ANGEL_Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  All the same, though. The thought of her in Bullet’s bed makes me want to shove all his teeth down his throat, all the way through to his goddamn intestines.

  Jewel’s eyes flick over to us, landing on mine for just a heartbeat. She quickly looks away, and her movements turn jerky, unnatural. Like she knows she’s being watched. Hawk, Ghost, and Beast continue to talk, and I listen with half an ear as my eyes travel up and down her body. Jewel’s hair is piled in a messy bun high up on her head today, revealing her long, slim neck, feminine and arousing. There’s times I’ve been close enough to her to see the pulse point in her throat, and I’ve wanted more than once to brush my lips against it, just to hear what she’d sound like when she moans in pleasure. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her face frowning in concentration as she works washing down the bar. I know even though I can’t see them that there’s a patch of light freckles fanning across her nose, which crinkles when she laughs.

  Something Bullet says to her makes Jewel turn and arch her brow at him. Her eyes, clear and blue, are laughing, but even from here I can see they’re preoccupied. Jewel has always seemed so soft. There’s something fragile about her, underneath the tough, give-as-good-as-she-gets front she projects to the Lords. My eyes slide further, down to her luscious tits, which always seem like they’re just begging to be touched. My cock stiffens in my jeans, a familiar ache in my balls growing at the thought of taking Jewel into my office and pushing aside that tight little black skirt. My fingers would slide inside her, finding her soft, warm, and wet, waiting for me. Her head would arch back, revealing that neck, that pulse as it speeds up just as I thrust inside her —

  Fuck. Pull it together, Angel. Focus. Club business.

  I barely manage to snap my head out of thoughts of fucking Jewel. Turning back toward the brothers, I see Beast eyeing me with a curious expression, but I ignore him and focus on what Hawk is saying.

  A minute later, Bullet comes over to join us. He asks about the police report and the damage to the garage, and we fill him in. “The damage is bad, but it could have been worse,” Hawk grunts. “A lot of what’s inside is a total loss, but the structure is still more or less sound. It’s gonna take a while to rebuild. We’ll need more than a few of the men on it. And I need Geno to come take a look with me. See what needs to be replaced, how much it’s gonna cost.”

  “The club’s gonna take a pretty big financial hit from this,” Ghost scowls. “It’s gonna be a while before we get Twisted Pipes back up and running again. Not sure what we’re gonna do until then.”

  “I’ll get Geno to give me a rundown of how we’re lookin’, money-wise.” I look around at the four of them. “We might have to get creative about revenue streams.”

  “I got a couple ideas,” Bullet grins. “Some legit, some less so.”

  “All right.” I nod at the four of them. “Beast, I’m callin’ church for this afternoon. Get the word out. I want everyone here.”

  “You got it, prez.”

  The conversation breaks up, and we go our separate ways. I turn toward the hallway, on my way back to my office. But I find myself heading over to the bar instead.

  Jewel’s got her back to me, and when I say her name, she jumps.

  “Hey,” I say as she turns around. “Sorry to startle you.”

  “Oh, hey, Angel!” Jewel takes a deep breath and gives me a wide, megawatt smile. Her voice is a shade too bright. She clutches the towel in her hands tightly, like someone would hang on to a lifeline. The muscles in her face are strained. It’s clear she’s trying to hide something from me. But I don’t know what it is.

  “You, ah… you good?” I ask with a frown.

  Jewel seems to realize she seems tense. “Yeah,” she nods, her smile relaxing a little. “I’m just tired, I guess.” She pauses a beat. “I was a little late to work today. Again.” It’s cute how she’s so honest about stuff like that. “I’m sorry. I really am, Angel. I don’t mean to take advantage of the club.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jewel,” I say, and I mean it. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah…” She trails off. “It’s just that I have my brother staying with me right now. It’s a little stressful, is all.”

  Huh. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  “Yeah.” Jewel’s eyes slide away from mine. “He’s seventeen. His name is Jude.”

  “How long is he here for?”

