Angels in Leather
Page 12

We’ve been based in San Diego for the past six months. It’s a central location for us, and there are no other clubs dominating the area at this point. The compound is just out of town, and we own four warehouses, as well as the main house where I reside. This is my home now. Even that doesn’t bring me any comfort.
“I’ll keep the checks running,” Jax, one of my guys, says.
“Yeah,” I grunt, walking inside the compound to the beer, women, and chaos.
“Yo, Pres,” one of my boys yells. “Any luck?”
“None,” I say, shoving my way into the kitchen.
I find the fridge, swing it open, and see it’s empty.
“Stupid fuckers,” I grumble, spinning and slamming into a small, big-breasted form.
I step back and see Miranda, my weekly fuck, staring up at me with doe eyes, and a sweet-ass expression. She holds up a beer. “I heard you come in.”
I grunt at her, and take the beer, swallowing the cool, crisp liquid.
“You look like you’ve had a hard week,” she croons. “Do you want me to come back to your office?”
I stare down at her. Why the fuck not?
“Yeah,” I say, turning and walking into my office.
The minute we get in, I spin toward her, and she screams, scurrying toward the bed. “Don’t hurt me!”
“Get back here, bitch,” I growl, slamming my beer down and charging toward her. She knows how I like to play my games. She’s always been the only girl who lets me play it my way. She gets that I need her fight to be able to fuck her.
I stalk toward her, knowing my eyes are cold and empty. I clench my fists and grind my jaw, hissing through my teeth. “You fuckin’ run, I’ll make it hurt.”
She edges backward, her eyes wide. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
I see a glimmer of true fear in her eyes, just for a split second as my hand lashes out and curls around her shoulder. She plays this like a game, but sometimes I see genuine concern in her eyes. I feel my insides swell with want. Something about having her afraid of me, even if it’s just a touch, has everything in me growing hungry and depraved.
I throw her down onto the bed, and cover her body with mine.
“Fight me, bitch.”
And fight she does.
~*~*~*
MEADOW
I sleep in until ten a.m. the next morning, and then spend the next two hours finding somewhere decent to eat. By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve only just gotten my breakfast. I start work in an hour. It’s a super-long shift tonight, but I need it. I gobble down my breakfast before practically running towards the bar.
The minute I step in, I run into Colt. “Whoa there, steady on.”
I pull back, knowing that I’m flushed. “Sorry Colt, I kind of couldn’t find anywhere to have breakfast.”
He gives me a confused look. “You should have called me. I would have made you some.”
I smile. “Anyway, I’m here. Where do you want me tonight?”
“Tables. I have Selena, another one of my girls on the bar.”
I nod, and duck past him, heading out back. There’s a girl with dark black hair and pale, beautiful skin, standing and applying make-up in the small mirror. She’s got a pair of tight jeans on, and a red top. “You must be the new girl,” she says, applying a layer of lipstick.
“I am, and you must be Selena?”
“The one and only,” she says, turning and giving me a once-over. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but they never stay long.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, well, I’m only here three or four days, anyway.”
“You’re better off,” she says casually, gripping her hair and tying it up.
“How so?”
She walks past me, and I get a strong scent of perfume. “Well, it’s basic, really. Colt woos them, he fucks them, they get clingy, he doesn’t do clingy, and he fires them.”
Oh.
I never saw Colt as that kind of man. Though he did kind of woo me last night. If I hadn’t been thinking of another tall, dark stranger, I would have probably fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
“Well, I don’t even have time to bother getting interested.”
She smiles at me. “Well, good. Come on, I’ll show you how to wait the tables.”
I spend the next hour with Selena, and she shows me how to wait on the tables. When she leaves me to it, I take over without a problem. The afternoon is a busy one, and the tables fill quickly, but that’s okay; the tips are huge so far. I’m already up to $150.
My feet ache as I rush backward and forward, collecting glasses, delivering drinks and snacks. In the late afternoon, when Selena is finished her break, she waves me over. With an achy body, I go. Colt is at the bar when I arrive, and he flashes me a warm smile.
“Sore feet?”
I shrug. “I get used to it.”
“You want a break?”
I nod, walking around the bar and pouring myself a glass of water. I grab a packet of chips off the counter, and hand Selena some money for them. I sit on a stool, and sigh loudly.
“You’re earning some good tips out there,” she says, pouring a colorful drink for a young, annoyingly loud girl who is standing at the bar staring at Colt with a silly expression on her face.
I eye the girl, before looking back at Selena. “Yeah, they’re good this afternoon.”
“It’s those pretty-as-hell eyes,” Colt says.