Captured Devil's Blaze MC Book 1 (14 page)

“Still no word from Colin?” Beth asks when I come through the front door. The club’s been on lockdown for the last week and the motherfucker still hasn’t made a move. It’s a game to him, I know. My only problem is, I’m not sure if it would pay for me to strike first. I do know I fucking hate being on the defensive end.

“Not a fucking word.”

“What about your contact, Pistol? Anything?” Torch asks, and all eyes turn there.

“They’ve been keeping it nailed down. Word is, they’ve been dealing with a higher up who is unhappy with Colin’s choices.”

“Who’s higher up than Colin?” asks Beth. “I thought he and Matthew were in charge since Edmund and mom passed.”

“There’s always someone higher up,
querida
,” I answer. “Speaking of Matthew, where
is
that fuck? He’s not made one move good or bad in this and that’s the fucker we had the truce with.”

“No one seems to know. Maybe your girlfriend knows,” Pistol says.

I let that shit pass. Until I get through this crap with Colin, I don’t give a fuck what Pistol says; that motherfucker’s out of chances.

“Matthew went on vacation in France to the villa there. He hadn’t come back, the last I knew,” says Beth, staring at Pistol. I squeeze her hand and she turns to give me a smile, though her face looks a little lost.

All this shit is driving her crazy. She’s blaming herself for all of it. Nothing I say is making it better. I’d like to take her away from this shit for a couple of weeks, but that’s not possible. When we get this crap behind us, I’m taking her away and spoiling her rotten. That, and fucking her raw. I adjust my cock; fucker’s had her pussy a hundred ways—two to three times a day—and he’s still not worn out. I got a feeling he never will be around her. Shit, I’ll be ninety and still trying to nail her.

“Torch, you find out who this higher-up is who’s unhappy with Colin. That can only be a handful of people. Maybe we can get this fucker from the inside.”

“On it, Boss.”

“What about the list of businesses and shit that Beth gave us?” I ask, squeezing her hand again. “Were there any surprises in there?”

“Nah, not really. We had all of their holdings down except one, and I’m not really sure why they own it. It’s a freaking fruit market and gas station in Jelico, Tennessee.”

“A fruit market?”

“Yeah, and near as I can tell, boss, that shit is a legitimate business.”

“Do they use it for money laundering?”

“If they do, they’re hiding that shit really good. I’m gonna dig deeper, but I can’t even tell if they have anything to do with it, other than the fact that the licensing comes back to Beth’s mom.”

“My mother? She never owned a business,” says Beth, confused. “Well, not that I know of. She was always too busy getting her hair done and partying. I swear, if I thought she had anything to do with the business, I would have told you, Skull.”

“She would have, too. She’s real good at ratting out people who are trying to help her,” says Jan from across the room.

I pick Beth up in my arms, sit down in her seat, then settle her in my lap. We’re having an informal meeting and I probably should have took it to my office, but the only ones allowed in this main part of the club while on lockdown are patched-in members and old ladies, which explains why Jan is running free. However, I’m not about to put up with her shit. In my book, the woman never looks good, but today she’s looking even more haggard than usual. You can tell lockdown is wearing on her. I wonder how long it’s been since her stash has emptied because you can tell just from looking at her that she’s going without drugs, cold turkey.

“Beast,” I growl, letting him contain his old lady. Only reason the bitch is still here is because he said he’d make sure she was under control.

“Got it, Boss,” he responds, rising to go to his woman. “Come on, Jan. I told you it’s not safe up here. Let’s get back below,” Beast tells her, taking her hand. “Annabelle will be wondering where we’re at.”

There’s a storm shelter below. It’s a basement of sorts, but more like a bomb shelter. I’ve had it all tricked out with special ventilation, steel-enforced blocked walls, and lighting that mimics the sun. It’s a huge area complete with fifteen bedrooms and adjoining bathrooms, a huge kitchen and dining area that can easily handle up to two hundred people if need be, a bowling alley, poker and pool area, club and open bar, and another large playroom for kids. It’s one of the main things I did when we chose this place for our compound. We don’t go on lockdown often, but when we do, I want to make sure I can take care of my men and their families.

“Fuck that shit.
She’s
up here,” Jan slurs, pointing at Beth. It’s obvious she’s been hitting the bottle. I can see my man cringe. He’s embarrassed of this shit and should be. This bitch is a piece of work.

“We’re going over the information she gave Torch so we can try to end this lockdown and war before it hits,” Beast explains.

“Yeah, that little bitch is good at being a narc.”

“I didn’t—” Beth tries to defend, but I squeeze her to get her to hush. She owes this cow jack-shit.

