Wild Blaze (Back Down Devil MC 0.5)(11)

“Give me your hand,” he said. Slowly, Heather offered her hand. Brody put the gun to her hand. “Take this. Shoot me if I go too far.”

“Too far?”

Brody inched closer to Heather. He wasn’t just attracted to her. It went deeper. Wild and instant. The sudden urge and need to protect her was like something Brody hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Who hurt you?” he asked.

“What?”

“You have more makeup on your right side than the left. I bet if I held you down and wiped all that away, there’d be a mark there. Right?”

Heather’s eyes went wide with shock. “I…”

“What? You fell? You tripped over your own two feet? You were carrying a laundry basket and missed a step? Try me, sweetheart. I heard it all before. Who the f*ck did this to you?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It does.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t,” Heather said. “You wouldn’t want to mess with him anyway. He’s…”

“Did you use the f*cking patch on my back? Realize who I am. Nobody is going to f*ck with me without eating a bullet. And the same for you.”

Heather blinked fast again. Tears filled her eyes and they spilled down her cheeks. Just as Brody figured, the tears collected makeup, making a mess of her face. She was still pretty though.

“Are you going to hold me down and ask me questions?” Heather asked.

“Are you going to pull that trigger and kill me?” Brody asked right back.

“No,” Heather whispered.

“You think it’s not my business, but to me it is. You’re taking care of one of my brothers. And you fear for your life. That’s no way to live, sweetheart.”

Heather jabbed the gun into Brody’s gun. He stepped back. She spun it around in her hand and offered the gun back.

“But it’s my life,” she said. “Thanks for giving a shit. But you don’t want to know.”

Heather took a step and Brody grabbed her. She spun around and slapped him in the face. The slap echoed and the sting did too.

“Feel better?” Brody asked.

“Fuck you,” Heather said.

“Wipe that shit off your face then. Show who you really are. Letting him do that…”

“I will shoot you,” Heather said. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah? Then come get my gun, sweetheart. Come on. Come slap me again.”

Heather started to cry again and ran away.

Brody was pissed off now. He understood what Heather was doing. She was protecting all those around her. She didn’t want anyone to sample her world of hell. But what she didn’t know was that Brody’s feet were still scarred from walking in that hell.

And for some reason, for Heather, he’d walk through hell again.





seven.



Heather just ran. She cut to the left at the end of one hall, cut to the right at the end of the next. Nobody thought it out of the ordinary. She could have gotten a call for help. Nurses were always charging through the hospital. In fact, that was the easiest way to look busy if you weren’t. But Heather was busy. Busy trying to get away from the *.

That * in the leather cut that thought he was so sexy and smooth. He wasn’t that. Okay, fine, he was sexy, but not smooth. He was rough. Dirty. Grungy. He didn’t smell of expensive cologne or anything like that. He smelled of smoke, booze, and had the appeal of a rattlesnake about to strike.

And Heather kind of liked it.

He put his gun in her hand and gave her a minute of power. That was more trust in that moment than Lyle showed her in years. Heather knew a long time ago she didn’t love Lyle. She wasn’t even sure if she ever loved him. It was more or less the love of the life they had together. That suit and tie, smell good, good looks kind of life. Feeling like other people were jealous of her. Now she was jealous of everyone else who didn’t have to deal drugs and get smacked around for no reason.

And yet some biker wanted to jump in the mix and help her?

Why? Because he wanted to f*ck her or something?

Is that such a bad thing? A strong, sexy man who wants to touch you?

Heather stopped running, leaned against a wall, and squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn't be having these thoughts. No f*cking way in hell.

Right on cue, ready to strip her of more freedom and life, her cell rang. And it was Lyle calling. Heather considered ignoring the call, but she knew better. Each ignored call would be paid back to her later. Plus, Lyle would just keep calling and calling and calling until she answered.

When Heather did answer, it was a pissed off Lyle. He was in the parking lot of the hospital, and he demanded to see Heather right now. She tried to say she was working, but her voice cracked in a little lie (since she was technically not working as she hid in a hallway from the sexy biker) and Lyle made it clear he’d come into the hospital with his guys and drag her out by the hair.

That was pretty scary to Heather. She hung up the call and went to the first set of steps she could find. She took them two at a time, all the way down to the ground floor. Her one solace in life was her ability to run. It was the one thing she did to get away from it all. Even though Lyle kept tabs on her while she exercised and had one of his goonies follow her to make sure she didn’t run and leave for good.