Torn by the Devil: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Broken Wings MC) (Satan's Outlaw Sins Book 3)

by Sophia Gray

  Without uttering a sound, Howard Johnson fell to his knees and slumped forward, dead. I tucked my gun away, stepped around him, and left. Jasmine followed me.

  Mission complete. Time to start my next one. It never ended. It never would.

  Chapter Six

  Jasmine

  I felt like I was living a stranger's life. True, that wasn't much different than how I had felt since I first woke up in the hospital room from the coma, but this was odd. It felt so surreal. Had Pax really just done that? Had I really just watched him kill an unarmed man and allowed it to happen? The sound of the gun firing had seemed so loud… The silencer had made it a little quieter, but there was no mistaking that sound for anything else.

  I stumbled down the stairs after Pax. He was moving so fast, already at the bottom of the steps. God, my life was a mess. A roller coaster that was quickly spiraling downward out of control. I don’t understand how I got here. This morning I had actually woken up happy. Or at least not, lonely, scared and depressed like at the hospital. Pax had been so good in bed, not exactly doting, but the way he handled my body, the way he knew just where to touch me left no doubt to his claim that we had once been together. But we had broken up, that much was obvious. Why? Had I learned about his missions? I would like to think that I wouldn't stand by a man who would murder innocent men. Well, the men weren't entirely innocent, but they should be tried before a jury and sent to prison for their crimes. Plus, he had basically admitted he didn't think that guy had touched a girl… but even I had to agree that if he had been given the chance, he probably would have, given all the sick pictures he had on his computer. Still, to just kill him in cold blood like that…

  A vigilante, a self-justifying killer. That was what he was, what his entire motorcycle club was. I'd slept with a murderer.

  Who had saved me from guys as bad as the one he'd just killed.

  My foot missed a step, but I somehow managed to not touch the railing as I righted myself. I couldn't risk touching anything. Had I touched anything in the guy's apartment? I couldn't be sure, and considering I hadn't realized what Pax's mission had been until he explained it to me, I might not have been careful enough. I might've left my fingerprints behind somewhere. Oh, God, what if the police investigated the murder and I became a suspect? Just by witnessing it and not coming forward, I was an accomplice. An accomplice to murder.

  I covered my mouth to try and help stifle the urge to vomit. Finally, I burst out of the apartment complex. The sun hit me and I felt almost as if I was under a hot spotlight, with the sun accusing me of my crimes. I'd thought of Pax as a sinner. I just hadn't realized how right I was.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Pax… where was he? His bike had been right here… only now it was gone.

  He'd taken off and left me behind. The bastard.

  Maybe I'd been the one to break things off between us. Maybe that was why he alternated between being hot and cold toward me. Regardless, I had nowhere else to go, and I couldn’t stick around here. Not with the body of Howard Johnson, waiting to be discovered. So I started walking. I passed a library, backtracked and went inside. Using one of the public – thankfully they didn’t require a library card for use - computers I was able to track down the motorcycle club's address and directions. Karen, the nurse from the hospital had let me borrow her laptop so I could try to search information about myself to trigger memories, so I at least knew my way around the web.

  It wasn't until I had been walking for a good half hour before the thought occurred to me that maybe I should've researched the nearest police station. Shouldn't I tell them what I knew?

  But what good was the word of a woman who didn't even know her real name, or her birthdate, or anything like that? That would just make me sound crazy, and a little suspicious, plus there was that whole accomplice to murder issue too.

  Pax had known what he was doing by taking me along on one of his "missions." He was trying to push me away. Why had he even bothered to save me then?

  Going back to that club… why should I do that? I should never want to see Pax again but despite what he'd done, right now, he was my only link to my past, so I picked up my pace. Not two minutes later, a car slowed down, and the driver rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, you need a lift?"

  I glanced at him. A college-aged boy with pimples on his face and glasses. Scrawny. A ride would be awesome—my feet were killing me—but I hesitated.

  "Well?" he asked.

  I quickly recited the address to the motorcycle club. "You aren't happening to go that way, are you?" I asked, torn between wanting a ride and feeling like it might be safer to walk, even though it was going to take me hours to get back by foot.

  "Yeah, actually. Hop in." He jerked his thumb to the backseat. "If you'd feel safer, sit back there."

  I did just that. The kid—Franklin—chatted about his classes and siblings and the weather, a real talker. I didn't mind. It helped to preoccupy my thoughts. Immediately after the coma, my body had been holding me prisoner. During therapy, something had changed. As my body grew stronger, my mind and thoughts had been what held me back, my new captor. Now my mind was threatening to overwhelm me again.

  It felt like no time had passed when he pulled up in front of the clubhouse. "Here you go."

  "Thank you so much." I climbed out and shut the door. "I'm sorry I don't have anything to pay you with."

  "No worries." He gave a little wave and sped off.