“Tell that to Marker, you bitch! Did you know they kicked him out of the club? They beat the fuck out of him because of you. He had to be carried back to his apartment! All because of your prissy ass!”

Beth tenses up in my arms. I’ve had enough.

“He was beat down for betraying his club,” I growl. “He got the same fucking thing you deserved, but Beast saved your ass. Why he keeps doing that, I don’t fucking know. But you better listen well, Jan: you so much as look at Beth or breathe near her, not even his ass will save you from here on out. You get me, bitch?”

This time, it’s Beth who calms me. Her hand cups the side of my neck and her thumb grazes over the vein and pulse point.

“Let’s go, Jan,” Beast says when she doesn’t respond with anything but looks of hate. She jerks away from him, pulling away so hard she nearly falls. She staggers and finally steadies herself.

“Fuck that. I don’t want you around me. If I have to look at your fucking face again, I’m going to scream. I was only getting you off because you were giving me money and shit. I can’t stand to look at you. You’re always touching me, wanting to fuck. It makes me sick. You make me sick. You’re a weak-ass little boy. I couldn’t even stand the smell of your breath if it wasn’t for the money you give me!”

“Jan, let’s go back downstairs. Annabelle—”

“Annabelle isn’t even yours! You didn’t even know! You’re so stupid you didn’t even realize I was fucking your brother every time your dumb ass wasn’t around!”

“Jan!”

“Sometimes he fucked me when you were there. Didn’t know that, did you? You’d be in there watching your football games and your brother would be in the bathroom fucking me against the wall and getting me off in ways you can never fucking manage! He’s Annabelle’s dad! Not you! You should have been the one to die in that fucking prison riot. You. Not him! Terry was more of a man than you’ll ever be!”

Beast lets off a guttural scream that sounds like it’s torn from his very soul—and it probably is. Beth hides her face into my neck and I can’t blame her. I wish I wasn’t here to witness my brother’s misery. Someone needs to pinch that bitch’s neck. Beast slams his fist into the wall mere centimeters from Jan’s head. I think that might have sobered the woman up because she suddenly seems to be smart enough to look scared. She should be. Beast is one of the most controlled people that I’ve ever met. My brother is fucking raw right now, and after the news he just got, who knows how in the fuck he will react.

“Get this fucking bitch out of my sight before I kill her!” Beast screams. I motion over to Sabre, who grabs Jan and drags her off, though she’s obviously not fighting that hard. I think it’s finally hit her what the fuck she just did. Beast yells again and slams his fist right back into the wall.

“Brother,” Torch says. Beast turns around to look at him, and the look in my man’s eyes nearly guts me.

“Annabelle is mine,” he growls. “She’s
mine
. I’d know if she wasn’t.” But he’s not looking at Torch; he’s looking at me.

“I know she is,” I respond. “Anyone who’s seen that little girl knows she’s yours, Beast.” I’m not talking about biologically because, knowing that lying cunt, this was the one time she was telling the truth. Regardless, Beast is her dad in all the ways that count. He’s been both mom and dad to that little girl.

“She’s mine, Boss. I don’t give a fuck what that bitch said. She’s mine. She was just drunk.”

“I know.”

“I got to get out for a while. I can’t be here. I can’t be around her right now,” Beast growls slamming his fist back into the wall. The good news about that is, instead of three separate holes, there’s just one big one.

“Torch, you and K-Rex go with him. Stay with him. Watch his back and your own.”

They get up and follow Beast out the door. The room stays silent for a few minutes. 

“I hate her,” Beth whispers.

“We all do,” Pistol grunts, and for the first time in forever I’m in perfect agreement with the bastard. 

My life has been fucked up for over four years. I got between that bitch’s legs one night without using a condom, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. The men bitched at me all the time. They thought I was being pussy-whipped, but that wasn’t it. I wasn’t like them; talking to women didn’t come easy for me.

Shit. Talking to people in general fucked me up.

I doubt I would’ve ever been a member if I hadn’t grown up with Skull. He’s a brother, the closest I’ve ever had to one. The only constant in my life was Skull’s madre, Maria. None of the others know that. That secret is mine and Skull’s and, as far as I’m concerned, not one fucker will ever know it. My old man was loaded. He had more money than God. What he didn’t have was time for me or my mother. Then again, my mother was a miserable drunk who only had time for her tennis instructor—and she didn’t know how to play tennis, not even a little bit.

