A Dream of Summer (Bleeding Angels MC Book 3)

by Stephens, Olivia

  In my head I know that she’s right, but it’s hard not to feel useless. Then an idea comes to mind. I know that Aimee’s not going to like it, but it’s more important that the plan works than if she likes it. “What about Suzie?” The look that Aimee gives me would freeze the Pacific. “Hear me out. She’s been involved with the Angels for a while now. She knows all of them, she could testify to the drug allegations because they got her hooked on whatever the hell it is she’s shooting herself full of. If she’s been keeping her eyes open all this time, then she has more information than they realize.” As I speak I warm to the idea—it really does make sense.

  “No way, uh-uh. Not going to happen. She tricked us… twice. Did we not cover this already?” Aimee swings her legs out of the bed and stands up like she needs to let off some steam.

  “Yes, we covered it. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s the only chance we have right now. That is, unless you’ve found an Angel that’s willing to rat out his entire MC?” I cross my arms, but the ridiculousness of the two of us here, naked, arguing with each other isn’t lost on me.

  “Just because she helped you sneak out of the compound tonight, it doesn’t mean that she’s our friend. It doesn’t mean that she can be trusted. She may have been doing it for any reason—we have no idea. We don’t know her anymore.” Aimee’s getting more and more worked up and I think I’ve only just now realized how much Suzie’s betrayal hurt her. Aimee’s dad died, then her mom went bat-shit crazy and essentially abandoned her. Suzie and me, we were the only friends that she trusted, the only people she felt she could turn to during those dark days. To find out that Suzie would do something to hurt her so badly, and not only once, but twice… it’s scarred Aimee somewhere deep down inside.

  I walk over to her and grab hold of her, pulling her towards me and ignoring the half-hearted resistance that she puts up. “Hey, I’m here. Talk to me.” I breathe in the smell of her hair and realize how much I missed her scent.

  I feel her relax in my arms. “You’re right. I know you’re right. She’s the best chance that we have. But it kills me. I can’t help feeling like we’re complete jackasses to put our trust in her again. It’s like we enjoy the punishment!” She laughs, but it’s a hollow sound and I can see the hurt hiding behind her eyes.

  “We don’t have to decide right now. Think about it, sleep on it, see you how you feel in the morning. I don’t want the short amount of time together that we have taken up with arguing. Tonight is just about you and me—nobody else.” I take Aimee’s head between my hands in a way that is uniquely our own and kiss her with all the feeling I can transmit through my lips. I think I’ve hit a home run, as her eyes remain closed for a few seconds after I’ve pulled back. “Better?” I ask, trying not to look as pleased with myself as I feel.

  “Better.” She smiles and it lights up the room.

  I lead Aimee back to the bed and lay her down next to me, bringing her into the crook of my shoulder in our familiar sleeping position. There’s something about the normality of being like this, in the bed that we’re used to sharing, that gives me a feeling of peace. It’s completely clear for me: anywhere that Aimee is, , that’s where home is.

  As we lay in bed I tell Aimee about my first day with the Angels.

  “Did it hurt?” She gently strokes the new ink on my shoulder.

  “Not as much as I thought it would. Listening to Ryan yammer on and on about how the design of the Bleeding Angels patch came about was way more painful.” Aimee moves closer to me and I can hear her laugh softly against my neck. It can’t feel this good to make anyone else in the world laugh.

  I tell her about my conversation with Scar and how he’d surprised me.

  “In what way?” she asks as she absently traces a pattern on my chest with her delicate fingers.

  I know Aimee’s feelings about Scar—he’s the man that killed her father, so I’m careful about what I say. “He’s charismatic, there’s no denying that. He has this magnetism about him that really draws you in. He can make you feel like you’re the most important person in the room.”

  “You sound like you admire him.” Her voice is small but there’s no judgment in it.

  “Not ‘admire.’ That’s not the right word. I guess I can see how he became the leader of the Angels. It’s easy to understand why the men follow him.” My voice trails off as I think back on the conversation. “He said something strange to me.”

  “Oh? What?” She seems nervous, but maybe I’m just hyper-aware of not hurting her by talking about the man that ruined her family.

  “He said that I was important. That one day the Angels would be mine if I wanted them, and that Ryan is too much of a loose cannon to lead them.” I know I shouldn’t feel proud about it, but I can’t help feeling good that someone believes in me.

  “Did he say why?” Aimee asks. It sounds like she’s fishing for something.

  “No, he doesn’t seem to be big into details,” I joke, and I’m rewarded with Aimee’s reassuring, tinkling laughter. “He just made some speech about needing to take control. He mentioned my mom and dad, saying they try to control me. He talked about you too.” I trap one of Aimee’s nipples in between my thumb and forefinger and tug gently, watching how her chest rises and falls as her breathing quickens.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not expecting a Christmas card from him this year,” Aimee breathes out as she squirms a little next to me.

