Read Online Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) by Olivia Stephens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Olivia Stephens
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body. “The Feds will have to get involved to investigate what happened tonight. But how could they have been so stupid to try to knock off an army truck? They must’ve known they’d get caught.” I shake my head, trying to figure this all out.
“I don’t know, Winters,” Jake replies. “But you said the guys you saw were drinking?” I nod to confirm he’s right. “Maybe they were drunk and something went wrong.”
“Whatever happened, Scar is going to be pissed,” I note, and can’t keep the gleefulness out of my voice. We sit there grinning at each other like idiots, and then a thought occurs to me. “This could be it, Jake—our way out,” I say. “The Feds come down and investigate what went down tonight with the truck, they figure out that it’s the Bleeding Angels, and then everything that they’ve done starts to come out. All the people that have disappeared or that have been hurt, the drugs, everything. They’ll all be sent away for a long, long time,” I assure Jake, feeling lighter than I have in weeks, like a load has been lifted off of my shoulders.
“That all sounds great, Aimee.” Jake sighs as he stands up and starts to walk around the room. “But you know that’s not going to happen within the next month, right?”
“No, but it doesn’t have to,” I point out, mimicking his pacing. “We just need them to start looking into the Angels a little closer. Enough to spook them. It’ll give Scar something bigger to worry about than you and me. And that’s when we leave. When they’re too busy looking in the other direction, watching their backs for the Feds. That’s when we go,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice and failing.
Jake looks at me, assessing the situation. “Do you think it’s possible?” he asks, not daring to hope. I know how scary this is for him, how much what I’ve suggested leaves us in the hands of fate.
“Honestly? I think it’s the best chance we’ve got. We just have to hope that the Feds aren’t as easily bought off as the cops around here,” I note wryly, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
For the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful. Like I can see a way out of this nightmare, this thing that we’ve been calling a life.
“What did they say to you?” Jake asks eventually.
I look at him with a questioning glance. “Which they?” I ask, taking a sip of the water he had poured for me and realizing how thirsty I am.
“The Angels in the diner,” Jake continues, leaning against the wall in his customary faux-casual position. “What did they say to you?” he repeats, clearly knowing that I’m trying to avoid the question.
“Nothing. They were just being jerks.” I try waving the question away to show how unimportant the whole scene had been.
Jake covers the space between us in only a couple of steps and holds onto my shoulders. Not hard, but not gently either. “Aimee, no secrets.” He reminds me of the pact that we had made to be honest with each other. “Tell me,” he urges.
“They were just being jerks,” I repeat, because that really was the truth. “Basically they told me I was on borrowed time and that I should keep my mouth shut.” I smile to cover how shaken I had been. “Fat chance of that happening,” I laugh, but Jake doesn’t join in.
“Did they touch you?” he asks, his gaze intent on mine. His expression is more than concerned—it tells me that he’s willing to go out in the middle of the night and, if Blondie and Baldy aren’t already dead, kill them.
“No,” I reply. I hate lying to the man I love—lying right to his face. But it’s preferable to the alternative: having him go all vigilante because some idiot biker smacked my ass.
Jake doesn’t call me out on my lie. Instead his shoulders visibly relax and he drops his hands from my arms.
“I don’t know, Winters,” Jake replies. “But you said the guys you saw were drinking?” I nod to confirm he’s right. “Maybe they were drunk and something went wrong.”
“Whatever happened, Scar is going to be pissed,” I note, and can’t keep the gleefulness out of my voice. We sit there grinning at each other like idiots, and then a thought occurs to me. “This could be it, Jake—our way out,” I say. “The Feds come down and investigate what went down tonight with the truck, they figure out that it’s the Bleeding Angels, and then everything that they’ve done starts to come out. All the people that have disappeared or that have been hurt, the drugs, everything. They’ll all be sent away for a long, long time,” I assure Jake, feeling lighter than I have in weeks, like a load has been lifted off of my shoulders.
“That all sounds great, Aimee.” Jake sighs as he stands up and starts to walk around the room. “But you know that’s not going to happen within the next month, right?”
“No, but it doesn’t have to,” I point out, mimicking his pacing. “We just need them to start looking into the Angels a little closer. Enough to spook them. It’ll give Scar something bigger to worry about than you and me. And that’s when we leave. When they’re too busy looking in the other direction, watching their backs for the Feds. That’s when we go,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice and failing.
Jake looks at me, assessing the situation. “Do you think it’s possible?” he asks, not daring to hope. I know how scary this is for him, how much what I’ve suggested leaves us in the hands of fate.
“Honestly? I think it’s the best chance we’ve got. We just have to hope that the Feds aren’t as easily bought off as the cops around here,” I note wryly, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
For the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful. Like I can see a way out of this nightmare, this thing that we’ve been calling a life.
“What did they say to you?” Jake asks eventually.
I look at him with a questioning glance. “Which they?” I ask, taking a sip of the water he had poured for me and realizing how thirsty I am.
“The Angels in the diner,” Jake continues, leaning against the wall in his customary faux-casual position. “What did they say to you?” he repeats, clearly knowing that I’m trying to avoid the question.
“Nothing. They were just being jerks.” I try waving the question away to show how unimportant the whole scene had been.
Jake covers the space between us in only a couple of steps and holds onto my shoulders. Not hard, but not gently either. “Aimee, no secrets.” He reminds me of the pact that we had made to be honest with each other. “Tell me,” he urges.
“They were just being jerks,” I repeat, because that really was the truth. “Basically they told me I was on borrowed time and that I should keep my mouth shut.” I smile to cover how shaken I had been. “Fat chance of that happening,” I laugh, but Jake doesn’t join in.
“Did they touch you?” he asks, his gaze intent on mine. His expression is more than concerned—it tells me that he’s willing to go out in the middle of the night and, if Blondie and Baldy aren’t already dead, kill them.
“No,” I reply. I hate lying to the man I love—lying right to his face. But it’s preferable to the alternative: having him go all vigilante because some idiot biker smacked my ass.
Jake doesn’t call me out on my lie. Instead his shoulders visibly relax and he drops his hands from my arms.
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