Chasing Demons (Angels and Sinners Book 3)

by Trixie Brewster

  Angels and Sinners: Chasing Demons

  Trixie Brewster

  Note From The Author:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content. Warning: This book is meant for readers over the age of 18 due to bad language, some violence, and explicit sex scenes.

  Copyright © 2019 by Trixie Brewster

  All copyrights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of this book may be reproduced without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distrusted via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  Published in the United States of America

  A very big thank you to Connie Doan for helping me edit this book. I couldnt have done this without you! A thank you to my husband for listening to me ramble on and on about my ideas.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Blaze Chapter 1

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  Chapter 1

  Chloe

  “Well, Chloe, what is it going to be?” Savannah Bowman, also known as my worst nightmare. My mother asks me yet again.

  “Mother, I really don’t have the time to think about it.” It is not a complete lie. I really don’t have the time to think about Thomas Rivet. He is handsome, but altogether not my type. Hell, I don’t even know what my type is anymore. While Thomas may be attractive, he is a complete arrogant ass.

  “You aren’t getting any younger Chloe. If you wait any longer you will 30, then no one will want to marry you.” My mother must be the vainest person I know. I may be 29, but I still haven’t found that connection, and that is what I am looking for, a link. I don’t want to marry for money or a title. I could honestly care less. So, what if he doesn’t look the part, as long as the connection and understanding are there, I don’t care. I just want that special connection that my parents never had, but my grandparents had. It was beautiful; Grandma was able to finish my Grandpa’s sentences. Even in their old age, there was passion between the two of them. That is what I want passion, desire, and love, I want something stronger than sex, something big.

  “Mother, if I am 30 by the time I get married, then so be it. I am not rushing anything.”

  “But, Chloe! Thomas is interested, he wants you.”

  “No, mother, he likes the idea of me.” I correct her; he doesn’t like my attitude or anything else about me except for my last name. Bowman that is all he wants, the late artist’s daughter and all the inheritance that came with it. My father may have had a lapse in judgment when he married my mother, but he raised me to be myself and only myself and to hell with the rest of them.

  “Same thing.” I roll my eyes and try not to yell into the phone. She is just as clueless as the rest of them. All her esteemed society sees is dollar signs.

  “Whatever you say, mother. Listen, I have to go.” I don’t let her respond as I hang-up the phone and finish getting ready. I decided that I needed out of LA and all the drama associated with it. Two years ago, I moved to Redding to continue my father’s foundation and mission. He set up a foundation to help animals in need. Healing Hearts Animal Shelter is what he called it. At the shelter here in Redding, we take in all strays that we can, rehab them, get them ready for their forever homes. We are a non-profit organization and only charge for a small adoption fee and gladly accept volunteers and donations.

  In my off time, I paint and sell my creations to help make extra money for me. I don’t really need to, but I want to honor my father’s memory by keeping the Bowman name going in the art industry. The love of painting came early on when I was but a child. When my father realized that I loved it, he began mentoring me. The great Arthur Bowman was my father and teacher of everything from painting to boy problems. I couldn’t have asked for a better father when he passed away five years ago, I thought I was the one dying. My heart broke and never truly healed. But the world goes on, and I must keep going myself.

  I am happy right now; I don’t really need a man in my life to make the world right. I just need me, myself and Vixen, my white Bully. Putting the last of my make-up on, I take one last look in the mirror and frown a little. I can see the slight laugh lines around my mouth I get that when we age, we age, and nothing we can really do about it, except get Botox. Not interested in becoming fake like my mother. My brown eyes are still safe from crow’s feet. My long brown hair that I keep piled on top of my head in a messy bun is still grey free, that is a win.

  My jeans fit my curves perfectly. “At least I have an ass.” I remind myself in the mirror. I am not a big girl by no means, but I do have a few extra pounds. My breasts are a little on the larger side, but hey, at least I can pull off some cleavage. Of course, I am the only one that enjoys it.

  I recently moved into a house on the outskirts of Redding. The quiet is a good reminder of how loud LA was when I lived there. It is a welcome quiet, no horns blaring, people yelling outside my little apartment I was renting in Redding. The pool and fenced in backyard are a plus too. Vixen and I enjoy sunbathing in the nude. Who wants tan lines? Down this little dead-end road, there are two other houses other than mine. One neighbor, I try and get a glimpse of, but he is a damn recluse and a damn shame too. That man is fine, as fine as a man can get. The Harley he rides is just a plus. I’m not stupid. I saw the vest. I know what he is into, but looking and dreaming and masturbating to a fine ass bad boy never hurt anyone.

