Burned: Devil's Blaze MC Book 2 (26 page)

I close the door on Beth’s cries. Her tears won’t do her any good. I’m not the man I was. I will never be him again. I go to the nursery to check on Gabriella. Gabriella. She named
mi hija
after my mom. Was that just a trick, too? A card she could play when her back was against the wall?

Gabriella is sleeping in her crib. My daughter. My hands shake as I reach out to brush a stray curl from her forehead.

“She’s beautiful,” Annie says, coming up behind me.

Sabre and Latch brought her here to keep her safe, but to also help me make sure Gabriella is taken care of when I can’t be with her. I wasn’t grandstanding talking to Beth. I have so much anger at her right now that I want to punish her. I want her to hurt like I hurt.
Like she made me hurt
. 

“
Si
. She reminds me of
mi madre
.”

“She looks just like you.”

I smile at the words as pride slides through me. She does. She looks like me. It feels good having that acknowledged.

“Did you put the monitor in my room?” I ask her.

“Yes, just like you asked. But I’ll be here until Sabre and Latch get back with Lucy.”

“Thank you, Annie. You are a
diamante
among
inmundo
perlas
,” I tell her, but I don’t wait around for a reply. Instead, I leave and head out of the building.

I make my way to the club’s garage. Once inside, I open the trapdoor to the basement. I climb down into it and turn on the light. Standing in front of me chained from the ceiling by his hands and dangling a good two feet from the floor is Pistol. His face is a bloody mess, swollen beyond recognition. His knees have been taped and semi-repaired by Dr. Torres. She’s a fucking hot piece of work. Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone like her? Hot sex, uncomplicated… if only I could feel any of that beyond the pain I feel right now.

The florescent fixture buzzes and then clicks before lighting all the way. Pistol is naked. He’s missing most of his toes now, and his ass has been cut by a mixture of my knife, broken bottles, and other objects. I figured, if he’s going to fuck with me, I might as well show him how to take it like a man. Blood has run and dried down his legs. His ribs are purple, but nowhere near as scary-looking as it was last week. I know a couple are broken, but he’s still breathing, so they must have not punctured a lung.

I stand there watching him, taping my hands up. I think he opens an eye. It’s such a fucking mess, who could be sure?

“
Mátame
,” Pistol says, the word coming out barely more than a soft whisper. I might not have heard it, except he begs for the same thing every time. It’s monotonous. He should figure out by now that he dies when I’m done, not before. Now that my hands are taped, I circle his body.

“I met
mi hija
tonight,
cabron
. The
hija
you helped steal from me,” I growl, slamming my fist into his rib. “The
hija
who is two and does not even know who I am,” I tell him, pummeling him again and again. “The
hija
I never would have known existed if you had gotten your way,” I add.

I pound into him over and over, each time telling him I know what he tried to do. I don’t stop. I go a little too far when blood spews from his mouth and his body heaves with the force it takes for him to gasp. The thought of not having him to take my anger out on again is what makes me stop. I use my hands to stop his body from spinning listlessly. I tear the tape from my hands and go to recline against the wall, watching as the blood trails down his neck to his chest, and right there, just below his collarbone, I see it: a bit of unmarked, unblemished skin.
That can’t happen
. I use the phone on the wall, hit speaker, and dial the number.

“Yeah?”

“I need you again.”

“When I said I would help you out, I didn’t know I would be keeping a man alive just so you could kill him,” Teena’s voice comes over the phone.

“Are you coming or not?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I tell her, ending the call.

I light a cigarette, letting the smoke circle around me.

“
Dejame morir
,” Pistol wheezes, more blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Let me die.
How many times did I pray for that very thing? Ask God for that very same thing? How many times did it go unanswered? Not as many as Pistol’s will. That, I can promise.

“Not tonight,
carbon
, not tonight.” I take my cigarette and, finding that one untouched spot around his collarbone, I push the lighted end of the cigarette to it and curl my nose at the smell of burning flesh. Pistol barely moves, this pain hardly detectable under the deluge of other pain he endures. That thought brings me a very small sliver of peace—
for now
.

No. He will not die tonight. He will not die until I can breathe again.

THE End . . . For now

Look for
Conquered
, The final book

in the trilogy,
April 2016

Turn the page for all the pretty extras, including a previously released novella of Sabre, Latch, and Annie—Craved—containing an all new epilogue. Did you ever wonder what Skull’s reaction was after meeting with Colin? And where did the recording Beth talked about come from? Read on! Also included is a sample of some great new book coming out by brand-spanking new author Becca Taylor!

Craved

By:   Jordan Marie

Annabelle

Some men defy description.

I deal with books. I know every adjective in the English language and I can’t describe Sabre.

He’s a biker with a filthy mouth and a dirty mind and he sets me on fire.

I’ve lived in the shadows my whole life, afraid to see what is beyond my own little corner of the world.

Sabre makes me step outside my safe zone.

He makes me
crave
…more.

Sabre

Annie is everything I shouldn’t want.

From that uptight dress to the hair she wears in a damn bun, down to those black rimmed glasses. We don’t fit. A librarian and a biker, and if that’s not cliché enough, she has cats!

I should run.

I’m not going to. One taste and I only want more.

There’s a tiger hiding behind that uptight prude disguise she’s wearing and once I get my teeth into her…

I’m never letting go.

Chapter 1

Sabre

Sometimes you just have to say screw it and jump in. Life’s too fucking short for regrets.

