Against All Odds - Angel's Story: Against All Odds (Destiny Series Book 4) (12 page)

While I fill the sink with water, I check my phone. I have two messages. One from Dana, saying she’ll call over after work, and one from my mum asking how I’m feeling. I knew she’d be worried about me after our phone call this morning.

I quickly text her telling her I’m fine, asking her not to worry. My phone chimes a few minutes later.

Okay baby. I love you and I’m here if you need me. I’ll call you tonight. Love mum. xoxo

Her message makes me smile. Hopefully I’ve eased her mind.

Once the dishes are washed and the benchtops wiped down, I go and sit by the back window looking out at the ocean. I’d love to go for a walk along the beach right now, but the thought of going out there alone almost sends me into a panic.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, but I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a loud knock. Standing up, I make my way to the door. I automatically presume it’s Chase. He did say when he left, “I’ll see you later,” but that could mean tonight, tomorrow…

When I open the door, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I see two men in suits standing on my porch.

“Angel Cavanagh?” one asks, holding up his police badge. Nervous butterflies dance in my stomach and my hands start to tremble. Thinking fast, I quickly slide them into the pockets of my jeans, trying to hide them from the officers. I need to try and stay calm if I’m going to pull this off.

“Yes, I’m Angel Cavanagh. Is there a problem?” I ask. I’m actually surprised how casual my voice sounds, considering how I’m feeling on the inside.
I can do this
, I tell myself.

“I’m Detective Wilson and this is Detective Barnes,” he says as he extends his hand to me. He has a kind smile. My eyes move over to the other detective, and when I find him looking me up and down with a creepy smirk on his face, it makes my skin crawl. It reminds me of the look Riley gave me when he picked me up for our date yesterday.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you mind if we come inside?” Now that’s something I don’t feel comfortable with.

“I’d prefer to stay out here,” I answer as I step outside, closing my front door behind me. They exchange looks. I’m not sure if they think I’m hiding something, but I really don’t care. They don’t have a warrant, so I’m not obliged to let them into my home. Truth is, after what happened with Riley, and the way that douche just checked me out, I don’t feel comfortable being alone with them.

“Okay. Well, are you aware Riley Benson was brutally attacked last night?” He wasn’t the only one, is what I’d like to say, but of course I don’t. I’m thankful the nicer of the two is asking all the questions, so I focus all my attention on him.

“Yes. One of my friends called me this morning. She read about it in the newspaper.”

“Can you tell us what happened after you both left the party together?”

“We didn’t leave the party together,” I say as confidently as I can under the circumstances. Lying doesn’t usually come easy to me, but I have a lot riding on this. So does Chase. “The last time I saw Riley was when I walked out on him.”

“We have witnesses who say he followed you out.”

“You do?” I ask trying to act surprised. God I’m going to go to hell for this. I hate that I’m in this predicament. Apart from the lies I’m telling right now, I’ve done nothing wrong. In my eyes neither has Chase. I’d do anything to protect him after what he’s done for me.

“Well, to the best of my knowledge, that’s not true,” I state. “I left the party on my own. I didn’t see him again after that. I was unaware he had even been attacked until I got the call this morning.”
Shit, I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me on the arse.

The officers look at each other again. I wish I could read their minds. Their facial expressions aren’t giving anything away. The longer I stand here, the more nervous and intimidated I become.

“Can you tell us your movements from the moment you left the party?” Detective Wilson asks kindly while the other takes notes.

“There’s not much to tell you. I left the party and came straight…” Shit. Before I get a chance to finish, Chase pulls into my driveway. God, could his timing be any worse?

Detective Wilson looks over his shoulder following my line of sight, before looking back at me. I watch in horror as he elbows the other detective, flicking his head in Chase’s direction.

Chase is off his bike in a flash and making his way towards us. “Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” he says as he jogs up the front steps, coming to stand at my side.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Daniels. We’ve been looking for you,” the creepy detective says.

“Is that right?” Chase asks, folding his arms over his chest. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem to be intimidated by them. “Why would that be?”

“I believe you had an altercation with Riley Benson last night.” Chase quickly looks over at me for confirmation. Crap. I hope he doesn’t think I told them anything. I give him a look, silently trying to convey I haven’t said anything, all the while hoping the detectives don’t pick up on the weird look passing between us.

