Crash and Burn (Back Down Devil MC #2)(52)

“Whose is it?” Griffin asked.

Miller showed Griffin the ring. “Take a f*cking guess.”

“Christ. That’s… that’s Jonesy’s finger.”

Miller nodded.

This was bad.

Really bad.





twenty-seven.



Erik looked in the mirror at himself. A lot of the cuts were healed, the scabs either picked off or washed off. He touched his face and felt the bumps of the fresh scars. The scars wouldn’t peel away. They would be there forever as jagged flesh.

He looked liked shit.

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When I open my eyes, they’ll be gone. It’s not that bad…

Erik opened his eyes and the scars were still there. His arms were still achy and his right leg hurt most of the day, leaving him with a limp. He hadn’t been able to ride a motorcycle in weeks and according to Miller, his job was to rest and relax while the rest of the MC was out there, doing something.

Rest meant nothing to Erik. He wanted to be on his motorcycle and he wanted to be out there, doing something. He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill. He needed to get all this anger out of his body before something bad happened.

Erik reached down and felt for his gun. He lifted the gun and looked at its reflection in the mirror. Then he put the gun under his chin.

One f*cking pull…

Erik’s pointer finger could end all the pain. End the need to stare at the scars on his face. End the wondering and anger of who did this to him.

Erik’s hand shook as he tempted himself to do it.

If he committed suicide, Erik wasn’t sure what would happen to his body. Would he buried in his leather cut? Would he be honored as a member of the MC? Would he be laid to rest with the rest of his fallen brothers?

“Fuck,” Erik whispered.

He moved the gun from his chin and put it back on the sink.

He’d been like this for over an hour now. Debating whether live or die. If he was dead, he would feel nothing. If he was alive, he felt like death. The cycle spun inside his body and soul ever since he woke up in a f*cking hospital and pieced together what had happened.

Erik turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face. He calmed himself with a reminder that he was going to meet with Miller and Griffin to talk about what they knew. Erik reminded himself of what Landon had done for him. He fought three rounds in one night - even taking down a guy who kept his rings on - all to pay for the service of Jonesy to get revenge for Erik.

As much as Erik wanted to kill himself and finish what someone else started, he needed to be respectful to his brothers. Erik tucked the gun away and left his bathroom and his room. He walked the hall slowly, listening to the sounds of the clubhouse. At the meeting room, he paused and then opened the doors. Entering, he found Miller and Griffin looking pissed off and flustered.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asked.

“Erik,” Miller said. “Come in. Sit down.”

Erik looked at the table and saw a finger.

“What the hell is that?” Erik asked.

He looked at Miller again and didn’t need an answer. The tides had the feel that they were turning and had been for some time. Some men rose while some men fall. The same could be said for crews. Sitting at the top meant a lot of people wanted to kill you for your spot. This wasn’t a dog eat dog kind of thing, this was kill before you’re f*cking killed kind of life.

Erik limped to his chair and leaned against it.

His body, mind, and soul were still recovering, but it was obvious that time was going to march forward, with or without him. Erik lifted his head and looked at the wall.