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

by Sophia Gray

  "No." I rubbed my forehead and lay back down on the bed. "I'm glad they weren't worried. That would have been worse."

  "You're sure?" Marie sounded so relieved.

  "I'm just…"

  "What is it?"

  "I don't remember them," I wailed. "When I do work up the nerve to call them, how am I going to keep that from them? I don't want to make them worried now after the fact but…"

  "We'll figure it out. Whenever you're ready. Hopefully, your memory will come back soon and you'll have been worried for nothing."

  "I hope so." I sighed.

  "No luck so far getting it back, huh?"

  "Not yet. I've been… busy."

  "Uh." Now her tone took on a little bit of judgment. "Well, if there's nothing else, I should get going. I might be staying in the area a little longer for you—"

  Which translated into; until you wake up and ditch Pax.

  "But I still am working via teleconferences and phone calls with clients."

  "How is the real estate business?"

  "Not forgiving of breaks, but I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me. Take care, sis!"

  "You too!"

  Feeling even more mixed up after the phone call—not only did I have Pax to deal with but my parents too, not to mention Marie's judgment—I sat up and got out of bed. Today wasn't going to wait for me. I needed to get out of here and find Pax.

  I quickly changed into my new shirt and the miniskirt. My guess was that Pax liked how I looked in it, too much to buy other options for my lower half; aside from those obscenely short shorts which he also loved. That thought made me smile, but I quickly frowned. If he knew what was good for him, he'd be waiting for me downstairs.

  Down in the dining area, there was no sign of Pax anywhere. Several of his biker guys were milling about though. A tall, bald one approached me.

  "Looking for Pax?" he asked, his voice a little higher-pitched than I would've expected based on his size.

  I nodded. "Yeah. Is he around?" I wasn't really holding my breath. It was obvious he wasn't here.

  The guy shook his head. "Nope. He went to track down the pedo."

  I stared at him. How much did Pax's guys know about what I knew? Did Pax even tell them that I wasn't Allie anymore? This guy and I might have talked a hundred times before, and I had no idea who the hell he was. And what did he think of my looking for Pax? Pax should've told me where he was going. Left a note at least.

  "You know you're welcome to whatever." He shrugged, gesturing to the anemic spread, and stepped aside so I could go past him.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Someone really did need to go grocery shopping and get a bigger selection of food options. Eggs and bacon could only get you so far.

  But I wasn't going to mother them. I wasn't going to be their Wendy. They really did remind me of the Lost Boys though, as sad as that was.

  Ignoring the looks I got from the guys and trying not to feel self-conscious, I got myself a plate of food, happy there had been a clean plate for me to use and brought it over to the bar to eat in peace. Only I didn't really eat. I more or less just broke up the eggs into tiny pieces with my fork and ate the portions of the bacon that were actually cooked. I knew I should eat more, I just had no appetite.

  There were so many things I wanted out of life. I wanted Pax to be here, with me. I wanted us to be a normal, happy couple. Well, our extraordinary sex life could stay. And I wanted to feel like my life was worthwhile, with or without him.

  But there were so many things I didn't want out of life. I didn't want him to be a thief or a murderer. I didn't want him to be tortured by his past. I didn't want him to be broken. Hell, I didn't want to be broken either.

  If only I could remember who I used to be.

  If only I wasn't so attracted to Pax.

  If only I could get my life together!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jasmine

  I shoved my plate away, most of the food uneaten, untouched, and frankly, too unappealing to even nibble on. My stomach was a ball of knots. If I did manage to eat any more, I'd probably just throw it up. Hell, I might be sick anyhow. Sick with worry and fear. Pax had no right to make me feel this way.

  Of course, if I listened to Marie, Pax wouldn't make me feel anything. But didn't my fear prove how much he meant to me? I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to him.

  Behind the bar was a sink which I used to wash my hands. There was a small mirror above the sink, and I glanced at myself. Other than the dark circles beneath my eyes, I didn't look too bad. If you ignored the worry in my eyes and my pursed lips.

