Page 9

9

M y lids shoot open with a start as I feel someone watching me, only to find my pretty Angel hovering at the foot of the armchair I claimed as my bed for the night.

“Angel?” I whisper, watching her fingers nervously twist at her sides as she glances over her shoulder to her sleeping friends spread throughout the living room.

When she turns back, the faint light from the corner of the room is enough to show me how anxious she is. Not just from her fidgeting hands, but the tight pull of worry across her brows.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispers, before sighing and shaking her head. “Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you. It’s not your problem.”

She turns to leave, but I sit taller in the chair and grasp her wrist, giving it a gentle tug .

A gasp escapes her, but before she can react, I have her on my lap, cradled against my chest as I lean back again and get comfortable.

She remains quiet as I settle us into the recline of the chair, her big eyes peering up at me through the dark fan of her lashes. She’s clutching the hem of my t-shirt, the one I insisted she wear to bed, as if to try and cover herself up.

I don’t know if this is what she wanted, to end up here on my lap, but it’s what’s fucking happening. I hated that I couldn’t sleep beside her tonight. But as much of an arsehole as I am, I won’t be the prick who comes between her and her friends.

Especially after Marcus overheard my admission about planning to kill someone. The nosey, perceptive fucker instantly clocked that something deeper was going on, especially with how rattled Lexi was after Abbey’s confession.

Fuck. Hearing the pain in her voice as she spoke the words for the second time tonight nearly wrecked me. I’m not sure why, but it seemed more painful for her to tell Lexi.

Maybe it’s because she never reached out to Lexi for help.

“Why can’t you sleep?” I ask in a low murmur, and Abbey shifts on my lap, nestling into me, her hand coming to rest on my chest just under the neckline of my cut.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not used to having so many people around.”

I smirk at that.

We are surrounded by her friends.

As soon as Abbey gave Lexi permission to share with their friends what happened to her and her rapists, with the condition that no one talk to her directly about it, her friends rallied. Each one of those fucking fellas was as smothering as Lexi and Rhys, bringing their makeshift beds closer to where Lexi, Abbey and Rhys were to sleep, completely surrounding them.

The exception is Jared and Dee. They seem quite content just across from me in the other armchair, keeping to themselves. But the others? They fucking engulfed Abbey.

The blond cheeky fucker that reminds me of an overexcited puppy even had the balls to start massaging her feet.

Took every ounce of restraint in me to not pull out my fucking gun and shoot him between the eyes.

“Where’d you sleep for the last three weeks?” I ask the question that’s been clawing at me for days, wondering if she was alone, on the street, scared… or worse.

“On the lumpy sofa in the dressing room at Leather and Lace.”

My brows shoot up at her quiet reply.

“You slept in the club?”

She nods against my chest.

“Every night?”

Another nod, but this time she tilts her head to look up at me.

“It wasn’t so bad. I was safe. They’ve got a TV in there, and Ariel had her boyfriend drop off a pillow and blanket. The women fed me, and Freddie gave me a job cleaning and stuff.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but fuck, it’s a big fucking deal.

Because I can’t fucking hold back, I graze my fingers across her cheek, feeling how warm she is under my touch.

It’s too dark to tell if she’s blushing. Maybe she is. Maybe being this close to me affects her.

Fuck, I hope so.

I hate that I missed the signs she was pregnant. They were there, I just didn’t want to see them .

I hate that she didn’t feel like she could tell me, but honestly, I know she would have eventually. And truth be told, I probably would’ve reacted the same way, regardless, because my head’s been fucked up since Kylie. Since losing my little Hope.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Abs. Maybe if I’d told you my own fucked-up baggage, you’d understand why I flipped. Even holding you now, knowing you’re safe… it doesn’t stop the sick feeling I’ve been carrying for the last three weeks at not knowing if you were okay.”

She offers me a small smile, her fingers playing with the fabric of my shirt.

“I was scared for a day or two, but the girls at the club took me under their wing. Helped me blend in, and made me feel like I belonged. Like I was one of them.”