I’m relieved when he turns his attention back to them and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We have witnesses who say otherwise.” Detective Barnes seems to have a real attitude towards Chase. I wonder if it has anything to do with Chase’s father being in a motorcycle gang. Or maybe he’s always an arrogant arse. Either way, I don’t like him. Not one little bit.

“I told him to get his own damn beer, then he left. I wouldn’t exactly call that an altercation,” Chase replies, shoving his hands in his back pockets. He’s so cool and calm, while I’m a bundle of nerves. I can already tell he’s going to make a fantastic lawyer. That’s another reason he can’t afford to get in trouble. This could ruin his career before it even starts.

“Do you want to tell us exactly what happened when the three of you left the party last night?”

Chase answers before I get a chance to speak. “After I left the party, I found Angel walking home alone, and I offered her a ride. Nothing more to tell.” Relief floods through me. I’m not sure if they believe us, but at least our stories are similar. I’m so glad we had that little talk before he left earlier. If we hadn’t, I’d hate to think the dilemma we’d be facing right now.

“So, you’re trying to tell me that neither of you saw Mr. Benson after leaving the party within minutes of each other?”

“That’s right,” Chase answers confidently.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well it’s the truth.” He says it with such conviction that if I didn’t know any better, I’d even believe him. Chase and the detective with the attitude, stare each other out for a few seconds. I can tell he’s trying to intimidate Chase when he squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. This causes a small cocky smile to appear on Chase’s face and I know his intimidation isn’t working.

While those two have their little moment, Detective Wilson passes me his business card. “Call me if you can think of anything that may help with our inquiries.” He has kind eyes and a pleasant smile on his face. Not like that other butthead he brought with him.

“Sure,” I say as I pull my hand out of my pocket, reaching for the card. Shit. Bad move. I forgot about my trembling hands. As soon as his eyes move down to my hand, his head snaps up, a curious look comes over his face.

Turning my hand over to take the card has his eyes searching out my face again. Fuck. I forgot about my grazed palms.

“Call me if you need to talk,” he says loud enough for only me to hear. What does he mean by that? Oh god. Does he know we’re not telling the truth?

“Don’t leave town,” Detective Barnes finally says, as his eyes narrow at Chase. “We’ll probably need to talk to you both again.” With that he turns and walks down my front steps.

“Look forward to it,” Chase says smartly to his retreating back.

One more look passes between Detective Wilson and I before he turns and follows. Even though it appears, for now, that we’re in the clear, I have a sinking feeling this isn’t the end of this. Not by a long shot. Not only does Detective Barnes appear to have it in for Chase, I think Detective Wilson is onto us. Without proof though, there’s not much they can do.

The only other person who can shed some light on this is Riley. So until he wakes from his coma, I guess we can breathe easy.

I hope.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chase

After a twenty-minute verbal rant, Pops finally let me explain what happened. His anger towards me then shifted to Benson. “He did fuckin’ what?” he screamed. He started to pace and his hands worked their way through his hair. He always does this when he’s trying to process something. Eventually he stopped and faced me again. “You did the right thing boy.” I explained everything Angel and I had discussed, about keeping it between ourselves for now. He was okay with that. “She’s tryin’ to protect ya, you know. That’s a good one you’ve got there, boy. Don’t fuck it up again,” he said before he turned and made his way to his sanctuary—his workshop.

I quickly showered and changed before making my way back here. The last thing I expected to see were the cops questioning her when I rode up. I should’ve known they’d want to talk to her. After all, she was dating that fucker.

She looked so vulnerable standing there with those two towering over her, trying to intimidate. My protective tendencies towards her kicked in straight away. I hate when they pull shit like that. I’ve seen it a million times when they’ve come up against my dad and his brothers. Cops and bikies don’t mix well.

Truth is, apart from some of the dodgy shit they dabble in, they really are a great bunch of guys. Their loyalty and ethics towards each other and the club is really something to see.

Sweet-cheeks put on a good front for the detectives, I’ll give her that. She can’t pull that shit on me though. I know her too well. I could tell she was scared as soon as I made eye contact with her. I’m glad I got back in time. I don’t want her to face this shit on her own. She’s been through enough.

Once they leave, I guide her back inside. Her hands are still shaking. That does nothing to ease the anger boiling inside me. This mess is far from over and it pisses me the hell off. How will she ever be able to get past what happened when she’s got Benson’s father and his puppets breathing down her neck?

