Angels and Demons

by A. C. Bextor

  “I’m okay,” I assure. “Now let’s go get lunch. I’m starving.”

  Grabbing the clothes from my grasp, she rolls her eyes then pulls my arm, “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Myra shuffles us out. With the last of the clothes I’d grabbed from the floor, I pull my arm away.

  “Hang on,” I tell her. “Let me grab my purse.”

  From the front of the store, Cricket’s voice raises to the rest of us to get going.

  “Tell her I’m coming,” I insist.

  Handing the clothes off to Myra, she nods and I turn back.

  Just as I break into the hallway in a rush, the arm holding my purse is yanked—hard.

  Toby pulls me back into the room and my back is slammed against its mirror. I’m startled, but once recognizing who I’m with, my surprise turns to anger.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hiss, pulling my arm from his grasp.

  Toby emerges agitated. Just as distraught, if not more, than when he was being held against the club’s floor. His clothes are no longer neatly pressed; they’re dirty and wrinkled. His hair, which is usually styled to perfection, is unkempt.

  Pushing my body with his, trapping me against the wall he questions, “Are you one of them now?”

  “What?”

  “Are you a filthy fucking whore, too?”

  Shocked and surprised, my composure threatens to slip. I attempt to walk around him, but Toby’s arms cage me in.

  “Did I treat you too nice? Is that it? You like it rough?”

  Feeling unease, I move to change subject. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I have eyes, Mia. Been watchin’ you since that son of bitch put my face to the floor.”

  “You’re stalking me?” I question, with less unease and more fear.

  “Not stalking,” he corrects. “Waiting.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I spit, angrier by the second.

  Toby’s hand grabs my waist. Using his fingers, he digs deep to the point of pain.

  “I was careful with you,” he tells me. “I waited to fuck you ‘til you said you were ready.”

  “Back off,” I insist.

  Toby not only looks disheveled, but also a little exhausted.

  “I could’ve been fuckin’ you long before you gave the go. Whores like to be fucked hard.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I croak.

  “You left me for them.” He points to the door.

  “I didn’t,” I counter. “This isn’t what you think.”

  “Are you fuckin’ that animal? The fuck who had his hands on you?”

  “Toby, this isn’t you—”

  “Are you fucking him?” he roars, all patience lost, slapping his hand near my head.

  I’ve never been afraid of Toby. Not for as long as I’ve known him. Standing here, alone in this room without a witness, I’m terrified.

  Thinking to talk my way through this, I place my hands on Toby’s chest and whisper, “If you’ll calm down, maybe we can—”

  Toby’s mouth crushes against mine. His arms slide around my waist and his knee shoves between my legs. His tongue fights my lips for a way in. When I don’t give him one, he pulls my hair, forcing my mouth open to cry out.

  Then he steps back.

  My heart is beating rapidly and my hands are shaking at my side. Tears fill my eyes.

  Toby scowls, taking this in by glancing down by body and back up.

  “Fuck, you like this,” he tells me. “Fuck you and all those fucking bastards.”

  Toby doesn’t curse. At least he never did during our time together. I thought I knew him. Hell, I thought I loved him. Turns out I was wrong. I didn’t know or love him at all.

  Stepping in to get close, I prepare to run as Toby informs, “I hope he fucks you good. I hope you spread your legs wide so he can enjoy what I had first. ‘Cause your pussy will be the last pussy he ever tastes.”

  Oh, my God.

  With the parting shot meant to threaten, Toby stalks his way out of the room.

  Two minutes pass before Advay comes to find me crouched on the floor in panic.

  Will someone please explain what in the hell just happened?

  “Toby likes to think he’s an untamed dog, Elevent,” Pop clips, shaking his head. “But the mutt is all bark. He could’ve hurt her; he had the chance. He didn’t.”

  “He fuckin’ touched her,” I remind. “She didn’t want his hands on her, Pop.”

  Advay called on our way back to town. His tone said far more than his words. He briefed me on what went down on the girls’ day of shopping. He took the blame on himself, accepting both responsibility and punishment for Toby getting as close as he did.

