Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) (15 page)

The next evening marks day seven before the end of our month is up.  I try not to focus on the almost inevitable fact that Jake will be taken by the Angels and just absorb every possible minute with him that I can.

I’m trying to train my mind to be as positive about the Feds as Jake is.  Agent Warner had said they’d be in touch with me—I just had to hope that he meant sooner rather than later.  The sooner he reappears is the sooner I can tell him that I’ll do whatever they need to take the Angels down.  I repeat what Jake had said over and over again in my head; that we’re going to be okay, that we’re going to get through this. I almost start to believe it.

“Chinese?” Jake asks as he sifts through the take-out menus that are overflowing in their designated drawer in his kitchen.  Yes, the take-out menus get their own drawer—that’s how much the Summers men cook.

“Do you even know how to boil an egg?” I ask, teasingly.  I come up behind Jake, snaking my arms around his waist.

“I know
what
an egg is,” Jake replies, jokingly.

“Great,” I say, giving his butt a little slap.  “Well use that knowledge to grab me some from the refrigerator,” I instruct him.  “I’m going to teach you how to make scrambled eggs.”

“You’re going to teach me how to cook?” he asks, dubiously.  “Isn’t that a little like the blind leading the blind?  I’ve tasted your food, remember?” he reminds me.  “It’s not good.” He looks a little afraid as I hold up the one wooden spoon he has to his name.

“Are you going to criticize my cooking skills, Mr. I Don’t Know How to Make Toast?  Or are you going to watch and learn?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip, challenging him.

Jake thinks for a moment and then asks, “Can I do both?”

I laugh and try to rap him on the butt with the spoon, but he’s too quick for me. Too quick and too strong.  He manages to disarm me and pull me down onto the floor in only two moves.  He doesn’t hurt me. He just makes it clear that, in this moment, he’s in charge.

“I know, you’re not a very experienced cook,” I tell him, between kisses.  “But it’s really hard to make scrambled eggs from this position.” Jake straddles me on the floor and starts letting his fingers explore what I’m wearing underneath my top, which isn’t very much.

“I’m not that hungry anyway,” Jake admits, smiling at me.

“Chinese sounds good,” I agree hurriedly, pulling him down on top of me and kissing him passionately.  Screw the eggs—all I can think about right now is how much I want this man.

Before we get any further there’s a rattle that sounds like someone is taking off the chain from the back door.  Jake and I stop our fumbling and we freeze, listening out for the sound again.  The chain rattles once more, and we both know that something is up.  We look at each other, both thinking the same thing—the Angels have come for him. They’re tired of waiting and have gone back on their word.

“Stay here,” Jake orders me as he pulls the T-shirt that he’d discarded back on and heads down the stairs.

“Like hell,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my top back up to some level of decency.  I tip-toe to the top of the stairs so I can get a look at what’s going on.  From the angle I’m at, all I can see is Jake yanking open the door and talking to someone on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, his tone harsher than I think I’ve ever heard it. 

“Easy, lover boy, no need to get all bent out of shape,” the weedy voice replies, chuckling lightly. The sound immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“What are you doing here, Ryan?” Jake repeats, folding his arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground.  I can see that the muscles in his back are bunching and getting ready in case he has to fight. 

“Chill, man,” Ryan insists, and his hyena-like laugh makes me wonder if he’s high.  “I’m not here for you. Not yet anyway,” he assures Jake.  His hand darts out and slaps Jake on the shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a patronizing gesture.  But Jake sidesteps him, making Ryan stumble, and I see his shoes appear as he almost falls into the body shop.

“Don’t touch me.” Jake’s voice is ice-cold and I pray that he’s not preparing himself to do something stupid.

“Don’t be an idiot Jakey-boy,” Ryan taunts.  “You’re on thin ice, you know that.  If your little girlfriend hadn’t saved your ass you’d be a Patch now and you’d be doing exactly what I tell you,” he says, sounding overjoyed at the prospect.

“What do you want, Ryan?” Jake repeats again, his voice coming out through gritted teeth.  I know that he’s all too aware that if he ever became a member of the Bleeding Angels, he’d be on the lowest rung and Ryan would do all he could to make his life a living hell.

“Aimee,” he replies, and the way he says my name makes my stomach roll.  “I want to talk to Aimee.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jake asks, taking another step towards the door, forcing Ryan to step outside.  His feet disappear from my view completely.  “And what is it that you want to talk to her about?” Jake tilts his head, probably trying to assess just how out of it Ryan actually is.

