Pam nods. “Mmhmm. Dead ringer. Beauty like yours is rare to find. From what I can tell, you’re the same as your mom; softly spoken, polite… Not meant for this world.”
Her words wash over me and my heart shatters.
“But that don’t mean you don’t belong in this world,” Pam continues.
“What she means is, you’re pure, Harla, just like your mama. Your mama’s love was fierce; for you, for your dad, and for her friends. If I were a betting gal, I’d put my money on you taming that beast of his.”
I frown. What the hell is she talking about?
Callie laughs. “Oh, I’ve seen it. I’d take that bet in a heartbeat.”
“Have I missed something?” I question. I feel stupid, like I’m the butt of their joke.
“Harla baby, it’s so fucking good to see you,” Monica says as she begins to put the groceries away.
“Some advice, Harla darling,” Bee says, and I turn my attention to her. “Keep that soft side for your man and your friends. There’s bitches in this place and they’ll be gunning for your man. You need to stand your ground.”
I blink. “My man?”
They all smile. “We know about your man.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have one.”
Monica laughs, a full-bellied one. “Oh, you may think that, but trust me, you do. There’s no way he’s letting you get away, not from what I’ve heard.”
“Enough of that, let’s get some food into you. You’re going to need it to recuperate,” Julie says softly. “The men won’t be back for a while, so you can shoot the shit with us while we cook.”
I smile. That sounds good. I grab Callie’s hand as she turns to leave. “You’re staying too, right?” Even though I phrase it as a question, it’s more of a statement.
“Of course.” She squeezes my hand in return.
I spent the day with Callie and the ol’ ladies. The club girls arrived but I didn’t go to meet them. My entire body aches and I’m barely able to keep my eyes open. The men still aren’t back yet, and I’m saddened that I won’t see Saint.
Crawling into bed, fear grips me. I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to close my eyes and see that man killing Gigi.
It takes a while for me to fall into a fitful sleep.
6
Saint
Normally, this is what settles the beast within; the open road with the wind at my back. But not today. Every mile away from Harla feels like someone is pulling away pieces of my soul. My body is tense and my knuckles white from their grip on the handlebars. This feeling is foreign to me. I’ve never cared about anyone but my brothers before and it’s tearing me apart.
Reaper signals to turn, and as if we’re all one, we all follow suit. My jaw tightens when I think of our conversation in church, when he warned me off Harla. It took every ounce of control not to say anything. I’m pissed that he thinks I’m not good enough, even though I know it myself. Hearing it from the man I respect above everyone else fucking gutted me, those words like a dagger in my heart. But fuck if he wasn’t right. The blood might wash away, but it’s stained me, deep down to my soul.
I’m not a good man, and I’ve never claimed to be. I’ve killed men and women, tortured them too. There’s no doubt I’ll do it in the future. But Angel calms the beast inside me.
I have never wanted a woman. I’ve seen some of the older guys claim their women, but it was never on my cards, wasn’t a life I ever thought about. Until just one look from Harla. That’s all it took to have me wanting something.
We pull up outside an old farmhouse only a few hours out of town. Fuck! She was closer than I had thought.
I watch as West gets off his bike, his whole body trembling with anger, his focus on Prez, his father.
“She was here!” he spits. “This fucking close!” he growls, his voice vibrating through us all.
Reaper grinds his jaw, shaking his head. He has nothing to say. What the hell can he say?
West pushes past him and storms toward the steps leading up to the house. I jump off my own bike, racing toward him. He is a hothead, has a wicked temper. We don’t know if any more of those fuckers are still here.
Lifting my leg, my foot connects with the door. It rattles, almost ready to fall. Lifting once more, I add more power as I kick it. As soon as I connect with it, it smashes against the wall, splintering into pieces.
West takes a few steps inside as I regain my footing. Within seconds he stills, turning to face me. I see his watery eyes as he covers his mouth with his hand. Shaking his head, he walks past me and out into the yard.
