Burned (Devil's Blaze MC, #2)(21)

“Nothing in here, Torch man, it’s been cleaned out,” Sabre says, returning.

“Told you,” Katie hisses.

“Check her bags,” I tell him, ignoring her—which was a mistake. I was looking over the property wondering if something here might give away some clue as to where Beth might be, when I hear a weird noise. I turn back around to see Katie stomping something. When she moves her leg I can see the broken pieces of her cellphone.

“Whoopsie,” she says, then flips me off. “Guess I got a few more f*cking brains than you were planning on.”

How can a bitch piss me off and then turn me on all at the same time? I’m going to f*cking set her ass on fire later tonight. The thought only makes my cock throb harder.

“Cute, honey, but quit trying to mess with the big dogs,” I tell her, bending down to pick up the ruined phone—and yeah, I might have jerked her arm a little harder. “I can get everything I need to know right off your SIM card,” I tell her, already sifting through the broken pieces to get to the part that contains the things I need to get her account info.

“Golly gee, Torch, I know I don’t have any brains or anything, but did you know they make burn phones that don’t even use SIM cards these days?” she asks in a saccharin-sweet voice that makes my hand itch to show her who’s in charge.

“Katie, I’m warning you…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. You’ve ceased to exist now,” she says, not bothering to look at me and, instead, peering off in the distance over my shoulder.

Her words serve as a dare, and I’ll pick up the challenge. Oh, she’ll know I exist… and soon.





I’m doing my best to act cool, but inside I’m freaking dying. How did they find me? It took me thirty minutes to walk back to my car this morning. I was in so much pain that I felt I had to come home and grab my gear and shower. I wish I could go back. I would have jumped in my Jeep and hit the road. Fuck everything else. If I don’t show up today at noon or get word to Bethie, then she’s going to freak. I’m not sure what Skull would do to her, but after the cruel note he gave her when she was having his child, I don’t trust the motherf*cker not to turn her straight over to Colin. Wasn’t that Colin’s last threat? Did we force him to seek help from the one man who hated Bethie as much as he did? What right does the * have to hate Bethie, anyway? He’s the one who cut out her heart with a dull spoon and left her to bleed to death. It’s been two years and Bethie still grieves, walking around like a shell of the woman she used to be.

“Let’s go,” Torch growls, pulling me along by the handcuff. I stumble hard and nearly fall before he rights me. His touch burns through my clothes. I pull away from him—or at least try. He doesn’t let me, and thanks to the way he has me chained, I can’t.

“Go where?”

“My bike, sweetness. Time to report back to your brother-in-law.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I don’t have one of those.”

“Oh trust me, sweetness, you do,” he says, and I’d love to knock the kinky look off his face.

“What about my stuff?” I ask him, annoyed.

“You won’t need it.”

He’s wrong, so wrong.

“I do! Torch, I can’t leave my things behind.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you need. Now get on the f*cking bike,” he orders.

His tone left no room for argument, but I try. “There’s things in there you can’t buy. At least let me have my damned clothes!”

“I can buy clothes,” he returns, his eyes going over me. I know he notices his t-shirt when he gets that twinkle back in his eye that he had last night. I curse myself for wearing it. I don’t want to smell him on me now, not even a little bit. Right now, I’d like to gut him. Well, almost. “Nice shirt,” he says. “It fits you.”

Asshole. He’s not talking about the size; he’s talking about my Brazilian wax. The dirty talk he gave me last night about loving the fact that he could see my release all glossy on the lips of my * doesn’t feel hot today. It feels like just one more reason to kick him in the balls. The shirt he has on today hasn’t escaped notice either. If I wasn’t scared and pissed, I would laugh.

“I could say the same. Let me go and you can work on finding your next pet,” I huff.

“Oh, but I’m not ready to give up on the one I have,” he says, and that cocky look instantly changes into one fueled with lust.

“Too bad. I’m off the market,” I grumble, getting on the f*cking bike because it’s become clear that he’s not going to listen to anything I say. I wince when I step on, putting all my weight on my bad leg. I’ll be lucky if I can walk tonight, but I’ll be damned if I complain to him.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, getting on in front of me. I do my best not to touch him. He jerks his arm while he wraps his hand on the handle bar. I’m forced to stretch to allow it. I fall forward, using my free arm to brace on his back. “Wrap your other arm around me and don’t give me any flack, sweetness. It’s dangerous enough to ride like this. You make me f*ck up my bike, I’ll take it out on your hide and you won’t like how that feels.”