Wild Blaze (Back Down Devil MC 0.5)(2)

“It’s okay,” Brody said. He put a hand to Ana’s. “Just my guys. All good here, sweetheart. I just wanted a pack of smokes and to see the place.”

“It’s not that,” Ana said. “I mean, I don’t like your guys, but they don’t come around a lot.”

“Then what is it?” Brody asked.

Ana took her hand away and backed up. Her fingers started to jump and she played with her hands. She looked down, her blonde hair falling in front of her face. She was innocent and scared. Brody looked around the store, wondering what the f*ck was up.

“Ana… if I’m in danger, or my guys are in danger… and you don’t tell me…”

Ana put her hands to her ears. She shook her head.

The sight made Brody freeze. He did that same goddamn thing, too. Not recently, no, but most of his childhood was spent like that. Either shoving stolen corn chips in his f*cking mouth or covering his ears to block the sounds of hell all around him.

Brody opened his mouth to yell at Ana, but he heard a noise to his left. His head snapped and he eyed the back room. There used to be a door there, but now the door was missing and a black cloth hung in the doorway.

Brody took one step and Ana yelled his name. He ignored her and she jumped up and over the counter. She knocked over a display of penny candies that littered the floor with the sound of glass pebbles. She grabbed at Brody and he pulled her close. There were tears in her eyes.

“Holy shit,” Brody whispered. “What is it?”

“Don’t let them touch me again. I’m sorry, Brody. This isn’t your…”

Ggggaaahhh…

Brody heard the noise before. That was the sound of someone bleeding and trying to take a breath.

Old man Ronnie.

“He’s dying,” Ana said.

Fuck… all I wanted was a pack of smokes and to look at Ana’s tits.





two.



Carrying two cups of coffee, Heather kept her eyes straight as her heart raced. She had been doing this for so long now she shouldn’t have been nervous. But she was. She always was. This was her life, her dream, f*ck, it was her career. From the time she was a little girl, she had wanted to be a doctor or nurse. At first, it was easy to be a doctor. She would sneak scissors, a needle, and thread from her mother’s sewing kit and get to work. She would cut open her stuffed animals and operate and sew them back up. Then came the tender age of ten when she was able to see a book where pictures of surgeries were shown. It then seemed impossible to try and deal with all that blood. It made Heather sweat (much like when she had to carry her two cups of coffee) and she decided to skip the doctor thing.

From that point forward it was all about nursing. And she carried that dream through school, into college, and then she landed her dream job. She was a full-time nurse, running around like crazy in a busy hospital.

And she was carrying two cups of coffee.

She walked by a break station and two other nurses were standing there. Debbie and Marie. They were facing each other, each wearing glasses, Debbie pouring enough sugar into her coffee it would become a syrup. Marie drank her coffee black and never chewed gum or popped a mint afterward, leaving her with some wild, dark breath.

They didn’t notice Heather and that was good.

Heather knew the plan because she’d done it long enough that she swore her footprints were in the tiles. That’s how she feared she would get caught. They would just follow the path she created and bust her. That, of course, was insane. There were no footprints. And if there were, so much traffic came through these halls, it would be impossible to follow one set. Plus, there was a janitorial crew that cleaned the floors each night.

The real worry was the cameras. They were everywhere in the f*cking hospital. Sometimes Heather wanted to believe the cameras weren't real. They were there for show, to make the hospital look big, bad, and safe. But Heather had seen the security room before. When all this first started she had taken friendship with Larry, one of the security guards who was no longer with the hospital. He took her into the room and it was a wall of screens. Watching, monitoring, making sure the patients and the staff were protected.

That made this little trip with the coffee even more risky and dangerous.

At the end of the hall, Heather made a left turn. There was a small hallway that split into two wings of the hospital. A set of elevator doors was there, along with old leather benches on each side of the doors.

Just as she was told, a man named Peter sat there. He wore a suit and tie, his hands folded, biting on his thumb. He looked sad and worried, and that was all part of the act.

Heather swallowed and cleared her throat. “Mr. Peter?”

He looked at Heather and hurried to stand. He looked behind him and then forward. As he approached, he asked, “How is she?”

“I can’t discuss information,” Heather said. “I’m sorry. I brought you a coffee, like you asked for.”

The cups were shaking in Heather’s hands. One cup was really coffee. It was warm, leaving her palm sweating. The other cup was not warm, at all. But it still left her feeling sweaty and guilty.

Peter came to Heather and looked at the coffees. “Which one?”

Heather put out her left hand and Peter took it. “If you need anything… the doctor…”

“I can get in touch with him,” Peter said. His sad face offered a sly grin.