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

look around the room, refusing to give Ryan the twisted friendship that he seems to want from me.
     
    “Ah, come on, Jakey-boy, wouldn’t be the first time we’d shared a piece of ass.” My head whips back round to face Ryan and I can see the excitement in his eyes. He’s getting off on this. I don’t plan on helping him any further so I remain silent, refusing to feed into this creepy little fantasy he has in his head.
     
    The silence between us becomes heavy and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as I get ready for anything he might throw at me—literally.
     
    “So what do you think? You feel like an Angel now?” Ryan asks, smiling at his handiwork on my shoulder. It’s a complete change of tone and not at all what I was expecting from this psycho.
     
    “I wouldn’t go that far.” My voice is flat and I hope that Ryan takes the hint that I don’t want us to become great buddies, sharing a beer and shooting the breeze.
     
    “You’re not better than us, you know?” Ryan hisses.
    “Ryan, could we just not do this right now? How about we take some quiet time?” I wonder why it’s so hard to speak to him without losing my patience.
     
    “Don’t talk down to me, Summers. Your little girlfriend made that mistake and I made sure she wouldn’t make it again.” He cackles out a high-pitched laugh that makes me want to wipe the smile off of his face.
     
    I’m aware that our little exchange has aroused some interest in the nearby bikers and a little crowd is not-so-subtly waiting to see what happens next.
     
    I raise my voice just enough for the surrounding tables to hear me. “Ryan, we’ve spoken about this before, but I guess you haven’t understood what I’ve been saying. So let me break it down for you.” My voice is completely calm, almost ice cold. It sounds like it’s coming from someone else—someone more in control, someone who isn’t an emotional mess. “If you talk about Aimee again, I will fuck you up.” The surrounding tables are quiet and I know that we have a captivated audience. Ryan’s little bug eyes bulge with fear and anger like they’re about to be pushed out of his sockets. “Actually, scratch that—if you so much as think about her or dream about her, I’ll know, and when that happens you can be sure that you’ll wake up as even less of a man than when you went to sleep.” I hold Ryan’s astonished gaze steadily so he knows I’m not fucking around, and there’s a moment of tension when I wonder if he’s going to lunge over the table at me.
     
    In the silence surrounding us you could have heard a pin drop. Ryan and I are totally concentrated on each other, each waiting for the other to show some sign of weakness or of things about to escalate.
     
    “Well, the kids got a steel set of balls on him!” The words come from an older biker who’s just in my line of sight.
     
    “We’ll make an Angel out of him yet!” Another biker joins the chorus of appreciation and their support for me makes Ryan break eye contact and turn his attention to scowling at them.
     
    I can feel the grudging respect coming from the crowd and it’s combined with a disdain for Ryan that seems to be rolling off of them in waves. I can’t blame them—it’s not like Ryan has any redeeming features that would make the other bikers respect him. The only thing that he’s got going for him is being Scar’s son, and he’s extended a kind of wary respect purely for that reason.
     
    “Must be nice to be you, Jake.” The words come out grudgingly from Ryan, as if he doesn’t really mean what it is that he’s saying. “You’ve had it easy your whole life. You could get the girls that you wanted; you were the most popular kid in high school. You’ve always had everything you wanted.” There’s a dreamy quality to his words, as if he’s speaking to himself and no one else. But there’s an edge to his voice that sounds a lot like jealousy.
     
    “Nothing’s