Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Cora POV

The rude girl didn’t phase me at all.

What was her name?

Kit, the wannabe who had privileges, but shouldn’t have them, or something like that, was dressed provocatively, and her perfume overtook the smell of food when she got too close. Her make–up might be

okay with others, but being someone who rarely wears it, because work prefers a clean face, it’s more

hygienic, it looked like it had been plastered on, it hid her true self under so much foundation, and her

eyelids were completely covered, like all the way to the eyebrows, I haven’t seen make–up, like that, except on a clown, but I guess if it had been tastefully done, it might have looked better, it was not my style.

I had seen enough rough women to know they are feeling vulnerable, or have a higher opinion of themselves, to act that way. I am no threat to anyone, but if push comes to shove, I can defend myself. Having taken self–defense classes, I know a few pressure points that can put even the largest man to his

knees.

Gunner had to go to work for a few hours in the club’s workshop. I didn’t expect him to hover around me all the time; he’s a busy man, but he left me with a chick called Scones. She ran the kitchens and was preparing for tonight, making sausage rolls, mini pies, and other finger food. Apparently, they do this each week, and the food stays on the club side of the hall, a barrier between members and visitors, and the food was for members only, or in my case, a special guest.

“Cora, can you cook?” Scones asked me, and she was already covered in flour.

“A little, what do you need?” I replied, I am no master chef, but I can hold my own. Well, I don’t mind my cooking, and haven’t had many complaints, not like I will win any cooking competitions, but the food was

passable.

“Can you make the pies?” She pointed to the bowl of minced meat, waiting for the ingredients.

“All one flavour, or a variety?” I put on the apron I was given, limped to the bench, and sat provided, sitting on the edge, trying to avoid my injury.

on the stool

“If you can, a variety sounds good. I usually do the basic meat one, but it might be nice to give them a surprise, with garlic, or curry, something to zing in the mouth.” I nodded and started to work, breaking the meat up into four bowls, and had some fun, creating one very hot and spicy, one with pepper, a plain one, and a curry one, and, to make it fun, a vegetable one.

“Can you put this lot in the oven, please?” I asked Scones as she returned from the bathroom.

“What are the labels on them?”

“H, for hot, C for curry, V for vegetable, P for pepper, and the one with nothing on it is plain meat pie.”

“Oh, got to try one of each when they are cooked, can make cakes? Muffins?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Scones wiped down the bench and put the ingredients on the table.

“Do you have blueberries, apples, chocolate chips, or raisins?” I started thinking about what I might need

to make some variety, listing it off for Scones to gather for me

“You sound like you can cook more than a little. Saves me a lot of time. How’s the leg?”

“Doing okay.” It was better than okay. I thought I’d be out of commission longer, but the pain was manageable, so I didn’t keep taking the pain relief. It only grazed the muscle. I was lucky if it went into the muscles; I could be out for months, as it was repaired, but this may be a week, two at the most. I was very

lucky; it could have been my life.

“Yeah, I am okay, nothing a rest won’t fix in time.”

“We are all grateful that you did that. We would be lost without Gunner. He’s been the rock of this place. You’re in his room now, yes?”

“Yeah, not that he gave me much choice over the matter.” I huffed. The option to choose would have been

nice.

“Then you are his, about time, we’ve been waiting what feels like forever for him to choose a woman. He will look after you. Don’t fret about that.” Sounded like that was expected. I am not sure how I feel about that, like, when did I agree with it?

“What makes you think I would be staying?” I asked, trying to make sense of this conversation.

“What? Do you have a man?”

“Nope, the scumbag, dirty rotten cheater, has been going on behind my back for months, not interested in getting another cheating, lying scumbag.” I put a bit more venom in my voice, which surprised even me. I hadn’t really taken the time to digest what I’d seen at his place or to look at the messages left for me. “Not all men are like that. Give Gunner a chance.” Scones was a lovely lady. We talked about all sorts of things while we were cooking. This was the first time she asked about something personal, as it was too close and raw to my heart.

“Yeah, right.” I scoffed.

“You sound a bit jaded, girl. Don’t let one scumbag ruin it for all men. I am guessing this has happened recently, for you to be so angry.” Scone was seated opposite me, the bench clean, and we were waiting for the muffins to come out of the oven, the pies, and sausage rolls done and cooling on a tray.

“Yeah, only four days ago, they sent me a slew of messages that I have yet to look at. I caught them and ran; they didn’t know I had caught them.” I admitted it felt strange to be talking to Scones like this, a woman I met a few hours ago. She reminded me of Grandma, before she died. Warm and caring.

“That’s why there is so much anger and hurt; you have come to the right place to heal. Want to talk about

it?”

Did 1?

Was Scones the right person to talk to about it?

“What we are going to discuss now must stay here?” I asked, not liking the idea of being club gossip.

“I promise I won’t say a word to anyone. Not even Gunner.” She made a cross over her heart.

Instead of talking, I grabbed my phone and shared the photos. How I managed to stay long enough to take

a few was beyond me. The sight made me sick.

“Tell who they are.” Scones handed back the phone.

“The woman was my long–time, now ex–friend, who I had been with since kindergarten, the last person I would have expected to see cheating with my boyfriend. The man in the middle, giving and taking, as it were, is my now ex–boyfriend, and the man giving my ex a serve from behind is my step–brother.” I spat the

last bit out with disgust.

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