“Hey,” I say as soon as I close the front door. “Don’t let what just happened get to you. We’re the only ones who know the truth. It’s not like Riley’s in a position to say anything.” More than anything I want to pull her into my arms and make this all go away, but I can’t. I need to keep my hands to myself from now on. She needs a friend more than anything.

“I hate lying,” she says, bowing her head.

“I know. So do I.”

“I wish this whole mess would just go away.” She raises her head looking at me. I see anger in her eyes. “I wish I’d never met Riley Benson,” she adds as she turns away and walks towards the back of the house, stopping in front of the glass wall overlooking the ocean.

I stand there for a few moments, watching her. I wish I had the answers. I hate seeing her like this. I wish she’d never met that fucker too. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would’ve happened.

Eventually, I make my way towards her. She doesn’t even look my way when I come to a stop beside her. Her arms are wrapped around herself as she looks longingly out of the window.

“Would you like to go for a walk along the beach?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Really?” she answers, her face lighting up briefly. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” When I see uneasiness cross her beautiful face, it worries me. It just proves again how she’s not coping as well as she’s making out.

“Of course,” I reply, trying not to let on how I can see straight through her façade. When she doesn’t move from where she’s standing, I take a step towards the sliding door and open it. “Come,” I say, holding my hand out to her.

••••

It doesn’t take long for her to liven up once we’re outside. It surprises me just how much. She told me once how much she loves the ocean. Seeing her out here now, it shows. The first thing she does once her feet hit the sand, is tilt her face up to the sun, drawing in a large breath.

We end up walking the length of the beach, which is easily a couple of kilometres. On our way back towards the house, she stops, sitting down on the sand. I can tell she’s not ready to go back inside yet, so I join her. If being out here helps in any way, I’ll stay out here all night if I have to.

Silence falls over us as the carefree woman I’ve seen over the past hour or so, slowly disappears again. I sit and watch as she picks up handfuls of dry sand, letting it slip between her fingers. Repeating it over and over. She looks deep in thought. I wish I knew what she was thinking.

“What do you think is going to happen when
he
wakes from his coma?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. This makes her sigh heavily. Worry written all over her beautiful face. “Hey,” I add as I reach for her hand, giving it a small comforting squeeze. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not the bad guy here, sweet-cheeks, just remember that.”

Looking over at me, she gives me a small smile. “Thank you. Just knowing I have you helps.”

We continue to sit, our hands still linked, staring out at the ocean. I can see why she finds this calming. Having her near is all I need. Her presence has a huge effect on me. It has from day one.

We’re both lost in thought when a flash of lightning lights up the sky. The loud boom of thunder that follows makes Angel jump. Neither of us had noticed how dark and gloomy the sky had become.

“I suppose we better head back,” I say, letting go of her hand. “Looks like a storm’s on its way.”

“I guess,” she replies with a shrug. I can tell she’s disappointed. I hate that she’s lost the confidence to come out here on her own. It’s only been a day since she was attacked, so I’m hoping it’s something she’ll get past in time.

As I go to stand, a raindrop lands on my arm, followed by a few more. After brushing the sand off my hands, I reach out to help her up. “It’s starting to rain,” I say.
Rain.
Memories of what happened last time we were together in the rain enters my mind. Shit.

I pull her to her feet just as the heavens open up. Another loud boom of thunder has Angel jumping out of her skin and crashing into me. Her palms land flush against my chest. Is it wrong that I love the feel of her hands on me? My traitorous cock likes it too, springing to life. Fuck me. He knows, just like I do, how heavenly her pussy feels.

Sweet fucking Jesus. Why did I let my mind go there?

It’s something I try not to think about. It’s like a slow and agonising torture if I do. Wanting something you know you can never have again is the worst fucking feeling,
ever.

When she lifts her face, looking up at me with those beautiful fucking eyes of hers, my hands instinctively slide around her waist, bringing her in closer.
Bad fucking move.

The sadness I see in her eyes as she holds my gaze, tugs at everything inside me. More than anything I want to take her pain away. I want the girl I first met, back. The Angel she was before Benson and I fucked her over. The one who was so happy, carefree and full of life. 