My brows shoot up. “They treated you like a stripper?”

She giggles a little too loud, slapping a hand over her mouth as her wide eyes dart over her sleeping friends.

“Whoops,” she whisper-giggles before melting back into my chest. “They didn’t treat me like a stripper, silly. They treated me like a friend.”

I smile at that. “Guess I owe them a thank you.”

“No need. I’ll thank them once everything settles down… if it ever does.”

“Hey.” I pinch her chin gently, lifting her face so she has no choice but to look at me. “It will . I fucking promise all of this will all be over soon.”

She nods, but her eyes say otherwise.

She doesn’t believe me.

And I get it. Everyone she’s trusted has let her down.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not going to be one of them .

Alright, so technically I already let her down when I lost my shit over seeing her pregnant for the first time, but damn… I should get a pass for that. Right? Given what I’ve also been through.

“What do the patches mean?” Abbey asks softly, and my eyes drop to where her finger traces the small three-lined arrow patch with our club death head beneath it.

“That one means Sergeant at Arms,” I say, and her brows shoot up.

“Oh yeah. You’re like the enforcer or whatever. Jols told me about that.”

“Hmmm. Did she now?”

Abbey rolls her eyes. “Yes, and you’d better not tell her off for it.”

My lips twitch into another grin. “It’s my job to pull people into line, Angel. Don’t think I won’t use my authority on you.”

She scoffs quietly. “I’m not part of your gang, Ringo.”

“Not a gang. A club.”

Her eyes narrow. “Your ‘club’,” she uses air quotes with one hand, “has a name, has an identifying logo, has colours. Sounds pretty much like a gang to me.”

“Do you follow football, Angel?” I ask, throwing her off by my abrupt change in subject.

“I guess,” she answers warily. “I haven’t really followed footy for a couple of years. But before that, I barracked for Essendon.”

“Okay, so Essendon is a club. They’ve got colours. Red and Black. An identifying logo with the bomber jet on it. So, are they a gang? ”

She grins. “I see where you’re going, and no, it’s not the same. They don’t go around wearing this.” She jabs her finger against my one percent patch.

My brows shoot up. I wasn’t expecting her to clock that. I mean, it’s no fucking secret, but Abbey doesn’t strike me as the type to binge outlaw biker docos in her spare time to know what the one percent patch means.

“And how do you know about the one percent patch?” I ask, more amused than anything.

“Charlie Hunnam.” She sighs, and I roll my fucking eyes.

“Really? Sons of Anarchy ?”

She shrugs. “Lexi and I binged it when we were fifteen. She was more into it than me, but when Jax Teller wasn’t being an arsehole, I kinda liked him. Just a bit.”

I can’t fucking help the wide grin spreading across my face. “So you know a little from a fictional Hollywood production. It’s very American. MC’s operate a little differently here in Australia.”

“How so?” She shuffles higher, nestling her head into the crook of my neck.

Fuck. When her hot breath fans over my skin, I get movement in my cock.

“You really wanna know this stuff?” I ask, instead of answering. It’s purely selfish, because once she knows, there’s a chance she’ll look at me differently.

“I do. Will you tell me? Please?”

Shifting so I can see her face, her big doe eyes lock onto mine.

She wants the truth. For me to open up. I barely spoke about this shit with Kylie, but then again, Kylie never asked. She just partied, took what she wanted, and didn’t care to understand.

But Abbey… she’s not here for the chaos. She wants to know me. Understand what she’s caught up in.

“Will you be pissed if I don’t tell you?” My eyes drop to her lips. They’re so fucking close. I could easily lean forward and claim them.

Fuck, I want to.

Her gaze dims a little. “Not pissed. Just disappointed.” She shrugs, and fuck me, I don’t want to be another person to let her down.

“Do you know much about cartels?”

Her brows shoot up, and she shifts on my lap again, trying to see my face better.

“Like, drug cartels?”

