Angel’s Halo Novel – Bash, the enforcer of Angel’s Halo MC, is back. At sixteen I let him know that I wanted him. Catching him by surprise, I dropped into the hammock, letting my fingers trail over his stone-hard muscles. “Do you always feel this hot? It’s nearly scalding.” His eyes were hard, but he couldn’t completely hide the desire I saw burning in those silver-blue depths. “When I decide I want an ol’ lady, it won’t be with someone that chases after me, Raven.” No one noticed I was heartbroken over a jerk like Bash Reid. During that time he went through a new girl every week, breaking me a little more every time I saw him with one of the sheep all over him. Just the thought of him screwing everything with a pudendum back then still makes me crazy with jealousy. Now that I’m facing him, I realize that I haven’t forgotten anything at all.
Raven I know it’s going to be a bad day as soon as I hear the thunder rumble outside my window. Groaning, I pull my comforter over my head and close my eyes, willing the world to go away for at least another few hours. It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. It never does. My phone buzzes on my pillow and I grope for it with my hand. When I feel the bejeweled skull case of my iPhone, I jerk my hand back and see that I have a text from one of my brothers. SOS! New girl quit. Get your butt down here… Please. I glare at the screen. I knew the second my horndog brother said he was hiring his latest screw buddy, and in turn offering me my first Friday night off since I had started working at our family-owned bar, that this would happen. Raider’s interest in any one girl never lasts past the first week, and as soon as he moves on—which had been the night before—our new girl is out the door. I mutter a few curses that would have made every one of my brothers swat my butt because ladies don’t swear, and shoot a quick response back to Colt, who’s manning the bar tonight.
If he hadn’t said please I would have told him to go screw himself, but Colt’s the youngest of my four older brothers and doesn’t take me for granted … much. As soon as the text is sent I toss back my covers, push my long blonde hair back from my face, and head for the bathroom down the hall. My room had been a last minute addition to our house, because I had been a last minute addition to the family, so I don’t have my own private bathroom like my fucktard brothers do. My parents hadn’t been expecting me having decided that four monstrous boys were enough to keep the Hannigan legacy going strong. When I ended up being a girl, not a boy like everyone had been expecting, everyone got the surprise of their lives; there hadn’t been a Hannigan daughter in over seven generations. A quick five minute shower, where I veto washing my hair because it’ll take a good half hour to blow it dry, and I’m back in my room pulling on a pair of hip-hugging, distressed jeans and a white tank top with the words Hannigan’s Biker Bar on the back and smaller version of the logo on my left chest. My heeled biker boots complete my work attire. I don’t bother with makeup because I hate that.
I grab the keys to my black Challenger, a gift from all of my brothers for my eighteenth birthday, and head out the door. It doesn’t surprise me to see that the driveway next door is already overflowing with hogs, muscle cars, and a few prissy sports cars. The two prissy cars belong to the girlfriends of my neighbors. Those two were trust fund bitches dating two of the town’s biggest bad boy bikers to get back at Daddy for not showing them enough attention. The loud music blares from the house next door, and I rolled my eyes as I climbed behind the wheel of my car and gunned the engine. A few heads come out of the front door of the neighbor’s house when they hear me revving, and I see my brother Hawk waving at me. I roll my window down just enough to yell a goodbye without getting wet. “You be careful, Rave!” Hawk shouts. “Those roads are drenched.” “Yes, Mom!” I roll my eyes and back out of our driveway. “Raven Anne!” I hear my middle name as I switched gears quick and sure and punched the gas. A grin teases my lips as I picture my brother and his dickwad friends glaring.
I’m going to get it later when he and the rest of the gang come into the bar, but for now I’ll enjoy the fact that they’re thinking about me and not the orgy I had interrupted. The roads are really wet but I don’t bother to slow down. It’s ten minutes to the bar and I get there in under four. The parking lot is packed, and I jump out trying to make a run for the front entrance to keep from getting soaked. It doesn’t matter because my hair was dripping by the time I walk through the door. Familiar rock music blasts from the overhead speakers. The scent of smoke and booze greets me, and I turn a few heads as I weave my way through the overcrowded bar. My white shirt is plastered to my breasts, bringing attention to my black bra, the cool air of the air conditioning causing my papilla harden. Male eyes catch sight of me, narrow, and then quickly look away as soon as they realize who I am. There is only one true rule in here: no one touches Raven Hannigan. Hannigan’s is the hangout for Angel’s Halo Motorcycle Club. My dad had been the president of the Club until he died.
