Blaze: Devil's Nightmare MC: Book 11

by Lena Bourne

  “Where is he? Still asleep?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “He had to go somewhere urgently last night around eleven. Did Blaze have to go too?”

  I shrug and take the milk from her hand. “He didn’t say. But he did leave.”

  I turn my back on her, my eyes fixed on the rich brownish-black liquid dripping into the pot. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is filling the kitchen fast and it’s almost strong enough to wake me up on its own. The trouble is, I don’t much want to be awake right now at all.

  “I wanted him to come in and spend the night, but he refused,” I say and turn around in time to see a very pained expression on Stormi’s face.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she says. “But then again, you would’ve been rushing into it. And sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be until you do it with the right person. Trust me, I would know.”

  She chuckles wryly and sets the milk on the counter.

  “That’s pretty much what he said. But I don’t know, I kind of wanted more,” I say. The coffeemaker switches off and I grab the handle of the pot, glad for something to do.

  “Maybe it is for the best,” I add as I pour the coffee into the two mugs Stormi took from the cupboard. “I’m not sure I ever want him to see my scars. He’ll probably be disgusted by them.”

  Stormi gasps and when I look at her she’s staring at me with very wide and kind of teary eyes.

  I shrug and concentrate on pouring the coffee, wishing very much that what I just said wasn’t true.

  Stormi hugs me as soon as I set the coffee pot back down on the heater. “Don’t ever say that, honey. Your scars are the reason you’re alive. And no man who’s worth your love will ever see them as anything other than that. And anyone who does is not worth your love.”

  My heart is fluttering again, but thankfully it’s not messing with my vision or my ability to breathe. Maybe there is hope for me.

  I squeeze her arm. “I hope so. This is all so new to me.”

  She hugs me tighter then lets me go, and takes both our mugs to the table.

  “I used to think I had to do everything for a man and to always look my best to earn his love,” she says. “But that’s not actually how it works. Not when love is involved. Ace showed me that and he continues showing me every day. And you’ll find that kind of love much sooner than I did because you’re a lot more lovable.”

  She chuckles harshly at her words, but I just shake my head at her. “Your light is so bright, Stormi. I wish you’d start believing it already.”

  She shrugs and sips at her coffee. “I’m kinda starting to. But enough about me. How did your date go? Come on, tell me everything.”

  I look down at the tabletop, my cheeks on fire.

  She laughs. “You’re so cute, blushing over a guy.”

  “He took me up on a ridge to watch the sunset, but we didn’t get to see all of it,” I say. “Mostly we just kissed and it was…it was…” I can’t find the right word. None in my vocabulary are good enough.

  “Everything you hoped for?” Stormi suggests helpfully.

  I grin and nod. “And more.”

  Then I tell her all about it, not leaving out the part of our magical, moonlit ride back to my house where it all ended so abruptly.

  “You know, I actually think he showed you great respect by not sleeping with you last night,” Stormi says. “Guys only do that when they really like a woman.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I say, but smile at the thought regardless, because it sounds good and I hope it’s true.

  She finishes her coffee and stands up. “Come on, let’s go shopping now. And we can get mani-pedis too. One thing I do know is that sitting around and waiting for a guy to call is killer on the nerves.”

  “Sounds expensive,” I say but she waves her hand dismissively.

  “A little pampering is never too expensive,” she says. “Besides, we’ve always managed to make ends meet, haven’t we?”

  I can’t argue with that, so I won’t even try to. Instead, I just tell her to get dressed.

  For maybe the first time in my whole life, Stormi didn’t once mention my illness or worry about how I’ll handle a normal, everyday thing like a trip to the mall. And that’s worth its weight in gold.

  Blaze

  Dawn is breaking on the horizon and even though my eyes are burning like they’re filled with a pound of sand each, I can still appreciate the pale golden light spilling over the hills where me and Misti watched the sun set and moon rise last night.

  Watching this dawn with her in my arms would be perfection.

