Callie’s smile widens. “Get your ass in church before Prez puts a bullet in you.”
At her words, a mane of dark hair crashes into me.
“Angel?” I don’t know what the fuck is happening but Angel is wrapped around me as if she’s trying to bury herself inside of me. I hear a whimper escape her, the sound turning my body to ice as I feel wetness on my neck. I try to pull her head away but she shakes it, mumbling something I can’t make any sense of.
“I got you,” I promise. I’ve never dealt with crying females—that's what they have friends for—but as her tiny whimpers make her body shudder, it feels like a thousand knives are going through me. As if my body knows what to do, my arms wrap around her and I run a hand down her hair, cupping the back of her head. “What have I said? No tears.”
I hear her trying to suck in a breath as if she is trying to stop, followed by a few hiccups. I walk to the counter and sit her down. She lifts her watery eyes to mine, her lip trembling. Seeing her like this, it’s as though some fucker has shot me. Pain pierces my chest. I hold her face, noticing how small it is in my paw. I move my thumb, catching a single tear that's burning down her cheek. “What's got these beautiful eyes crying?”
As if remembering, she jumps down, and I don’t miss her wince of pain. “Fuck, Angel! What are you trying to fucking do?” What the fuck is with her? She’s going to put me into an early grave.
Her eyes narrow instantly as she crosses her arms over her chest, her lips thin in a tight line. “Don’t use that tone with me! I don’t like it.”
I slam my mouth shut. Did I just make her cry? I had spoken more to her than anyone before. The words spill out when I’m around her. I learned long ago not to spill that stupid, still had the lash scars across my back. Guess I’m still stupid.
Angel tries to push me, but I don’t budge, instead frowning at her. Does she want me to leave? The look in her eyes isn’t anger anymore, it’s frustration. “What are you trying to do, Angel?”
She huffs, blowing air through her nose in defeat. “Move back, please, a few steps.” I stare at her, but soon enough my dumb ass follows her orders. She smiles brightly up at me, before turning and plastering her back to my front, looking at Prez straight on. “I won't let you shoot Saint! You will have to shoot me first,” she says, steel and grit to her tone.
It takes me a few seconds for her words to register. Picking her up, I place her ass back on the counter. “Let me get this fucking straight!” I growl, glaring at her, my chest heaving as I run my hand over my shaven head. “You cried because Callie said that shit?” I shake my head, looking around to see Callie smiling before turning back to Angel.
“You asked me to move so you could stand in front of me? Protect me, thinking that Prez is going to put a bullet in me? I ain't the brightest, but I’m getting this right so far?”
Angel studies me before her little fucking chin sticks out and she nods.
I open my mouth then shut it again, because what the fuck does someone say to that?
I walk out of the room without a backward glance. I can’t look at her right now, because I’m either going spank the shit out of her or kiss her. Neither are an option that doesn’t end up with a bullet in me. I walk my fucking ass away, because if Prez shoots me, then Angel will lose her shit and be sad. I walk into church, slamming the door before I take my seat, Prez’s to my right. He comes in moments later, his eyes pinned on me, but I don’t cower.
“Fucking should have had all fucking boys. This is fucking karma.” He shakes his head as he takes a seat before slamming the gavel down. “Harla’s recognized the men as Renegade Phoenix. There is no doubt they’ve killed Ma and would have killed her if she hadn’t escaped.” Renegade Phoenix are a rival MC. “They’ve killed our men as we have theirs, but they have crossed a new line when they hurt Harla.”
Every man nods. My lips are pulled into a sneer, and a low growl escapes from deep in my throat. Prez looks at me before shaking his head. He’s keeping that anger for when it’s needed.
I already know that I’m going to make them scream the same way Angel had last night, make them beg for death. Oh, I will take them to the very edge of it and bring them back, just so I can start all over again.
Prez carries on the meeting about us making the two-hour drive to Gigi’s house to recover the body. She had raised Angel and deserves a good send off.
