Angel on Fire (Motorcycle Club Romance)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

Angel on Fire @ 2014 by Kelly Lawson. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Angel on Fire

You know those times when you wish that you could just disappear?
I’ve been feeling like that more and more recently. Well, maybe not disappear, just get away, get away from all the crappiness that seems to have followed me around since Mom died. But the one thing that you can’t run away from is your own life, no matter how much you may want to.

When Dad’s new witch of a wife finally got up the nerve to throw me out, I wasn’t all that surprised. It was inevitable, I suppose. I just hadn’t thought that things would play out the way that they had. I can still hear her whiny voice telling me to get out of her house. I’d tried to point out that it wasn’t actually
her
house at all; it belonged to my dad, but she wasn’t interested. She had never been particularly interested in listening to my opinion about anything, so I guess this time wasn’t much different.

“I want your scrawny ass gone before I get back tonight,” she said, as we squared up to each other, like fighters ready to jump on top of one another.

“Well, I’d rather have a scrawny ass than a face that looks like it belongs on a show called
When Plastic Surgery Goes Wrong
!” I replied, saying what I’d wanted to say for a good long while.

Her heavily made-up eyes blinked at me and I couldn’t help but think how much she looked like a fish. With her stringy, bottle-blonde hair and her fake nails that looked like claws, she was so far away from the person that I thought my father would have wanted to be with. I had thought he would want to be with someone more like Mom was, someone kind and funny and warm; but, it was almost as if he went for someone that was completely the opposite. Maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of her and everything that he had lost.

“Jeffy,” Tanya had said in her baby-voice, “you’re not going to let her talk to me like that, are you?” she asked, batting her eyelids at my dad who was doing his best impression of an ostrich as we argued.

“Well now, Tanya, honey,” his quiet voice came out reluctantly from his big frame, like a response was being forced from him, “I’m sure Cali didn’t mean it,” he said looking at me.

“I sure did,” I replied, not looking at him, but keeping my eyes trained on Terrible Tanya instead.

“See! I told you Jeffy! She hates me and she doesn’t want me here,” Tanya shouted like a banshee, as she pointed at me.

“I’m sure that’s not true, let’s all calm down,” Dad said, finally putting his paper down and no longer pretending that he wasn’t involved in what was going on. That was Dad’s default setting, kind of a see no evil, hear no evil thing. “Cali, tell Tanya that you do want her here and that this is all just a big misunderstanding,” he said, as he looked at me. His eyes softened, like they were pleading with me.

But I had no intention of lying to him, I just didn’t see the point anymore. “No, Dad. It’s not a misunderstanding, I think Tanya understands me perfectly. It’s like I said before, I’m not her maid and I’m not the cook. This is not Cinder-fuckin’-rella! I don’t have time to do everything around the house, hold down my job at the hardware store, as well as go to night school. Now that she’s living here as
your wife
, I think it’s time she start doing her share, instead of swanning off every five minutes to get her hair dyed or her nails done!” I folded my arms to stop my hands from shaking. I wasn’t used to saying what I really thought, especially when it came to my dad’s choice of mate.

“See Jeffy! See! Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Tanya’s already-bulging eyes looked like they were about to bug out of her head. “You’ve been spoiling her for years and it’s time she stood on her own two feet. Either she goes or I go!” she declared with a little quiver in her voice, like she was about to cry.
Oh, you’re good
, I thought, as I shook my head at just how pathetic she looked.

“I don’t think we need to go that far, Tanya, sweetie-pie,” Dad said. He stood up from the kitchen table and moved between us, as if the physical barrier would stop us from wanting to rip each other’s throats out. “Cali, just apologize and we can all get on with the day,” he said, his voice calm and serious. As our eyes met, I finally understood that he was always going to take her side. My dad isn’t a bad man, he’s just a weak one. Even though I’m his daughter, he will always go down the path of least resistance, as my Psych professor at night school would say.

“No, Dad,” I said quietly. “If you can’t even see what’s going on here and see what she is, then Tanya’s probably right, I should go. There’s nothing left here for me anyway,” I said, knowing that there was no turning back from what I was doing.

I’d packed straight away, taking as little as I could; but, I made sure that I didn’t forget the photograph of my mother that I’d kept by my bed since I was a little girl. “I miss you, Mom,” I said to the picture. Then, I took one last look around at the room that I grew up in, before I walked out without looking back. I had decided that if my dad had asked me to stay then I would, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me sadly and let me go.

I’d barely finished high school and only had $30.17 to my name. I knew there wouldn’t be a lot of gainful employment opportunities open to me and I also knew that I couldn’t stay in the town I’d grown up in. There was too much of a chance that I’d see Tanya and my father around and, right then, all I wanted was to be as far away from them as was humanly possible.

I thought about all of this as I walked the few short minutes to the diner, ready for my 10pm to 7am shift. After a few false starts, I had ended up in the smallest of all small towns. In fact, I don’t think it could even really be called a town. It was more like a strip of buildings next to the road.

“Hey, Cali,” Joe says, as I walk through the door. I wave at him and summon a smile.

Joe is the cook and also the owner. He’s here all the time and I’m not sure when he manages to get any sleep. He’s more than a little creepy and, recently, the way he’s been looking at me has been making me pretty uncomfortable. I definitely don’t want to get mixed up with him or anyone else for that matter. I don’t need another man letting me down.

“Didn’t know you were on the night shift, Cal,” Joe tells me, looking up from the burgers he’s frying. His eyes roam over me for just a fraction of a second too long.

