Guardian Angel (Angel's Halo MC 3)

“If,” I gasped as the first contractions hit and my thighs began to tremble from the force of it, “you…say so.”

“I say, baby. I. Fucking. Say.” Big hands gripped my ass and flipped me so I was on my back and he was over me. He thrust into me deeper and harder, making me cry out, my nails raking down his back as he took me higher. Another orgasm began to build even before the first one had time to die down.

My legs wrapped around his lean waist and I arched my hips off the bed to meet him thrust for thrust. Spider hardened even more inside of me, telling me that he was close. “James,” I screamed, seconds before his mouth covered mine. My entire body seemed to explode and shatter into a million pieces. His big body tensed and he tossed his head back, bellowing my name to the roof as he followed me into oblivious pleasure.

--

It was several hours later before I surfaced. I’d felt Spider kiss me before he’d left for work earlier, but hadn’t even opened my eyes. If I had he would probably still be in bed beside me, and neither one of us would have been sleeping.

I took my time in the shower and getting ready. I was supposed to met Raven and Lexa at Aggie’s for dinner and the guys were supposed to join us after church at the bar. I snickered as those two words entered my head. ‘Church’ and ‘bar’ were definitely two words that didn’t necessarily go together unless you were privy to the Angel’s Halo MC.

I’d asked Spider once why they didn’t just have church at their warehouse that was their clubhouse and where several members of the club basically lived. He’d frowned, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging his massive shoulders. “I haven’t really questioned it. Max Hannigan was the president when I was boy and had to run the bar on Friday nights. I guess it just fit that they would have church there. When he died it must have been too ingrained in them and the tradition was set. Besides, Hannigans’ is more important to everyone in the MC than the clubhouse. It’s kind of like home. Our family is always there; we can unwind and be ourselves at the bar.”

Dressed in a simple tank top and jean shorts with my favorite flip-flops, I grabbed my purse and the keys to my car. My phone was still connected to its charger so I snatched it up and headed out the door. As I left my apartment on the second floor I glanced down at the parking lot and grimaced. The second floor of our complex might be apartments, but the ground floor was still a hotel that was basically a pay-by-the-hour kind of establishment. Which was why Lexa didn’t come here to visit me. My heart lifted as I realized just how much of a wonderful present Spider had given me with that key to our new house.

It was with that thought that I unlocked my car and got inside. Starting it I barely looked at the gages before putting it in drive. I had an almost full tank of gas so I was good…

Nope.

I’d barely gone five feet when I realized my error and glanced down at the gages on my dash with a groan. I had a flat. Muttering a curse I shoved the gearshift into park and got out to inspect which tire was being an asshat. If I was lucky it was just low and I could put some air in it at the gas station just down the block.

Both tires on the driver side were perfectly fine, but when I walked around the back of the car to check out the passenger side I started cursing and I didn’t stop until I had my phone in my hand and it was ringing on the other end.

Raven picked up on the second ring. “Hey, we’re on our way. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Can you stop by and pick me up?” I rushed to ask before she could blow me off and hang up. Raven wasn’t much for phone conversations, I’d learned in recent weeks.

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

I heard Lexa talking in the back ground and pressed my lips together. “I’m having some tire issues.”

“That sucks. Well I’ll be there in a few.”

She hung up without so much as a goodbye and I lowered the phone as I continued to glare at my very flat tire with a screwdriver sticking out of the side. Who the fuck had done something like that? Not many people had the balls to mess with my shit these days. They knew that I was Spider’s ol’ lady and that if they messed with me, they risked his rage. The sheep had quieted down considerably since they’d found out we were getting married and the ones that still held a grudge didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.

But someone had very deliberately shanked my tire.

A little unnerved, I got back into my car and backed it up into the parking space it had been in. I kept the doors locked and sent Spider a text that I would need a new tire tomorrow. Seconds later I got a reply assuring me that Clutch, from Uncle Jack’s garage, would take care of it tonight.

Now all I had to do was explain to my big, scary enforcer that someone was playing not so nicely with my shit.

Damn it.

Chapter 7

Hawk

I’d tried to put the whole Harley thing behind me by the time I’d gotten to the bar. He knew not to fuck with me. Club brother or not, I would gut him without hesitating if he tried anything with Gracie. I didn’t let it eat at me while I got to work cleaning behind the counter.

Normally it was Raven that came in and cleaned everything, but now that she was pregnant we didn’t want her messing with anything stronger than Lysol. Lately we barely even let her come in to work unless it was to do the books. She was pissed about it because she wanted to pull her fair share, but after losing one niece or nephew that hadn’t had a chance to take its first breath I wasn’t going to take any chances with this one.

Muttering a curse, I threw a dirty bar rag into the bucket and glared up at the ceiling. It always came back to Felicity. Even little things made me think of her and my anger would start to simmer all over again. I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and shake her. We still had people keeping their eyes open for her, but she might as well have been abducted my aliens the way we couldn’t even find any leads on her.

Around four, my brothers started coming in. Colt was whistling as he went about his normal routine of stocking liquor. Colt only whistled when he had just gotten some, so I knew that he must have come from the clubhouse. Raider, however, came in cussing up a storm and throwing shit.

Colt’s whistling stopped when Raider threw a shot glass at his head. When Colt ducked, it shattered against the wall behind him and having-a-good-time Colt was no more. I groaned as I saw that damn look enter my little brother’s eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snarled at Raider.