  See, Pax? There are good people in the world, good guys. Not all of them are assholes. Not all of them are pervs. Not all of them deserve to be taken out by you.

  As I approached the clubhouse door, I found myself hoping Pax wasn't here. Maybe one of the other guys would be willing to talk to me. If Pax and I had dated, the other bikers would have known me too, right? They could point me in the direction of my family…

  If I had a family. What if I was an orphan or an only child?

  God that would be depressing. It almost didn't seem possible for there to be a ray of sunshine in my life.

  I scanned up and down the block. I didn't think I saw Pax's bike parked along the curb with the other motorcycles. It irritated me to realize I was sad his bike wasn’t there, which was stupid. I didn't know him well at all, and from what I had just witnessed, I should be completely repulsed by the very thought of him.

  Knowing he'd been abused made his anger understandable but he was still in the wrong. If I could just convince him to stop, that his missions – these killings- wouldn't change the past…

  Did I want to see if I could change him? Did I even have a role in his life anymore? We had dated, yes, but we had split up, and probably for a very good reason, though I imagine giving up the incredible sex had been difficult. Man that boy could fuck. God, I was still sore, and just recalling what I had done, what he had done made me wet all over again.

  I could feel my nipples harden in my bra, rubbing against the soft fabric. I'd felt half dead when I left the hospital, and one night with him had woken something primal and sexual within me. Was that the connection I'd been craving? I had been feeling it with Pax, but now I was starting to think getting involved with him again wasn't the best of ideas. He was dangerous. He was ruthless. He was a killer. I couldn't forget that, just because he saved my life and because he was incredible in bed.

  Enough stalling. Time to try to figure out who I was, who this Allie girl Pax said I was.

  With a deep breath, I knocked on the door. I could hear music and talking and laughing from inside, so I knocked again. No one must be hearing me, so I inched the door open and walked inside.

  It felt wrong to just barge in here, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had done just that several times before. It wasn't a memory, though, more like a hunch. Why couldn't I remember? Would I ever? The doctors thought my memories would return, but they had no idea when. It could be tomorrow or in a month or five years. Five years without knowing who I was. How can I move forward without kno
wing my past? Isn't a person the sum of their experiences?

  A few guys walked by me, nodding and continuing on before I could ask them anything about myself. I walked farther into the place when I heard a female shriek.

  Startled, I glanced around to see a woman with brown hair and eyes barreling toward me from the opposite end of the hall. She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug but almost immediately pulled back, hands on my shoulders, staring at me. "It is you!" she all but shrilled.

  "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

  Her eyes widened, but then she laughed, a freeing and happy sound. "Allie, who are you kidding? 'Who am I?'" Then she gasped, her hands covering her cheeks. "Oh my God. That's why you haven't called or emailed or anything. I thought it might have been because… But you don't know who I am! That's why!" Her hands returned to my shoulders, squeezing them. "Do you remember anything? What the hell happened? Are you in trouble or—"

  "I'm not in trouble." Her touching me was a little uncomfortable, so I shuffled back half a step so her hands slid off of me. "Who are you?" I had to ask again.

  "I'm Marie. Marie Haymaker." She waited, maybe to see if that would jog anything, but I was still clueless. Her name meant nothing to me. "Your sister, Allie. I'm your sister."

  Elation to know I wasn't alone in the world after all, had me hugging her as tightly as she had hugged me the first time. I choked out, "I thought I was all alone—"

  "I had no idea what had—"

  We had started talking at the same time and stopped at the same time too. Giggling, we hugged again.

  Marie shook her head and leaned against the hallway wall. "I can't believe you're safe and sound. I've been searching for you for months. Months! Of course, I checked here first, but you weren't around, so I never thought to come back. How long have you been here?"

  "Not long," I murmured, suddenly uncomfortable.

  "What happened?" Her brown eyes darkened. "Did someone hurt you?"

  "No! Well, yes." I waved my hand. "There was a car accident—"

  "Oh my God!"

  "And I was in a coma for months. When I woke up, I couldn't remember anything. I only know about the accident for a moment, I paused. Wouldn't Pax have heard about the accident? They had flashed my pictures so many times on the TV. Then again, he was probably too busy doing research on his pedophiles to bother watching the news.

  "Seriously?" Marie's eyes filled with tears. "I don't live around here. It must've only been a story run locally. If I had known, I would've come much sooner!"

  She looked so distressed I had to hug her again. "It's not your fault. But it was actually worse than just not remembering anything. I couldn't talk or walk at first. Therapy took a long time and…" I winced, thinking about everything that had happened since leaving the hospital, some good, mostly bad. "I have no idea what to do. Did I have a job? Insurance? I have no clue how I'm going to cover my hospital expenses, the therapy…"

  "Let's not worry about that right now. God, you're healthy and alive. Well, healthy now that you've recovered. A car accident? Wow. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, and alone! You must've been so scared. Allie, please—"

  "Jasmine," I corrected her, wincing at her use of the name Allie.