  “I don’t know,” she says vaguely. “A while, I think.”

  “What’s he doin’ with his days, while you’re at work?” I ask.

  Jewel lets out a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s a good question.”

  Ah. So it sounds like Jewel’s worried her brother’s getting into trouble while she’s not home. Well, having been a seventeen year-old boy once myself, that seems like a pretty good possibility. I wonder why she’s been saddled with this kid, instead of him being at home with their parents. Does Jewel have parents? I realize I don’t know that either.

  Then I find myself saying something that kind of comes out of nowhere.

  “You need some help with the kid?” I ask. “You need someone to keep an eye on him?”

  “What?” She looks startled, and then laughs again. “Oh, no, Angel. That’s very nice of you, but no. It’s okay. I’m just…” She shrugs, and puts on a brave face that I can see right through. “I’m just worried for nothing. I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just a typical teenage boy, you know? He’s not interested in having his older sister keep tabs on him.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but just then my phone goes off. I pull it out and see that it’s Brick. He’s over at Twisted Pipes, so I assume he’s calling with an update on what can be saved and what can’t.

  “I gotta take this,” I tell Jewel, who nods and waves me off, looking relieved to have the conversation over.

  “Talk to me,” I answer, as I walk out the front door of the clubhouse to go grab a smoke.

  “You won’t believe this shit,” he tells me with disgust.

  “What?”

  “Well, the paperwork for the shop is kept in a filing cabinet that’s fire-proof,” he begins. “So it all survived the fire.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I grabbed the paperwork for the guy who brought in the car with the bomb rigged inside it.”

  “Yeah. Hawk told me you were the one who checked him in.”

  “Yes I fuckin’ was,” Brick spits out. “Guess what his ‘name’ is?”

  “What?”

  “O. Lawson.”

  It takes me a second to register what he’s saying.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I explode. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

  Not only did the Outlaw Sons fuckin’ play us, they waved it right under our goddamn noses and we didn’t even see it coming.

  “I am gonna enjoy watching those fuckers die,” Brick snarls. “Very, very slowly.”

  “I’m comin’ over to the garage,” I bark. “I wanna see this for myself.”

  I don’t even bother to go back inside the clubhouse. I just storm over to my bike, fire it up, and fly out of the parking lot toward Twisted Pipes. Brick tells me everything he can remember about the fucker who brought in the car, and we talk strategy for hunting him and the rest of the Sons down. Our resident techie, Tweak, is also at the shop, and I tell him to get back to the clubhouse and get to work on locating all the info he can.

  I don’t get back to the clubhouse until the time comes for church. The meeting lasts for close to three hours. When it’s over, I keep my officers Ghost, Brick, and Beast behind to keep planning our assault.

  By the time we’re finished, it’s evening. I never get the chance to pick my conversation back up with Jewel. The last I see of her, she’s walking out of the clubhouse with Bullet at the end of her shift. I head outside for a smoke, just in time to see her climb onto the back of his bike. The two of them take off into the darkness.

  And I watch them go, all
of a sudden feeling like I want to grind Bullet’s fuckin’ face into the ground.

  8

  Jewel

  The conversation with Angel leaves me rattled. I’m still preoccupied by it when I get a call from Olga telling me that Jude has just come home. I thank her and dial his number, but predictably, he doesn’t answer. I don’t bother to text, because I know he’s ignoring me.

  There’s basically nothing I can do until the end of my shift. Luckily, I don’t have to call Olga for a ride home, because Bullet agrees to give me a ride. I hated asking him, but I couldn’t bear to tell Angel that I was carless and needed transportation. Because I’m sure he would have given me one of the club’s four-wheeled vehicles if I’d asked. I can’t get in the habit of asking Angel for favors, though.

  I have a hard enough time keeping my distance from him as it is.

  When Bullet pulls up outside of my apartment building, he offers to come in for a while to keep me company, but I tell him no. Thankfully, he doesn’t push it, and I watch him drive away before going up the walk to the front door. By the time I make it to my floor, I can hear loud music pumping from my apartment all the way at the end of the hall. Grimacing, I can only imagine what Olga must be thinking right now. I slide my key into the lock, but it’s already open.