  I could fault the brothers who were there but I don’t. They weren’t dealing with a man. They were dealing with a coward. They’re harder to track—cowards are stupid, making them also harder to handle.

  Toby, a man with obvious patience, waited for the perfect moment to get Mia alone—and took only a few seconds to send his message.

  Pop’s right, Toby didn’t physically hurt her, but he didn’t have to. He fucked with her head.

  The ride home was grueling. I was at odds with myself with no longer being torn. So far Mia has been left for Zalesky to worry about. I’ve been taking his money to watch over her. With what happened this afternoon with Toby, I’ve come to realize that’s all bullshit.

  I can deny my feelings but that would be futile. Mia belongs here, with me. For the good of her or not.

  “You’re not gonna go all half-cocked on this,” Pop directs. “You tell Zalesky and he’ll handle this.”

  “Zalesky gives a shit about Mia. The threat from Toby wasn’t directed at her. It was made for me.”

  “You’re gonna go half-cocked,” he surmises with defeat. “Then she was right.”

  “Who was right?”

  “Mia worries for you,” Pop explains. “She’s had no problems with anything Toby said about her, or what she was doin’ here,” he assures.

  “Good.”

  “He was vile and cruel sayin’ what he did. But Mia took it. Didn’t care.”

  “Good,” I say again.

  “Until she got back and one of the girls told her what you’d do,” he goes on. “Then she started to worry.”

  “Toby’s a dead man,” I promise.

  Pop shakes his head, his disappointment obvious. “Zalesky has his hands on this, El,” he says again. “Let him handle it.”

  “Toby Meyer doesn’t get to make threats and run,” I motion.

  Assertively, Pop urges, “Don’t give Mia more to worry about.”

  Taking a seat at the bar next to Pop, I let that penetrate.

  Advay had told me I wasn’t his first call. But his second. He’d already been in contact with Abram. He took the report as Advay had hoped, vowing to handle Toby and doing this soon.

  Pop’s right. Zalesky knows how far Toby’s shit can run. He’s informed. I’m not. He has a plan. I don’t. And Mia’s safety is why that I can’t fuck that up, especially if Toby’s gotten himself in with Arrows in any fucking way.

  Running my hands over my face, I mutter, “Christ, I’m exhausted.”

  “Trip sounds worth time bein’ gone,” Pop replies. “Sounds like progress was made.”

  When the guys and I walked in from the road, Pop was sitting alone, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. He hadn’t said much, a few nods to the men, smiles to their awaiting women. Other than that, he gave nothing.

  “What would you do right now if you still held the gavel?” I question, genuinely wanting to know.

  “I’d do exactly what you’re doin. You’re buildin’. You’re out lookin’ for new members. You’re gainin’ allies you’re gonna need, if not now but later. The likes of those Russians are key. Talks with Lights of Peril add another insurance. Can’t say I’d ever have had the balls to approach either, but you do. That’s why it’s good you’re in that
position and I’m not.”

  “Peril’s in,” I confirm. “Hem says he’ll do it to help. Shame says he’ll do it for a payback.”

  Pop smiles. “Hem’s got heart, makes him who he is,” he tells me what I know. “Shame’s got heart, but he’s let the world fuck with him. He expects the unexpected, fuck; I think he craves it. They aren’t stupid. They know, sooner or later, they’ll need you as much as you need them.”

  He’s right about that. After leaving Peril, a weight had been lifted from Saint’s shoulders. Peril won’t dirty their patches for just anyone, and if I have Hem and Shame’s word they’ll do that for mine, then I have it in stone.

  “They’re sending a few boys down soon. More will come later.”

  “Shame’s working recon,” Pop asserts, nodding his head and looking into the mirror over the bar. “Again, smart. No successful MC wants to hitch their name to a bad one.”

  Again, Pop’s right. I don’t confirm. I grab my beer, bring it to my mouth and down a heavy pull.

  Pop turns in his chair, sitting sideways, and smirks out into the common room as more brothers stumble in, tired as hell and tossing their bags on the furniture.