  "What?" She furrowed her brows.

  "I go by Jasmine now. I didn't know my name and…"

  "Jasmine?" She frowned before her lips relaxed into a gentle smile. "Okay. Jasmine, please don't be upset with me. I swear I've been looking for you everywhere. A few hours ago, someone called me. They saw you on the street last night and watched Pax pick you up. I came as soon as my workday ended. You're back with him?"

  For the first time, there was condemnation in her tone. Judgment. It made me bristle. "I don't know," I said slowly. Right now, I didn't want to think about Pax, let alone talk about him. "Do you think we could maybe talk about me a little?"

  The glare she'd been wearing since she'd said Pax's name faded into a look of understanding. "Of course, Al—Jasmine. What do you want to know?"

  "Everything! Are our parents alive? Where do they live? Where do you live? What do you do? What did I do? When's my birthday? How old am I? What—"

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! Yes, our parents are alive. They live across the country in California, so we don't see them very often. You lived here, in the clubhouse, last I knew, since you gave up your apartment when you and Pax started shacking up."

  "Me," I stressed, afraid she'd go off about Pax. No wonder he hadn't mentioned my sister to me. It was obvious the two hated each other, or at least she hated him. "Tell me about me."

  "God, this is so unreal! I can't believe you don't remember… We used to go to the beach every summer. You hated it. Hated the sand, the sun, the water. I loved it. One time, to get me back for picking on you for whining about not being able to swim, you replaced my sunscreen with an expired one. I got so burned! It was so painful!"

  I laughed. "I was a brat!"

  "No. We always played pranks on each other." She waved her hand as if it was nothing. "Mom and Dad hated it, but we never did anything really bad. Although there was that one time we worked together to prank Mom, and brought a snake into the house. We nearly killed her. She almost had a heart attack!"

  "A snake?" I shuddered.

  Marie peered at me curiously. "It was your idea and you were the one to handle touching it." Now she was the one to shudder. "I bet it felt all slimy and gross."

  "It's not a slug."

  "That's what you said then." She started to smile, but it turned upside down. "You're twenty-four. You had a birthday just last week, on Wednesday."

  "Twenty-four," I repeated. Did I think I was younger or older than that? "My job?"

  "You were still looking for one. You had been a waitress at a bar for a while, but the tips were crap, and you got into a fight with another waitress there when she tried to steal all of the best tables." Marie laughed. "You were never one to put up with someone else's shit."

  I almost smiled. "You make me sound like a badass."

  "You were." Marie sounded oddly somber. "You were very independent. You were strong and fierce and I always loved you for it. Al—Jasmine, if there's anything I can do for you, you would let me know, right?"

  I could feel myself getting choked up. I hated that I didn't remember Marie. That nothing she was saying made me remember a damn thing, but it was clear she loved me. She was my sister. I had a sister. I wasn't as alone in the world as I thought.

  "Aw, come here." Marie held out her arms, and I sank into her warm, sisterly embrace. To my horror, a sob choked out of me. Her hand rubbed my back. "Shh, shh, let it all out. Breathe, Al—Jasmine. Just breathe."

  It was easier for her to say that than it was for me to actually do, eventually I was able to compose myself and pulled away. Wiping my tears with my fingers. "I really want to remember. So badly. You, Mom, and Dad… even that waitress. Waitressing, huh? Did I even go to school?"

  "You did, but you dropped out. College isn't for everyone." She bit her lip.

  There was something there. "What is it?" I pressed.

  "You met a guy, got mixed up with the wrong crowd, and it kinda left you in a vulnerable place. You eventually broke it off, and you were so strong to do that, but you lost your drive to go back to school."

  The guy… Pax? Or someone else? Maybe I had a type—hot, bad boys that any woman with half a brain would run away from because they were the Just-Not- Good-News type.

  "What had I been studying?"

  "Journalism. You wanted to be a newspaper reporter. You always did like asking questions. Nosey Allie, that's what I called you sometimes."

  I wrinkled my nose. "Did I like that nickname?"

  "You loved it!"

  "Did I really?" She had to be pulling my leg. Nosey Allie was hideous.

  "Yep! You even thought about it being a part of your byline."

  I slapped her shoulder. "You're lying!"

  She giggled and rubbed her arm. "That
hurt. Okay, yes, I only called you Nosey Allie when you pissed me off, but you really did want to be a reporter at one time. Before that, an author. Before that, an actress. Before that, a model. Before that—"

  "I get the picture. I was wishy-washy." I wrinkled my nose, not liking the sound of that.

  "No." She shook her head frantically. "You were impulsive. And driven. Kinda strange combination, really. You always threw yourself wholeheartedly into everything. You wore your emotions on your sleeve. You gave too much of yourself; and your heart…"