Burned(Devil's Blaze MC 2)(50)
I’m so fucking tired of going around in circles. My life has been a fucking mess since I found out Beth is alive. I hate her. I puta la odio! Yet, I still want her. She’s a poison in my veins and nothing I do has gotten rid of her. I get her back in my hands and—Christ! I have no idea what I will do. I just know I want to take every minute of the hell she has put me through out on her. I want to make her suffer.
The phone on my desk rings. I pick it up, ignoring the way my hand shakes. “What?”
“Brother. Tried your cell, but it just goes to your voicemail. I got some intel you might want.”
Dragon’s voice hits me. As much as I’ve come to like the motherfucker, his voice right now’s unwelcome. He’s a reminder of what I should have had, of what has been denied to me.
“What’s that, hermano?” I ask, tired as fucking hell.
“My boys decided to check out the people on duty the night your woman was there.”
My woman. Isn’t that a fucking joke.
“Tried that route,” I spit back. “No one in the admitting or the maternity wing could tell me one damn thing I didn’t already know.”
“Well, it just so happens, we have a friend who works there. A doctor, Teena Torres. She patches up the members sometimes when Poncho isn’t available. Nailer has taken a liking to her, so we see her pretty often, and we got to talking to her.”
My stomach churns. I know Teena. I know Teena well. I haven’t talked with her about this shit for many reasons…
“And?” I ask shortly, being an asshole and just wanting this conversation over.
“She delivered a package delivered by your crew to a young woman. She didn’t remember names, but she remembered the Devil’s Blaze cut.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“You can say that again, amigo. It doesn’t stop there. Teena didn’t work the emergency room. She was on break that night, but she talked to the man.”
“I want to talk to her.”
“No need. I had Freak dig up some pictures of you and your men. By the way, that’s a fucking ugly mug shot you got on file with the KPD.”
“Fuck you.” Dragon laughs. If I didn’t like the son of a bitch, I’d hate him even more.
“Guess which man she ID’d?” he asks.
“Fuck. I already know, don’t I, hermano?”
“That you do. Pistol. I told you, you needed to take that motherfucker out years ago.”
“That, you did. I shall take you up on it now, however.”
“Make it hurt.”
“Que es un hecho. Thank you, Dragon.”
“Holler if you need us,” he says, and I know he means it. He’s been a strong ally the last year or so. After he had Nicole sewed up, that is.
I don’t answer him, however. I grab my gun off the table and walk straight into the main area. Pistol is standing by the bar nursing a whiskey. He turns to see me and notices the gun in my hand. His eyes go wide as I take aim. I empty two rounds into one knee and two into the other.
Pistol screams out along with a few other muffler bunnies. Briar, Beast, and Shaft all come into the room at about the same time. They look at Pistol and back at me. Pistol is cursing and screaming. I can’t stand to hear him anymore. It’s a big temptation to finish him off, but instead, I take the butt of my gun and slam it against the side of his head. If that kills the fucker, so be it. I hope it doesn’t, though. I’m going to take revenge out of his hide so fucking slowly he’ll pray for death, but it won’t come. That’d be too easy.
“Chain him up,” I order my men. “Get a man to patch up his legs, enough to keep him alive for a while.”
“I take it we’ve found out who our traitor is?” Briar asks as Beast and Shaft drag the unconscious bag of shit away.
“Wait,” I tell them once they get him halfway up. I yank his cut from his body and throw it on the ground. I spit on it and throw my knife, watching as it hits the Devil emblem on the back and pins the vest to the floor. “I want that fucker burned,” I demand. “But save the ashes; I’ll feed them to the asshole,” I growl, walking back out.
In the distance, I hear Briar answer his own question. “Yeah, we found him.”
I slam the door on him, on all of them. One down. Next is Beth. I will find her.
“Explain to me again why we’re going out tonight?” Katie asks, sounding put out, but I think she’s enjoying dressing up. She should. That little outfit I picked out for her was made for her. It’s green and sets off her brunette hair perfectly. It’s got thin straps going over her shoulders that invite a man to pull them down. The silken material curves perfectly over her breasts. Her large globes stretch the fabric tight and very little is left to the imagination, especially since I forbade her to wear a bra. The dress fits the rest of her body just as well, including the way it hugs her ass.