  Jude is slouched down on the couch. He’s not alone. With him is another kid, who looks to be a few years older. He’s thinner than Jude, and less muscular. His head is shorn of hair, and on his cranium he sports a number of angry-looking tattoos with symbols I don’t recognize, including one sort of like a four-leaf clover at the side of his left eye. His black T-shirt is torn at the stomach. His bleach-spattered jeans are cuffed just at the top of scuffed calf-high boots, which are resting on my coffee table next to a bunch of drug paraphernalia and some crushed cans of beer.

  I try to raise my voice above the din, but I can’t even hear myself. The stranger notices me first, turning his head to raise an impassive brow as I run over to the stereo and turn it down.

  “Jesus, Jude!” I explode, my ears already ringing from the echo of the noise. “What in the fuck are you doing?”

  Jude lifts his eyes to me. On his face is an expression of studied boredom.

  “Chillin’,” he drawls. “Maybe you oughta chill, too.”

  I’ve tried as hard as I can to be calm with Jude, never raising my voice at him. I’ve wanted to give us time to rebuild our relationship — silly of me to even hope for that, I know. But the display in front of me has pushed me over the edge.

  “There are other people in this building!” I shout, flinging an arm toward the door. “They deserve not to have their ears assaulted just because you want to listen to music! And what is that?” I ask, pointing toward the coffee table. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not for weed. God, the tools look suspiciously like they’re for smoking meth. I take a deep breath, but I don’t catch the telltale odor of burnt plastic. Thank God.

  “Jesus,” Jude’s friend murmurs sarcastically. “This your sister? She’s fuckin’ nuts.”

  “Who are you?” I challenge him.

  “None of your fuckin’ business,” he shoots back with a heavy-lidded sneer.

  “Uh, yeah, it’s my business, considering this is my damn apartment!” I plant my feet and cross my arms. “This bullshit isn’t welcome here,” I say, nodding toward the coffee table. “And if you’re not gonna give me your name, neither are you.”

  The kid snorts, flips me off with a tattooed hand, and lazily heaves himself off the couch. “Fuck this, Jude,” he spits at my brother. Sweeping a hand along the coffee table, he gathers everything up. With his other hand, he grabs a worn brown jacket lying on the floor next to him, decorated with magic marker designs and patches of different sorts. He deposits the contents of his fist in one of the pockets, then brushes past me without saying goodbye to Jude.

  I wait until I hear his heavy boots clomping down the stairs to address my brother.

  “That?” I bark, jerking my head toward the doorway. “That is unacceptable.”

  But Jude just opens his mouth wide and laughs uproariously. “What is ‘unacceptable’?” he asks, his tone full of mockery.

  “Uh, pretty much all of it,” I retort. “The drugs, the loud music. The asshole who thinks he doesn’t have to tell your sister his name. Who the hell is that, Jude? Where did you meet him?”

  “None of your business,” he tells me, echoing his friend.

  “Jesus!” I hiss, shaking my head and dropping my hands. “Is this why Mama and Tata kicked you out? This kind of stuff?”

  “What kind of stuff?” Jude challenges, his voice rising. “You mean, me just fucking existing?” He scoffs and looks up at me, his face contorted with anger. “So what, you gonna kick me out now, too?”

  “Jude,” I say, trying again. “Surely you see that I can’t have you blasting our neighbors out of the building and doing drugs in here, don’t you?” I fight to lower my voice, to sound reasonable. To make him hear me. “How is it going to help things if you get the police called on us? How is it going to help if I get evicted? Then neither one of us will have a place to stay!”

  Jude lets out a dismissive snort. “You’re not gonna get fuckin’ evicted.”

  “No? Do you really want to find that out?” I take a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “And what about if I lose my job, because I’m late to work too many times because you take my car without asking me?”

