Angel Unseen: An Unseen MC Novel

by J Bree

  Typical fucking dead-beat dad, he has four kids to four different bitches. Diego is the oldest and I’m fucking hoping he’s the worst of the lot because he’s definitely on the road to being fucking taken out.

  He’s not exactly a fan of being lower on the food chain than anyone else and even being the future Prez of the Shreveport charter isn’t enough because it’s not the mother charter. He’ll never be an Original because he’s not a Callaghan and that’s something that eats him up inside.

  I blow out a frustrated breath and give him a nod. “Leave it with me, I have eyes on that situation and I’ll find the fucking rat.”

  First, I have a chapel to sweep.

  Chapter Five

  Angel

  The truck is hot overnight. Too fucking hot to handle but short of finding a homeless shelter or spending some of my cash on a motel room I have no other options. I’m not at that extreme point of exhaustion yet so I just don’t want to spend the cash on a room yet.

  I tell myself I’m only going to do that once a month at most, the rest of the money being spent sparingly on food and new outfits for the themed nights at the Boulevard.

  All the remainder is being stuffed into my bag.

  I get it, that’s a terrible way of keeping my money but I can’t open up a bank account in my real name without setting off some alarms and opening a bank account with a fake ID is just… too risky. Too fucking risky for me right now so I keep that shit on me or locked up while I dance.

  The more it grows the more terrified I get about having it on hand but it’s not so much at the moment that I have to immediately worry about it. I just need to keep an eye out for another solution.

  My college classes start up again and I find myself set up at the Coldstone library to work during the day. The lady at the front desk is a nightmare, a total fucking bitch the second she lays her eyes on me, but I grit my teeth and put up with it.

  My laptop is old and beat to hell so I price up getting a new one the second I connect to the library’s slow-ass wifi.

  There’s no way I’m parting with that much cash.

  No freaking way.

  I guess that’s the real problem with being a stripper and knowing exactly what your time is worth, there’s no way I’m wasting a whole fucking dance on getting a new MacBook when this one will do for now.

  So I set up on one of the desks with my headphones on to watch hours and hours of lectures, taking notes until I think my hands are going to fall off of my arms. The library is quiet enough, even when a small group of little old ladies set up a book club session in the meeting rooms, and I get everything I need done for the week in a single session. There’s assignments to start working on and I make a detailed plan to get that shit done tomorrow morning, and by the time I have to leave because it’s closing the tightness in my chest eases off a little.

  I can do this.

  I can work three or four nights a week, study during the day, sleep in my car, cut my food costs so I’m only eating when I feel like I’m going to pass the hell out, and I can pay cash for fucking everything.

  A house, college, and a buffer so I never have to rely on anyone ever again. I can fucking do it.

  My shift at The Boulevard doesn’t start for another four hours so I grab my shit and drive to the next town over to shop for some more outfits. Fuck, it feels wrong to even call them outfits. Thongs and bras and a shit ton of pasties. There’s a couple of sex shops with decent options and the girls there are nice enough. They stare at me a little when I go through every rack, the list of themes on my phone as I work through all of the choices until I find enough shit to get me through the next week.

  The total is fucking heartbreaking.

  I pay for it with my stacks of bills and the girl behind the counter grins at me. “Fuck girl, you must be raking it in! The other girls only buy half what you do.”

  I blush and shrug. “I like having a big collection, I’m fussy like that.”

  She grins at me and fills a bag up with the scraps of lace, tucking a sampler perfume in there with it. “Have fun girl! I wish I had the goods to make the same green!”

  I duck my head with a grin. Fuck, it’s the first time someone has spoken to me about dancing without it being a fucking problem. I get into my car with a smile on my face for the first time in forever.

  Maybe it’s not so fucking bad.

  Three weeks into working at The Boulevard and I hit a wall.

  I’m tired.