It’s happened to my brothers before—so, I know it can. That thunderbolt feeling that strikes you with just one look. I just never fucking expected it to happen to me. I’m the most jaded motherfucker to walk the face of the Earth. There’s a reason I wound up a member of the Devil’s Blaze Motorcycle Club. I don’t fucking deal well with rules, I don’t deal well with people, and I don’t like living life the way some other fucker tells me I should. So, the fact that I’m standing here in the middle of a fucking street in the small, sleepy town of Slade, Kentucky, panting after some uptight bitch, knocks me on my ass.

It’s August for fuck’s sake and one of the hottest months ever on record. It’s easily a hundred and two out here and this bitch is wearing a long-sleeved, gray dress that comes up to her damn chin and some kind of fancy nylon tights on her legs under that. About the only thing that looks like she dressed for the weather is the tight little bun she’s pulled her white-gold hair into and, fuck me, that looks
painful
. The thing is, despite how stupid the outfit is, it
is
sexy as hell. The dress hugs curves that go on for fucking miles. Tits that would more than fill my hands, and legs…fuck, those legs were made to wrap around a man. Hell, those pointy-heeled shoes she has on, alone, make my dick stand up and take notice.

I want to pull that hair down and wrap it around my hand while I’m feeding her every inch of my cock. Her skin is creamy milk with just a hint of color, and she has these thick-rimmed, black glasses on and everything about her screams uptight teacher. Hell, suddenly I want to go back to school. She’s looking under the hood of a beat-up, old Chevy Blazer and waving steam out of her face. I can already tell its overheating. Then again,
so am I
.

“Car trouble?” I ask, sounding bored, but honestly I’m anything but. Shit, if my cock gets any harder, I’m going to have to jack off right here in the middle of the street.

She looks up at me and even through the glasses I can see the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever laid sight on.
Damn. It just keeps getting better
. Her sweet, little pink tongue comes out and brushes across her lips, and any brain cells I had left that weren’t already directing energy to my dick are gone now.

“Uh…yes…I called Triple A, though,” she says and her voice is sweet and soft, and I’m dying to know how it sounds when full of pleasure.

“You’re not from around here are you, honey?”

“I…I just moved here from Illinois. I took the job at the county library.”

Librarian
. Fuck me, my brain keeps telling me to turn away, and if I could talk any sense at all into my dick right now, I would. That ship has sailed, though. I’m going to nail this woman, it’s just a matter of
when
at this point.

“I thought so,” I mumble, looking under the hood of her vehicle. I’m pretty sure I know the problem, but just to make sure, I get down on the ground and crawl under the SUV.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m sure they’ll be sending someone out any minute now.”

“That’s why I knew you weren’t from around here. You’re in the backwoods of Kentucky, honey. Nearest tow would be Ray’s, two counties over, and when he gets here, he’ll either be shit-faced, horny, or both.”

“I…I’m sure…I can find someone…”

“Your water pump is blown,” I inform her, deciding to lay on the ground a moment longer because the view of those fucking fantastic legs of hers that I’m getting through the slit of her skirt is amazing.
Jesus.
 

“I…will that take a long time to fix?” She asks, looking down at her…
Mickey Mouse watch?

I get up and slam the hood down on her ride and watch as she steps back to look at me. Those blue eyes of hers are wide, but I’m not sure if it’s with fear or something else. Her nipples are hard and poking through that tight-ass dress, so I’m hoping it’s something else entirely.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Um…Annabelle.”

“Of course it is,” I answer, shaking my damn head.  Hell, even her name is wholesome.

“I’m sorry?” She asks, those blue eyes full of confusion.

“Not a thing, Annie, not a damn thing. Okay, let’s load you on my bike and get you home. I’ll get one of the boys to fix your car and drop it off.”

“You…I mean, do you run a garage?”

“Something like that,” I agree, shaking my head.

I follow as she goes around to the driver’s side of her car and gets her purse and some folders. She bends over and that clingy fabric she’s wearing tightens up on her ass, and I nearly cum in my fucking jeans. As it is, I can’t stop the groan that leaves my lips. She straightens up and looks back at me. Her gaze goes down and watches my hand. The hand just happens to be palming my cock so I can adjust myself. Heat rises on her cheeks and it looks fucking good on her. I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman who blushes.

“I’m not sure I should be going anywhere with you…Mr.…What was your name again?”

“Sabre.”

“
Sabre
?”

“That’s my name, honey. Now, it’s hotter than hell out here and I’m looking for you to stroke out any minute, so how about you get a move on and haul your ass to my bike.”

“Your bike?”

“Yeah, my bike.”

“I’m not dressed to ride on a bike, Mr….umm…Sabre.”

She’s fucking sweet. So sweet she makes me want to taste her to see if her pussy is as sweet as she is. I bet she’s luscious and juicy like a peach.

“Honey, get your shit. I got things to do, and I’m not leaving you out in this heat.” When she continues not to move and just stares at me, I sigh heavily. “Do it Annie, or I’ll carry you. It’s your choice.”

She jerks at my words. Then she continues watching me for a minute. Finally, she must have assumed
(correctly)
that I wasn’t kidding and starts walking away. I grab her arm just to make sure she doesn’t get away and lead her to my bike. The muscles in her wrist tighten up under my hold, but she doesn’t pull away. It takes her three tries to get on the back of my bike with that long-ass skirt and fuck-me shoes. I watch it all over my shoulder and love the way the dress pulls up to her knees. I grieve that I’m on a deadline because I’d love to get a look at what she’s hiding under that dress. I will, eventually. I make myself that promise.

“Where do you live, honey?”

“The old farmhouse on Turkey Ridge?”

A farmhouse?
I’m still shaking my head as I pull out on the street. Ms. Annie has hit me like a motherfucking thunderbolt.
I’m screwed
.