  Jude just rolls his eyes.

  Oh, my God. I might actually strangle my own brother before this conversation is over.

  Fighting against my rising blood pressure and the urge to scream as loudly as I possibly can, I close my eyes and take another deep breath. I hold it for a long second, and let it out very, very slowly.

  “Look, Jude.” I begin. I take a step forward and sink down on the couch beside him, suddenly exhausted. He shifts away from me a little, but at least he doesn’t leave. “I know you probably really don’t want to be here. I’m sorry about that, really I am.” I risk a quick glance at him. He’s not looking at me, but I think he might at least be listening. “This isn’t an easy situation, for either of us. But we need to work together. I want you to be happy here. I do. But I want me to be happy, too. And for me to be happy, I need to not be evicted from my apartment, and I need to be able to get to work on time so I can pay for the apartment.” I shift in my seat so I’m facing him, and wait for him to meet my eyes. “Does that make sense?”

  Jude sits there stubbornly for a moment. He looks furious — with me, or with the world in general, I don’t know. I resist the urge to fill the silence with words, and wait for a response. Finally, I get the smallest of nods.

  “Good. Thank you.” I feel my body relax a little, and realize I’ve been holding all my muscles tense. “So, look. I haven’t had dinner yet. I’m going to make something for myself. Do you want some?”

  His mouth opens, just barely. “Depends on what it is.”

  “I’ll have to see what we have.” I decide I’ll try to fix something he’ll like, in hopes that he’ll see it as a peace offering. “And one more thing.” I put my hands on my knees. “Like I said, I have to be able to get to work on time. But I imagine you feel a little cooped up in here, with no transportation. So, I’m fine with giving you my car to use sometimes while I’m gone. If you’re willing to take me to work and pick me up on those days when I need you to.” I wait a beat. “Is that a deal?”

  Jude seems to have figured out by now that I’ll wait as long as it takes for an answer, so this time he just shrugs and bobs his head curtly. “Great,” I say, standing. “Thank you. I’m gonna go make some dinner.”

  I decide to leave the drug issue for later. It’s too big, and I honestly don’t know how to approach it in a way that won’t end up with Jude storming out of here. Him being on the street won’t help matters if I want to keep an eye on him. I tell myself that rebuilding my relationship with my brother is going to be a marathon, not
a sprint. Baby steps.

  I find some hamburger meat in the freezer, and thaw it in the microwave, then put some French fries in the oven to bake. I don’t have any buns, but thankfully Jude doesn’t seem to mind that I serve the burgers on white bread. We eat in front of the TV, not speaking, but I’m just grateful that the arguing is over. I clean up the dishes afterward, and when it’s bedtime, I resist the impulse to ask for his keys in case he decides to slip out during the night.

  God. This might be the first time in my life that I actually have some sympathy for my parents.

  I have a hard time sleeping that night, but thankfully, Jude is still there the next morning when I wake up. He lounges around on the couch like he’s been surgically attached to it while I pay bills and do a load of laundry. When it’s time for me to go to work, he obediently comes downstairs with me and gets in the passenger side of the car.

  “Where do you work, anyway?” he asks as I turn the ignition. I realize that we’ve never even had a discussion about my job.

  “I’m a bartender. For a motorcycle club.”

  For the first time since Jude arrived in Tanner Springs, he looks at me with something like interest.

  “A motorcycle club? You mean, like a bunch of fuckin’ accountants with bikes that pretend they’re tough on weekends?” he smirks.

  Imagining Angel and the other Lords as accountants makes me snort with laughter. “Hardly. This is an actual club. Full-timers.” I glance over. “One-percenters.”

  Jude’s frowning at me in disbelief. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “Nope.” I put the car in gear, feeling just a little proud to have surprised my little brother. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride, but doesn’t immediately start playing with his phone, either. He gazes out the window as I tell him to pay attention to the route we’re taking. “You’ll have to come get me later, so make sure you know where you are when we arrive. It’s not like you can look up the clubhouse on Google Maps.”