  There’s never a time where I’m not exhausted now that I’m working until four in the morning every other day and I have to be out of the carpark by seven. There are places I can park during the day but there’s a lot more danger with that and none of those places will be dark like the carpark.

  I drink a lot of energy drinks.

  They’re cheap enough and now that I need to stay skinny I choose a sugar free one and call it breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  I force myself to stay up to date with my college classes because that’s my ticket out of this life so even when I feel as though my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head I go to the library.

  I’m not expecting my whole goddamn life to change.

  But it does.

  It’s a busy night and by the time I finish my first dance and make it out to the locker room my legs are practically shaking underneath me. I picked a hard routine to start with but one I know the clients here go crazy for and sure enough, there’s a whole fucking lot of green in my hands.

  I’m stashing it away in my locker when someone grabs my elbow, wrenching me around to face them.

  It’s a biker, one I recognize from the crowd at my stage but I’ve never spoken to him before. He’s wasted, swaying slightly, but the look on his face is trouble. Big fucking trouble for me.

  He reeks of stale beer and cigarettes and I choke back a gag, the stink of it coating the back of my throat like it’ll never leave me.

  He smirks and reaches out to grab a piece of my hair, wrapping it around his fumbling fingers. “I’ve had my eye on you, pretty little birdie.”

  The gag comes back in full force, no choking that shit back. “I don’t do extra. Please don’t touch me.”

  He smirks at me and he’s like all my fucking nightmares come true with his crooked nose and yellowed teeth. “Club property, bitch. You’ll do extra if I want you to.”

  He moves fast for a man who can barely fucking walk, his hand reaching out to grab my throat.

  I hear Speck shout from down the hallway but instinct kicks in and I slam the heel of my palm into the drunk biker’s nose, the crunch of it breaking is the most satisfying sound.

  He lets me go with a roar, blood pouring out of his face, but he recovers quickly and lurches at me. I stumble back, ready to run the fuck out of this place and never come back, but Speck gets to him before he can lay another finger on me.

  He takes him down to the ground, restraining him but he doesn’t try to hit him at all.

  I’m a little disappointed.

  “No fucking touching her, asshole! Fuck, keep your head together before it gets you into the shit.”

  “She’s a fucking stripper! I can have her if I want!”

  The biker bucks and tries to throw Speck off but the prospect is too strong for him, easily pinning his arms down and holding him to the ground.

  “What you want for your dick isn’t going to jeopardize club business. Find another pussy to pump.”

  The biker snarls, “You don’t have a fucking patch, you can’t do this shit.”

  There’s footsteps behind me as Diamond and Mel both come running, finally hearing the ruckus these two are making. Diamond immediately gets on the phone, speaking in a purr, “You better come down here, Speck’s throwing hands at Mav over the new girl. Shit ain’t good.”

  Mel grabs my hand and lifts it up to the light to look at the blood and swelling already there from my jab at the biker, raising her eyebrows at me. “That’ll be Tomi. You’re kinda fuck
ed now, Angel, you don’t ever attack one of the Unseen.”

  I didn’t though.

  I didn’t and Speck saw enough of the shit that went down that I should be okay… except he’s not patched in so his word probably doesn’t hold up to the other guy’s.

  Diamond snaps her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “Earth to fucking Angel, get your ass in the office! The boss is gonna be here to deal with you in a minute and I need to get Mav’s drunk ass in there too, fuck’s sake! I knew you’d be nothing but fucking trouble. Dancing here like you’re too good for extra shit, you fucking deserve whatever you’ve got coming to you.”

  Mel at least manages to look a little sorry for me but she doesn’t say a word as she moves away to grab her shit and head home. She’s never actively tried to hurt me or talk shit but she’s also never tried to talk to me again since that first night.

  Even amongst strippers I’m a fucking pariah.

  I take a seat in the office, nervous and sitting there in my freaking thong. Thank God my last dance was freaking themed and I have a full bra on for a little more coverage. Not a lot, but more than the fucking pasties.

  Christ.

  Am I going to die tonight?