  One I’ll never feel.

  I wish rain was pouring down instead. That would match my mood better. But it hardly ever rains in the desert.

  We’re sitting on our bikes, positioned around a motel about ten miles out of Vegas. Me and twenty brothers, our faces covered with bandanas. Red, white, yellow, green—the only colors in the world right now.

  Colt is on my left and Hawk on my right. We tracked down the Snakeskins to this motel standing by the side of a two-lane road leading east. As the first light of day finally revealed it, I was sure no one could possibly be staying in this run-down piece of shit motel. Paint is peeling off its walls so badly it’s impossible to tell what color it was originally. Some sort of drab brownish yellow, I’m guessing. Tufts of dried grass are poking through the cracks in the asphalt of the parking lot and the sign with the motel’s name—Last Chance—is badly cracked too. The light inside it has been flickering all night and driving me insane. Some last chance…it doesn’t look worth a damn.

  Five choppers are parked in a neat row in front of rooms 1-5. Three of them have the brightly colored rattlesnake that’s the Snakeskins MC logo painted on the saddlebags. We’re at the right place, no doubt about it.

  The men sleeping inside those rooms will not wake up to a happy morning.

  In the distance, down the arrow-straight road cutting through the desert landscape, I can just make out a small group of bikers approaching. They’re so far away they’re just liquefied black dots at the moment, but I know it’s Cross, Rook, and Scar. We’re about to wake the Snakeskins. And if it turns out they set the bombs last night then I will enter back into my family’s feud in a spectacular fashion.

  But this time, me and Devils will end it forever. That’s the only silver lining I can find in this whole thing.

  I thought meeting Misti, with her skin like moonlight made flesh, her taste like the clearest water that could revive a dying man, her touch softer than the flutter of angel’s wings was a good omen.

  Instead, I now know it heralded this: The day I surrender what’s left of my soul to the devil.

  There was never any running from this day. I should’ve known that, but I tried to anyway.

  She was the last glimpse of light in my life before everything turns dark.

  The rumbling of the approaching bikes is growing louder and louder. Once they’re almost upon us, it’s loud enough to shatter mountains. At least to my ears.

  A curtain moves in the window of one of the occupied motel rooms. Even from a distance of fifty yards, I recognize Buddy’s narrow, long face peeking out from behind it.

  The door of the room next to his opens and Crow, a bald Snakeskin I think had a lot to do with my little brother’s death pokes his head out. He sees us, mounted motionless on our bikes, and for a moment he freezes.

  Then he shouts for his brothers to wake up.

  The sound of bikes rumbling echoes away into the vast open plain all around us as Cross and the rest reach us.

  “They know we’re here,” Hawk tells Cross.

  “Then let’s do this,” Cross says and rolls his bike onto the parking lot.

  Rook and Scar follow, and Hawk motions Colt, me, Ace, and five others to do the same.

  We’re the snake now, shiny and black and more ruthless than any living creature ever could be. There’s still a tiny chance that the Snakeskins didn�
��t attack us last night. That it wasn’t the feud I tried to escape coming killing members of the new family I found. I’m holding onto that wish like a drowning man might to a piece of floating wood, however small.

  9

  Blaze

  The doors of all five motel rooms are open now, scared, pale faces peeking out. Buddy’s long face has a green tint to it, and his eyes are full of fear as he glances from me to Colt, since he can recognize us even with half our faces covered.

  We’re parked in a half-circle around their bikes, cutting off their escape, but as Cross and Rook get off their bikes, Crow makes a run for his anyway. He’s wearing no boots and no shirt and there’s no escape. But he always was a cowardly bastard, even as a kid. Clearly, not much has changed in that area.

  “Get back!” Cross yells and it has the effect of making him stop dead in his tracks for a split second before he changes direction and tries to run along the motel wall to a freedom that he won’t find there.

  “Someone stop him,” Cross orders, and Ace, who’s closest leaps off his bike and makes short work of tackling Crow to the ground.

