Burned (Devil's Blaze MC #3)(33)

I know it now, though. There’s not a doubt in my mind. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, curled into one of the other men, scared to death. Looking at her cost me as I’m cross-cut with another left. Fucking bloody hell!

That’s it. I’m going to tear this *’s arms off and beat him to death with them, then I’m going to strangle that damned brunette.

I deliver a blow to the gut. When he bends down to protect his weakness, I deliver shot after shot under his chin and to his face. He backs up a good five feet because he wasn’t expecting me to fight back so violently. I don’t have my cut on because I’m trying not to broadcast I’m in the area, so motherf*cker has no idea who he’s dealing with. I could eat men like him for breakfast and spit on his grave. I’m feeling pretty f*cking great about it because Goliath here falls back against the wall, going down for the count. I’m about to turn my attention back to Katie when I’m brought to my knees with a heavy thud on my head. The room swirls in circles and goes precariously gray. I try to fight through it. I can’t go down like this. I can’t lose Katie. That’s not an option. I try to fight, but I’m sinking further down, falling on the concrete floor with a thud.

I look up. My vision is blurry and I’m seeing double, but one of the truckers is standing over me with a huge metal rack in his hand and there’s sales books all around the ground. The f*cker hit me from behind with a magazine rack?? That was a punk-ass move, getting me from behind like that. I’ll remember that for when I get up from here to kill the son of a bitch.

“Is he alright? Oh my God, did you kill him?” Katie’s voice reaches me. I’d like to think that’s real fear in her voice, but I know better. After all, I’m in this situation because of her, the lying little cunt. I’ll make her pay too, as soon as the room stops spinning. And what’s with all the gray?

I’m losing focus. Son of a bitch, nothing I can do will bring it back. I know I’m going out. I keep trying to fight it, but it’s pointless. My eyes flutter closed and, right before I go out, I see Katie walking out with one of the f*ckers. She looks over the man’s shoulder at me and I think she’s mouthing the words, I’m sorry. I can’t be sure.

It doesn’t matter. When I catch up to her, she will be sorry; that much I can guarantee.





Guilt is eating me up inside and I hate it! I never meant for Torch to get so hurt. I hope he’s okay. Surely someone has found him by now. Probably that damned waitress who was already panting after him and drooling. Somehow, I ended up with a different trucker than my original mark. I liked the first guy; he had a kindness in his eyes. Torch managed to take him down though and that left me with Mr. Hands over here.

I’ve gone along with him though because after everything I’ve done, I need to get away from Torch. I have to get to Bethie, but more than that, Torch is going to be pissed as hell at me. If he gets a hold on me again, I’ll never get away. He has a right to be pissed, I guess, but he was holding me captive! He was forcing me into a situation that would put my niece and my sister in danger, and he wouldn’t even try to understand. He’s an * and I should not be feeling guilt.

I try to breathe and consider my next move. When I climbed up into the rig, Mr. Hands made a big show of helping to boost me up. In reality, it was just so his hand could cup my ass, hence the nickname I gave him. Since then though, he’s been okay. I’m just letting him drive and tell me about how little women like me need to be careful, how I need a man to protect me, and how if he was my man, he’d spoil me like a queen. Do women really fall for this stuff? I don’t get it.

Then again, I’ve never had use for a man past one night. Never even thought about it. I ignore the way an image of Torch comes to mind. Okay, so I thought of keeping him longer than one night. I would have never done it. Never. He’s a player and I will never fall under the spell of a man like Bethie did. Never. Did I mention never? Because it’s true. Definitely true. Never, ever, ever. Freaking never!

“Wait. What are you doing?”

“You’re too keyed up, sweetness. I’ll show you how a real man works that out of you. Then, we’ll see about getting you some clothes.”

Fuck! Suddenly, I’m reminded of how my shirt is ripped and my bra shows through. I’m also reminded of Torch calling me “sweetness” and how I kind of like it, but when this guy says it, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

While I’m reminded of all this, Mr. Hands is pulling off into a seedy motel. If this is how he treats the women in his life that he wants to make his queen, it’s no f*cking wonder the man is single. Though, I bet if the truth was known, he has some poor schmuck of a wife sitting at home who has no idea what her man is up to while on the road.

“Listen, I appreciate your help, but I’m not going into that motel with you. This is where I find another ride,” I tell him, and before he can say anything else, I unlatch my seatbelt, open my door, and climb down.

I’m thankful I have my boots on because, honestly, I’ve done more on my leg in the last few days than I have in months. The pain is constant, but I’ve dealt with it, and my boots give me extra support which helps. Still, when I jump from the bottom step of the eighteen-wheeler to the ground, I land wrong and my ankle curls. Pain shoots up my bad leg and it’s so f*cking intense that I cry out.