Once plans are made, we all rise as a unit. The Renegade Phoenix MC have messed with ours, and no one messes with us.
“Boy.” I stop at Reaper’s voice, damn well knowing he’s talking to me, but everyone has stopped, their gazes bouncing between us. “Out,” Prez growls. Each one of them tenses, but they nod and leave.
The door closes and Prez stands. “Get those fucking ideas out of your head, boy.” He glares at me. He shakes his head, and I see the rage bubbling behind those green eyes of his. “I see the way you look at her, the way she fucking looks at you,” he spits out as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
I open my mouth but slam it shut just as quick.
“I know you, boy, know everything you’ve done, most of it for this fucking club. You’re more than a brother.” The respect in his voice hits me deep in the chest.
“But you ain't right for my baby girl.” Pain slices through me. “That beast ain’t getting anywhere near her. I won’t hesitate to put you fucking down.”
I turn my head away, not showing the hurt that's ripping through me, as if he’s using the dagger himself. He’s right, I don’t deserve someone like Angel. She’s too pure. I’d taint her with my hellish touches, drown her with the darkness that surrounds me. The fire that owns me would consume her until she was nothing but ashes.
“You disobey me, and I'll take your colors, this club, and your brothers. They’ll all be gone.” There’s the final blow.
My jaw clenches as I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, looking at the man that had given me a family, a home, and somewhere to belong. The man I respect above all else. My Prez. I nod, as once again that pain blooms in my chest.
5
Harla
Standing in the bedroom, looking at Callie, droplets of water fall to the floor. She's laid out some clothes for me on the bed beside her. Vibrations run through me as the hum of motorcycles sound. They must be leaving.
"They'll make sure your gigi is looked after," Callie tells me, a sad smile on her face. She's really sweet and it's weird. I don't know her but she's going out of her way to help me.
"Yeah, I can't believe that I left her there." Shaking my head, I pull the towel tighter around me. "I should never have done it."
She gets up off the bed and pulls me into her arms. "Harla, you did what she told you to do. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here to tell the stories. Those men that killed her, they're going to get what's coming to them."
I swallow past the lump in my throat. "What are they going to do?" I question. I still have no idea what this place is, or what the men do here.
"They're going to make sure that you're safe and those fuckers will never be able to hurt you again." She says it so casually, as though it’s normal. Nothing about this is.
"What is this place?"
She sighs, walking back to the bed. She takes a seat. "Get dressed and we'll talk."
I do as she says and quickly pull on the clothes she left out for me: a pair of black jeans and a black tank top. Both are brand new with the tags still left on them, as are the panties she’s left out for me.
"Thanks. I'll buy you new ones," I tell her as I pull the tank on. I don’t have big boobs, so I don’t need to wear a bra.
She waves me off. "You're all good, girl. They're new and my ass is too big to fit into those jeans. Besides, they look good on you."
"Thank you. So, this place?"
She shakes her head. "I knew you wouldn't leave it." She wrings her hands together, looking nervous. "This is a compound. Your dad, he's the president of the Reaper’s Fury."
I frown. I've never heard of that. "What is that?"
She smiles. "Jesus, you really are innocent."
I don't acknowledge that statement. What's the point?
"Reaper’s Fury is a motorcycle club. Your dad is in charge. He's the Prez. Your brother is the vice president."
It's weird hearing that, your brother. I still can't wrap my head around it. I'm angry. I've lived my entire life with Gigi, believing that she and my dad were the only family I had, when my brother lived two hours away.
"But what does a motorcycle gang do?"
She shakes her head, her eyes practically bugging out of their sockets. "It's not a gang, never call it that. It's a club."
My nose scrunches up. Is there a difference? I don't voice that thought aloud. "So, how did you come to be a part of this?"
She shrugs. "My dad was a member, and I have grown up around here."
"He was?" I ask softly, coming to sit beside her.
She smiles. "Yeah, he was a patched member, one of the brothers. He died five years ago. I love being around here. It reminds me of him. Mom hates that I'm here. She's not set foot in the compound since he died."