  “So, Mia,” he starts and I turn my gaze to his. “Wanna talk about what she’s doin’ here?”

  Here it is. The real reason he’d been waiting when we walked in. Pop hasn’t been worried about Mia being handled by Toby. He’s been worried about me being handled by Mia.

  Funny.

  “The Russians will owe us for taking care of her. And not just money. Honor and payback.”

  “I don’t mean that.” He scowls, narrow his eyes in shame. “Mom told me all about Myra and Mia.”

  “Then what?”

  “I wanna know what’s she doin’ here.” He points to the ground, emphasizing his point. “She’s gotten herself in tight with some of the boys. Fuck, the women love her, and those bitches don’t love anyone. The men—”

  “I know how the men are,” I return.

  Pop smiles.

  “Suppose you do, you bein’ one of ‘em,” he tells me. “The brothers aren’t blind, Elevent. And a lotta these men are new. But all that said, Mia’s no visitor to any of ‘em. She’s already part of ‘em.”

  “Pop, I’m beat. I—”

  “You can fight me on this, but you’d lose. You know we’re gonna have this talk, James,” Pop directs.

  Shit. He’s not only pushing for my honesty and attention, but also by using my given name he’s demanding it.

  “What’s it you need me to tell you?”

  “Nothing.” Pop shakes his head. “But you know I gotta have my say. I love all you boys, but I worry about you and Gypsy the most. So does Mom.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” I press.

  “You still have no woman, El. And I’ll be damned if you and Gypsy don’t give Mom new babies to love soon.”

  Christ. He just met Mia, and he’s picturing her belly full with my baby. The notion isn’t entirely off mark, but too soon.

  “Mia’s not made like the others,” I remind.

  “That’s why we’re talking, stupid,” he jabs in frustration. “’Cause you’d be right. She ain’t even close.”

  “Pop,” I voice sternly in warning.

  “Next to Sunny, Mia’s the best woman for the club. And as soon as she realizes this is where she should be, she’ll come into herself and you’ll all be fucked.”

  “You can stop,” I order.

  My words don’t faze Pop, though. They rarely do.

  Putting his smoke out, he explains, “Mom loves her. Spent yesterday doting all over her. The two had all the women cookin’, cleanin’, playin’ cards.”

  “She doesn’t belong here,” I remind him yet again.

  Ignoring what I’ve said, he continues. “And this is after her run in with that fuckwad.”

  “She doesn’t live like we do,” I broach.

  “Not what I saw when she was goin’ over Ziah’s readin’ and writin’ lessons.”

  I close my eyes and inhale. “Pop—”

  “Ziah loves her. Fuck, he’s a kid and the first words outta his mouth was that as soon as he earns his cut, he’s gonna marry her.”

  “Damn it, Pop—”

  “You gonna let a ten-year-old best ya?” Pop spits. “Christ, give her to Vante at least. Or Leglas. Least that’d fix my problems with Cricket.”

  Leglas has his hands full of every pussy but Cricket’s. I don’t voice this. In truth, it was Pop who encouraged her to stay hooked to Leglas in his absence. Gypsy left her, for years, and this ruined her. Broke her in ways she’d never be good again. So, he knew if she was with Leglas, she may not be happy but what she would be is safe.

  “Leglas won’t commit to Cricket,” he tells me, off subject.

  “Doesn’t love her,” I return. “Least not the way he should.”

  “I know it.”

  Pressing matters, I state, “Gypsy loves her.”

  “Know that, too.”

  “Talk to your son, Pop. He’s losing the best of his life. Cricket will eventually come to her senses, and leave Leglas high and dry.”

  “I’ve tried,” he tells me.

  “Try harder.”

  Pop grumbles before admitting, “Gypsy’s like his old man.”

  “Stubborn,” I point out. Standing, I grab my bag telling him, “I’m out. I’m beat.”

  “Mom and I heading out in the morning,” he tells me. “Now that you’re back, all is well here, I’m ready to get back home.”

  “You sure?” I question. “You’re both welcome to stay as long as you want.”

