Beast: Learning to Breathe (Devil's Blaze MC #5)

“I have nothing to do with Cade.”

“You’re part of the same club, even if he is over the Florida chapter. Besides, Cade and the Dwellers fucking hate each other. You know that. You show up here with your history and tell Blade and his crew you’re no long part of the club…Shit. It’s like waving a red flag in front of a fucking bull—and ese’ that bull is already charging full steam ahead.”

“I told you I couldn’t give a fuck. They want to try to tangle with me, I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with it alone.”

“The fuck you will. Just because you got your head in your ass, doesn’t mean the rest of us do. You’re a brother and once a brother, always a brother. The. Fucking. End.”

“Last time I checked you aren’t even part of the Blaze.”

“Don’t hand me that bullshit. You know my loyalty and my club is always with the Savage crew first, but we stand with the Blaze. You are part of the Blaze. Just because you’re being a fucking prick, that doesn’t mean that shit stops.”

“Beast!” I hear Dani cry, jerking my attention away from Diesel. It’s a welcome reprieve. I was just about to lay into the son of a bitch, and I’d rather not. I like Diesel. I respect the motherfucker, but he doesn’t have clue one on the shit I’m going through. Dani comes running towards me, and I open my arms instinctively, she runs into them and hugs me tightly, despite her man’s growl of dislike.

Crusher seems like a good man. I haven’t dealt with him that much. He’s a straight shooter I can respect, and he treats Dani good, which makes me half-way like the asshole.

“Hey there, hummingbird,” I greet her, talking into her ear, my fingers wrapping into her dark hair as I hold her close.

“Every time you call her that, I have to resist the urge to plant my boot into your fucking balls and grind them into dust,” Crusher growls.

I ignore him. Dani and I have a connection that started before the two of them ever got together. She’s a good woman. If I were still a whole man, I might have been the one in her life now. But I’m not whole. I’m not even half a man on most days. Dani’s had a fucked up past. She understands, and I probably understand her more than anyone else ever will. Seeing her find a point in her life where she’s happy? That means a fuck of a lot to me.

“Missed you, you big lug,” Dani laughs, giving me one last squeeze before I put her down.

“It’s going to rain, I wasn’t going to invite these assholes up, but since you’re here, let’s move this party upstairs,” I tell them—mostly to Dani. She stays close to my side. Crusher growls as he looks at us, but Dani being Dani, she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Jesus Christ, how I ever got my balls owned by such a sour woman,” he grumbles, but you can see by his eyes, he’s completely in love with her.

I know she feels the same. Maybe that ability—the ability to love is what finally healed her. I’m not sure I ever had that ability with anyone except Annabelle, and it surely won’t ever happen again.

Diesel takes off up the stairs with the three of us following him. I keep my hand on Dani’s shoulders and just before I let her go to walk in front of me, I look over her head in the direction of Hayden’s house. I wanted to spend the morning with her, so I could make sure she ate good. Just another reason to be pissed at Diesel.

Crusher takes his moment to get between me and his woman. He puts his hand on her ass and follows her up the stairs. His hold is one of ownership. I could tell him he has nothing to worry about in me, but I know he wouldn’t listen.

I follow them all up the stairs, wondering how long it will take me to get rid of them.





36





Hayden





“What the fuck are you doing, Hayden?” I hear Michael growl. My head jerks up to look over the top of my car, the evening sun is starting to set and there’s a glare that has me shielding my eyes.

Michael is standing by his barn, talking to his guests. The man with the hair is on his bike now and there’s a woman standing by Michael with another man beside her. She’s beautiful. Tall, skinny, with dark hair that shines and is silky smooth. She’s everything I’m not, and I can tell by the arm that Michael has close to her, she’s special to him. The man beside her is pretty spectacular too, his hair dark and cut short, covered in tattoos and definitely territorial about the woman. You can tell that just from his posture. Do they share her? I’m not stupid to the life of a club member. It wouldn’t surprise me. For some reason, it does disappoint me.

“What?” I ask, putting one load of my food into the backseat of my car. There’s at least three more inside. I’m running late…burning cookies did not figure into my time management plan.

“What are you doing carrying…that shit out by yourself?” he asks, and he has to break about halfway through the sentence to get it all out when his voice cracks—but then, he’s yelling.

“Um…the same as I always do?” I tell him rhetorically, not sure what he’s getting at and shaking my head because he’s acting crazily. I turn away from him and his guests to go back in my house, dismissing him from my mind. I’m in the kitchen loading up my second batch when Michael comes storming in with the hair-shampoo-for-men cover model, the other guy, and all of them are followed by the girl—who stands by the door. I freeze. My breath stalls in my chest, and I feel the panic literally crawling up my back. My kitchen is small. I’m trapped with three men and only one of those do I partially trust. I don’t have my gun and there’s someone standing between me and the door.

“Crazy woman. Are you trying to get yourself killed? There’s no way you can see those steps with your hands full. What happened to that damned Pastor? I thought he helped you with this shit?” Michael is grumbling under his breath, and he’s saying more than he’s ever said to me in one long sentence. Which might be good, but I can’t concentrate on it.

I feel a cold, clammy sweat pop out covering my body. I hear the blood rushing in my ears. Everything I look at begins dancing, zooming in and out—distorted. I do my best to take air into my lungs, but it doesn’t work. The pressure is so intense it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. I can feel my fingers tingle and my knees go weak. I’m breathing raggedly at best, doing everything I can to fight through the fear and snap out of it. It’s a losing battle though. This panic attack is coming hard and strong, and I hate it. I hate it almost as much as I hate myself.