I don’t need to walk very far into the house to pick up the sickly sweet odor. Only a few people can handle it—death. The smell of a body decaying. It’s something that once you smell it, you’ll never forget it. It’s as though it seeps into your pores and never disappears. I walk further into the house and come to a stop when I reach the kitchen.
“Fuck,” Reaper growls behind me, his gaze on the bloodied body. It has flies circling it, and her skin is grey and bloated. A single tear burns down his cheek as he mourns his mother, the woman who raised his daughter, the woman who put her life on the line to save his baby girl. He pulls out the burner, making a phone call for the boys to collect her.
Studying the kitchen, I notice the small footprints in the blood, along with the bloody handprints on the kitchen cupboards, as if someone had slipped in the blood. I realize that it was Harla. She was the one who fell and scrambled around, scared out of her mind as she watched the woman she loved as a mother be shot down while saving her. No wonder she was fucking having nightmares.
I narrow my eyes at the pair of black boots that are in the doorway leading out of the kitchen, a ruby red river leading to another body. His body is cold, his soul already in the hands of the devil. Walking up to him, I see the Phoenix tattoo. Without hesitation, I kick him. He’s the one who brought the nightmares to Harla’s door, and he’s the one who showed her the darkness of the world, made her cry and afraid of her own shadow.
A large hand clamps on my shoulder, and I turn to see West, finding the same hunger in his eyes for the blood of the enemy.
“He’s dead, man. Save that anger.” He smirks. The Phoenixes came here with a message. We received it loud and clear. The tilt of his lips tells me we’re going to be answering them.
I nod, taking a step back, a growl reverberating in my chest. I want his—their blood, now. I want to soak in it, make them scream the same way Harla has been, watch as the fear shines in their eyes and seeps out of their skin, just like they made her. I want to enjoy having them beg for mercy, yet know it will never come, just like they hadn’t shown any to my girl.
That’s exactly what she is. Even if I can’t claim her, she has already claimed me. She’s imprinted on my soul. I’ll watch her from the shadows, make sure nothing will ever hurt her again.
We all gather in the garden, waiting for the boys to turn up to bring Reaper’s mom home. She deserves a decent funeral. Her family deserves it.
“What's the plan?” West asks, his gaze avoiding the house and his grandmother inside it. I watch as he swallows hard, his voice holding onto his emotion. Something that we all are feeling, knowing just how close Harla came to taking her last breath.
I scan the area, noticing a dark, almost black area. I walk over, rub my fingers over it and bring it to my nose. The metallic smell of blood instantly hits me.
“Motherfucker.” I turn toward the others, who are all frowning, West and Reaper already on their way over.
“Son?” I see the questions in Reaper's eyes, but the word ‘son’ has my jaw grinding so hard I am surprised I don’t break a tooth as we stare at each other. I’m not his son. I’m not good enough for his daughter.
“Saint?” West asks, breaking through our stare off.
I turn to West. “She said she hit someone as she drove off, the fucker that shot her.” I’m barely able to contain my emotions. “They fucking somehow
survived. It’s fresh. I’d say less than two hours,” I growl, the vibrations rattling my chest.
Fuckers had been back here. No doubt once their boys hadn’t returned, they went looking for them. We’ve just missed them. We would have been here earlier if I hadn’t been so fucking wrapped up in Harla, wiping those damn tears of hers away. Every time they fell it was as though my chest was burning.
“Saint, she needed you,” West whispers. My gaze is on Reaper as he walks off, shouting at the boys to ride and search the area, see if they can find anything. Turning back to West, he lifts his brow as if he understands the war inside of me.
I shake my head. “No. She needs to be kept safe. Reaper was right, a man like me is no good for her.” I storm off. Saying those words makes me want to fucking hurt someone. I light up a spliff, letting the smoke bury into my lungs.
