Burned (Devil's Blaze MC #3)(32)

I wait against it. I wait longer than five minutes, which makes me a liar. But, motherf*cker, I need to get a hold of myself. She’s been in there a good ten minutes when I hear her gasp, followed by a loud noise I can’t really describe. I start banging on the door. “Katie, you need to get your ass out of there or I’ll break the motherf*cking door down. We need to get going.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to that girl,” the trucker from earlier says.

He’s standing in front of me, apparently taking it on his own to follow us back here and check on Katie. Well, hell, it looks like I’m going to have to beat the * down. I’m not worried. I’m pretty sure I can take him… until two of his butt-buddies join him. The three of them look at me like I’m next on their list of things to f*ck up.

If I survive this shit, I’m going to strangle Katie.





I think I’m losing my touch. I gave that trucker enough of an invitation that he really should’ve walked over. He didn’t. That’s Torch’s fault too, since he looks pretty damn formidable. Well, if you discard his damn t-shirts.

Shit. I have to get away. I have to.

There’s a tiny f*cking window in here that is way too small for my ass, and he’ll give up waiting on me at any moment. I try to push it open, but it’s not budging. My finger snags on the rusty metal handle and it stings like hell. It starts bleeding right away. I’ll probably die of tetanus and it’ll be all the *’s fault.

I take a deep breath and try to look around for something, anything, that can help me get away from him. As if he can hear my thoughts, he pounds on the door, yelling. I ignore him. I have to think.

That’s when I hear him. A second voice; I’m almost sure it’s the trucker. Now’s my chance. I need to make sure when I come out that I get him completely on my side. I can’t take the chance that Torch will talk the Trucker into his side. The man has a golden tongue… in more ways than one.

I look in the mirror above the sink. I look down at my Black Crowes t-shirt and mourn losing it. I pull at the collar. Luckily, I had already taken scissors to it and made it into a V cut. I hate the round collars that most t-shirts spout; it feels like it chokes me, and Lord knows I’ve had that feeling enough—I don’t need it from my clothes. I rip it so it falls down on my shoulder, enough to show the silky red bra beneath, because let’s face it, men get distracted by boobs. Satisfied with that, I muss up my hair just a little. At first, I grieved losing my blonde locks. The longer I have this dark color, the more I like it. I doubt I’ll ever go back. Not to mention, I like looking different from Bethie. With that done, I look a little roughed up, but it’s not enough. I need signs of violence. Torch is talking to the trucker. I need to hurry before the trucker leaves.

I take a deep breath, make a tight fist like I learned in self-defense class, then hit myself along my jaw and the corner of my mouth. Jesus. Okay, that hurt, but I know I’ve pulled my punch some. I don’t really like pain. Isn’t that ironic? After three more punches, I can see the red inflamed skin. Eventually, it will swell. That’ll work, except for…

I take my ring off. It’s a small diamond surrounded by pearl petals so that it looks like a daisy. It was a gift from Bethie during our first Christmas together after she found me. I use the diamond to cut the corner of my lip. It doesn’t bleed much, just a little bit. It’s enough though, because I’m about two steps away from joining the crazy train now. I use the blood from the finger I cut earlier and smear extra along the bottom of my lip making it look like it’s bleeding a lot. One last look in the mirror and then I walk to the door.

“She’s my woman,” I hear Torch say.

“Didn’t look to me like she wanted to be your woman anymore.”

“It’s just a lover’s tiff. She’s mad I forgot her birthday. It’s not bad enough she’s busting my balls over that, but she’s also on the rag. You know how women get.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

Fuck. I knew he’d talk his way out of it. I guess it’s show time. I put both hands on the door, take a deep breath, then push it open.





I’ve just about gotten the guy calmed down, and the other two seemed to have relaxed as well. They’re about to go back into the dining area of the store when Katie opens the door.

Only she doesn’t look like she did when she went in. Someone beat the hell out of her. I’m about to charge into the bathroom and find out what the f*ck is going on. I thought it was empty, but obviously it wasn’t. I’m going to kill a motherf*cker for even thinking about putting their hands on her. One thing stops me—and it stops me cold.

“I’m here, I’m here… Just please don’t hurt me again,” she says, her voice breaking, her eyes bright. She looks so pitiful and frail standing there like that with unshed tears and her body trembling. I know I’m going to kill someone, until it clicks in my head: she’s talking to me.

I’m slow because it doesn’t take He-Man and his buddies as long to figure it out. I know this because a fist barrels into my nose as I’m making these observations. Motherf*cking son of a milk cow! A fist slams into me, spraying blood from my nose. I hear a crunch in my ears. Skull and the brothers would have my f*cking ass for being caught so unawares. I can’t help it, though; my brain was all about Katie being hurt. How the f*ck was I supposed to know that the bitch was setting me up?