OFF LIMITS: Grim Angels MC Page 6

  With a scream of defiance, Angela tore the woman’s hand from her hair and flung her away. As she stumbled back, the other woman grabbed Angela’s shirt as she fell, popping buttons, and dragging her down with her. Again they were on the ground, kicking and snarling, each trying to gain the advantage as the crowd cheered them on. Her shirt torn, Angela’s ample breasts popped free of their restraint as they struggled, and the other woman twisted one painfully as Angela tried to toss her off. With another cry of pain, Angela ripped the woman’s hand away from her injured tit before wrapping her own hand around the woman’s head and jerked it rapidly down as she quickly raised her head, Angela’s forehead connecting solidly with the woman’s nose.

  The thin woman shrieked in pain as her nose exploded in blood and Jess felt sick and lightheaded as the blood streamed over Angela, the rain not quite hard enough to wash it away as the two women fought.

  Scott knew it was about over, most of the fight going out of the woman after Angela’s head butt. Even though the junkie tried to rally by grabbing at Angela’s breasts again, Angela pulled her tight, like a lover, locking her head under her arm, and rolled them over until she was on top.

  “Fuck with me, bitch!” Angela snarled as she rose up, sitting on the woman’s stomach. She drove a hard right into the woman’s face, then another, and another, then another, her hand turning from white to bright red. To Jess it had seemed like hours had passed since the two women had locked up, but she was barely wet from the rain.

  “Stay here, out of the way,” Scott said as he moved in and effortlessly hauled Angela from her prey. She hadn’t noticed before, she hadn’t seen much but his eyes from the moment he stood in front of her, but his jacket…it had the Grim Angels’ colors on the back. He really was one of them. Like Angela has said, he was an Atlanta boy, forbidden to her by the keepers of the tower.

  Pulling Angela off the woman by an arm, he noticed her boar-like boyfriend was advancing on them from the other side of the circle, his face a mask of fury. Without a hitch in his motion, Scott reached under his jacket and pulled his weapon, a Glock 43 9mm, from the small of his back and pointed it at the head of the approaching man. “You don’t want to do that, pal. You heard the ladies. They called it,” Scott said quietly, his voice loud in the sudden silence caused by the appearance of his gun.

  The bearded man stopped short, raised his hands immediately, and began to slowly step back. “Yeah. You’re right. They called it. Hey, it’s a party, man. You don’t have to do that.”

  Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed that jacket. Or the way his authority, wherever it came from, had brought the entire night to a complete halt. In the rain, one arm on her drunken, bloodied, best friend’s arm, and his other stretched out with the practiced calm of a professional, Jess felt time stop. She forgot the blood on her face and on her hand. She forgot everything but the way the light from that stupid burning car practically made love to him. Even if she never saw him again, she knew this moment would always be with her. But she would see him. She had to. Slowly, time started moving again.

  “Are you sure I don’t?” Scott’s voice was low, calm and deadly, and everyone knew the bearded man was one muscle twitch away from a body bag.

  “Totally sure, dude. It was an accident, right? She threw a shoe. Big deal.”

  “Stupid bitch, mess with me!” Angela cried, trying to lunge at the woman again, feeling cocky, completely oblivious to her cuts, blood, exposed breasts, and torn skirt.

  “Shut up!” Scott snarled, giving her a hard jerk. “You started this shit!”

  She heard the authority ring in his voice and nodded meekly. “Yeah. Sorry. It was an accident,” she murmured looking down. “Sorry.”

  The crowd was completely silent. Some stared at his jacket, some stared at his pistol, but most watched his eyes. Jess could swear some of them looked disappointed when he nodded and slid his weapon back into its place at the back of his belt. As soon as the gun disappeared, the crowd slowly came to life again. There were catcalls and cautious laughter as the audience dissipated.

  Still standing where he had left her, becoming wet now as the rain began to increase, Jess watched as two of Angela’s other friends broke from the group to take her off Scott’s hands. He shoved her harshly toward them, and they waved at her to indicate they were taking care of it, but she hardly noticed. She hardly noticed anything except the way that all too familiar graphic on the back of Scott’s jacket seemed to leer at her.

  He turned his attention back to her. Without a single glance back at the bearded man as he moved to kneel by his woman, wiping at her face as she sat on the dirty concrete, he took three steps quick to where she stood. She was suddenly very nervous. Her instinct told her to back off, to turn and run. That utterly dead look was still in his eyes as he approached, as if the nervous guy who was worried whether he smelled a few minutes ago had retreated somewhere deep inside.

  She knew all about retreating deep inside. Run! Get away! her mind cried, but she stood her ground, unwilling, unable to run.

  Without a pause, he took her face in his hands, just as Val had done a few days before. His long fingers stroked the rain and blood from her eyes and forehead. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She was speechless. His face was only inches from hers, water dripping from him as the rain continued to increase in intensity. She wanted to nod, to speak, but the rest of the world had come to a screeching halt again, and she was frozen like a fly in amber. Suddenly, powerfully, the urge to kiss him seemed to strike her out of nowhere. That scowling mouth, a straight line of concern, was only a motion away from hers. She couldn’t. She didn’t, but oh how she wanted to. Finally the world began to move again and she nodded. “Yes. Fine now.”