After a beat, West walks over, snatching the spliff out of my hands. We are more like brothers than the rest. When Reaper found me on the streets, half dead, he took me to his house. West had helped bring me back to life as much as Reaper. Both watched over me as my body shook from the nightmares, held a cold cloth to my head until the fever broke, and fed me. I stayed with Reaper and West until I prospected, when I was given a room at the club, where I've been ever since.
“You’re different around her,” he tells me, but I don't speak. Instead, I snatch the spliff back, taking a large drag. “In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never given a woman a second look. Fuck, you don’t talk to women. Ever. But with her you don’t shut up. Those words of yours spill out.”
I swallow harshly as I frown.
West holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Ain’t saying it’s a bad thing. It is good to hear you. Never understood why you never spoke more than a few words.” I shrug. “Learned a long time ago what happens when you do, but with her…” He trails off.
“It comes easy—the words pour out.”
West nods as if he understands. “But Reaper is right; you need to stay away. She ain’t cut out for this life, ain't going to stay. She’s not said she will. You’re too messed up, like all of us. But her…” He shakes his head. “She's different.”
I can’t bring myself to say anything, because I can’t argue. She is different. My world is full of darkness, our world is full of darkness, and none of us deserve the sweetness that is all Harla. She’s not the sun, she’s the motherfucking moon. She shines despite all the darkness that surrounds her.
A rumble of an engine sounds and each one of us stands tall, every man going for their gun as a black van pulls up in the drive. Archie steps out of the van and Reaper walks over to him. Archie owns the funeral home not far from the compound, he’s been friends with Reaper for a long time, whenever he’s called, he comes, no questions asked.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Reaper says. He’s already composed himself. Every emotion he was feeling is now buried below.
Archie nods and walks up the steps to the house. Reaper sends Tank, Whistler and Sniper with him, all of whom go without complaint.
We all form a line of respect when the body is brought out. We stay this way until the van doors close.
“Let’s ride,” Reaper orders, his fingers circling the air. Ace stays behind to deal with the dead fucker lying on the kitchen floor. He’ll pour acid over him, so no one will ever be able to recover his body.
West looks at me. “Let’s go to Sweets. Fuck, we all need it.” Sweets is our strip bar. I nod along with the brothers.
By the time we arrive at Sweets, it's dark. My muscles are sore from all the riding. Like a pack, we descend on the club, walking through the door and heading straight for our seats. Before we even get there, there are beers on the table and a bottle of whiskey. I grab the bottle, unscrewing the lid, and take a deep pull, loving the burn as it flows down my esophagus.
We all watch as Pearl comes on stage, her hips swaying to the music. She is one of the favorites. She’s dressed, per usual, in the skimpiest outfit known to man. Every single move is sensual. She knows what she’s doing. Her fingers wrap around the pole, and she kicks her leg before twining it around the metal. Her routine has every cock in this club growing. Mine, on the other hand, is a fucking traitor. It doesn’t even flinch, nothing. Pissed off, I take another large swig of whiskey.
Three hours later and we make it back to the compound. As soon as I step foot in the door, my body relaxes. All the tension I had drains from me. It’s as though my body knows she’s close by. I head straight for the stairs and take them two at a time. I’m like an addict needing his next hit; all I want is one fucking look.
I reach her door, turning the handle as little whimpers echo through the air. Opening the door, I watch as she fights her invisible demons, trapped in her nightmare. Letting out a small growl, I walk toward the bed, watching as her body tosses back and forth, anguish written across each of her features. I go against everything I should do, and instead of calling for Callie and walking away, I close the door, bathing us both in darkness.
I don’t think, I just let instinct take over. I lay next to her, on top of the blankets, and her whimpering stops, as if my presence is enough to keep the nightmares away. She snuggles in closer to me, placing her soft hand on my chest, a little sigh escaping her pink lips. I might not be able to claim her as mine, but in the darkness, I can watch her, protect her.
I stroke her hair, nuzzling into her. “Mi Bello ángel,” I whisper into the darkness.
She is my beautiful angel, and she always will be.