  Crow is still fighting and grunting like the little bitch he is as Ace drags him back with one arm firmly wrapped around his throat.

  “If we’re done with the theatrics, we’ll talk now,” Cross says mockingly. “All of you, step out of your rooms.”

  The Snakeskins make no move to obey. They just look from Cross to me to Colt to Crow who’s growing alarmingly purple in the face from Ace’s arm around his neck.

  “Now!” Scar yells. He’s the only one not wearing his bandana. The jagged scar that covers half his face is viciously black in the half-light of morning and together with his raspy, commanding voice has the desired effect. Terror.

  Slowly, the Snakeskins start tumbling out of their rooms, but they stay huddled together close to the doors.

  Ace releases Crow who stumbles a couple of times before he reaches his friends. His eyes are still bulging out, the purple in his cheeks fading very slowly as he glares at us.

  “Do you know who I am?” Cross asks.

  Most of them nod. Crow spits on the ground. “Just some random nobody who’s about to get his due.”

  Cross chuckles coldly. “I’m Cross, the president of Devil’s Nightmare MC. I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”

  “Whatever you say, old man,” Crow snaps, but his brother Hijack hisses at him to shut the hell up, as he pushes past him.

  He’s wearing his cut, but no shirt, though he did find the time to at least put on his boots before coming outside.

  “Why are you here, Cross?” he asks. “What did we do to earn this early morning wakeup call?”

  The sound of his voice and his drawling accent grates on my nerves. He speaks exactly like his father, the head of his family, and the president of Snakeskins MC. Hatred of that man was bred into me from the cradle onwards and he’s earned every bit of it over the years.

  I hoped I’d never have to remember that again.

  “Someone attacked our clubhouse last night,” Cross says. “And you five were the only ones there with reason to do it.”

  Crow takes another step forward and points at me, his eyes full of hatred. “What’s that piece of shit coward been telling you? Huh, Blaze? What lies have you been spinning now?”

  “You’re the ones with all the lies!” I snap back before a warning look and a raised hand from Cross silence me.

  He turns back to them. “Pack up now, we’re going somewhere a little more private to discuss this. We’ll soon know who’s lying and who’s not.”

  “Are you gonna make us if we say no?” Hijack asks. He’s trying to sound tough and challenging, but mostly he just sounds frightened.

  “Yes,” Cross says. “And we don’t need all five of you. One will suffice.”

  Cross gestured for us to draw our weapons while he was talking, and I’m sure at least one of the Snakeskins pissed his pants as we did. I can smell it.

  Less than ten minutes later, the Snakeskins—weaponless and silent—are riding in a group surrounded by us. I’m riding beside Colt at the back. Just seeing Crow and Hijack was enough to drive all thoughts of mercy out of my mind. Hearing them speak filled it will all the black hatred I once had for them.

  I never left the feud behind. That was impossible to do. It was always meant to be my life. Or my death. And a part of me is glad that I can finally accept that fact.

  Our destination wasn’t the desert bunker as I assumed it would be, but a run-down, long-abandoned worksite or factory of some sort. It’s comprised of four metal-walled structures in various stages of being eaten by rust and a large two-story house with black splotches all over the facade.

  The compound is at the end of another long, lonely stretch of road no one drives down anymore to get anywhere other than here. Though it seems like the locals use it as a sort of illegal dumpsite, since everything from heaps of stinking trash, rusted cans of paint, and several abandoned cars line it. At first, I wondered why the city doesn’t clean it up. Now, as the Snakeskins are being marched into one of the larger rusted container-like structures I wonder if that’s because this land belongs to Devil’s Nightmare MC and not even the city has access.

  An eight-foot-high wall topped with barbed wire with inch-long spikes surrounds the site and as soon as we’re all inside the courtyard, a couple of the brothers slide closed the high, double-sided metal gate. Once it’s closed even I don’t want to be on the inside. I bet the Snakeskins are shitting their pants right now. Slate for one looks like he’s about to start crying.

