Angel's Halo

  My eyes widen and I grab the bag. Inside is a slice of Aggie’s secret recipe triple chocolate fudge cake with raspberry sauce drizzle. It’s irrational, but tears suddenly burn the back of my eyes. No one—no one—has ever taken care of me the way Bash had.

  Blinking to keep the tears at bay, I clench my jaw and carefully place the bag back on the desk. “Thanks,” I mutter.

  Strong fingers grasp my wrist gently, and I’m pulled up from the chair and against a hard wall of muscles. Bash lifts his free hand and cups the side of my face, making me meet his silver-blue gaze. “Are you crying, Raven?” he demands in a rougher than usual voice.

  “No,” I lie, but a tear breaks free and slips down the cheek he touches.

  A callused thumb wipes the errant tear away. “Raven …”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I whisper.

  “You aren’t fine. The last time I saw tears in those pretty eyes I nearly killed a man.” His head lowers, his nose skimming down my neck. I know I should push him away and get back to work. Instead I find myself grasping his belt loop on his jeans with my free hand and holding on tight. “It’s only dessert, Raven. Why would it make you cry?”

  “Because…” I swallow back a whimper as I feel his lips and then his tongue graze over the pulse at the base of my throat. “…because you always think about the little things. No one’s ever done that … except you.”

  He growls something I don’t understand and releases my hand to grip my ass. He presses me hard against him, letting me feel how much he wants me. Both my hands grip his jeans, holding on because I know I’m going to need him to balance me. “I’ll always take care of you.” He breathes against my ear. “You’ll always be mine.”

  I don’t speak. There’s no use. I’m not about to lie and deny his words.

  Gracie

  I’m not the kind of person that can sit around doing nothing. When Felicity and Raven left, I was all alone in the big house. They’d told me to make myself at home, so I try to do just that.

  I make myself a sandwich and a big glass of iced tea. Then I clean up the kitchen. Apparently no one cares if there are dirty dishes in the sink or not, so I wash them and then start wiping down the counters. Feeling restless, I decide to vacuum the living room. It’s not that the house is dirty, not by a long shot. I just desperately need something to do to distract myself from all the things going around and around in my head.

  I’m still freaked out from the night before. My fingers tremble just thinking about what could have happened if Hawk Hannigan hadn’t been there to save me. Thinking of Hawk makes my heart race, because despite what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago, he makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. Fudge! That makes me sound like a slut …

  The way I insulted Hawk earlier makes me cringe. I’ve never been so ashamed of myself before in my life. Why had I believed all of those stupid rumors about the local biker gang in the first place? It was proved, all too clearly, the night before that they are better people than any of the jocks, who are supposedly upstanding people, that go to the university with me.

  It’s late afternoon before I hear the back door opening. I stick my head into the kitchen and frown when I see someone I don’t recognize pulling a beer out of the fridge. “I didn’t know you were still here, Raven.” The stranger speaks with his back still turned to me. “Can I fix a sandwich? I’m starving and Tanner hasn’t done any grocery shopping.”

  “I can fix you something,” I offer.

  At the sound of my voice, the guy’s head shoots around and blue eyes rake over me. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Gracie. Who are you?” He has dark hair and his shoulders aren’t nearly as wide as either Hawk’s or his brother Colt’s. This guy isn’t bad too bad to look at, but I can’t begin to compare him to Hawk’s utter maleness.

  “Matt. I live next door.” He turns back to the open fridge, pulling out stuff for a sandwich. “So, you must be why we have to make a run tonight.” He grins over his shoulder. “Have to say that I would be pulling rank and doing the same shit as Hawk. You have got to be the sweetest looking thing I have seen in—well fuck, forever.”

  “I … um … thanks?” I’m not sure how to respond to all of that, but I assume it’s meant as a compliment.

  “Christ! Are you blushing?” He laughs and I felt my temper start to rise. I can handle most things, except people laughing at me.

