Released(Devil's Blaze MC 3)(67)

I plan on it. I also plan on ending this shit once and for all. With any luck, the bastard will have Colin right there for me to kill, too. I want this shit done and over. I have a life to live and a woman to finally fucking marry.





I watch Skull leave in a cloud of dust. The first thing I’m going to do when this is over is tell him about his free use of the word querida. I know it’s a throwaway endearment, but hearing him use it with her makes me want to knee him in the crotch and scratch her eyes out. I watch until the truck disappears and then I turn to look at the bitch. Riding in the car with her even in the ten minutes it’s going to take to get back to the club is going to kill me. I’m already jogging to the vehicle. We need to hurry and get Skull help.

“Let’s go!” I call, then gasp when she grabs me from behind, her long nails biting into my shoulder. Seriously how does a doctor keep such long nails? “What are you doing?” I growl, jerking around.

I don’t have time to duck before her fist plows into my face.

Son of a bitch! Katie will scream at me for a fucking month for being so stupid. I shake my head, trying to escape the effects. Whatever else this bitch is, she can throw a punch.

She’s on me quickly, grabbing me by the hair. She pulls me hard, but before she can punch me again, I throw an elbow into her. I try to angle up, hoping to hit her throat, but have no such luck; my elbow catches her boobs instead. Jesus! How did Skull keep from getting smothered in those damn things?

Then I think of how she slept with my man, and I remember exactly how much I hate her.

“You bitch! You should have stayed gone! You ruined everything!”

I break away from her, knowing that it cost me a hell of a lot of hair.

“What are you talking about??” I shout back. “You fucking loon! You were the one sleeping with my man!”

I dodge a punch. I could strike her, but I’m letting her wear herself out a little bit. She’s got a heavy punch, but she hasn’t had training, as is evidenced by the fact that she’s swinging wildly. I remember what my instructor always told me about channeling rage: the best thing to do is use your opponent’s weakness to your advantage. Besides, making her madder will only be more fun for me.

“I had him right where I wanted him, until you had to show back up,” she growls, then swings at my stomach. I can’t dodge that, but I kind of block it, then quickly grab her arm and twist it hard. She jerks away, but I can tell by the way she moves it that I did a little damage.

“Skull would have never been yours. You were just an easy lay to pass the time. If you think by attacking me that you’ll ever get him back, that peroxide you use on your hair is destroying your brain cells.”

“I don’t want him, you idiot! I have a man!”

Whoa… What?

“If you have a man, then what the fuck are you doing?”

“Delaying you!” she brags, throwing another punch.

This one is aimed directly at my face. I’m so stunned by her answer, I almost let her hit me. I swing the opposite direction at the last second and connect my own fist into her stomach.

“You set Skull up?? Why? I thought you cared about him!” I huff, deciding I’ve played this game too long. If Skull is going into a trap, I can’t waste time.

“I can’t stand him. My man needed a way to keep tabs on him so his club could beat Skull’s out of business. Skull made it so fucking easy. All I had to do was dye my hair like yours, wear those pathetic dresses you used to wear all the time, and act like a stupid kid and he couldn’t chase me fast enough.”

“Your boyfriend sent you to sleep with Skull to keep tabs on him? God, you’re even more sickening than I thought!”

I charge into her, pushing her back against the car. I hear Gabby crying for me and my heart breaks. She has to be scared. God, I have to hurry here. Teena grabs my hair again, because apparently that’s the only real move she knows. I do the same, even though it disgusts me. I can just hear my trainer now telling me how pathetic I am to be fighting like a little girl.

Still, he had another motto: whatever works.

And when she screams like someone is killing her, it seems to be working. “Let me guess. Viper is your boyfriend?” I ask her, breathing hard. Apparently, I’m in horrible shape since I quit working out.

“Listen to you. ‘Boyfriend’. You really are stupid. He’s my old man!” Teena huffs, swinging wildly once again, but unable to hit me because I have such a tight hold on her hair that she’s bent sideways.

Gabby’s crying grows harder, so I do the only thing I can: I ram Teena’s face into the fender of the truck. Teena falls back hard. I let her hair go and she slams into the ground. I stomp on the side of her face. Not classy of me at all, but it makes me feel good.