  I wave to my older neighbor across the street as Vixen, and I get into my white Subaru BRZ. Just another thing my mother was disappointed in, I didn’t buy a high-end car that screamed money. I love my Subaru. It has just the right amount of get up and go and is sporty with its sleek lines.

  I love that I can take my dog to work with me; she helps more than some people know. I was diagnosed when I was a teen with anxiety and depression; it has been a battle for years. A struggle I consider that I am losing some days, but other days I just smile and carry on. There are only three people that know about it. My father was one, my mother, and me. It is not something I go around with a neon sign that points to me, screaming that I am broken. Nope, I smile every day and carry-on. Vixen helps by being there when I need support and someone to listen to me when I don’t even
make sense to myself. My father was that person before, I could call him and talk to him about what I was feeling, and he cared, he genuinely cared.

  My mother, on the other hand, just wanted my diagnosis to be swept under the rug and never talked about again. To her, it was a burden and a shame to the family name. For three years, I suffered on my own, no one the wiser that on the inside, I was screaming for someone to realize that my smile was fake, and I was dying on the inside. No one ever got close enough to me to see the difference. Even my father didn’t recognize my symptoms. It took me breaking down one night at the dinner table as my mother was rambling on and on about what I needed to wear and how I needed to dress to catch a guy at the homecoming dance. Yes, she has always been trying to get me married off, but not to just anyone. She had her standards that I had to keep. He had to have money, his family is well known in the area and he needed to have access to his money by twenty-five. Yeah, nothing in there about love and devotion or hell even dick size. I broke, complete, and utterly broke in my potatoes. After that my father got me scheduled the next day, and viola I was diagnosed with this damning anxiety and depression. Vixen helps to make it easier.

  Vixen was rescued and brought into the shelter, and I fell in love with her. She is pure white with a heart the size of Alaska and curiosity that would put a cat to shame. I think the saying that curiosity killed the cat is wrong; it should be curiosity killed the pit bull. Pulling out of my driveway, I make my way to the shelter to visit with the animals and try and get some PR done, along with planning the next charity gala and fundraiser for the town. Each summer, Redding does a fundraiser for the less fortunate and the school. This year will mark my first to be there for the shelter and help the people of Redding.

  “Ms. Bowman, how are you this morning?” The young woman at the front desk greets me.

  “Trina, Ms. Bowman, is my mother, please call me Chloe.” I smile at her. I don’t want the people that are working here and volunteering to see me as something I am not. I may have more money than most, but I don’t like formalities. As far as I am concerned, I am just an artist in the world that loves animals.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe…” she looks down at the ledger she has on the counter.

  “Trina, there is nothing to apologize for. So, what do we have going on today?” I change the subject. She smiles as she tells me about the elementary that is going to be visiting today. It is only one class, a first-grade class, Mrs. Stevens. I have spoken on the phone with her and the principal of the school. She wants this to be a fantastic last day of school for her kids. It works for me; many of the parents are going to be in attendance today as well. Who knows? Maybe one of the lucky animals will get a forever home.

  “Today is going to be a busy day. Which dogs and cats do you think would be best for the kids?” I ask her opinion; I really want to know if we both agree.

  “Oh, Roscoe and Camille would be the best two candidates. As for the cats, I think anyone of the kittens that came in last month.” A person could tell that Trina loves her job, and I love it that she is so passionate about it. I have her on the front lines due to her easy-going personality and her smile.

  “I was thinking the same thing, too. Can you call me when the class gets here? I need to work on our PR and get our name out into the cities around us.” She nods and gets back to answering phones and scheduling showings. Trina does a lot for our little haven for the animals. I am also in the process of finding a trainer for therapy animals. I want to be able to give back in any way that I can. It was a blessing that I came across Vixen.

  Settling into my little office, which is nothing more than four walls without a door and a small desk. Booting up the computer, I take Vixen with me as I go and find Marcus and Freddy, they handle the animals feeding and cleaning up their crates. Shelly and Kate help with getting the animals the exercise that they need. Trina and I help where we can, from the cleaning to the playtime. Although I would have to say playtime is my favorite time of day.

  “Marcus, Freddy,” I call out in the hallways where the dogs are. Marcus gives me a smile as Freddy continues to work. I know that he is listening, though. The man never stops working for small talk. “Good morning, boys. I am going to need Roscoe and Camille ready to meet our little visitors today.” Freddy stops and looks at me with a wide smile.

  “Those two are a good choice.” He tells me as he goes back to work feeding the dogs.

  “Trina suggested them, and I agree. I am glad you two do as well.” Shelly and Kate come around the corner.

  “Are we going to be having visitors today?” Shelly asks me. She is a short, stacked blonde that I notice Marcus' eyes with interest. Shelly keeps going like she doesn’t see.