7
Harla
Staring at the casket as it lowers to the ground, a lone tear slowly falls down my face. I leave it, not wanting to draw attention to it. Dad and West are flanking me, but I don't think I've ever felt this alone before. I'm surrounded by men and yet I feel as though no one is here. They don't understand what I'm going through. I'm so angry and hurt, and I'm tired. I'm angry at Dad because I hate that he and Gigi kept this life from me, kept West from me. I'm hurt because Gigi's gone. I'm never going to see her again. I don't think this hurt will ever disappear. It's as though someone has taken a knife and nicked a piece of my heart.
It's been three days since they went to get Gigi. I know they found something while they were there. They've been having a lot of meetings, or as they call it, 'church.' Callie told me not to worry about it, but I do. I want to know what is happening. When I asked Dad, he ignored me, so I've not asked since, nor have I really spoken to him. I've been keeping myself to myself, only really talking to Callie and the ol' ladies if they're around.
Saint hasn't been the same with me since that day. He doesn't talk, and he acts as though I'm invisible. Yet at night he climbs into bed with me and holds me. I'm confused because I've never done this before, and I have no idea if it's normal, but I'm guessing it's not. I hate that I’m his only at night, it’s as though I’m not good enough to be his once morning hits. It hurts like hell, but I can’t say no.
I want to be around him. When I am, I'm not afraid of anything, but he makes my head spin with the way he acts and I'm too tired to be playing those stupid games.
Callie asked me what my plans are, and I have no idea. Since she told me my car is badly damaged and in the compound’s garage, I'm leaning toward fixing it up and taking to the open road, seeing where it'll lead me. I have nothing holding me here, not anymore. Living with Dad is weird. He has no idea what to do with me, and the truth is, all he has to do is treat me like a human being. Yet, he's acting as though I'm not around. It must be something in the water. West, on the other hand, has been trying. He'll come and sit with me and talk. It's weird. I feel as though I remember him, that there's a memory at the back of my mind but I can't quite grasp it. He’s familiar to me and I like it. If I were to leave, I think he'd be upset. But right now, I don't think I'll be able to stay. I feel as though I'm an outsider, one that isn't wanted.
Once Gigi's casket is lowered, I throw a rose into the hole. Dad follows suit, as
does West. Once we're done, the priest says something to Dad and I turn and walk away, no longer wanting to be around here. Seeing her in the ground makes me want to sob. I fight it, not wanting to break here. Hell, if Gigi knew I was going to cry, she'd go crazy. I'm stronger than that; something she always told me. I'm my father's daughter. I have an inner strength only very few possess. I never truly understood what it meant—I still don't—but when I think of that saying, it's her voice I hear.
"We ride," Dad says, and the men move as one toward their bikes. I follow Dad to his bike and wait for him to climb on. Once he has, I climb on the back and hold onto him for dear life. Today was the first time I'd been on a bike and it was an experience to say the least. I now know why they love riding their bikes. Having the wind blow through you, it clears your head, makes you forget everything just for a little while.
Once we're back at the compound, Dad and the men head for the bar. I go to my room and get changed, taking off this black dress Callie let me wear and pulling on my overalls. West bought them for me. I told him the other day that I loved fixing cars, that it was something that helped me focus. He went and purchased a pair of overalls for me so that I could fix my car.
Making my way into the garage, I'm glad for the reprieve. Usually, if I'm here, West is too. Today, though, I want to be alone. I want to let the pain wash through me as I work on fixing Pop's car. I switch the stereo on and turn it up, letting the music drown out the sound of everything else.
The car isn't as bad as I first thought when I saw it. I honestly believed it would take me a long time to fix, but it won't. A couple of weeks tops. West has ordered me a new bumper as this one is completely ruined. It also needs a new radiator and a new carburetor. Thankfully, they're easy to get. West had asked if he could help me out, and I felt bad when I said no. This is something I've worked hard on. I appreciated the offer, but it's something I want to do alone. He didn't look mad, just a little disappointed.
Saint's Angel: Mc Standalone Page 5