I nod. “In the US, the cartels are predominantly run by South American outfits. But here in Australia, we’re a fucking island in the middle of nowhere. It’s a lot fucking harder to smuggle shit in. So most of the drugs come through outlaw motorcycle clubs and a few top-tier crime families.”

“Mafia?” she asks, and I grin.

“Not your classic Italian or Russian mobs, but yeah. We have mafia here. Mostly run by foreign nationals.”

“Griffin and Devon… are they mafia?”

“They are part of one of the most notorious crime families in this state. So yeah, I’d call them mafia if you want to put a label on it.”

Her mouth falls open. “Let me get this straight. Tonight I had dirty cops, mafia, and an outlaw motorcycle club all chasing me?”

“You did, Angel.” I nod, and she sighs, her eyes dropping to my chest.

“I don’t know if I should feel special or just plain terrified.”

“Hey,” I grip her chin, redirecting her gaze back to mine. “Terrified is normal, but mostly, you should feel important. Because despite the guns and suits, the Marx men are good people. If I wasn’t a selfish prick, I’d tell you you’re better off going with them.”

Abbey remains quiet for a few long beats, her big eyes tracking over my face, shifting from my eyes, to my forehead, down to my nose, before settling on my mouth.

She licks her lips, and my fucking heart stalls.

Why the fuck does my body have such a visceral reaction to something so innocent? Just the lick of her lips, and there goes my fucking brain.

Jesus Christ. No one has ever knocked me off balance like this girl.

Reaching up, Abbey’s fingers graze my longer than usual beard, a result of not fucking looking after myself lately.

“I don’t want to go with them,” she whispers, her eyes flicking back to mine. “I want to be with you.”

“Fuck, Angel,” I breathe, leaning forward until our foreheads touch. “I don’t know if I’m the better option.”

“I don’t care. I know it doesn’t make sense,” she whispers, voice low so we don’t wake the nine other teens sleeping in the room, “but I don’t feel safe unless I’m with you.”

I ease back, cupping her face, our noses brushing.

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. I kidnapped you. Brought you to an outlaw MC compound. Made you sleep in my bed. Threw you into a world of booze, orgies and drugs. And fuck, let’s not forget the violence. There’s nothing safe about that. ”

“And yet,” she breathes, leaning in closer, her lips hovering over mine, “the only time I’ve felt safe is with you.”

Our breathing grows shallow, lips barely apart, but still not touching.

I should pull away. Should stop blurring the lines. Focus on protecting her, killing her attackers, and then, walk the fuck away.

But the thought of that, of leaving her, makes something in my chest twist so tight, I can barely fucking breathe.

“Angel,” I rasp, and a broken sound as small as a whimper escapes her lips, ghosting over mine.

“Please kiss me,” she begs, so soft, but still loud enough for every single fucking cell in my body to hear.

“I shouldn’t,” I whisper back, my fingertips searing where they touch the delicate, smooth skin of her cheeks.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not right for you,” I admit, laying out the raw truth, and she leans in closer, so close that even through the roughness of my beard, I feel the lightest brush of her lips as she breathes her next words.

“If you’re not right for me, then why do you feel so right?”

“Fuck, Abs.” I practically fucking pant, needing her like I need fucking oxygen.

If we were alone right now, she’d already be mine.

“Kiss me, Cameron.”

That.

Her saying my real fucking name does me in.

A growl rumbles from deep in my chest as I barely stifle it. We’re not alone, but that doesn’t stop me. I give in, crossing that blurry fucking line, and press my lips to hers.

She moans softly into the kiss, her hands fisting my leather cut like it’s the only thing tethering her to Earth. Her tongue brushes mine, and fuck, she tastes like temptation wrapped in innocence.

She’s so soft, so sweet under my touch. So fucking pure despite the horror she’s been through.

She’s everything I’m not. Maybe that’s why I crave her like this. Maybe I want to mark her. Ruin her just a little. Know that I pulled her into the dark with me.