  I open my mouth, not sure what I’m going to say but knowing that I don’t like him. Before a single word escapes me, the back door opens and Hawk steps into the kitchen. His olive-jade eyes narrow when he sees Matt, and then his gaze moves to me. Seeing the look in my eyes, the blush that still shades my cheeks, he explodes. “What did you do, Matt?”

  “Hey, man, I just got here. I haven’t done shit.”

  “What did he do, Gracie?” Hawk demands, moving toward me.

  “Um …” Who are we talking about? I lose all train of thought when my eyes take all of him in. Fudge! I want to touch his hard arms. I remember how rock hard they are when he carried me and held me for most of the night. “What?”

  Matt makes a snickering sound but doesn’t say anything because Hawk shoots him a killer glare. “Did Matt do something to make you feel uncomfortable, sweetheart?”

  Oh, Matt. “No, no I’m fine.” He did, but I don’t want Hawk to get upset. When he stops just a few inches from me I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “Hawk … can we talk?” I want—need—to apologize to him again.

  “Of course.” He holds out his hand, and I don’t even hesitate to take it. “Eat and go home, Matt,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads me into the living room. Hawk sits on the couch and pulls me down beside him.

  His hard, jean clad thigh brushes against mine, and I can’t quite contain my shiver. Fudge! Just that innocent contact electrocutes me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned.

  I bite my lip, feeling my shame consume me again. “I didn’t mean what I said this morning. I would never think those things about you … It just surprised me to find out that you belonged to a motorcycle club.”

  His eyes darken slightly but he gives me a small smile. “I know, Gracie. Stop worrying about it, okay?”

  I try to return his smile. “Are we okay? Still friends?”

  The smile turns into a full on grin. “I don’t normally have female friends, sweetheart. But yeah, we’re still friends.”

  Chapter 11

  Bash

  As soon as Raven is done with Razor’s books, I take her over to Uncle Jack’s. I make sure that Jack is going to be around long enough for her to do her work, and then I’ll head back to get the ink on my back I had told Hawk and Raider I was going to get.

  Spider is alone when I get back, still munching down on the chili cheese fries that I had brought him back from Aggie’s. As peace offerings go, it’s not much, but I know that where Spider is concerned those fucking fries are the bridge we need to mend our friendship.

  “Dude, you already got that girl’s name on your chest. What else do you want?”

  I straddle the chair and pull my T-shirt over my head. Raven’s name takes up the left side of my chest, but I want something more. I need to show her that for me, she’s it. “I want a raven across my shoulders. The wings spread wide. The eyes green—like hers.”

  Spider shoots me a smirk and turns to his art table to sketch the design I want. He has skills, that’s for damn sure. Thirty minutes later he’s prepping my back and setting up the ink station for easy access to the colors he’ll need. “This is almost like old times,” he comments, slapping on his black gloves.

  “Yeah.” I nod. There were plenty of Saturdays when I’d sit right here, letting Spider ink me to pass the hours that Raven worked on the Originals’ books. The tattoo on my chest is the last one Spider gave me. It’s also the one that tipped the scales and told Raven’s brothers that my hanging around her so much wasn’t exact
ly all innocent like they thought.

  I glance down at the scar on my arm, grimacing at the ugly, welted line from the surgery that put my arm back together after Jet had finished with me. I wouldn’t change anything about that beating, except that I never would have let Jet’s emotional beat down affect me so badly. If anything, that had been the last straw and the reason why I had left Raven behind. Jet was right, I’m not good enough for her. I’m not man enough to take care of her. I don’t deserve Raven.

  But I will try my damnedest to always be the man she wants. The one that she craves. The one she can’t live without.

  I don’t feel the sting of the needle as Spider inks my back. I barely hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun as he spends the next two hours shading and perfecting the art. We barely speak during that time. Spider always gets in the zone when he’s tattooing and I’m too lost in my own thoughts to care.

  Finally, he wipes my back down and puts some ointment on it. “Okay, dickhead. My hands are all cramped up. That’s all you get today.” He starts cleaning up his stuff, and I stand to look at my back in the mirror that takes up one wall of the front room. “Well?”