As I hold her, those feelings I try so hard to bury come creeping back to the surface. Why does she make me feel like this? I can’t explain it. I love it and hate it all at the same time. It’s such a foreign feeling, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Scares the fucking shit out of me it does.

We can’t go there again. I know that, and I’m sure she does too. I’m not capable of anything more than sex, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her again.

As I go to pull back from her, she slides her hands up, anchoring them around my neck, holding me in place. The rain is pelting down. We’re both soaked to the bone. Her hair is plastered to her head. Droplets of water are pebbled all over her skin, her beautiful silky-soft skin I dream about. What I wouldn’t give to be able to run my hands over every inch of her naked body again. Lick every last drop off with my tongue. I try to hold back the growl bubbling in the back of my throat.

“Dance with me,” she whispers.

“What?”

“Dance with me. I used to love dancing in the rain when I was a little girl.” Images of a cute little Angel dancing and laughing in the rain enter my mind, bringing a smile to my face. She’s like no other female I know.

Most women would freak at the thought of standing in the rain. ‘
Oh my hair’
, I can almost imagine it now. Not my sweet-cheeks. She seems to revel in it. Last night, seeing her all dolled up was a sight to see, but fuck me. With not an ounce of makeup on, her hair plastered to her head from the rain, if she’s not just the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen.

She has a natural beauty. One I’m sure goes right to the bone, and probably into the depths of her soul.

“You want me to dance with you, in the rain?” I ask in disbelief. My smile widens as I look down on her face. She’s serious. Her expression says it all.

I slide my hands around her waist again, pulling her flush against me. I hear her breath hitch as she inhales. Her lips part slightly as her hands tighten around my neck. Her body starts to sway against mine. My body moves instinctively with hers. We mould together perfectly. Why did I agree to this? Having that sinful body of hers grinding against mine is almost too much.

Fuck, I’m in deep shit.

Then I go and do the dumbest thing
ever.
I start to sing. I’ve never actually sung to a girl before, fuck knows why I am now. Nothing makes sense when it comes to her.

I remember hearing the song ‘Purple Rain’, sung by Prince, at one of the club’s family parties. It was about a week after I walked out on her. The fact the song mentioned rain instantly made me think of Angel. After all, it was the rain that led to our little sex romp.

The first few lines of the song also brought home to me what I’d done. The song even says it’s such a shame our friendship had to end. Ain’t that the truth. I guess in a way I’m trying to apologise for what I did, but it’s also a distraction. It’s stopping me from doing what I really want to do, which is lay her down in the sand and devour every fucking inch of her.

I sing the first few lines until I reach the chorus. I tell her how I didn’t mean to cause her any sorrow or any pain. That I only wanted to see her laughing in the rain. “You can sing?” she states in amazement as her beautiful eyes widen. Yes, I can sing, but I don’t answer her. I don’t sing in front of other people anymore. My mum, like everything else, ruined that for me.

When she first discovered I could hold a tune, she put me in every fucking competition she could. Only the ones that had cash prizes, of course. At first I loved the attention she showed me when I performed, but I soon learnt once she had that prize money in her grubby fucking hands, that was all she really cared about. It hurt that she didn’t give a fuck about me. It turned me off performing.

Angel stops moving, staring up at me. When I don’t reply to her comment, she says, “Your voice is so beautiful. How did I not know you could sing?”

I don’t answer her. I don’t know what to say. Instead my eyes follow a drop of rain as it trails down her face, coming to a stop on her top lip. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lean forward and lick that drop off with my tongue, but I can’t do that.

Instead my hand reaches up. The pad of my thumb lightly skims across her lips. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sweet-cheeks.”

I feel her body slightly shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s a reaction to what I just said or did, or because she’s wet and cold. Either way, I need to put space between us. Being pressed against each other like this is not a good idea.

Move the fuck away Daniels, before you mess things up again.

“Let’s get you back inside before you catch a cold,” I say letting go of her, taking a step back. I swear I see disappointment cross her face, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared.

“Okay,” she whispers, looking down at the sand. Honestly, I’m disappointed too. I’d like nothing more than to hold her in my arms,
forever.
But I can’t, so I don’t.

“Race you back to the house,” I challenge, trying to lighten the mood again. She smiles before breaking into a run.

“Last one there’s a rotten egg,” she says laughing as she runs ahead. It makes me laugh too. I’ve never heard that expression before. It sounds like something she would’ve said when she was a child.