My Uncle Jack should have taken over as president, but he wanted the Club under a younger ruling. The title had passed to my oldest brother Jet, until recent events had happened, but he’s still technically president. Technically. Colt and Raider, the younger two of my four older brothers, are high on the totem pole in the Club. It isn’t because their last names are Hannigan either. I wasn’t allowed to know what they did for the Club, culpable deniability and all that trash. They are both hustling to mix drinks and pour beers. They give me a relieved grin as I walk toward them. I shoot Raider the middle finger, disgusted with him for not being able to keep his manhood in his pants for at least another twenty-four hours so I can have a night off to sleep, as I rush into the office to get an apron and tie my wet hair back. Neither of my brothers say a word to me as I grab a tray and start making my rounds. I pick up a handful of empty bottles from the closest table and toss them in the trash before asking if the three bikers want anything else. They barely glance at me as they ask for a bottle of Patron and a salt shaker. It takes me thirty minutes to make my way through the bar until I get to the booth in the back.
I hadn’t bothered with the patrons of that table until now because I know that once I get back there I won’t be able to leave for at least ten minutes. As soon as I reach the six men sitting at the booth, I offer them a smile. This is where the Originals sit. The Originals along with my dad had founded the Club and all the younger members looked to them for the guidance in life, intercourse, and business. They only come in on Friday nights. Shoot this, handle business. Make sure that the pups still know that in the biker world they were the law, second only to the Club’s president. “Hey there, girl!” They all greet me with a welcoming smile. Their old eyes light up with affection and appreciation. I look just like my mother, or so I’ve been told at least a million times. I don’t remember her because her life had been tragically cut short, but I’ve seen the pictures and there is a resemblance. If I’m half as hot as she was, I guess I’m not that bad. I stop beside my Uncle Jack. He’s not really my uncle but that’s what I call the Originals, each and every one of them. “What kind of trouble are you old jerks causing tonight?” I ask, bending my head to smack a peck on Jack’s cheek. I don’t expect them to actually tell me what they’ve been doing back here all evening. Not knowing is my safety shield. A beefy arm wraps around my waist.
“You and that smart-butt mouth, Raven.” He shakes his head at me but he’s grinning. “Your poor momma is rolling over in her grave at how those boys let you talk.” I shrug. My mother supposedly never even raised her voice, let alone cursed. Everyone that describes her says the same thing. “Maggie Hannigan was a lady.” I’m nothing like my mother. I had grown up in a house with five bikers and no female influence at all, unless you counted the trail of one night stands that had come and gone through the front door. I talk and act just like I am—the spawn of a biker. “You guys need anything?” I glance at the open bottles on the table between them: a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, quarter of a bottle of Patron, longneck beer bottles, and a few glasses of draft. “We’re good for now, Raven,” Uncle Chaz assures me. “But we sure wouldn’t turn down a few minutes of sunshine in this stale butt place.” I wink at Chaz. He’s sixty-three and has a granddaughter my age that he never sees.
Chaz doesn’t see any of his family much, except for the only one of his sons that had joined the club at eighteen. His wife tucked tail and ran after Chaz had nearly died from a knife fight here in the bar long before I had even been a gleam in my dad’s eye. “I’m always happy to oblige, Uncle Chaz.” The door opens letting in the scent of rain and summer air. I wouldn’t have normally looked up, but the heat of eyes on me has the fine hairs on my neck rising, forcing me to turn my head … All the oxygen traps in my lungs as my eyes land on the beast of a man standing by the still-open door. Uncle Jack, his arm still around me, feels me stiffen and raises his head. I hear him mutter something that sounds like a curse before he stands. The other five Originals follow suit, heading toward the man that just entered the bar, Leaving me standing there feeling like someone just stabbed me in the heart. The enforcer is back.