  The way he’s designed the eyes to look so much like Raven’s actual eyes—the shape and color—set the raven off perfectly. On the raven’s foot it says: Property of Angel’s Halo Bash. The brand that Raven should have already had on her back, proclaiming her as mine. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

  “Let’s get out of here. I need a beer.” Spider tosses his gloves in the trash and heads for the front door.

  “How much do I owe you?” I reach for my wallet.

  “About a six pack and lunch for a week.” Spider grins as we step outside and he locks the door behind us. “I’ve never charged you before, not about to start now.”

  “Fine. But make it a twelve pack. I don’t want people thinking I’m your favorite or something.” I pull out my keys to my hog. “I have to pick Raven up from Uncle Jack’s. You go on over to the bar and we will meet you there.”

  “She’s going to see the new ink and you won’t be getting to the bar anytime soon.” Spider gives me another smirk as he climbs on his hog. “So if I don’t see you in a few, I’ll see you before the run.”

  I shoot him the finger, but I have a smirk on my face as I head in the opposite direction.

  I’m anxious to get back to Uncle Jack’s and see Raven. My heart and body aches to see her even though I only left her a few hours ago. I need to win her back and know that I have a long road to go until I completely have her where I want her … in my arms, my bed, on the back of my bike where she always belongs. The problem is, I’ve never been able to keep her there.

  My stomach clenches with regret and guilt. Will I ever be able to keep her after she finds out the reasons I left?

  That question still gives me indigestion as I pull into the parking lot of Jack’s bike shop and I find it empty. The lights inside are all off, and when I check the door it’s locked. Uncle Jack must have finished early and taken Raven with him. Grimacing, I turn my bike in the direction of Hannigan’s.

  Raven

  I’m still going through the last week’s invoices when Uncle Jack appears in the doorway of the back room. Raising my head, I give him a tired smile as I look him over.

  If I had a favorite “uncle” it was Uncle Jack. He’d been my dad’s best friend, his vice president when Max Hannigan was the President. After my father had died, he could have just as easily taken over the club. Instead, he was the first to suggest turning of the club over to a younger generation, my brother and now Bash.

  Uncle Jack is still handsome for his age, which I’m not even sure of. His shoulders are still wide and the muscles aren’t too flabby, unlike some of the Originals’. Red brown hair is streaked with gray, and his eyes are nearly the same startling blue as Bash’s. He has no family that he spoke of. Jet told me that Uncle Jack’s only daughter had run off with a rich boy from the local university and never looked back. Uncle Jack hasn’t tried to get her to come home and says she’s better off away from the club. When I was born, he doted on me just as much as my father had, and I’ll always consider him my surrogate dad.

  “Hey,” I say when he stands there leaning against the doorjamb. “What’s up?”

  “Going to head out early.” He nods to the account books in front of me. “Save that for next week. I’m sure I won’t go bankrupt before then.”

  I snort. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I’m not stupid. I know that like most clubs, Angel’s Halo is into illegal shit. No one ever talks to me about the runs they make, but I can imagine what takes place when the guys return from Mexico, or when there’s news that a rival club member suddenly bites the bullet—yeah, that’s usually a literal term. Normally there’s a celebration at the warehouse just outside of town. Something I’m never allowed to go to, but I know what was going on. Those mamas and sheep can’t keep their mouths shut after all.

  But all that illegal stuff is okay with me. I take care of the legit as well as the not-so-legit books for all of the Originals. It’s my job to cook the books. Just because I don’t know what they’re doing, doesn’t mean I’m not aware of how much their secret runs bring to the bank.

  Uncle Jack grins, making him look a few decades younger. “Grab your things. I’ll drop you off at the bar before I head home.”

  Closing the top book, I stick it into a secret drawer under my desk and lock it before pocketing the key. Flipping the light off in the office, I follow him into the silent garage and out the side door where Uncle Jack’s hog is parked. He gets on and I slip on behind him. I love being on the back of a bike and have been riding with my father and brothers since before I can remember.

