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“Are you sure you want to be moving around?” Stone asked. “Doc said you are lucky to even be alive.”
Birdie grunted. “This isn’t the worst shape I’ve ever been in.” He stared at the other man and could see the annoyance on his face. Birdie chuckled. “You want to nurse me back to health or some shit?”
“Fuck off,” Stone said and walked closer. “Whatever Fury’s going through he hasn’t told the club. The only reason I know where he’s at is because I asked, and when he clammed up, I knew.” Stone ran a hand over his face and breathed out. “President or not, he shouldn’t be going rogue like this.”
Birdie braced his hands on the bed on either side of him. “If he did go rogue, he has a good reason.” Birdie breathed through the pain and pushed himself off the bed.
His chest burned something fierce, but his recovery was going good, if slow. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move to go anywhere, but he needed to be there for Fury. Birdie pushed Stone away when the other man tried to help him walk.
The pain had Birdie starting to sweat, but he slowly made his way into the bathroom. Bracing a hand on the wall, he switched the light on and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
His dark hair stood in strands around his head, and his face was ashen. Dark circles were around his eyes, and beads of sweat covered his forehead. He looked a fucking mess, but if Fury wasn’t going to answer his damn phone when he called and was out being damn Rambo without the club knowing, Birdie was going to go to him.
Hell, he’d done ten years in prison to protect Fury, even though they’d killed that motherfucker together. He’d do anything for the man because Birdie saw him as a brother, and he’s all he had in this shitty world.
11
Angelina sat on the bed and stared at the plate of food Fury had given her. Her stomach clenched and growled, and although she was hungry, she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything. She thought about her father, about her life.
Her childhood hadn’t been shitty, and in fact she’d had a lot of opportunities opened to her because she was a Cardona. But it was when she got older that she understood why she got all the things she had.
Her brother and father had run the family business, but until she was a teenager, she’d just thought it was the stores around the neighborhood. Little did she know it was those stores that were used to do backroom deals, and were even places where people were killed.
She closed her eyes and hung her head, breathing out. Being a Cardona didn’t mean she liked the life, or even wanted it. It was the hand she’d been dealt. It wasn’t until she saw her brother beat the shit out of some kid because he looked at him the “wrong way” that she realized she couldn’t be part of that world.
She pushed the plate away after picking at it for several minutes, her stomach in knots, but strangely not because she was currently in this situation. It was weird to be chained up in some stranger’s house, not sure of the outcome, but not be afraid of what might happen to her.
Fury was huge and definitely scary, but he wanted payback for her father, and she guessed if she’d been in his shoes, she would have done the same. If she had anyone she cared about, she would go to great lengths to make things right.
But this is so fucked up.
Angelina picked up the chain that hung off the bed and ran her fingers over the cold metal. It started to warm in her grasp the longer she held it. She wanted to cry at the situation she was in, but what she found fucked up was her tears were because of the fact it was her family that had her in this predicament.
She stood and walked toward the door. The sun had already set, and from what Fury said she was out for several hours. But the day had slowly worn on, and now with evening already upon them, all she should want to do was curl up and cry. That or figure out how to escape.
And where would you go? If Fury found you so easy, then he’s right, your family probably knew where you were the whole time.
But if they had known where she was, why didn’t they come after her? Angelina knew her father wouldn’t have just let it go that she left without a word to them.
She reached for the handle, but before she could open it, it swung inward. Retreating several steps and almost tripping over the chain, she tilted her head back and stared up at Fury. He held two bottles of beer in his hand, but one was already being tipped back into his mouth as he took a hefty drink from it.
He handed her the other beer, and she took it, knowing she could smash the damn thing over his head, but also grateful for the small reprieve the alcohol would give her.
She drank half the bottle before she brought the tip away from her mouth. She didn’t even like beer all that much, but seeing as she never drank, Angelina figured the alcohol would help. She hoped, at least.
“You hate your family that much, huh?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yeah, that much.” She moved back toward the bed, the chain making a loud clanking noise on the ground. When she was seated on the mattress, she held the bottle between her hands, looking at it. “My childhood wasn’t horrible. I had cousins to play with, but my mother and father weren’t really there for me.” She lifted her head and looked at Fury. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. “My brother was an asshole for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I saw the kind of men that surrounded me.”
She lifted her bottle and took another drink, not sure why in the hell she was even saying anything to him. He didn’t care, especially not about her childhood. All Fury wanted was his revenge, and she was a means to that end. But she kept her mouth shut after saying all of that, because the less he knew about her, the better.
Angelina didn’t need any extra drama in her life … well, not any more than she already had.
“And you waited so long to leave?” he asked, and she lifted her head, a little stunned he cared enough to wonder.
She shrugged and stared into his dark eyes.
“You’re only what, twenty-five at the most?”