  “Blaze, get over here,” Hawk snaps at me from the open door of the building that Slate, the last of the group of Snakeskins, was just dragged into.

  I dismount and walk towards him.

  “Which one should we start with?” Hawk asks me.

  “Hijack,” I answer. “He’s the oldest son of Snakeskin MC’s president son and probably the one who knows everything.”

  “He’s also a scared little pussy underneath it all, just like his brother Crow,” Colt adds. “You threaten them just a little and they’ll snap like dry twigs.”

  Hawk nods. “And what’s your connection to this MC?” he asks me pointedly.

  Where do I even begin answering this question? It would take a lifetime just to scratch the surface.

  I clear my throat. “Snakeskins MC grew out of the family that mine is in a feud with and has been for generations. It started out as just a family, but now is an MC with about a hundred members, give or take. Their president is always from a direct line back to the woman my family supposedly killed over a hundred years ago.”

  Hawk is looking at me like he thinks I’ve gone insane, so I stop talking.

  “So let me get this straight,” he says. “You’re at war with these people.”

  “They all want me and every other member of my family dead, yes. And it’s the same for us.”

  “Like Old West?” he asks.

  I shrug. “That’s about when it started, yeah.”

  “Alright, you’ll tell me more later. It’s time to question these assholes now.” He turns to walk into the building.

  “Can I speak to Slate?” I hear myself asking. “Maybe he’ll tell me things he wouldn’t tell you. We used to be good friends.”

  Hawk looks at me over his shoulder, and I can just hear his brain working as he sizes me up.

  “Fine, give it a shot,” he says. “Tell Ace to show you into his cell.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Colt adds.

  I’m not sure I want him to, though I do know I’d rather not do it alone, especially since a distinct and very strong smell of blood fills my nostrils the moment I walk into the building. The smell might be just from all the rust, but I doubt it very much. Bad things happen in here. The echoes of them hang thick in the air.

  The door led into an anteroom of sorts, which in turn leads to a narrow, hallway lined with firmly closed metal doors. These look brand new,
as do the silver padlocks on them, with no rust in sight anywhere.

  It’s surprisingly cool inside, but I’m sure that will change as soon as the sun rises just a little higher. The sound of a thud of fist against flesh comes from behind the first closed door we pass. Hijack’s shrill yell is followed by Scar’s rough voice as he asks him to answer the question or more pain will follow. I didn’t hear the question, but I can guess what it is.

  Ace is standing in the dimness at the end of the hall and doesn’t need any persuading to let us into Slate’s cell.

  The stench of urine mixes with the sharp smell of blood or rust inside, and together with the pleading look in Slate’s eyes as I enter it makes for a very disgusting scene.

  “Blaze, Colt, please get me out of here,” he says, spittle flying out his mouth as his pleading eyes bulge out even more. He’s sitting in a straight-backed wooded chair, his wrists tied to it with black zip ties. If he wasn’t, I’m sure he’d be groveling on his knees before us. “Please! We go way back. We’re friends. Please!”

  “Shut up!” I say and his mouth actually snaps shut.

  “Did you set the bombs?” I ask.

  He shakes his head like a little kid might. “Us? That’s what you think we did? Never. Why would we? We have no problem with Devil’s Nightmare MC. Please, you gotta believe me.”

  “Tell me the truth, Slate,” I say. “This is your one and only chance. I can save you, but you gotta stop wasting our time and come clean.”

  “I’m not, Blaze!” He turns his pleading eyes on Colt. “Tell him we had fun last night. Tell him we just came to visit you two.”

  “Why the fuck did you bring the Snakeskin bastards if you just came to visit me?” I yell and I’m sure my eyes are bulging out of my head just as bad as his still are. I’m also sure they’re filled with all the hatred filling my whole body now. I grew up with this black hate as my constant companion. It was like a black ball in my chest, burning and pulsing all the time. It wasn’t until six months after I left home that it finally went away.