  Worse than that… do I care?

  The door swings open again and Mav stumbles through, kicking my chair like a fucking child as he passes before collapsing in one of the extra chairs lining the far wall.

  I refuse to lower my gaze, totally a dumb move, but I know I’m not in the wrong. They might kill me for the sake of this guy’s pride but… I think I can accept that. He’s still bleeding, the blood trickling out of his nose at a steady pace, but he doesn’t try to clean himself up or staunch it in any way. It’s probably a macho biker thing. Jesus, could I have possibly picked a worse guy to punch?

  The door opens and in walks another biker. He’s huge, tattooed, a nose ring, and piercing blue eyes. Ridiculously hot, like even my broken self kinda wants to pant after him, but also he’s clearly the type of dangerous that lands you in a shallow grave.

  Yup, apparently I could’ve picked a worse guy and here he is, ready to murder me for attacking one of his brothers.

  Diamond trots in after him, shaking her ass, and Jesus, where did her clothes go? A minute ago she had a corset and a thong on and now here she is, stark freaking naked. She sits down next to me, leaning towards me and I try to control my flinch away from her.

  “You’re so fucked,” Diamond snickers under her breath at me, batting her lashes at the new guy. “Tomi, I’m so sorry for calling you down here for the new girl. I hope you weren’t busy.”

  The guy, Tomi, smirks at her, all sex and innuendo, and I try not to gag. Anyone who likes Diamond’s charms must be a total idiot.

  He doesn’t look my way at all, just surveys the other guy and takes a seat behind the table, rolling his shoulders out and blowing out a breath. I can see him getting ready to start a whole speech on exactly how fucked I am.

  Then he looks up at me and he flinches.

  The blood drains out of his face but he doesn’t say a word.

  Complete freaking silence.

  I frown at him, no freaking clue why he’s acting like this and Diamond looks just as confused.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  His eyes flash over to hers. “How long has she been here?”

  Diamond shrugs. “A few weeks? I told you I was hiring someone I didn’t want to but you sided with Speck, remember?”

  Tomi leans back in his chair but he still has the look on his face like he’s been stabbed in the gut. I keep my mouth firmly shut.

  Mav gets pissed off and starts running his mouth. “Who gives a fuck how long she’s been here, she’s a fucking deranged cunt! Broke my fucking nose, the dirty little bitch. Should bury her or at the very least kick her ass outta here.”

  Speck scoffs from the door and Tomi sends him a dark look. “You got something to add to this little story?”

  The man I’m starting to think of as a friend steps forward and smirks at Tomi. “As a matter of fact, I do. Mav grabbed Angel by the throat after she told him she wouldn’t be servicing his shriveled up shrimp dick. My words, not hers. She was a fucking lady about it. But, the way I see it, the girls here are club property and this asshole was tryna damage the biggest fucking money earner we’ve got. Self defense isn’t a fucking attack and Mav’s just being a little fucking bitch.”

  I swallow hard. I know he’s trying to help but I feel like he’s just made the entire situation worse.

  Mav raises bloodshot eyes and snarls, “You worthless piece of shit, you don’t get to tell me what’s right for this club! You ain’t even in it!”

  Tomi stares at me like he wants to set fire to my corpse. I try not to squirm under that dark glare of his but after a beat too long he turns his eyes up to Speck’s. Something passes between them, some sort of telepathic conversation, and then Tomi finally speaks.

  “Speck isn’t patched in but he’s still a Callaghan and he was put in charge of watching the girls here. If he says don’t touch her, then you don’t fucking touch her.”

  “Siding with your fucking blood, fucking typical egotistical—”

  “Finish that fucking sentence, Maverick. Finish it and it’ll be the last words you speak because Speck might not have the patch yet but I do and I’ll gladly slit your fucking throat for thinking with your dick and not your brain about club shit. The girls here are assets, not fucking toys. Get out and sleep it off, don’t fucking come back.”