My cock is hard. Fucking solid as a rock. I’ve got no hope of controlling it now. It has a mind of its own and it wants her, even though it’s not going to have her, maybe ever. But shit, she is the fucking sun breaking through the darkest storm clouds.

She’s my Angel.

I’ve never been like this with anyone before. Abbey isn’t just some piece of arse I want to conquer.

Fuck, she feels like the very air I breathe.

My oxygen.

As our tongues dance, her whimpers fall into my mouth, and I drink in the sound like it’s something fucking holy, because this moment, this girl with the fire in her soul and softness in her eyes, is the only place I want to be.

She really fucking is.

I didn’t realise it until she ran, but when she did, she took a piece of me with her. And it still fucks with my head how that’s even possible when we’ve only known each other such a short time.

“Oh,” she gasps suddenly, pulling back, her eyes wide, a smile tugging at her lips. “My baby just kicked. ”

This time it’s my eyes that go wide, as we both glance down at her belly, hidden under my grey tee.

“He moved?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You don’t know it’s a he .”

I shrug. “Sounds better than calling your baby it .”

“True.” She smiles again, her gaze falling to her hand now stroking over the swell of her stomach.

“Can I…” I trail off, unsure of myself. What the fuck am I doing?

Abbey’s dark eyes snap back to mine, brows raised. “You wanna feel?”

“No… that’s weird, right? Just forget—”

“You can feel it,” she rushes out, and my gaze drops to her bump again.

I shouldn’t do this.

It’s emotional torture.

What if I touch her and my PTSD kicks in again and I have a flashback?

What if all I see is Hope, lying dead in the dirt?

What if I hurt her?

Sweat prickles along my brow, my heart hammering so fucking loud it’s all I can hear.

“Cam, if it’s too soon, I totally get it,” Abbey whispers, and fuck, her soft voice slices straight through my panic, grounding me.

She’s like a siren.

“I would never expect you—”

I cut her off with a finger to her lips. My eyes drop to where I touch her, and she gives me a gentle smile, like she’s telling me, without words, that it’s okay. That everything is alright .

“I’m gonna touch you now, Angel,” I rasp, and fuck, you’d think I was talking about touching her intimately by the way her nostrils flare and eyes heat.

I feel it too, my body reacting like we’re about to cross another line.

Sliding my hand away from her lips, I shift my focus back to her belly.

She’s not overly big, but it’s obvious she is pregnant.

She’s undeniably beautiful.

Shifting her hand out of the way, like silent permission, I hover my rough hand over the fabric of the tee before gently pressing it to her.

“You might not feel it,” she whispers. “It’s obvious to me, but I don’t know if it’ll be to you.”

I remain silent, my hand splayed across her pregnant swell. The sight alone is enough to remind me just how fucking fragile she is.

Then I feel it.

My eyes snap up to hers, and her smile, fuck, it’s the most genuine thing I’ve ever seen.

“You felt it?” she asks, and I nod.

“Yeah. It wasn’t strong, but it was there. Unmistakably.”

She glances back down, placing her dainty hand over mine.

“I know it’s hard to fathom why I’d want to keep him or her… after how I conceived,” her big doe eyes flick back to mine, “but I have to give this baby a chance, Ringo. I just have to.”

“I know.” I offer a small smile, knowing she means every word, and knowing she’d do anything to protect that kid. No hesitation .

Abbey drops her head back into the crook of my neck, yawning.

“Sleep, beautiful,” I murmur against her forehead, pressing a kiss there, and she sighs, melting into me.

Not even two minutes later, I hear her breathing even out, and my Angel is finally asleep.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.”

The words come from the armchair across from mine, two sets of eyes locked onto me.

Fucking hell. Privacy really is a myth in this house.

I give Jared, AKA Crow, a nod, but he’s not really the one I need to be afraid of.

It’s the little assassin curled up in his lap, much the same way Abbey is curled in mine. She’s the one I need to keep an eye on.

She’d slit my throat in my sleep if I so much as make Abbey cry.

And something tells me I wouldn’t even hear her coming.