  To try and waste time and, paradoxically, be a little productive, I started to play with my hair. Trying to create some complicated hairstyles that would be perfect for girls heading to prom. If I was serious about becoming a hairdresser, I would be spending my days making women feel beautiful. It would be fulfilling, making one woman smile at a time. And then her husband or boyfriend would see the fruits of my work, and he would smile too, and maybe that was the start of it all. Happiness. Just a smile. Something simple. Going back to the basics, the simple joys of life.

  Or maybe I was just a basket case waiting to fall apart. Yeah, that was probably it.

  I sighed and allowed my hair to fall down over my shoulders. The voices and laughter from the other room died down and eventually quieted. Maybe they were all leaving to find wealthy targets to steal from. Wouldn't surprise me in the least. Or maybe Pax had bothered to call them and needed backup. Had he gone after the pedophile by himself? He would just be watching him, right? Well, first he would have to find him. A manhunt. That shouldn't be too dangerous, right? My stomach roiled angrily, and I rubbed it, trying to settle it down but failing.

  Just then, I heard footsteps behind me. Even though I knew it couldn’t possibly be Pax, that he couldn't have hunted down and killed the guy that quickly, I still turned around to see who it was. Maybe Marie had canceled her phone calls and come back to try and twist my arm to leave Pax again. Or maybe one of the guys knew where Pax was. If that were the case, I could hunt him down and try to talk to some sense into him, although I doubted he would be open to another conversation about this topic. It would just be another fight, and if it happened in public, at least he wouldn't be able to ignore it and opt for angry sex instead.

  I sighed. Angry sex had been as hot as any other kind of sex with him. What had Marie said? I believe it was something along the lines of him having a Wonder Cock. If she only knew how right she was. He could make me purr.

  Trying to make sure my face didn't reveal what I'd just been thinking, I focused on the man heading my way. He was far too old to be one of Pax's guys. Something about him looked a little familiar, and I gasped. Who was he? Was I beginning to remember something or someone? Finally!

  "Excuse me," the guy said, his voice sounding oddly familiar. He looked like he was trying to smile but was failing miserably. The man seemed on edge for some reason. "Can you tell me where I can find Pax? I know he lives here and—"

  "I'm sorry. Who are you?" For all I knew, he was a cop or something and was here to arrest Pax. As much as I didn't agree with Pax's missions, I didn't want him to end up in jail over it. He would never change if he was behind bars. He'd just grow even more bitter, and the parts of him I cared the most about would wither and die. No, that couldn't happen.

  "I'm his father." He sounded almost shy as he said that, like he couldn't believe it.

  Pax's father? Well, he didn't seem to know who I was, or what I had meant to his son, so we must not have met before. I wasn't remembering him; I had just noticed the resemblance between him and his son. God, that was so depressing!

  Wait… they looked alike. Pax hadn't mentioned his father to me before. Just his foster father—the asshole who had ruined him, scarred him, made him feel that the only way he could cope with his pain was to kill others.

  "You're his birth father?" I asked, unable to hide the shock in my voice.


  "Yes. Is Pax around?" He pulled out a barstool but didn't sit down.

  I gave him the once over. He was wearing black pants and a t-shirt and looked harmless enough, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to answer him right away. Maybe it was because I didn't know if Pax had ever told me about his real father before and I just didn't remember, but either way I just couldn’t give him any details. It wasn't possible that his father knew about his missions, right?

  "He's not here right now," I said, coming around from behind the bar and reclaiming my barstool. I shoved my plate down the bar. The smell of the uneaten food was making my stomach churn.

  "Oh. Ok." Pax's father rubbed the back of his neck then drummed his fingers on the bar. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

  I shook my head, ready to send him away, but my mouth didn't get the message. "I didn't know you two were in touch," I blurted out.

  I winced at my accusatory tone. It was Pax I was upset with. But why? For not telling me more about him? If we talked more with our mouths instead of just falling into bed together, I would know more about him, about our past, about what mattered in his life. Maybe then I would be able to figure out a way to get through to him. Yes, he and I needed to talk more, and we would, as soon as he returned home.