  “Yes, we are. A first-grade class is coming today, along with some parents. Do you and Kate feel up to doing the presentation?” Both women smile and shake their heads no at me. Oh, no, no. I am more of the behind the scenes type of person.

  “This is your baby, well, your father’s baby. I think you should do it, Chloe. You love this place more than any of us do, plus the kids would love Vixen too.” I look down at Vixen, who wags her tail and gives me her best puppy dog eyes. I look back up at them and stick my lower lip out. “Nu-uh. Nope, Chloe, this is your time to shine. Besides, they are what seven-year-olds.” Kate pushes with a smile.

  “Fine, I feel left out to dry right now,” I tell them with a small smile as I turn to leave. On the inside, I am having a nervous breakdown. What if the kids don’t like me? What if I talk too much or not enough? These babies here count on us to find them a forever home. I can’t screw this up.

  Chapter 2

  Jag

  “Jag be a dear and help me.” Korey whines reaching to place the banner in a place that she can’t reach. Putting down my beer, I go over to help her.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I help her down from the chair in the central area of the clubhouse.

  “Today is Angie’s birthday. I want to surprise her; besides, she is pregnant and needs to celebrate with some much-needed cake and ice cream.” Korey tells me with her hands on her hips. How was I supposed to know it was her birthday? Taking the banner, I step up to the chair and place it where she directs me. Stepping down, Korey smiles at the placement.

  “It’s perfect, don’t you think?” it says Happy Birthday Angie, nothing special to me. I shrug, and she raises one of her eyebrows at me.

  “It looks great.” I squeak out before she lays into me. She nods.

  “Hey, did you know that we have a shelter here in Redding?”

  “Yeah, I have heard of it. Something like Healing Hearts Animal Shelter or something.” Truth is that was where I got Diablo from. I knew a little about it. More than what I should know.

  “Well, I heard that we might have a competition this year from them. The shelter is doing cupcakes and some other sweets along with homemade dog treats. Angels and Sinners might have a hard time bringing in the most money.” I know she is ribbing me, to get a reply out of me. Korey is good at getting the guys going over nothing. It is a talent.

  “Please, BBQ is the best seller, and that won’t change anytime soon.” Plus, we have over a month to get ready for the charity event. “I know, how about you Ol’ Lady’s whip up some cookies to go along with it.” She glares at me and shakes her head at me. Yeah, two can play at that game, I think to myself.

  “How old is the Irish princess turning today?” Blaze strolled in the clubhouse smirking.

  “You know if she hears you call her that she will guild you.” Korey has her hands back on her hips and is glaring at her brother. It seems today is going to be that kind of day for her.

  He holds his hands up but doesn’t take that smirk off his face. “Sorry, Sis. Just goofing off and all.”

  “Yeah, well, you need to goof off somewhere else.” Blaze makes his way to the bar and sits down and waits for our bartender to give him a beer. Kelsey, who Blaze thought he had a shot at, we found out last year that she
wasn’t all that into dick. She was a pussy lover. Tank’s sister’s, to be exact. The look on Blaze’s face when he found out was priceless, especially when Molly and Kelsey turned him down for a threesome. Telling him no dicks were allowed between them.

  Shaking my head, I decide it’s time to find some much-needed alcohol before the party gets rolling. I feel for Angie, when Tank is around, she can’t do anything for herself. Tank has taken over everything for her. Some days, even walking, it is sickening the way they are together, though, all kissy faced and touchy-feely. That is the one thing I don’t do; I don’t do touch. There is only a particular type of woman that I will fuck, and none of them can be found here. I don’t have to worry about having the sweetbutts and hang arounds come on to me. They all know the score and leave me the hell alone.

  Here recently the club has been growing. I am glad that the club is growing in numbers, with more children being added. But it can also make my job a lot harder by bringing more women into the fold and add babies to the mix. The club now has too many targets that can destroy us.

  Since getting out of the gun-running business, some of the money that we had coming in went down, but by having so many companies throughout Redding, it keeps the money flowing into the club. The A&S Protection has gotten a name for itself. As of now, I only have two employees, but I have been considering adding a couple more to the payroll. It can be hard to find the right person for the job, though. Going into protection, a person must be able to do whatever it takes to keep the target safe. Then there are the jobs where someone does not pay their debt. That is when I generally come in. The one thing I never had a problem doing is getting the money that has been owed to the club or people that have loaned money and are not getting paid. Honestly, those are the jobs that I live for.

  “What are your plans this weekend?” Blaze leans over to ask.

  “None,” I tell him, not really wanting to talk now.