"You're family." It's a statement.
She nods. "Your dad's my godfather. He and my dad were best friends."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks, honey. May I ask where your mom is? You lived with your gigi. Is that your grandmother?"
"Yeah, she’s Dad’s mom. I always called her Gigi. My mom died while giving birth.”
She intakes a sharp breath. “To you?”
I nod. "Yeah."
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "Sorry for your loss."
"It was a long time ago now."
She squeezes it once again. "Still don't stop it hurting."
"No, it doesn't. What is there to do around here?" I question, changing the subject.
She laughs. "Not much during the day. Night-time, though, it’s a different story."
I raise my brows. "Oh? Do tell."
She blushes. "Let's just say things get a little rowdy."
Oh. I know what that means.
"How about I show you around in a while? You need to eat first."
I narrow my eyes. "How old are you?"
She stands. "Twenty-one.” She glances over me. “How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, tired." I shrug. There's no way I'm going back to sleep; the remnants of my dream are still lingering.
"How about some breakfast?"
I nod. "That sounds good. Do you know what happened to my car?" I know I smashed it pretty bad, but I need to see how much damage is done, to see if it's salvageable.
"I'm unsure. Once West's back, you'll be able to ask. West loves fixing bikes. I'm sure he'll be able to fix it for you."
I smile. "That's cool. I love fixing cars. I fixed it myself."
Her eyes widen. "No way. You did?"
"Yeah, it was my pop’s car. Dad tried fixing it years ago, but it was left in Gigi's garage. It took a while, but I finally got it up and running."
"That's awesome. It must run in the family.”
I follow her out of the room and downstairs, unsure what to say to that. I don’t know West. I’m hurt that she knows him better than I do. “What’s he like?”
She glances back at me with a frown. "Your dad?" She smiles. "He's been a second father to me, looked after me since Dad died."
That pain in my chest deepens. "No, I meant West."
"Oh, West is... West. He's gruff, but on the inside, he has a heart of gold."
"So, are you and him…?" I leave the question floating in the air.
Sadness seeps into her eyes and she turns back and carries on walking. "Me and West aren't anything. I'm a girl he likes to fuck when the time calls for it."
Oh...
"Harla, things in the club are different than they are in the real world. The men here, they're different. There's ol' ladies and then there's club girls. There's no in between."
"What's a club girl?" As soon as I ask the question, I regret it. I think I already know the answer.
"They are girls that love partying with Reaper's Fury. Cumbuckets, Snatches and Bobs are just some of the names they’re called. None of the men are exclusive with any club girl and the club girls love to sleep with a brother, thinking they’ll get a patch slapped on their ass." Her voice is tight as she snorts. “I’m not like them because my daddy was a member. I haven't slept with all the brothers like they do, just West. Only West.” I get the distinct impression that she hates that she's not exclusive with West. From what I saw this morning between the two of them, I thought they were a couple. “So, these women are just here to sleep with men?” I ask as we walk into the kitchen.
“Yes, they want to become an ol’ lady, to wear a brother’s patch, but no brother will pick a whore to carry his kid. There are twelve of them at the moment. Sometimes they bring friends to party with them.”
"Do you all live here on the compound?"
"Yes, they live in the outer buildings. Some members have their own houses but mostly stay here. "
I'm a little overwhelmed. My dad has this whole life that I never knew anything about. Did he not want me to know about it?
“You said ol’ ladies?” I got a feeling it's nothing to do with age.
“Yeah, they are women the brothers have claimed, who mean everything in this world to a brother. When you become an ol’ lady, you get the respect of all the brothers, the club. No one messes with an ol’ lady.
"Want toast?" she laughs. "There's no proper food. The girls have gone shopping, so until they get back, there's only toast or leftover pizza." She squints at it. "Although, I can't guarantee how long that's been there for."
"Toast is fine, thank you."
