Angel (5 page)

I don’t know how, but I wake up with Lilith on top of me, my arms around her. I know I’m getting’ fuckin’ soft cause it feels good, her body against mine; my big arms around her. Shit.

We get up and prepare in silence. I don’t know if it’s Lilith or Amber, and I don’t fuckin’ care, my head’s still crankin’ with everythin’ Lilith said last night. I can’t believe the thoughts are still in my head, but I’m startin’ to think – and it’s a bad fuckin’ sign. I feel like a fuckin’ black hole is openin’ up inside of me, and my muscles are tight as a fuckin’ rope from the second I get up. I’m edgy. Maybe the bitch is right. Three days ago it was just me and her. Me and my bitch.

When Butch rings, I’m fuckin’ wired.

“Luc,” Butch says.

“Yeah.”

“You ready?” he asks, with doubt in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Same place. Two hours.”

He hangs up, and I find myself fuckin’ glad the motherfucker wasn’t in a talkative mood.

I get on the bike and Lilith gets on behind me, her arms reach around, they grip tight, even though I know she ain’t scared. I rev the bike and feel a lot fuckin’ better hearin’ it roar between my legs. It’s like a fuckin’ balm to my soul.

We hit the road and start makin’ ground towards Arizona, toward the club, toward a fuckin’ choice I gotta make that I can’t even fuckin’ think about properly. All the while, my head is still swirling in fuckin’ circles. There are two kinds of rides. Ones where you’re runnin’ from trouble, and the ones where you’re headin’ toward it. Ain’t no fuckin’ doubts about which this is.

I speed up, slingin’ the bike between the few cars out on the road. It’s still hot as all hell, but I’m feelin’ cold, like the blood’s just fuckin’ frozen up in my body. Lilith’s head is against my shoulder.

It’s pretty fuckin’ clear. I give Lilith back, go back to the club, and get Angel back. My Angel. Maybe I will settle. Maybe I do wanna settle the fuck down, keep a bitch of my own. Maybe Randy can start fucking up the trainin’ himself. Maybe I’ll just keep on trainin’ ‘til I fuckin’ die. Too many goddamn maybes. But what’s the alternative?

Lilith.

Say fuck you to Butch? To Randy? To the whole fuckin’ club? I take Lilith, and we go it alone? Trainin’ bitches like I never fuckin’ trained before, with a woman’s help? No more slingin’ the bitches into the back of vans, no more amateur hour with that son-of-a-bitch Randy. Get a connection, and take the money for myself. My own fuckin’ boss, with Lilith by my side. A faithful fuckin’ servant.

And be on the run.

Lookin’ over my shoulder in every god-forsaken ghost town. Jumpin’ at the sound of a group of Harleys. Playin’ it real fuckin’ careful with my connections in case they bite me in the ass. All the while, keepin’ Lilith’s unpredictable ass in check. Fuck.

The black hole in my chest gets tighter, suckin’ me into it. Around the border, I just zone out. The beautiful moan of the bike’s engine like a drone that sets my soul at peace. Every mile of asphalt that passes beneath me is another step closer to the club.

I’ll do what I always fuckin’ do. Live in the moment. I get to see Angel. I see her in front of me, on the road, in the sky, like I’m fuckin’ trippin’. Pullin’ me toward her with a force that starts somewhere down in my balls and ends somewhere in the hole in my chest.

I wanna just ride forever, and it feels like barely a couple minutes have passed when we get to the clubhouse property. I’m feelin’ fuckin’ empty, like a goddamn ghost.

Butch, Randy, and Gunny are there. Standin’ around beside a trailer they’ve set up on the property, in front of the charred mish-mash of the club itself. Randy’s carrying a briefcase. They’re all tooled up, and I see their hands get a little closer to their pieces as I roll the bike around and stop it a little way off from them.

I get off and grab Lilith, but I can’t even look at her.

“You look like shit,” Randy says.

“You look like a cocksucker,” I reply.

Butch grins a little, but I can sense the fuckin’ tension in the air. Something’s going to happen, we’re just all waitin’ to see who’ll start it.

“Glad you saw some sense and came back,” Butch says. He nods to Lilith. “She trained?”

I nod. “Where’s Angel?”

Butch gestures toward the road, where a black foreign car is pulling up. It stops a little way off, and two men get out – one of them is obviously the muscle. Wifebeater, bald head, tats, pistol grip stickin’ out of his jeans, and built like a brick shithouse. The other’s in sunglasses, and a sharp suit, real fuckin’ evil lookin’.

The evil one steps forward, takes his glasses off, and looks Lilith up and down. He turns to butch.

“This her?” he asks, frowning.

“All yours,” Butch says, raising his brow.

I’ve still got a grip on Lilith’s arm.

“Where’s Angel?”

The evil one eyes me, sizin’ me up. We’re standin’ in a triangle, and the cocksucker probably knows I ain’t tight with the club in this deal. His leathery face is frozen in place, but I can sense the uncertainty comin’ from him. It’s makin’ me nervous. If there’s one thing the Cartel don’t like, it’s uncertainty. Fuckers like things on time, in order, utterly fuckin’ clean. Anythin’ less, and they fuckin’ clean up themselves.

Suit sighs and says something in Spanish to the muscle. He goes to the car, opens the passenger door, and pulls her out.

Fuck.

It doesn’t even look like her. She’s so covered in bruises and cuts. Her beautiful face is gone, in its place a couple of puffy eyes, one of them black. Her neck still has finger marks on it, and her arms are pocked with holes. Her legs are cut to shit, some of them still look fresh. Fuckers didn’t even clean the bitch up. She’s still got dried blood and dirt all over her. She’s movin’ slow, sluggish, and I know the signs. They drugged her to hell and back. Another day or two without care, and the bitch is fuckin’ gone.

Muscle drags her into the little triangle we got goin’, and the bitch doesn’t even know where she is, can barely hold herself upright. He shoves her gently into the middle, like he’s throwin’ cards in at a poker table, and Angel just fuckin’ crumbles like a sack of sticks.

I hide my feelings, but the other club members don’t.

“Gunny,” Butch says, “take the bitch back to my old lady’s house. She needs to take care of her.”

Gunny picks Angel up and half-drags, half-carries her over to the van. He drives her away, leavin’ us all standin’ there like we’re holdin’ our dicks at a campfire.

Everyone’s lookin’ at me. Suit raises his hand and beckons Lilith over with his finger. I turn toward her; she looks back at me.

This is it. Fuckin’ showtime. Time to make my mind up and choose my destiny.

Except I don’t.

Lilith pulls my hand off her arm, leans towards me, and whispers goodbye into my ear. I make to speak, but her lips press against mine in the first ever kiss I wanted more of, and then she steps backward, toward the Cartel boss.

I feel like I’m movin’ in mud. My muscles don’t work; my chest has no voice. She’s right in front of me – my gun in her hand. She brings it up to the side of her head, it takes a couple of seconds but memories flash through my mind. The desert, the fire, Amber.

The air cracks with the sound of the shot. Her head blows out sideways, blood and brains splattering like a gory fuckin’ fountain, and she drops. Right in front of me. The hole inside of me expands like a fuckin’ supernova, and for the first time in my fuckin’ life, I feel it.

Alone.

SAVED

Lucifer’s Legion Motorcycle Club #4

The final installment, coming Jan. 12, 2015

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Published by Kelli Maine
First Edition: December 22, 2014
Copyright © Kelli Maine, 2014
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.