  Like expected, the bar is crowded. There’s hardly any place for Uncle Jack to park, so he just lets me off at the front door and waits until I’m inside before heading home. I try to talk him into coming in to have a beer, but he doesn’t care for Saturday nights here, just as most of the Originals don’t. While there isn’t a female within a mile of the bar on Fridays, Saturdays the place overflows with them. Mamas, sheep, or sweetbutts, women that are considered property of all club members, are there to whore themselves out for the night. Saturday nights are also when some of the braver college girls come in needing some adventure in their boring lives. What better an adventure than to get a biker to take you home for the night.

  Besides the mamas and sheep, there are a few ol’ ladies that come in on Saturday nights too. I smile at the two sitting at the bar while their husbands play pool in the back. Tying an apron around my waist, I put a fresh bowl of pretzels in front of them. “Hey, Cory, Jen. What’s up?”

  Cory is a forty-something mother of four, all of which are going into the family business. She’s lived a hard life, evidence of which is on her wrinkled yet still pretty face. Jen, who’s been her best friend for as long as I’ve known them, is the mother of two recently patched members of the club and one daughter that’s soon to give birth to another future biker. It doesn’t seem to matter to anyone that Jen’s daughter is only sixteen, or that the baby’s father could very well be just about anyone in the club.

  Jen gives me a long knowing look. “So Bash is back.”

  My smile slips a little. “Yeah. He is.” And I know what she’s going to ask next before it even comes out of her mouth. How am I handling that? If she’d been around to ask that question earlier this morning, I’d have told her that I’m not sure. Now, even though I’m still struggling to figure out how to handle the reappearance of the man that’s crushed my heart and soul, I’ll tell her that I’m close to giving in.

  But Cory smacks her friend on the arm—hard—and sends her a glare. “Leave the girl alone. She doesn’t need you putting your pointy nose in her business. So what if Bash is back. The girl has backbone and isn’t going to give in. Why would she when we both know that that boy is only back to find a mother for that kid of his …”

  Cory’s still bitching at her friend w
hile I just stand there frozen. Heart stopped. Breath trapped in my lungs. Brain—no that’s still working.

  Kid. Kid. Kid. Kid.

  Kid?

  What the fuck does she mean, kid? Bash doesn’t have a kid. I would have known if he did. Right? Right?

  RIGHT?!?

  “Bash doesn’t have a kid,” I choke out, not sure if I’m defending him or begging her to tell me it’s not true.

  Cory stops mid bitch and turns her greenish hazel eyes on me. She takes in my pale face, hands clenching on top of the bar so hard my knuckles turn white. My heart goes from being completely stopped to racing a million miles an hour. And my breathing—yeah, that’s rapid and shallow. It’s a joke. It has to be.

  “She didn’t know, bitch,” Jen snaps at her friend. “I told you that just because your man tells you shit, doesn’t mean you need to go around telling everyone else.”

  “Raven …” Cory looks regretful, her eyes full of pity. “Honey, I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. I mean … He … Fuck! Me and my mouth.”

  I switch my gaze to Jen. “He doesn’t have a kid!”

  Jen reaches for my clenched hands and gives them a motherly squeeze. “Yeah, he does, baby. She’s about three years old.”

  I jerk away from her as if she’s slapped me. It’s a lie. A lie. It has to be a lie. Someone’s making up stories to see if I’ll snap. Well, I’m going to!

  Stupid me, I was ready to forgive him, ready to let him back into my heart even. All over a piece of cake! All the reasons I assumed why Bash had left me had never involved someone else. Never once have I ever thought he left me to go play happy family. He has a fucking kid—a daughter—and I didn’t even know.

  And when he said there’s been no one else? That he’s never wanted anyone since me..? All. A. LIE!

  Feeling wild, ready to hurt as I hurt, I glance around almost frantically for one of my brothers. They’ll tell me the truth. If they know—and they know everything that goes on in the club—then I want to hear them say it. Colt walks behind the bar with a tray full of empties and tosses them all into the huge trash can beside me.