Chapter Eight
Cole led Angel straight up to his room, his hand clamped firmly on her wrist. He was afraid if he let go, she’d bolt. He pulled her inside and closed the door.
She yanked free of his hold and glared at him. “Don’t touch me.”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.”
“You didn’t stop it.”
“We were outnumbered. I think you saw that.”
She turned away from him.
He walked over and stood behind her, his hands closing on her upper arms. Bending his head close to hers, he whispered in her ear, “Angel, I swear to God, if there had been any way out of that situation don’t you think I would have done it? If Crash and I had fought them and gone down in the fight, you would have been at their mercy. Do you understand?”
She turned in his arms. “I don’t understand any of this. Why would they do that? For what?”
God. He had to explain to her, to admit to her that this was all his fault. That he’d brought this on. “They did it to teach me a lesson. Payback for the disrespect I showed Big Ed at the War Dog’s clubhouse.”
“What? I don’t understand. You’re not the one they tattooed.”
“No. But he knew it was a way to get to me. He was either going to take you from me or show me he could do that to you, knowing I couldn’t stop him.”
“Why didn’t he just beat the crap out of you?” she asked, her voice filled with anger. She spun away.
“Is that what you would have preferred?”
She shook her head. “As much as I hate you right now and as pissed as I am, I still wouldn’t have wanted them to hurt you.”
“He didn’t do that, because it would have pissed on the deal with him and Mack. But forcing the issue with you, that wasn’t enough to start a war.”
“Well, I guess you got off easy then, huh? I’m the one who paid the price.”
“You think it didn’t tear my heart out to have to put you through that? To have to be the one that held you down while they did that to you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“If Crash and I had put up any resistance, they wouldn’t have hesitated in taking us down. And you—” he broke off, not wanting to verbalize the possibilities.
“What?”
“God, I don’t even want to think about what they might have done to you. If Taz had gotten his hands on you—” he broke off again, shaking his head. She needed to hear the truth, and he’d promised he’d give it to her. “Did you hear what he said, how he likes to break a woman’s spirit? He likes to make them suffer, Angel. Do you understand? They’re some sick individuals in that club. The stories I’ve heard of the things they’ve done to some women, you don’t even want to know. Makes what Chuck did to you pale in comparison.”
“And this is the life you lead? This club, that club, what’s the difference?”
“We’re not like that bunch, Angel.”
Angel went into the bathroom.
Cole followed and watched as she looked in the mirror and turned, raising her shirt. Her eyes landed on the reflection of the tattoo. It was an intricate design with three words in the center. The words were reversed in the mirror, but he knew she could still read them.
Property of Cole
Cole stood in the doorway.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
“It looks good there,” he murmured. “It’s sexy as hell.”
She let the shirt fall. “It’s medieval.”
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth? I’m not your property.”
He walked over to her and tilted her chin up. His face was a few inches from hers. He told her softly, “Whether you admit it or not, Angel, you are mine. And that I’m not sorry about.”
She stared into his eyes and was lost. She watched as his mouth lowered and brushed against hers, softly, tenderly.
He pulled back, took her by the hand and led her back to the bed. “Lay down on your stomach.”
She refused and just stood there looking at him.
“Please, babe.”
At his soft request, she gave in and complied.
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her and pulled her shirt up, exposing the tattoo. Picking up a jar of ointment off the bedside table, he twisted the lid off and scooped a glob out with two fingers. Then he turned and gently applied it to the reddened skin of her fresh tattoo.
She closed her eyes, and Cole watched as a fat tear leaked through her spiked lashes to fall on the pillow. He brushed his hand over her forehead, his thumb following the line of her brow. Leaning down, he kissed her temple. “Baby, please forgive me.”
She turned her face away.