  “Jessica, right? Are you hurt? You don’t look so good.”

  She nodded again, her voice difficult to find. She stained for it and finally found it again. “No. I’m okay. Just…” she trailed off. How could she explain?

  Scott looked behind him. Angela was putting herself together. She was going to be sore as hell tomorrow, and probably needed a tetanus shot from rolling around on the ground, but she would be fine. A hell of a lot better than her opponent would be, that was for sure.

  He turned his attention back to Jess. “She’ll be okay.”

  Was that her shaking? The adrenaline was starting to subside and Jess felt a familiar trembling begin from the depth of her. She nodded again, blinking as the rain ran into her eyes.

  “You’re soaked. Let’s get you out of here. I mean...” He paused and for the first time since he had pulled his pistol, she could see some life return to his eyes. “I mean, do you want to get out of here?”

  The thought of escape shattered the night’s hold on her and she nodded. “Yes. Please.”

  Scott smiled at the desperate sound in her voice. Now he had his excuse to get the fuck away from here. He turned back to the man as he helped his woman to her feet. “Give me your jacket,” he said, his tone making it clear it wasn’t a request.

  The man’s face wrinkled. “What?”

  “I said give me your jacket. I’ll get it back to you.”

  The man began to hastily strip out of the nylon windbreaker. “Yeah! Sure, man! No problem!”

  “Thanks,” Scott said as he took the jacket. “Who do you know in the Angels?”

  “Umm…” the man began but paused.

  “You know where Kat’s Café is?” Jess asked, trying to rescue the man. “Wyoming and Grand River?”

  “I can find it.”

  “You can get it back there,” she said as she took the jacket from Scott. She didn’t feel right taking the man’s clothes, but she didn’t want to undermine Scott either, so she just played along.

  She slipped the jacket on. It hung on her like a tent, but within moments she began to warm. He wrapped an arm around her waist and began to direct her toward the bikes. “Why did you take his jacket?”

  “You were shivering.
”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Look, you didn’t have anything to do with what happened. That bitch flicking blood into your face was uncalled for. That kind of shit can get you arrested, or killed. She’s the reason you’re wet. Between her beat down and his attitude adjustment, maybe they will think twice about doing something stupid again.”

  “I’m sorry that happened. Angela… she’s…”

  “A pain in the ass?” he asked with a smirk.

  Jess snickered. “Sometimes. But she’s a good friend.”

  “A real scrapper, too. I think she could take some guys I know.” He chuckled and shook his head. To his mind, women weren’t supposed to be brawlers.

  “Yeah. She can be. She doesn’t take any crap off of anyone. Never has.”

  “Yeah. I can see that.”

  They stopped before his bike. “I guess you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of new around here.” He looked at his watch dramatically. “I’ve been in Detroit all of two hours and I have already had to break up a catfight and…” he let his voice trail off.

  “And what?”

  “And I’ve found the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  Jess’s cold vanished in an instant as she burned in embarrassment. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she did a little of both.

  “Where can we go?” he asked, straddling his bike and standing it upright before offering a hand over his shoulder to usher her onto the back.

  Hesitantly, Jess straddled the bike, doing her utmost to keep that Band-Aid of a skirt from giving away any spoilers. She hadn’t been on a bike in almost a year now, not since before that night. Feeling the weight of the machine beneath her and wet leather against her bare thighs cause an illicit thrill to increase her shaking. She wanted this. Good god, I even missed this.

  She scooted in tight, feeling his warmth even through his jacket as she slid her hands underneath and around his waist. He was hard, solid, and she could feel the muscles working under the skin as he handed his helmet back to her. She was glad to have him between her legs just so she didn’t have to fuss with her skirt any more, but she also wanted him there for a completely different reason.

  As she adjusted helmet, she tried to think of somewhere to take him. Home? Definitely not. Why hello there, you beautiful man. Would you like to meet my soon to be blind-drunk mother who will be passed out on a couch later? How do you like my home, an apartment that hadn’t been cleaned since we moved in five years ago? She gave her head a small shake as she worked the strap. That definitely wasn’t going work!

  She thought furiously. She didn’t want to go any bars, not soaking wet, freezing, and with this damn skirt trying to ride up her ass. There was one spot, though. One spot that only she knew about. As the bike rumbled to life, her graceful legs involuntarily pressed into his. Her heat ignited at the feel of his rough denim against her freezing inner thighs. Well, that takes care of the shaking, she thought.

  He turned back to her, speaking over one of those incredibly distracting shoulders of his. “You ever ridden on a bike before?”

  Jess tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. “Just ride. I’ll show you where to go.”

