Sarcasm stings, but a shot to the heart can kill, and that’s exactly what they’re capable of doing.

  “Good. So why don’t you act like the good girl that I know you are and tell me what happened last night? Is Summers trying to get you to leave town with him before he’s patched?” Ryan asks. It’s said as if he’s just throwing an idea out into the mix, but the intense look on his face tells me that he knows exactly what he’s saying. He’s clear on how close to the mark he is.

  I almost laugh at how wrong they’ve got things. If only Jake was trying to encourage me to leave town with him rather than the other way around. If only he wasn’t so hell-bent on being a hero, no matter the consequences. “No,” I reply truthfully. “He wasn’t asking me to leave town with him.” I don’t say anything else immediately, not trusting my voice.

  “Good.” Ryan nods approvingly, like I’ve done well to follow his orders. “Now, are you going to tell me what went on in that room?” he asks, challenging me with his eyes, and I can’t avoid squirming under his gaze.

  I know that I’ve used up a few of my lives already with Ryan and I don’t know how much longer he’s going to let me get away with it for, so I do the only thing that I can: I tell the truth. “Jake and I spent the night together,” I admit, feeling the blush start to make its way up from my chest all the way up my neck, setting my cheeks on fire.

  “You and Summers?” Ryan spits out, as if the very idea offends him. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

  “Really? And who in your opinion would be more appropriate for me to have slept with than Jake—you?” I ask. My laugh turns from shocked to strangled as I see the emotions cross Ryan’s face, and I realize that’s exactly what he thinks.

  “You could do a lot worse Winters,” Ryan says, his voice back to the weediness that I’m accustomed to. “You need someone that can look after you, someone that will make things easier for you and your mom.” He nods slowly, like he’s expecting me to join in. But I don’t; I just sit there, staring at him.

  “I don’t need anyone to look after me. I’m doing just fine, Ryan, but thanks for your concern,” I tell him, my tone heavy with the bite of acid.

  “You’re a smart girl Aimee. Be smart now,” he warns me, and I wish that there wasn’t such an edge to his voice.

  “And the smart thing would be to accept help from you? The people that destroyed my family? The people that killed my father and took my mother away from me? Explain to me, Ryan, how exactly would that be smart?” I ask, resting my head on my hands as if I’m paying rapt attention.

  “Because it would be such a shame if something were to happen to your mom, after all she’s been through,” Ryan says slowly. “I know how much you care about her, how much you would hate for anything to happen to her.” He spreads his hands with a nonchalant shrug.

  “What are you saying?” I ask, all the fight suddenly leaving me as I feel my body turn ice cold.

  “Like I said: you’re a smart girl. Figure it out.” He smiles wolfishly and I press my palms on the table to steady myself.

  “What do I have to do?” I ask, closing my eyes for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts.

  “Stay away from Summers,” Ryan says, his voice commanding. “He’s going to be a patch pretty soon, and we don’t want anything to interfere with that. Not you, not anything. Stay away from him, don’t call, don’t swing by the body shop, don’t communicate with him in any way. Believe me, if you do, we’ll know about it. Take care of your Mom, keep working here—” He gestures around us at the empty diner. “—And just let things play out the way they have to,” Ryan advises, standing up. “And who knows?” he says suddenly. “Maybe one of these days I could take you out for a drink, show you that the Angels really aren’t as bad as you seem to think we are?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders.

  I don’t say the first thing that comes into my head about how the Angels are exactly as bad as I think they are—how all they’ve done is destroy this town and anyone in it that has the balls to stand up to them. I don’t say that I would rather stab myself in the eye with a fork than go out with him. I don’t say that I would never let him touch me in a million years. I don’t say any of these things, because I’m still reeling from the thinly-concealed threat that he had let fall onto the table.

  “Be seeing you Aimee,” Ryan says, and it sounds more like a threat than a promise.

  I remain sitting in the booth long after the bell rings as Ryan walks out of the diner. After a few minutes, George appears next to me and he lays a big hand on my shoulder. It’s that simple act of kindness that just pushes me over the edge. The tears that I have been holding in for so long start spilling out over my cheeks and I can’t do anything to stop them.

  “Ah, baby girl,” George says, awkwardly taking me in his arms to give me a bear hug. “Don’t cry Aimee, don’t cry.” He rubs my back and I sob into his chest, not even trying to contain my tears. I’m not sure how long we stay like that for, but eventually the tears dry up and George takes a seat opposite me, where Ryan had been sitting. It might as well have been a universe apart.

  I’m brought back to the “here and now” with a thud, realizing that customers could walk in at any minute to find me a hot mess of tears and George out the front where nobody is used to seeing him. “The shift,” I say lamely, about to stand, up but George plants his one big hand over my two smaller ones.

  “I’ve put the Closed sign up for now. You looked like you needed some time,” he says gruffly. “Besides, truckers won’t be in for another hour at least,” he notes, looking at the over-sized clock on the wall, and I know that he’s right. “So why don’t you tell me what that was all about?” he asks, settling himself back in the booth for the story.

  “He told me...He told me to stay away from Jake,” I tell him, and I register the shock on his face.

  “From your young man? But… but why? What’s it to them?” George asks, his big bushy eyebrows coming together in a deep frown.

  “He’s going to be patched soon,” I explain, and George nods—he already knows that. “And I guess they don’t want anything interfering with that.” I shrug, feeling a little stupid that I don’t have a better answer for him than that.

  “And what if you don’t stay away from him? Surely you two can see each other without them finding out?” George asks. He doesn’t yet understand why my reaction to Ryan’s order has been so strong.

  “They’ve been following us,” I tell him, and his eyebrows spring up again in an expression of shock that would have been comic if the circumstances weren’t so intensely horrible. “They know everything. They knew I was at his place last night, and he said they’ll know if I try to contact him,” I tell him, feeling the hysteria start to rise up my throat. “They said they’d hurt my mom.” My voice small as I press my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from slipping out.

  “Los hijos de puta,” George says under his breath, and if I hadn’t been on the verge of a nervous breakdown I would probably agree with him. They really are sons of bitches. “Aimee, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head, and in those three words he confirms exactly what I have been thinking. There really is no other choice; I have to do what the Angels have told me. There’s no work-around, there’s no way to avoid doing what they want. I remind myself of what everyone in this town has always said to me: “The Angels get what they want, one way or another.” It really was true. They’ve left me with no choice: either I lose Jake, my best friend in the whole world and so much, so much more than that now… or I lose my mom, the only family I have left, the person that I know dad would want me to protect over and above everything and everyone else.

  “Me too, George,” I
say through gritted teeth as the pain makes me feel I’m being stabbed in the heart. “I’m sorry too.” I let my head sink onto the table and my body is overcome by sobs.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That night George and I make an executive decision to close early. It’s not like Dick would even realize. As George had said, if he took his head out of his ass long enough to get anything done, it would be a miracle in itself. I walk home in the dark in a daze, thinking over the conversation I had with Ryan, replaying it over and over again in my mind. But re-running our little chat doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the words that he said or the undeniable fact that he was threatening to hurt the only member of my family I still have. And I know that I can’t let that happen.

  I take my cell from my pocket out of habit to dial Jake’s number, but I stop abruptly with my finger hovering over the call button. What was it that Ryan had said? If I call him, they’ll know. It could easily be a bluff; as far as I know, the Bleeding Angels haven’t advanced to phone tapping yet. They're just your run of the mill criminals, rather than masterminds of international espionage. But was I willing to run the risk that they weren’t joking? Was I willing to put everything on the line because Ryan may have just been trying to scare me? I already know the answer: no.