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

“Your name?” one of the men asks. He’s a fucking giant. I might be taller, but this guy is definitely wider. One of his forearms is wider than both of my thighs together. I’ve never thought twice about taking another man on. I’ve never actually met a man I couldn’t take down. He makes me wonder if it’s possible.

“I figure you already know. Victor is expecting me,” I grumble, refusing to play the game.

The man looks at his partner, then speaks into a handheld radio. “Yeah, Boss. There’s two men out here to see you. One is scarred and about the ugliest bastard I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I shrug off the insult. It’s not like I give a fuck. It doesn’t bother me and apparently, my scars don’t bother Hayden.

“I’d watch who I called ugly. You should look in the mirror,” Devil mumbles, I guess offended for me. I could almost like him.

The other guy ignores him. He gets the go ahead to let us inside, and he looks relieved we’re leaving. “Go on in,” he orders.

“Asshole,” Devil tells him, apparently still not over the insult to me. I shake my head at him, trying to tell him to shut the fuck up and let it go—without words. Devil ignores me, continuing to mumble as we pass them. “Dumbass looks like a butt-fuck gone wrong and he wants to talk about someone else. Pathetic.”

I find myself smiling despite what’s waiting inside. Devil apparently has balls of steel, trying to take on a man who could snap him like a twig. It’s either that or he’s a stupid motherfucker. We walk into a big room. I have to say the inside of this damn place looks slightly better than the outside—of course it would be hard to look much worse. It’s an open space with a bar in the front of the room. A few tables scattered around, some pool tables, poker tables, and big screen televisions. There’s some sectional sofas that are worn to Hell and back. Beside one sofa in particular is a fucking metal cage. A big one, like you would house a Great Dane dog inside…or a person.

I know instantly it’s the one Hayden talked about, and rage boils through me as I picture her inside that fucking thing for months. Did they allow her clothes? Did they let her out to eat? Did they let her out to use the restroom? Any of that? Jesus, what if she didn’t care for Blade at all, but had some sort of Stockholm syndrome going with him because he saved her? I’m going to burn this fucking place to the ground. Tonight. I don’t want a trace of anything left. It will cease to exist, just like the memories I want gone out of Hayden’s mind.

I kick the fucking cage with my boot, not feeling better even when it goes back a good five feet. If Devil wonders why, he doesn’t say shit. Victor is standing in the corner of the room surrounded by three other men and in front of him is the preacher. He’s chained to a stripper pole and naked. From the looks of him it appears that Victor has been having fun interrogating him. He doesn’t look so holy now. At least he left him breathing for me. I need something to hit right now. Since Blade isn’t around, the would be preacher is the next best thing.

Time to get the party started.





90





Hayden





I turn over, stretching, and immediately know that Michael is gone. I refused to mention it, didn’t even ask, but I knew that he would be meeting with Victor about Pastor Sturgill. Part of me wanted to know who the man is and part of me wants to just pretend it never happened. That part obviously won. I have so much more to worry about. My plate is about as full as it can get, and who Pastor Sturgill truly is and what’s going to happen to him, are two things that I’ve decided to ignore. I need to concentrate on other things. Least of all of them, is the fact that I now have no job. Worse, with you-know-who getting whatever is coming to him. I’m pretty sure my side business of selling things to the church is over—or at least cut very drastically. Which means I’ve got to find a way for Maggie and me to survive. A part of me feels guilty for worrying about money after losing Charlie. But, Charlie…she was a realist. She was truly a bottom line kind of girl, so I’m pretty sure she would understand.

Looking over at the clock, it reads five in the morning. Michael’s pillow is cold. I have to wonder how long he’s been gone. With a sad, pitiful little sigh, I get out of bed. I jump in the shower after turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. My life has been one emotional crisis after another for so long, I can’t remember normal. Still, right now, I have a smile on my face. My body aches in all the right places and I feel…

I stop because only one word comes to mind and it shocks me. It might even terrify me. I feel…loved. Well-loved.

My heart hammers in my chest, and I have to force myself to breathe. It’s too much, with my past life, to imagine that someone as amazing as Michael might love me. Isn’t it? The most I could hope for is that he might truly care for me…and I think he does. That’s enough. It has to be. It’s more than I’ve ever had, and I can be happy with that.

When I get out of the shower, I throw on a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt, and after towel drying my hair, I decide I’ve wasted enough time. There are two strangers in my house, and Michael is gone. It’s okay. He trusts these men and if he does, then I can. Today is the day I let go of the past. That’s what Michael wants for me and for Maggie. It’s something I want more than I could ever put into words. It’s time to stop living in the past, or at least time to stop letting it affect me and everything I do.

I have this delicious ache when I walk. Evidence that what Michael and I did last night worked muscles that have been in hibernation. That thought makes my smile broaden. I never imagined that I would have sex again, that I would ever enjoy it. Enjoy might be too tame of word for what happens when Michael touches me.

I open up the bedroom door to the sound of arguing. I look at my kitchen and there’s one of the men from last night, along with a new man I don’t remember seeing before along with Crusher and Dani. Shit. I know Michael really likes those two, but spending the day with them before wasn’t exactly wine and roses.

All talking stops the minute I step through my door. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

They look at each other, then back at me. Dani avoids my eyes, and Crusher runs his hand along his five o’clock shadow, and it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. It’s also clear he’s lying When he answers, “Nothing. Are you hungry, Hayden? Dani fixed breakfast. It took her a few years, but she’s finally learning to cook.”

“Kiss my ass, Cowboy.”

“I did that last night if I remember correctly.” he smiles at her but it doesn’t reach his eyes like it should.

“I’m not sure kissing can be used to describe what you did to my ass,” Dani smirks.

“What are you guys arguing about?” I interrupt them for two reasons. One and most importantly, I don’t want to hear what he did to her ass and secondly, I have a feeling their arguing has a lot to do with Michael.

Crusher lets out a noise that reminds me a lot of Michael’s grunts, only his is more drawn out. I look at the other two men and they cross their arms stubbornly. It’s clear none of them have any plans of telling me what’s going on.

“Okay, Dani. You tell me.”