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

I reach out to grab her hand; I’m not even sure why at this point. She tries to push away from me, and I really should let her go, but the woman is annoying me. I mean, Jesus, I only want to charge my damn phone. I’d charge it on my bike, but I don’t have the right cord. I hold onto her tighter, stopping her from walking away. For a second my eyes go to our joined hands. Hers are small, tiny, and pale compared to mine. The scars marring my hand look even more grotesque with the way the skin stretches just to capture her hand…It looks wrong.

Skull and the others tried to convince me once that life didn’t have to change. I wanted to believe them. Memories of the day we had a family picnic come to mind. I can hear Lucy and those girls laughing in the back of my mind. My brothers thought I was sweet on the girl. Maybe I was at one time, who knows. At the very least I enjoyed the hero worship she showed me. I would have never acted on it. She was too young for me, and I had been burned so hard when it came to women.

Jan was a fucking cunt. I was trapped with her. I would have made a bed with the devil himself to keep my daughter with me, however. The idea of Jan taking her away—not seeing Annabelle and being able to protect her every day…terrified me. So, I did my best to swallow down my fucking pride and keep Jan happy for no other reason than to keep my daughter safe with me. In the end, I failed to protect Annabelle…I failed to be the father she needed…

“Is there a problem?” A man asks, walking around the side of the house.

I was so lost in the past I never heard another vehicle pull in the driveway. I didn’t even hear him approaching. This is just another reason why it was a good idea to leave the Devil’s Blaze. I was going to end up getting one of my brother’s killed.

I turn my attention back to the man who just appeared. I’m kind of thankful he pulled me from my thoughts. I already have sweat popping out over my body and my stomach is churning. Fuck.

I do my best to concentrate on the now. This man is tall, though not my height. He stands over six foot—easily. He’s also the opposite of me. Clean cut, with a suburb vibe, wearing navy dress slacks and a shirt with a collar in an annoying color of orange.

The woman is whimpering and gasping like I’m inflicting pain on her. Is she sickened by my touch? Does she hate the fact my hands are grotesque and on her body? Join the fucking club lady.

I let her go and she immediately flees from me. The man stands on the deck, facing me—as if he’s guarding the woman from me. She instantly moves behind him, half hiding, as if for protection. Something about that sits wrong with me, but I ignore it. I don’t know what her issues are, but they aren’t my concern.

“No problem. I was asking the lady if she could charge my phone so I could check on getting electricity hooked up. I think from what I’m getting, the answer is no,” I tell him. Fuck it. I’d rather just go back to the barn and drink in the damn dark.

“Are you okay, Hayden?” the man asks her, and that just pisses me off more.

“Of course, she’s alright. All I did was ask if I could plug my phone in,” I growl, defensively.

“I’m okay,” Hayden whispers, biting her lip, and refusing to look at me. Jesus. What is her damage?

“Good. Do you have the baked goods ready?” he asks her.

“Yes. I was just getting them together when…when I had company,” she says, and I wonder where the woman from yesterday is. She talked to me without stuttering then. She didn’t act like this. It has to be the scars, either that or not having the gun in her hand makes her feel unsafe. I shouldn’t be curious, but there’s a side of me wanting to hear exactly why she’s acting as if I’m about to kill her today compared to yesterday when she was ready to kill me.

“Good. We’ll get them in a minute,” the man says, patting her hand reassuringly. She’s definitely not backing away from him. He’s probably the baby daddy. It’s clear he’s nothing like me, maybe that’s why she’s got her ass in a knot.

My appearance probably offends the bitch. Too bad for her. It can’t offend her more than it does myself. Hell, I can’t think of the last time I looked in a mirror.

“I’m Pastor Sturgill. I run the Little Pines Baptist Church in town,” the man informs me, extending his hand.

I look at it for a minute, then shake it, reluctantly. I grunt in response.

When it becomes clear I’m not going to answer, the man prompts me. “And you are?”

My first reaction is to give him my club name. It’s the only name I’ve used for years—more years than I care to remember. The problem with that is, I’m no longer part of the club. Skull may not have accepted my Blaze cut back, but I left it behind anyway. I left it and the club. I’m no longer that man.

“Michael,” I answer, giving my name for the first time in years.

“Michael, it’s good to meet you. Are you new to the area?”

“Yes. I just bought the old barn over there.”

“You’re living in a barn loft?” the man asks.

“Yeah,” I grumble, annoyed.

“Well then, that’s all fine and good. I’m sure Hayden will feel more comfortable knowing there’s someone close by for her to call if she needs something.”

I’m just as sure that’s not what’s going through her head, but I don’t correct him.

“There’s an outlet off Hayden’s front porch. I’m sure she wouldn’t have an objection to you charging your phone there, would you Hayden?”

“I…I guess not.”

“Good. That’s settled.”

“Fine. Thanks,” I tell them and turn away. The thank you sticks in my throat. I don’t see what the big damn deal is, but I would rather it be this way. I won’t have to deal with anyone.

I go plug my phone in, and I’m stomping back over to my place when the Pastor’s voice stops me. “Might I have a word, Michael?”

Christ. Why didn’t I just let the phone go? I started to, but years of being conditioned to always keep one active for the club and for Annie…Fuck.

“What?” I growl, and because of the memories I’ve accidentally set off inside of me, it is a growl.

“I was wondering if we might have a word while Hayden is inside.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about, Rev?”

“I’m no reverend. God says put no reverence on any man, I’m merely his servant,” he replies, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say to that, so I shrug and wait. “Hayden is very sensitive.”

“That’s one way of putting it. No worries, man. I have no plans on even talking to her again.”

“That might be for the best. She’s had enough trauma in her life. I won’t have her hurt again. It’s important that you know she will be watched over.”

“Is she yours?”

“Pardon?”

“Is she your woman? That baby she’s carrying, you put it there?”

“Of course not.”

“Where I’m from a man—a real man, takes care of what’s his, so if she’s yours you are obviously doing a piss-poor job of it.”

“I’m her pastor. I assure you there’s nothing else, but I do care about her. I need to know she’ll be safe here with you so close.”