Footsteps sound behind me and my entire body freezes. Women chattering filters through and I glance at Callie.
“Ah, that’ll be the ol’ ladies.” She has a smile on her face and I relax a bit. She reaches for me and pulls me toward her. “You’re fine. Breathe, Harla, you look like you’re about to faint again.”
Before I can say anything, four women are standing in front of me, each of them with a curious look on their faces and hands full of bags.
“So, it’s true?” a voice says, the owner of which starts pushing past the women and comes to stand in front of me. Her blonde hair is straight and to her shoulders, and she’s wearing a tight leather skirt with a t-shirt. She looks as though she’s in her late forties, if not into her fifties. I don’t miss the way the other women don't seem too pleased to be around her either.
“Rhonda,” Callie says, her voice tight, “meet Harla.”
Rhonda gives me a sweeping glance, a look of disdain on her face as she does. “So, she’s his daughter?”
“Yes, Harla is Prez’s daughter,” Callie says as though she’s talking to a child.
A sharp intake of breath comes from the woman standing behind Rhonda. She’s in a tight pair of leather pants and a black t-shirt with a black leather cut over the top. Unlike Rhonda, she has a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes.
“You’re Maggie’s daughter.”
“Um, yes,” I say softly. “Hi.”
She waves her hand as she walks toward me. As soon as she’s within touching distance, she pulls me into her arms.
“Your mama was my best friend. I’m Monica,” she whispers. “It’s been a long time since I saw you. You’re beautiful, just as she was.” Her arms squeeze me.
“You’re going to have to tell me about her someday,” I tell her as she pulls away. I don’t know much about my mom, other than my dad truly loved her and she was an amazing woman. Whenever I’d bring her up, both Gigi and Dad would change the subject. In the end, I stopped asking.
Her shaky hand reaches for my cheek, and she rubs it gently. “Harla, that is a date.” She smiles at me, still talking softly so that only I can hear her. “Come on, let me introduce you to the other ladies.” This
time, she’s loud enough for everyone else to hear her.
She walks past Rhonda, not saying a word to her. “This is Pam. She’s Milo’s ol’ lady,” she says, introducing me to a woman who is also wearing a black leather cut. Pam smiles and nods.
“Hi,” I squeak.
“This is Julie. She’s Hammer’s ol’ lady.” She points to the extremely thin woman with grey hair. She’s the eldest of the ladies in the room.
“Hi,” I reply, having no idea who Hammer or Milo are.
“This here is Bee. She’s Ace’s ol’ lady,” she says, pointing to the curvy woman. She’s gorgeous; long, thick black hair that falls down to her waist. She looks as though she’s in her mid-twenties.
Bee smiles at me. “Hey there, Harla. You look like you’re wasting away, girl. You hungry?”
I nod eagerly. “Starving.”
Bee laughs. “It’s a good thing we went shopping then, ain’t it?”
Rhonda huffs. “I’ve got things to do.” She walks out of the kitchen, glancing back to glare at me as she does.
“Ignore Rhonda,” Callie tells me. “Everyone else does.”
“She has a problem with me? Is it because I’m here?” I ask, glancing around at the women in front of me.
“She has a problem because of who you are,” Monica says as she begins to unpack the shopping.
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“Harla darling,” Bee says, “that woman is West’s mom.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Oh, shit.
Bee nods. “Yep, now you’re getting it.”
“She’s wanted to be your dad’s ol’ lady for as long as I can remember. Shit, I reckon she got herself knocked up just to force him to make her it.” Monica shakes her head. “Your dad’s sharp as fuck. He knew what she was like, knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t give in.”
“Why do I feel as though she hates me?”
“Harla baby,” Monica begins, “the whole world knows your dad had one love, your mama, and that bitch knew it too. Your mama had everything she wanted, everything she thought she deserved. You represent that. You’re a reminder of your mama.” She smiles brightly at me. “You’re the spittin’ image of her.”
Saint's Angel: Mc Standalone Page 4