  Chapter Ten

  When it happened, this is the first place I went. I couldn’t go home. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t imagine bringing any of what I did into my mother’s life, to the Angels. Obviously I knew it was going to get back to them within a matter of hours, and I had seen the kind of punishment they dealt out for less. I was a ghost. I was nothing. I was the rolling credits on a life that I had completely destroyed.

  “My god, is this it? Holy shit, look at this place!”

  Jess snapped back from her thoughts as soon as he spoke. Was I talking out loud to him? Did I actually whisper all that in his ear? Obviously she hadn’t or he wouldn’t be allowing her to press herself up to him like she was as they eased to a stop in front of the house.

  She must be more exhausted than she thought. The vibration of the bike beneath her and the warmth of his body against hers as they rode through the summer rain must have lulled her into some sort of trance, her memories playing out like a movie. She had to be more careful. As soon as they got inside and out of the rain, her head would clear, she was sure of it.

  “This is it,” she murmured, the words breathed into his ear.

  “I can’t believe that no one has bought and restored this place. It would be worth a fortune.” He cut the engine and craned his neck almost all the way back as he took in the sheer size of the mansion. “Nobody owns it?” He shook his head in disbelief. People would be standing in lines around the block to buy a house like this in Atlanta.

  “Somebody probably does, but it belongs to the ghosts now,” Jess said, enjoying his awe.

  There were hundreds of homes like this in Detroit. Amazing examples of opulence from when the city was the pride of the nation. People with more money and style than forethought came tumbling into town and built their dream homes from the ground up. When this house was built it had been one of the most impressive homes in the city.

  Now it resembled something from the campy horror films she and Ron had enjoyed together when she growing up. Half of it was being eaten away by encroaching vines and brush, and the other half was simply falling into disrepair. For anyone but Jess, it was a tricky place to maneuver. She, however, knew all of its secrets, and it knew all of hers.

  The rain began to pick up again and the ivy leaves, lush and green, started to tremble with the weight of the downpour. In the dark, they looked like a massive swarm of bats, sucking the life right out of the building.

  “You’re sure it’s safe? The place looks like it is about to fall in.”

  Jess snickered. “Just follow my lead. I’ve been in there dozens of times.”

  “Let’s get inside then,” Scott said, restarting the bike and maneuvering it up the curb and closer to the front door. “Were getting soaked out here.”

  He parked his bike and she slid off, waiting while he eased the bike onto the stand and made sure it wouldn’t tumble to the ground.

  Jesus, what a dark little fairy tale this is turning out to be, she thought. She took his hand and was surprised when he didn’t let go. Rather, he allowed her to lead him up to the cracked stone steps to the massive double front door.

  “Do you have a key?” he asked, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

  Jess thought for a second he sounded a bit nervous. She smiled to herself. This is how slasher movies started. He didn’t know her any more about her than she knew about him, and although she could hear her mother and Val’s collective voices screaming in the back of her head for her to stop, she ignored them completely. “Watch and learn,” she replied with a grin. Leaning against the right door, she pushed her hips into the spot beside the lock and then gave it a firm hip check. There was a loud bang and Jess stepped back for dramatic effect as the scarred oak door swung open with a creak. She was pleased when Scott laughed, pleased not only because of what she did, but because of that understated chuckle of his, more of a tiger growl than a laugh.

  “I’m impressed,” he said. “Truly a woman with talented hips.”

  She giggled and without thinking, took his hand and led him inside. If he played his cards right, he might find out what else I can do with my hips. “Just you wait.”

  Walking into the dark, she could hear Scott catch his breath beside her. She had to admit it was still an impressive sight. They stood in an enormous entry, the oak paneling and black marble floors dust-coated and scarred, but it was impossible to hide the opulence of the place. Before them, as if inviting the two to journey up, was a broad staircase of the same icy black stone that covered the floor. Back in its heyday, it must’ve been magnificent.

  Scott looked around dramatically as if looking for something. “Why do I feel like I just stepped into a slasher movie?”

  Jess giggled in delight again, enjoying that he was thinking the same thing she was. “This ho
use was built in 1887 for James Scott. He created the Scott Foundation. The style is Victorian, or maybe Richardson Romanesque. Can imagine this place, back when it was new?”

  Scott looked at her, impressed that she seemed to know so much about the house, recalling facts with ease. “You seem to know a lot about it.”

  She looked down and smiled. “Yeah. I love these old places. I used to explore them when I was younger. I would give a lot to see this place restored to its former glory.”

  He looked around again, taking in the place. It was no doubt impressive, but to restore it would probably cost millions. He looked up, watching the rain dribbling in through the holes in the ceiling and puddling on the marble with splatter. He let his hand slip out of hers as he moved, transfixed by the place, stepping over debris and dodging drips. He walked past the rotting sofas, piled with beer cans from a party long ago, and ran his hand along the peeled wallpaper. There were dark spots where pictures had once hung, now replaced by gang tags and amateur graffiti, but in the pale light from the city he could just make out the pattern. He was awestruck that a home such as this could be sitting, abandoned and forlorn, in the middle of the city. Even Detroit.