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

Is he still pouting like a fucking baby because I didn’t tell him I was near his territory? Diesel came with a warning, I thought he was stupid, but apparently, Blade is the stupid one. Does he really think he can mess with me? He wants to test and see if the Blaze will have my back? The day I need anyone but myself to take that ass-wipe down is the day they need to bury me in the fucking ground. I’ll be paying Blade a visit soon.

First, I need to get my fucking truck on the road. It takes a little bit of shuffling around in the glovebox to find my insurance information, but I retrieve it and search for the roadside assistance number they gave me. I could fix a flat myself, but with two of them and only one damn spare, that’s not going to be possible. Of course, the Dwellers knew that. That was probably part of the fucking fun for them. Which worked because the lady on the phone informs me it will be up to an hour before they get a truck out. I get to work changing the front flat myself. If I’m going to have to wait I might as well do something.

I go through the motions, without actually thinking about them. I have the tire off and the spare ready to go on, and I can’t tell you how I did it. My mind is too absorbed in why it was Hayden’s face I saw in my head when I thought I was going to die. Hayden’s and not Annabelle’s. I want to be mad at her, but fuck, I’m not sure I can. I’ve known for a bit that Hayden was snaking her way under my defenses. I should have shot her down sooner. I should have done something to push her away. I could do it now, but I’ll admit—at least to myself, I don’t really want to. Shit, maybe the reason I saw her face is because I was right. Her and Maggie are the reason I’m supposed to be here. I need to protect them. I had decided to before and this is just more proof. Protection.

The word hits inside of me. Protection. She has a history with the Dwellers. Those fucks didn’t try to kill me or take me out, only slow me down. They did it to keep me from getting home sooner. They headed down the road which could have led them out of town, but it would also lead them to my driveway. The driveway I share with Hayden. It could have led them to Hayden’s.

My heartbeat starts tripping in my chest and a fine sheen of cold sweat breaks out as chills run through me. Could that be what they are after? Are they here to hurt Hayden? I throw the jack and lug wrench in the back floor board, then jump in the front and start up my truck. I still have a flat on the back, but I need to get to Hayden. It’s been awhile since I’ve tasted it, but I know that bitterness is fear. I put the truck into four-wheel drive, gunning it. I’m going to destroy my rim and who knows what else, but I’m not far from the house. If the Dwellers went there after they played with me…

Fuck! Please, let me get there in time…





43





Hayden





I hear him before I see him. Well correction, I hear his truck. I didn’t know what it was. The sound of metal scraping along the asphalt was loud—so loud it even reverberated in my kitchen. Which isn’t easy to do now because those new windows that Michael had installed are amazing at keeping the sound out. I run to grab my gun. I know it’s stupid, but having something to protect myself makes me feel…safer. I don’t like being helpless. I’ve been that way too much in my life. My heart is pounding hard against my chest, and I’m having trouble catching my breath. I’m doing my best to fight down the panic, the memory of the other day is still really fresh. I make it outside and calm down when I see Michael’s truck, fishtailing around the corner. My first thought is that something is horribly wrong, all thought of the sound is blotted out of my mind with that fear. But then I notice his tires. Surely, he knew riding on his tire rim like that was crazy? Instead of replacing a tire now he will have to replace a rim too. It makes much more sense just to change the tire.

“Michael?” I ask when he jumps out of the vehicle and begins marching towards me.

“Put the gun down,” he growls, and it’s then I notice I’m half-way aiming at him.

I lower the gun and lay it securely in an old wooden glider that’s sitting close by. By the time I turn back around, Michael is there. He grabs me roughly, his hands biting into the skin on my arms. He almost shakes me, bringing me in close to him.

“Michael?” I ask again, confused. His face is angrier now than I’ve ever seen it. His eyes bore into me, their dark depths slightly terrifying. There’s a dark energy rolling off of him in waves. He’s literally vibrating with it.

“Are you okay?” he growls, his eyes raking over me, and I have a feeling they’re inventorying everything about me.

“I’m fine. I was just about to take a nap,” I tell him, sounding a little bit guilty. I should have gone into work today, but I just couldn’t handle the thought of it.

“No one has been here to bother you?” he asks.

“No one has been here. Michael, is something going on?”

“I was run off the road. I just wanted to make sure they didn’t come here,” he says taking a step back, his arms dropping to his side. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, while looking around the house as if he expects someone to jump out at any time.

“You were what? Oh my God! Are you okay?” I ask him, and this time it’s me that goes to him. I reach out and touch his face. “You’ve got so much hair you could be dying under there and I’d never know,” I grumble, not realizing I’m saying it aloud. I let my hands move down his neck and shoulders, not finding anything wrong, but panicked at the thought that something could have happened to him.

“I think you’d know if I was wounded,” he grumbles from above me, and I stop and look up at him. I realize I said the remark about his hair out loud then. I also notice that Michael looks a little more relaxed.

“You could be hiding a family of squirrels in that hair and I wouldn’t know it,” I tease him. Almost without thought, I reach up to touch the beard in question. The fine, wiry hair tickles against my fingertips. His hands come up to capture mine, stopping their exploration. His hold is solid, but not painful and he doesn’t pull my hands away from him or step back. We stand there. His big hands swallowing mine, his thumbs pressed against the inside of my palms.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks, and I get this feeling in my stomach—a nervous flutter. I press my lips tightly together and swallow as I try to figure out what is going on here. It feels…important. I feel him releasing a breath, then slowly, he drops my hands, and steps away from me. I fight the urge to follow him. He looks away from me—towards his truck.

“We need to call the police,” I tell him, my voice sounding strange even to my ears.

“I’ll deal with it.”

“What? No. You should contact the police. They need to know what happened. Maybe if you give them a description of who did this they can find them.”

“I know who did it.”

“You can’t just let—What did you say?”

“I said I know who did it. I’ll deal with them,” he states, calmly. He could be telling me the forecast has rain in it tonight, he’s that calm and looks that bored.