  Nodding, Pop says, “I know. And if you’d asked me last week how long I needed to be here, I’d have said a lot longer. But you have this, Elevent.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Pop nods. We both know I won’t see him. Unlike Mom, who needs time to say goodbye to every single person, Pop takes off without a word.

  “I’ll be in touch. Won’t be gone long. Mom said we’ll be back at Christmas.”

  “You’re comin’ back for Christmas?”

  Smiling fully, he asserts, “Mom said winter weddings are the most romantic she’s ever seen. Seems you’re getting married.”

  “Christ.”

  “In a church.”

  “Fuck.”

  “In a tux.”

  “Shit.”

  Pop laughs, loud and large. “And snow or no snow. Christmas or no Christmas. I’m not missin’ that.”

  “Didn’t figure you would.”

  “Take good care of yourself, Elevent. And take better care of Mia.”

  He doesn’t know it, or maybe he does, and he’s giving my ego and pride a break. But taking care of Mia in all ways, is exactly what I intend to do.

  “Fuck me harder, Angel,” Elevent hisses, his back coming off the bed with another slam of my hips against his own.

  Doing as he demands, my hands brace against his chest. Making up the motions as I go, my hips grind back and forth, up and down, until I’m close. My head flips back, finding what I need. My body burns with impending release.

  “Christ, did you touch yourself thinkin’ of me?”

  I didn’t touch myself, but I most definitely thought of him. The anticipation was building each day he’d been gone.

  After what happened with Toby, I wanted to see Elevent. I needed to touch him. My body ached to be anchored to his again. Not just physically, but emotionally as well.

  Minutes ago, the door to Elevent’s room opened. I knew without looking he was home. His heavy bag dropped to the floor, and within seconds, his heavy belt buckle followed.

  I hardly had a chance to prepare when my blankets were stolen away, ripped from my body, as his took their place. With a determined grip, he spread my thighs and slammed into me without uttering a single word. He’d been ready before he’d opened the door.

  Ready and afraid.

  Looking down, I stop moving,
but keep my hands braced to his chest.

  “I’m okay,” I reassure him again.

  Knifing up from the bed, Elevent takes my mouth. With his tongue angry and aggressive, he forces my lips to open. Holding a hand to the back of my head, he fists my hair. The other wrapped securely at my back, forcing us chest-to-chest. He drinks from my mouth, hungry and determined. A renewed sensation tears through us both: the intimacy, the closeness, the familiarity.

  Abruptly, his body locks, forcing mine to do the same.

  “He fuckin’ touched you,” he gets out on a hoarse whisper.

  Settling my hands to his cheeks, holding our gaze together, I reassure, “Elevent, I’m okay.”

  “You missed me,” he tells me, his gaze penetrating my resolve to give my reassurance, as it needs to be given.

  My insides tighten, feeling him as he starts to move inside me. Reveling in us moving together.

  “Oh fuck yeah, you missed me,” he hisses.

  “I missed you,” I give.

  Elevent rests his forehead at the center of my chest. He rolls his head, latching my nipple to his mouth, sending a wave of pleasure to my core. My release is close.

  Thirteen days I was without him.

  Thirteen days I missed him.

  Thirteen days I wanted him exactly where he is now.

  Elevent turns us until I’m flat on my back, his body over mine. His hand drops between us, his finger grazing my sensitive clit. My mouth opens to beg for more and he swallows the moan.

  Grasping my legs beneath my knees, he spreads them wide and drives in deep. The force of his thrusts continues, as does my body’s reaction.

  “Christ, you feel good,” he seethes through a clenched jaw. “Made for this, made for me.”

  At his words, I start to come apart. My nails dig deep into the skin of his back. My teeth sink into the flesh of his neck. My legs lock around his waist.

  “That’s it, baby,” he encourages. “Let go.”

  So I do.

  “Christ,” he grinds out, thrusting in again and again. “Tell me this is for me.”

  I don’t. I can’t, my body in the throes of bending to his will.

  “Say it,” he demands. “Tell me this is all mine.”

  “Yes!”

  Oh dear God, yes.

  Hearing my truth, reacting to my admission, Elevent’s drives become battering and brutal.