  “I know it may seem a little lame, but it’s nice for someone to think I’m worth something other than as a mechanic.” I laugh lightly as if it were a joke, but I know that I’m not fooling Aimee.

  “That’s not why we all think you’re worth something, Jake.” Aimee reaches down between us and starts stroking my shaft. My member stands to attention instantly under her touch. Being this turned on by someone would be embarrassing if it weren’t Aimee. It’s like our bodies are completely in tune and we know exactly what to do to push each other’s buttons. “Just promise me you’ll be careful with Scar. He’s dangerous, and not just because he knows how to use a knife. Don’t let him pull you in.” There’s a warning in her words, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something she’s leaving unsaid.

  ‘What if he’s right?” I smile at her as she tugs me in exactly the way that I taught her. “Do you want to control me?” She looks up at me with those green eyes that beg you to dive into them, and it strikes me again how lucky I am to be with this girl—this woman. “She’s the whole package, Summers.” Those are the words that my dad had said years ago. I think he’d known how I felt about Aimee before anyone else, even my mom. “When you find the one, nothing else will even come close.” I remember sitting out on the swing seat with him as he said the words. He was speaking from experience, he’d told me, because that’s what happened when he met my mom.

  “There’s only one part of you that I want to control, Summers.” Aimee smiles up at me and the feisty look in her eyes drives me crazy.

  “Well, control away, Winters. I won’t put up a fight.” I hold my hands up as if I’m surrendering.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” she giggles as I shift her underneath me and start feathering kisses along her jaw-line.

  Without meaning to, I catch sight of the time on the alarm clock and Aimee must see something in my expression change.

  “Do you have to go?” There’s no judgment in her voice, no annoyance. She knows as well as I do that I’m not choosing to leave her—we’re between a rock and a hard place now. If we want to nail the Angels then we have to keep the status quo. It’s the only way to make sure that they don’t suspect they’re being investigated.

  “Not yet.” I notice the relief flood through her face as I say the words and I try not to think about how hard it’s going to be to leave her in only a few short hours.

  “Good, then let’s not waste any time.” She pulls me down on top of her and I make sure to imprint every detail about her onto my brain. From the way she smells,
to the way she tastes, to the way her silky hair feels as it runs through my fingers. I savor the little whines she makes as she gets excited, and the way her breathing comes in short gasps. I try to hold onto the feeling of her fingers as they slide down my back, of her soft, swollen lips against mine and of her touch on my cock as she squeezes and pumps the shaft so perfectly.

  When I enter her, I make sure to take in the way that she looks, the way that the light hits her smooth, white skin and the way that she arches her back and pushes her hips up to take me in as deeply as she can. I bury myself into her, filling her up, not leaving an inch of empty space between us.

  We come together, like we have ever since that first time, and I wish that I could bottle that feeling of being completely together with someone. I’ve never felt closer to anyone and I wish that I could keep that feeling forever, to take it back with me to the Angel’s compound to keep me company.

  When we’re both exhausted with pleasure, I stay inside of her, wanting to feel her around me until the very last moment. There’s less than an hour left before I have to leave and I haven’t slept in two days. But I don’t care. I stroke Aimee’s smooth back until her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s fallen asleep. But I don’t want to close my eyes. I don’t want to miss even one second of being with her, because I know that as soon as I sleep, I’ll be missing something. I’ll miss the way that her chest rises and falls in its own special rhythm. I’ll miss the little moans she makes as she dreams.

  When it’s time for me to go, I don’t wake her. I know that she’ll probably be mad with me for sneaking out, for not giving her the chance to say goodbye. It’s selfish, but I do it anyway. I want to keep this image of her in my head, looking as calm and at peace as she does now, asleep and as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I kiss her softly on her lips and I try to stop myself from thinking that it feels like the last time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I drive back to the compound faster than I’ve ever driven before and I make sure to hop off the bike a good few hundred feet down the road. It’s almost 6am. I stayed too long with Aimee, but it was just so damn hard to leave her. She’d told me about her mom waking up and she was still trying to figure out how that made her feel. I wish that I could be there for her, to help her. But instead I’m here and I can only blame myself.

  I walk as carefully as my heavy boots will allow and park the bike in the same position as I found it last night. As I head back towards my windowless room, I nearly expect to see Spike standing outside asking me where the hell I think that I’ve been before he starts putting his steel-toe boots to good use. But there’s no one there. The compound is completely silent, as if the whole place were completely empty, just waiting for me to get back.

  I open the door cautiously, holding my breath against the creak that I know I’m going to hear. Once inside I lay myself down on the bed, I think over what Suzie did for us and wonder if we can trust her after everything that’s happened, or if she’s not done playing with us yet.

  Before I can come to any kind of a conclusion I fall asleep, because the next thing I know a group of bikers has stormed into my room, led by Elvis, who looks like he hasn’t had any sleep—but not for the same reason as me.