“Wouldn’t
you
like to know?” Ryan teases with that hyena-like laugh of his again.  “That’s between Aimee and me.”

“Well, that’s a real shame,” Jake says sarcastically.  “She’s not here.  So whatever thrilling piece of conversation you have planned for this evening it isn’t going to happen.  See you, Ryan.” Jake starts to close the door in Ryan’s face, but a hand shoots out, keeping the door open.

“Be smart here, Jakey-boy,” Ryan hisses, and he seems to have shaken off the haziness that whatever drug he’s on had cast over him.  “Do you really want to piss me off?  Scar might’ve given you a pass for a week or so, but that doesn’t mean that you might not have some kind of
accident
in the meantime,” he finishes innocently.

“Are you threatening me?” Jake asks, his voice low. I know that his anger levels are reaching stratospheric levels.

“‘Threaten’ is such an ugly word, isn’t it?” Ryan asks.  “More like ‘incentivizing,’” he corrects. “That’s a much better word, isn’t it?”

“Get out of here, Ryan,” Jake orders.

“What are you going to do?  Call the cops?” Ryan lets out another high-pitched laugh that sets my teeth on edge.  “Be smart here, Jake. The next time I come round I won’t be so polite.” There’s steel in his voice that I haven’t heard before.

“Enough,” I say loudly before I’ve really had time to get to grips with my actions.  My voice silences the two men and, as I start walking down the stairs, I take a moment to shake off the nerves that Ryan’s presence in the body shop has given me.  

Jake is looking at me like he doesn’t know whether to kiss me or to shout at me.  At the moment, he seems to be leaning towards the latter.  “Aimee,” he says warningly, and he grabs hold of my hand.

“It’s okay, Jake,” I assure him.  “You’ll be right here with me.” He visibly relaxes, turning his attention back to the sorry excuse for a human being that we have in front of us.  “So, Ryan, what is it that you wanted to say to me that couldn’t wait until, oh I don’t know,
never?
” I ask sarcastically, before I remind myself that antagonizing a sociopath probably isn’t the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done.

“Nice to see you, Aimee.  You look pretty.” Ryan’s voice is sugary-sweet and makes me want to yack. 

Jake snorts, shaking his head, and his expression says that he’s clearly thinking how pathetic Ryan is.

“What do you want, Ryan?” I ask, stealing from Jake’s script.  I know I should make more of an effort to be polite, bearing in mind Ryan is Scar’s son, but I’m losing patience as this is dragging on.

“Not in front of him,” Ryan says, looking at me but motioning towards Jake.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, pal.” Jake shakes his head emphatically, refusing to move.

“Not in front of him.  This is just between you and me, Aimee,” Ryan says in his slimyvoice, and an involuntary shiver passes through me.  “You’re the smart one in this little relationship,” he adds, still focusing his attention on me. “So tell your boyfriend here not to push his luck.” With that, he lifts his t-shirt up slightly to show the handle of a knife that’s sticking out of his pants. 

Jake moves as if to put himself between Ryan and me, but I squeeze his hand and shake my head as he looks at me.  “It’s alright, Jake,” I assure him.  “I won’t be long.” I sound much more confident than I feel.

“Finally, someone that sees sense,” Ryan says, looking up at the sky.  “I’ll just be outside.” He sounds like he’s promising more than just a conversation, but I don’t allow myself to focus on that.

“I don’t like this,” Jake says, his face close to mine.

“Neither do I. But unless you want to make a guy with no social skills and a knife angry, I don’t see we have much of a choice,” I point out, trying to make light of the situation, but failing miserably.

“What can he have to say to you, anyway?” Jake asks, looking over to where Ryan has disappeared outside.

“Nothing important.” I shake my head dismissively.  “He probably just wanted to come and freak us out to show he’s the big dick on campus. It’s a power play.”

“Be careful,” Jake says, holding my face between his hands and rubbing the pad of his thumb over my cheek so tenderly it makes me ache a little inside.

“I will be,” I tell him.  “This won’t take long, I’m sure. Besides, I’m not sure how long Ryan’s going to be able to stand up for,” I note, referring to how high he seems to be.

Jake cracks a smile, but I know it’s not a sincere one.  It’s just for my benefit, to show me that he’s alright and that he trusts me.  Even in this situation he’s trying to make me feel better, and that makes me love him even more.

I walk out of the body shop, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness outside.  The sun was setting, so there were only a few rays of dusk to light the way.  Ryan is leaning against his bike expectantly.  He’s parked so we’re just out of earshot, but we’re close enough for Jake to see us from the window of the studio.  I wonder how intentional this had been and whether Ryan had planned for Jake to be able to see us while we were talking, just to infuriate him even more.