“Oh right,” I say awkwardly, as I take a look at the orders up on the board, “I switched with Janie, she had a thing,” I explain.

“A thing, like a date, you mean? That’s all Janie seems to do when she has the night off, every time with a different guy,” Joe shakes his head, like he can’t understand it. “So how come I never see you with anyone, Cali? Pretty little thing like you, but no man in your life?” he asks smiling, but there’s an underlying message in his words.

“No, not seeing anyone, Joe. You know I’m not interested in that stuff. You ever going to get tired of asking?” I say, jokingly. I smile, but I just wish that he would get tired and hurry up about it. I don’t want to have to move along again so soon after I got here and with so little cash.

“Not likely, Cal. Not likely,” he says slowly. I can feel his eyes boring a hole into my ass underneath the too-tight waitressing uniform. They were made that way, so even my slim frame looks like it is busting out of the little dress. Apparently it helps with tips, but I’m not sure if it isn’t just for Joe’s own viewing pleasure. “Order up,” he says and I’m thankful to have an excuse to get out of the kitchen quickly.

It’s a pretty quiet night at the diner, a few truckers passing through, but that’s about it. That’s all people seem to do in a town like this. The only thing that seems to hang around for any length of time is dust. I have only been here a couple of weeks and if I hadn’t run out of money again, I probably would have breezed right on through. But I was tired of hitch-hiking, tired of being on the move every few days, just tired I guess. So, I stayed and found a job pretty easily at Joe’s diner; but, sometimes I wondered if he made it easy for me because he wanted something out of it. He’s been polite to me so far, but I’m getting the impression that he is starting to lose his patience.

The bell at the top of the door rang to signal that another customer had walked in, so I straighten up from behind the counter and led the guy over to an empty booth. I only look at him when he breathes, “Thanks,” as I pass him the menu. I have to stop my jaw from actually dropping to the floor.

“No problem,” I manage to squeak out. I hurry back to my place behind the counter and try to ignore the tremble in my hands as I refill the sugar pots. I steal glances at the man who looks like he was born in a leather jacket. I can feel my heart rate quicken, as I take in his dark hair and his eyes that are so light they almost look grey. He’s decked out in leather from head to toe and it doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s a biker. There are so many that pass through here, on their way to somewhere more exciting no doubt; but, they usually come in groups, not solo, and they’re not usually so unbelievably handsome.

“Miss,” he says. His voice is low and husky, but it carries over the almost-empty diner. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking to me. I’m the waitress, right.
Get it together, Cali,
I tell myself.

I take a few deep breaths, as I walk over to his table. When I finally manage to look at him, I can see that he has an amused expression on his face. He shrugs out of his jacket, exposing his muscular arms. I try not to stare at the amazing body that I can see is lurking under his perfectly-fitted t-shirt. My eyes meet his and it’s obvious I’ve been staring. I feel myself flush right down to my feet and his grin becomes even more wolfish. This guy is trouble and he is all too aware of the effect that he has on women.
Well, not this woman
, I resolve.

“Ready to order?” I ask, making sure not to look at him and focusing on my notepad more than I probably need to.

“Yup, I think I know what I want,” he says in that growly voice. I can feel him looking at me when he says the words. I try not to think about the double meaning that could be lurking behind what he’s saying.

I wait for a few moments, thinking that he’s going to tell me what he’s going to order, but the silence stretches between us and I can feel his eyes burning through my uniform. I feel as if I’m standing naked in front of him and I actually wish that I were. I force myself to look at him and I see he’s leaning back, at ease and completely calm, but also coiled like a spring at the same time.

“So what’ll it be?” I manage to get out, as I brush a strand of curly red hair out of my eyes.

“Coffee, black,” he almost barks out, and then, looks directly into my eyes and smiles like a predator who has just found his prey. “Got anything sweet? I could go for something sweet right now,” he says quietly. I can’t stop my breath from coming in quick gasps, as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.

I clear my throat, as I try to control the inevitably pink flush from spreading over my cheeks. I’ve never been affected by a man this way. He has a kind of magnetism that makes it hard to think straight. “Um...we have some cherry pie,” I manage to get out and I’m impressed that my voice sounds more even than I thought it would.

“Well that sounds just fine,” he replies, looking at me thoughtfully. “Cali,” he says, just as I’m about to turn away to get his coffee, and I stop dead. He’s staring at my name tag or at my breasts, one or the other. The way he says my name feels more intimate than I could ever have imagined. “What’s it short for?” he asks, putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. I have to stop myself from stepping closer to him. There’s something about him that makes me want to get as close to him as possible.

“It’s not short for anything,” I say breathlessly, not knowing why I want to tell him the story. “It means beautiful in Greek, my mom chose it. She was called Belle which is beautiful in Italian. She was an artist and she believed that you could find beauty in the most unlikely places. She always taught me to look for the beauty in things, it was important to her,” I finish. The words have come out of my mouth almost without my ability to stop them. “I’ll get your coffee,” I say hurriedly, turning around and almost running away, cursing myself for being such a soft touch. I never talk to people I don’t know about my mom, but I had wanted to tell this guy about her. I wanted to tell him everything.

I realize I’ve forgotten to put fresh coffee on, so I have to go back into the kitchen. As I do, I see Joe looking like a storm cloud has just passed over his face. I try to ignore him, but he stands so close to me that he makes it impossible. “Is that guy bothering you, Cali?” he asks. I try not to flinch, as I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.