A Dream of Summer (Bleeding Angels MC Book 3) by Olivia Stephens Page A

grandly, but his eyes are glittering with a hatred that is plain to see. “So what do you think of your new ink, Jakey-boy?” he asks, prodding my tattoo with his thick fingers, making my shoulder burn. “Oh, sorry. I guess it’s still a little tender.” Elvis cackles like a witch and then leans back in his chair, glassy-eyed. I figure whatever they took when I was in the rest room must be starting to kick in.
     
    “You know, Blake over there—she’d put it out for you. Looks like she creamed her panties just talking to you.” Elvis hoots as he looks in the direction of the girl at the bar. “Between you and me,” he adds, although Ryan is still sitting at the table with us. I wonder at how often he seems to be left out of things, sidelined and made to feel as if he weren’t even there. I guess that’s enough to give anyone that’s already a little crazy the push they need to go full blown loco. “Between you and me, Ryan’s been trying to tap that sweet ass of hers for a good long while now, but she won’t even give him the time of day! Isn’t that right, Ryan?” Elvis laughs, slapping his thigh like this is the funniest thing that he’s heard in ages. The coldness in Ryan’s stare seems to sober him up pretty quickly.
     
    “Elvis, you talk too fucking much.” Ryan takes a long swallow of his beer, his hard gaze never leaving Elvis, and I almost wonder if he’s about to smash the bottle and start attacking his friend with it.
     
    “Ah, man, don’t get all sore. I was just playin’.” Elvis ducks his head and looks like he wishes he was somewhere else. “I guess I’ll just go on and check out that thing…” His words peter out into nothing, as he doesn’t manage to finish the sentence in the haze of drink and drugs that he’s wading through. He gets up unsteadily and, before he can do anything else, Ryan has kicked his legs out from under him, knocking Elvis to the floor.
     
    “Now that’s fucking funny!” Ryan cackles as he surveys his handiwork. Elvis laughs nervously, probably wondering if there’s going to be anything else coming his way. “Get out of here, Elvis. You and me are gonna have a little talk later, just the two of us.” Ryan gets in his face and smiles that yellow-toothed grin of his that looks more threatening than any grimace.
     
    “You want her, Jakey-boy?” Ryan asks after a few moments, and it seems like such a non-sequitur that I’m not sure who he’s even talking about. “Blake, that sweet thing over there. You want her?” Ryan is staring at the girl, and when she catches sight of him an unmistakable look of fear passes over her features and she hurries to serve the next customer, ignoring Ryan.
     
    “No.” I shake my head and take a swallow of beer. It tastes like ash in my mouth, but at least it gives me something to do with my hands.
     
    “Why not? Pretty little thing like that. Elvis’s right, she’d give it up for you in a second—all you’d have to do is ask. Don’t you want a little taste?” Ryan’s sliminess makes my skin crawl and an unwelcome thought comes into my head over how Aimee managed to let this guy touch her. “You’re done with Winters though, right? So what’s the harm?” Ryan’s voice is like the serpent in my ear, tempting me.
     
    I think about it for a split second, and that’s probably too long. Aimee cheated on me. Sleeping with Blake would even the scoreboard. I bunch my hands into fists, angry at myself that I’ve even had that thought. This isn’t a game—it’s not about scoring points.
     
    “I thought you were into her.” I shrug my shoulders casually.
     
    “We could both have her.” Ryan’s voice is low and his breathing is coming in short gasps, like he’s starting to get excited. “You could take the front, I could take the back.” His eyes are all lit up like Christmas morning and I have to swallow the sick feeling that his words give me.
     
    “Not really my style. I don’t share.” I