I walk towards Ryan slowly, trying to figure out what he could possibly have to say to me.  Whatever it is, I sincerely doubt that it’s anything good.  The realization of that sits heavily in my stomach like a dead weight and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.  Perhaps I should have just called his bluff when we were inside.  Would he really have tried to goad Jake into a fight, knowing that Scar had agreed to a truce between us?

“What do you see in him, anyway?” Ryan asks without any preamble as I stop a few feet in front of him.  I’m close enough to talk, but not for him to reach out and touch me.

I fold my arms, unconsciously duplicating Jake’s position inside.  “Is that what you came here to talk about?  What qualities I find attractive in Jake?” I ask, my tone impatient.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Ryan smiles widely, making his yellow teeth visible.  I’m close enough to see how red and bloodshot his eyes are.  I wonder if he’s had to get high to pluck up the courage to come here or if he’s so confident of getting what he wants that he doesn’t think he needs to be sharp.

“If there’s nothing you want to say…” I start, making a move to turn around and head back in the direction I came in.

“Stop,” Ryan orders and, much as I hate to do it, I turn around, facing him again.  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to walk away when someone’s talking to you?”

“Well, you weren’t talking. You were playing whatever game it is that you’re trying to play,” I say, reminding myself that I can’t afford to be quite so disdainful toward him.

“This isn’t a game, Aimee,” he says, pulling his platinum, greasy hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture that I recognize from school.  It was the same habit he had when a teacher asked a question he didn’t know the answer to.  “Unless you think Jake’s future is a game,” he says breezily, looking up towards the window that I know Jake is watching us from.  “But I didn’t have you pegged for that kind of girl.” He shrugs laconically and I have to resist the urge to shake him into telling me what he’s talking about.

The mention of Jake’s future has put me on edge, which I’m sure is exactly what Ryan had been aiming for.  “What about Jake’s future?”  I ask, forcing myself to sound as civil as I possibly can.

“Well, you know what happens in a couple of weeks.  We come for Jake, he gets patched and tatted, and he becomes an Angel.  You don’t get to see him anymore, he forgets about you, the perfect little Summers family is ruined and you end up with—well, with nothing,” he says, painting a picture that probably isn’t that far away from the truth, no matter how bleak it sounds.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Ryan.  Always good to chat,” I sigh, pretending that his words have had no effect on me at all.

“Don’t be cute with me, Winters,” he advises gruffly, and the force of his anger makes me take a step back.  The change that has come over his expression and his eyes is frightening—it’s what earned him his nickname at school.  The other kids would call him Rabid Ryan because of the crazy look he would get in his eyes.  The nickname didn’t really have the desired effect on Ryan. He seemed to wear it as a badge of pride rather than proof that all his peers thought that he was mad, not just a little scary.

“I’m not trying to be cute, Ryan,” I say, trying to be as reasonable as possible.  “But it’s getting late, I’m getting cold, and I’m tired of all the riddles.  Can you just tell me what you came here to tell me?” I ask, hugging myself to keep out the cold desert night air.

“If you’re cold, you could come a little closer, Aimee.  I’m sure I could figure out a way to keep you warm,” he says, and then laughs at his own joke before stopping abruptly and giving me what I can only assume are his bedroom eyes.  It’s not a look that works for him.

I hope that the revulsion I feel at his suggestion doesn’t translate onto my face, but I’m afraid that some of it might. “I’m fine here, thanks,” I say, pressing my lips tightly together to stop myself from saying anything further.  “Can we just cut to the chase here, Ryan? If you don’t mind?” I add as sweetly as I can manage to soften the blow.

“The chase, right,” Ryan says slowly, nodding in agreement.  “Well, I suppose, in that case, the chase is you,” he says simply.  “I’ve been chasing you for a long time, Aimee.  My lovely, lovely, Aimee.” Then he looks me up from my sneakered feet, up my long legs, to the shorts I wish were longer, to the strapless top that is doing very little to help combat the seeping cold that I’m feeling, and finally settling on my face.  The way he looks at me makes me feel as if I’m completely naked, and I suddenly feel vulnerable out here and very far away from Jake.

“What—what do you mean?” I ask, my voice quivering.

“Come on, don’t be shy with me, we’ve known each other too long,” Ryan breathes out, taking a step towards me and looking like he’s about to launch himself at me.  “You know I want you. You know that this is how it’s all supposed to end.”