Page 2 of Angel

Angel let out a sigh of gratitude. She immediately took a huge gulp, not caring if she burned her tongue. Surprised, Angel pulled the cup away from her mouth.

“What?” Cage’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Did I get it right? Two creams and five sugars?”

Angel swallowed the liquid in her mouth and slowly nodded. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d ever told Cage specifically how she took her coffee.

He cracked a crooked smile. “That’s diabetes in a cup, not coffee. Maybe I should start calling you ‘Sweet Angel’.”

There was no hiding her blush that time. “I’ve seen you around the holidays, boyo. You’ve got a sweet tooth of your own.”

Cage’s grin was wicked, making Angel’s heart flutter. “Guilty.” He nodded his head towards the bathroom. “I’ve got her. Go take a shower and freshen up. You’re starting to smell a bit rank.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “I’m armed.”

He opened his cut to flash her his own weapon. Carlos, Mount Grove’s Deputy Sheriff, had pulled some strings to get the VDMC permission to carry in the hospital. The small town’s hospital did not have enough security guards to guarantee protection. As far as administration was concerned, Bree was under the Mount Grove PD protection. Carlos had temporarily deputized the VDMC to allow them to remain armed and help protect Bree. It had shocked them all that Sheriff Hannigan had allowed it, given his history with the club.

Taking her coffee into the bathroom with her, Angel had to admit she was looking forward to the shower. She felt grimy, and to be honest, she needed some time alone to process the last couple of days.

She’d meant it when she’d told Bree that the teen could come home with her. In truth, Angel couldn’t remember having ever meant anything more. The fact that Bree had been willing to die, had wanted to die, nearly killed Angel. Memories of her teenage years had flooded back, and Angel could not allow that precious girl to give up so easily. She couldn’t. The very thought had broken her heart.

Looking in the mirror, Angel stared back at her own reflection. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She slammed her eyes closed, embracing the darkness. Her nostrils flared as her chin trembled. Angel put a hand over her mouth in an effort to muffle her sobs.

She needed to be strong. Bree could not see or hear her break. Bree needed Angel to be her rock, the one person she could lean on. To know that Angel would fight to the ends of the earth and beyond for her. If she saw Angel falter, she might too.

Angel could not risk that.

Arms came around her from behind. Angel’s eyes flew open. She must not have locked the bathroom door.

Cage was slightly taller than she was. He pulled her back against his hard chest, his tattooed arms encasing her. Angel glanced at the door, taking note that he’d closed it behind himself.

She wanted to ask what he was doing in here. He shouldn’t have come into the bathroom, even if he had heard her crying. What if she’d been naked or on the toilet?

Angel turned to protest, but he caught her face. He swallowed her surprised gasp as he claimed her lips.

“Sweet Angel,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’m here. Lean on me, sweetness.”

She shivered, desire replacing her pain as he deepened the kiss. She knew then that she would not be showering alone.

Vasileios “Cage” Georgiou couldn’t believe he finally had Angel in his arms. Angel had been the star of his spank bank material for nearly four years. If it hadn’t been for him overhearing her tell Ranger she would castrate any MC brother who tried to hit on her with a dull spoon, drop his severed bits into a deep fryer, and then force feed them to him, Cage probably would have made a move sooner.

But, in a way, he was glad he didn’t. If he’d tried to date her or fuck her, it would have been messy—and he would have lost the opportunity to meet and get to know and care for one of the most badass, selfless women he’d ever met.

He’d grown up the youngest son of twelve in a Greek household—he knew a lot of strong women.

Angel, though, was in a class all of her own. She was tough, yet gentle. She was curt, yet sweet. She was muscular, yet feminine. She was blunt, yet artistic. She was a contradiction that had woven Cage under her spell without her even knowing it.

He was willing to acknowledge what he was feeling was more than lust when he heard her weeping through the bathroom door. It was like his heart—which was already hurting for the traumatized teen asleep in the room with him—shattered. He knew he couldn’t allow Angel to suffer alone.

Was it love? He didn’t know. He’d never loved anyone but family before. The endless string of nameless, faceless women was utterly forgettable.

She kissed him back with a ferocity he craved. He was taller than her five-eight frame by several inches, and he was strong. He’d earned his bulk through his time in the Navy and his civilian construction job. Cage picked her up with ease, placing her ass on the countertop.

Her legs spread for him automatically. But Angel was no docile female who allowed him to take the lead. No, she hooked her legs around his hips and drew him closer to her.

Cage’s blood felt like it was on fire. His cock raged in his dark jeans, begging to be released. He could not recall a time—and certainly not recently if there was one—when he had wanted a woman more than he wanted Angel right at that moment.

Angel reached for his cut at the same time that he touched hers. They were both dropped unceremoniously, even though they weren’t supposed to touch the floor. Cuts were the American Flags of the MC world. They were supposed to be treated with the upmost respect.

But Cage wouldn’t tell if Angel didn’t.

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