  Diamond huffs under her breath but everyone ignores her as Mav walks out. Tomi’s eyes swing back over to me and I’m pinned to the fucking chair under that gaze. “Everyone out.”

  When I shift forward he snaps, “Not you.”

  Oh God. Oh fucking hell, I’m dead after all.

  His lip curls at me and… is that disgust on his face right now? Disgust at a stripper from a man who runs the club and, rumor has it, has fucked every other girl here?

  “Do you know how to speak?”

  I nod and then say, “I only hit him in self defense. I’ll never do that kind of shit again, just so long as no one touches me.”

  If possible, he looks even fucking angrier. “So you’re happy to sell your body but not follow through with those promises?”

  I don’t get what the hell he means. “I’m here to dance on a stage. I was clear during my interview about what I would and wouldn’t do.”

  He scoffs. “Sure. Let’s see if you can keep to that, Angel.”

  The sarcasm that drips from the words is like acid, burning me right down to my soul. What the hell could I have possibly done to this guy?

  I hesitate and he snarls at me, “Get your ass outta my fucking sight.”

  That gets me moving, my legs working on autopilot to get me away from his anger. Jesus, what a fucking mess.

  My legs are still shaking when I finish up my other dance and when I head out to the locker room again I have to force myself to stay calm. I can’t freak out and avoid this place now because I need the showers here.

  I take all of my showers at the club.

  Diamond hates it, hates that I do it before and after. She’s been telling the other girls I’m a germaphobe and that’s why I’m doing it. Fuck, I wish that’s all it was.

  I shave everything while I’m in there each night before I go out, careful not to nick my skin. Bleeding wounds aren’t going to make me the big tips.

  By the time I finish up, my stomach is killing me. I can’t eat until after I’m done for the night because I’m still so nervous every time I get up on the stage that I’ll puke if there’s anything in my gut. Plus being hungry means my stomach is flat and perfectly toned looking, something I’ve never worried about before but now, now it’s all I can think of. I need my stomach flat and my tits perky, just long enough to get me through until I can afford a house and a little buffer. Just enough that I can afford to live and work somewhere else. Somewhere boring.

/>   A coffee shop or something.

  Somewhere where there’s no tall, blond, tattooed, and pierced bikers with smoldering blue eyes and a handsome face sneering at the very sight of me.

  Fuck.

  Why am I thinking about him again already?

  Right. I need a boring fucking job where my clothes stay the hell on. Except maybe not, I’d still have to deal with customers there and I’m not sure having clothes on would stop them from trying to touch me.

  Why does everyone keep trying to freaking touch me?

  Chapter Six

  Tomi

  When I move to leave The Boulevard I stop by the door and look back over at the stage until Angel comes back out to dance. She’s popular, a whole fucking crowd here waiting for her to come out already.

  She’s unbelievably fucking hot.

  Even without being ‘struck she’d catch my attention. Long dark hair, big blue eyes, the type of lips a man wants to fuck, ass to get ahold of, and fucking great tits. Fuck.

  The swing of her hips is hypnotic as she walks out on the stage.

  I feel like she’s a fucking witch, casting some enchantment over me to take my soul but I hold my fucking ground and refuse to give an inch.

  Her panties stay on and she has little star pasties over her nipples but she might as well be riding a fucking cock onstage, the way the crowd greets her. She takes to the pole like she was made for it, lots of fucking practice there. No way is this her first gig, no way she hasn’t gone pro before.

  Cuntstruck.

  No.

  Abso-fucking-lutely not.

  There’s no fucking way I’m being ‘struck and certainly not by some fucking stripper. Nope. Fuck no.

  I need some goddamn whiskey, straight and by the fucking gallon. I flag down Speck and he frowns as he walks over to me but there’s no way I’m letting her run off without a set of eyes on her until I figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do about this situation.

  “Watch her.”

  He shrugs. “I have been from the second she got here. Has something happened? Someone else tried to touch her again?”