Skull’s mother Maria lived in the adjoining coach house with Skull and, though she cooked and cleaned in our home, it was that small coach house I remember as the only home I’ve ever had. When my father died of an unexpected heart attack, I didn’t grieve for him. My mother and her lover ran off together leaving me with Maria, and I fucking rejoiced. When I turned twenty-one, the only contact I had with my mother was when I got my trust. She had burned through her money and wanted mine. I had no use for the money. She dropped my half-brother Terry in my lap saying she had to have a way to support him. I took Terry in, but I spat on her and walked away. I never liked Terry, but I tried. He was a miserable son of a bitch, and if what Jan said was true, I should have given up on him way before I did.

The only smart thing I’ve apparently done in my life was give my money to Maria and Skull. We used it to fight the cancer and make sure Maria was comfortable. When Skull’s uncle came into the picture and Skull decided to become a prospect to Devil’s Blaze, I followed him. It wasn’t because I wanted to be part of the club so much; rather, I couldn’t imagine not having Skull beside me. He was all I had left. Maybe it’s my fucked-up past, but if you don’t get close to people, they can’t fucking hurt you. They don’t get the chance to. Women were too much effort. So besides the occasional fuck, I didn’t bother with them.

Fucking Jan without a condom trapped me. I got drunk off my ass one night and woke up in bed with her the next morning, damage done. I panicked the whole fucking time, terrified she’d be knocked up. I prayed even. Not that I knew much about praying, but it seemed like the thing to do. When she turned out that way, I stepped up. Made her my old lady, even though Skull did his damnedest to talk me out of it. I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to put much effort into having a woman. This made that easier. The only fucking time I had to talk much to Jan was when she wanted something and that got me sex. It was easy and it protected my child. I may not have wanted Jan pregnant, but I did want Annabelle.

It’s four in the morning and I’ve drunk so much that I’ve come full circle—I’m practically sober again. My head is foggy and it hurts to breathe, but I don’t think that has shit to do with the hangover. Torch and a couple of the boys grabbed a cage and insisted I ride with them to the Boot. The Boot is an old honkytonk. It doesn’t get much business, and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want to be bothered; I wanted to sit at a bar and drink my ass off, and that’s exactly what I got. The men know me, so they didn’t talk to me either. They just watched my back. Still, I didn’t want them around me. They saw that fucking shit with Jan and I didn’t want anyone to realize what a sad fuck I was or how stupid I’d been.

I make my way down into the shelter part of the club. I should have stayed topside in my room up there as far away from Jan as I could. I need to see Annabelle just once. Her and Jan’s room is separate from mine, and Jan stays in there sometimes. I doubt it’s out of any motherly feelings; she’s a piss-poor mom. It’s probably to get away from me, and I’m okay with that.

Luckily, the bitch isn’t here tonight.

I clean the loose money out of my pockets. I’m not sure how much is there, four or five hundred dollars. Hell, I think I tipped the bartender two hundred. I lay it down, as well as the keys to the Durango that Torch threw me when we parked up. They drove me home, but it was my cage. I guess he trusted me not to take off again tonight. Softly, I lie down on the bed beside Annabelle. She’s truly beautiful: dark-brown hair that glistened, a cute little button nose, and the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. You can’t see them right now because her eyes are closed, but when they’re open, her irises are a mixture of browns, golds, and greens, and they sparkle. I have blue eyes. My baby’s eyes are totally different and always makes me smile.

I find myself thinking how Terry’s were the same color.

The knowledge is burning a hole in my gut. It’s tearing me up inside and mostly because I think Jan’s words might be the truest thing she’s ever said. Terry is probably Annabelle’s dad, not me. The one thing I’ve ever done in life that I was proud of, and…

My hand comes up to hold my daughter’s. It’s so small and delicate, so pale and white compared to the sunbaked, inked-up dark complexion of my own. We’re so different, especially in ways that a father and daughter ought to be at least a little similar.

That hole in my gut burns brighter, harder.

“Daddy loves you, Belle,” I tell her, letting the tears run free. They’re silent, but they’re torn from me because I’m broken. It won’t matter. Terry’s rotting in the ground and that fucking bitch Jan is one line away from snorting her last. She’ll overdose without me watching over her and I don’t fucking care anymore.

Nothing matters but my daughter. And she is mine.

I may not have fathered her with my seed, but I’ve been there. I held her when she had high fevers and Jan was out partying. I read her bedtime stories, rub her stomach when it hurts, chase off the monsters that she insists hide under her bed… I’ve done all of that and I’ll continue to do it. She’s mine. “Daddy loves you, Belle,” I whisper again, dried tears on my face as my eyes close and I finally let alcohol and sleep claim me. 
“Daddy, loves you…”