  “Rise and shine, Jakey-boy!” Elvis hoots like an owl and the shrillness of his voice gives me a headache. When I don’t move, his tone changes from a coked-up clown to an angry motherfucker. “Didn’t you hear me, Summers? Get the fuck up! You wanna sleep, you sleep on your own time. This is my time and you don’t waste my time.” Elvis is manic and he’s so buzzed that he’s not making any sense. None of the other bikers seem to notice; they all look about as far gone as he does.

  “Sure thing, Elvis.” I sit up, wondering how long the human body can go without sleep before actually cracking up. “What’s on the agenda today? Any old ladies to mug or kids to steal lollipops from?”

  Elvis laughs like a hyena, slapping the other bikers on the back. For a split-second it looks like he might suffocate himself on his own laughter. “That’s funny, that’s funny shit, Summers! He’s a funny guy!” Elvis throws this out to the floor, almost like he’s challenging someone to disagree with him. No one does. “We’re taking you for target practice.” His eyes shine and I’m not sure if that’s because of the drugs or because he really likes guns. I figure that it’s probably a bit of both. I wonder how someone as high as him is going to shoot a gun without hurting anyone, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

  “Great; let’s do it.” I’m surprised at how easy it’s getting to pretend that I’m one of them. I remember Aimee’s words from earlier, telling me I’m not anything like them. I hold onto that. Here, in this place, around these poor excuses for human beings, it would be all too easy to forget who I am. But if I can focus on Aimee and on what we need to do to get out of this nightmare we’ve been calling a town for the past ten years, then I feel like I can make it. In the meantime, I guess I just have to take anything that the Angels throw at me and, today, that’s target practice.

  As the over-stimulated group lead me out of what I've—much to their general hilarity—dubbed the Summers’ suite, I catch sight of a familiar face skulking near the entrance. I take a chance, figuring that the men are too high to notice if I slip away from them for a few seconds.

  “Are you alright?” I take in Suzie’s appearance. She looks pretty far from alright, but we both know that I’m talking about last night.

  “I’m fine. A couple of roofies go a long way!” She smiles a toothy grin, looking like a little girl that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  I feel relief flood through me that she hadn’t put herself in danger on my account. Then I surprise both of us. “You should go talk to Aimee.” It’s not a request. “We need your help, to get the Angels.”

  Suzie shakes her head so hard it looks like it might fall off and roll around right here on the ground in front of us. “She doesn’t want to hear from me. She wouldn’t even spit on me if I was on fire.” She crosses her arms and then she looks behind me and her eyes widen. “Like I said, you gotta give me somethin’ if you wanna get somethin’ back. You get me, pretty boy?”

  I crease my brow in confusion but it doesn’t take long to understand why she’s suddenly put on this act. “Hey, lover boy,” Elvis’s voice is close; he’s standing right behind me. “Believe me, you don’t want that.” He points to Suzie as if he were talking about a piece of shit on his shoe. “She’s damaged goods like you wouldn’t believe! You can do better. If you’re looking for pussy, we can set you up with something.” He encircles my shoulders with his arm, as if we were best buds and I have to stop myself from pulling away from him automatically.

  “You, go back to whatever rock you crawled out from. This one isn’t for you.” He waves Suzie off and as I steal a look behind me while Elvis leads me off into the opposite direction, she looks like she doesn’t know whether to cry or to kick Elvis’s head in. If I were her, I’d probably do both, but that’s just me. I can only hope that she’ll do what I’ve told her. I can’t make her go to see Aimee, but something tells me that I won’t have to. It’s clear, to me at least, that Suzie is trying to do the right thing. But then, Aimee had said that I would always see the good in people, right up until they hit me between the eyes. I hope that this isn’t one of those times.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I’m sorry that I haven’t been here for a while, Dad. It’s kinda been a crazy few weeks. But I guess you know that already.” Sitting on the curb, I look up at the sky as I talk to my father on the spot where I watched him die.

  I feel bad that it’s been so long since I was last here, and the memories of this place are mixed up with Suzie’s betrayal. I wonder what her game is, why it is that she’s suddenly playing the good citizen. The most likely option is that she’s just trying to fulfill some of her own wants; maybe the Angels put her up to it, just like they did everything else. She was at the point now where she would d
o anything for drugs—anything at all, and it didn’t matter who she hurt or who got in the way. All that mattered was that she scored her next high.

  “Mom’s doing better. The doctor can’t explain it, but it’s like one day she just woke up.” I scuff my sneaker in the dirt and wonder why it’s so hard to talk to him today. Usually the words just flow out, like there’s no stopping them. But today, I find myself searching around for something to say. I guess it’s because there’s too much. It’s like sending a letter to a friend you haven’t seen in years and you’re trying to condense your whole life into a few pages of white paper. There’s too much to tell him. And besides, I figure he’s up there looking down on us, looking out for us, so he already knows.