  Pax's father actually shuffled his feet looking slightly embarrassed, which made him look so much younger than his years. He was maybe late forties, early fifties, and if Pax was going to take after him, Pax was going to age well. Pax had some good genes.

  "We haven't always been close," his father muttered, glancing away from me. "Who are you? You seem… protective of him." Now he eyed me curiously.

  "I'm…" For some reason, I didn't want to tell him I was Jasmine. "I'm Allie," I finally said.

  But saying that name felt like a lie. I wasn't Allie. Not anymore. Probably never again.

  His lips twisted into a slight smile. "I thought you might be. It's so nice to be able to put a face to the name. You mean a lot to him. He's told me all about you."

  Funny, but he hasn't told me about you, at least not recently. I tapped a finger against my cheek.

  Maybe my face showed my skepticism because he asked, "He hasn't told you about me, has he?"

  I shrugged. Maybe he had, maybe he hadn't. I didn't know.

  "I should've been there for him a lot sooner than I was." The pain in his voice mirrored the pain in Pax's when he had talked about his foster father.

  "Why weren't you?" I asked pointedly. Not that I had a right to be so direct, but I was tired of being ignorant. I wanted to know what had come before, even if the past we were talking about hadn't affected me. Well, not directly at least. Pax's past affected him so much, was such a huge part of the man he was today, that if I wanted to have any hope of trying to change him, I needed to better understand his past. Since Pax wasn't here to be able to tell me himself, I'd settle for his father telling me what he knew.

  "His mother never told me she was pregnant." His scowl was identical to Pax's, so much so it was freaky. "Never told me," he repeated in an angry whisper.

  "You never knew?" God, that must've been a shock when he had learned about Pax. To discover you had a son, a son who probably felt abandoned by you, when you hadn't even known the son existed… How could she have kept that from him? Come to think of it, why hadn't she been a mother to Pax? She must have failed him herself. Was it that easy to be a terrible parent? While I thought I wanted to be a mother someday, Pax's upbringing was making me frightened. Would I be a good mom, or would I screw my kids up too?

  "No. The bitch…" His face turned dark, murderous even, and I shivered. They were definitely related all right. His fingers curled into fists. He was still standing, and his body went rigid, almost unnaturally straight. "She was a worthless excuse for a human being. A terrible mother. She neglected Pax so much, he was taken away from her and put into foster care. She wasn't ever meant to be a mother. Too damn selfish. Too worried about her own needs and wants. Too consumed with herself. Never gave a damn about anyone else. We weren't together for long. When I realized what a raging bitch she was, I cut out. She didn't even seem to care when I said goodbye." He collapsed onto a barstool, his anger gone and replaced with sadness. "Who knows? Maybe I wouldn't have been able to raise him by myself but… If I could go back… If I had only known about him… Maybe I could have…" He put his head in his hands. "I wish I had been there for him. I do. I don't think he understands just how much I wish that."

  He grew silent as he finally sat down on a barstool, and I felt so bad for him. What was his relationship with Pax even like now? Somehow, I didn't think Pax was the forgiving type, but his father did seem like a good guy. It wasn't his fault he hadn't known about Pax until…

  "When did you find out about Pax?" I asked, careful to keep my tone light and non-accusatory.

  "Not for a long time. He'd phased out of foster care before I found out about him." He snorted. "She only told me because she wanted to try and get money out of me. When she hadn't even taken care of him. Our son. I get so angry when I think about it."

  How terrible. His mother had prevented him from having a relationship with his father, and because of that, Pax had been subjected to years of abuse. She was as much to blame for Pax turning into a killer as Pax himself was.

  "Your anger… How do you cope with it?" I asked.

  He shook his head, staring straight ahead instead of looking at me. For a few moments, he didn't say anything, and then he stood, and I thought he might be gearing up to leave. But then he said, "I don't usually. Which is why I'm not sure I would've been a good father to him. But I'm trying now."

  His saying "trying" made me think their relationship was still shaky. Knowing Pax, it might always be shaky. "Did he blame you?" I asked quietly.

  "I blamed me. I didn't know, but another man who was supposed to have taken on my role, the role I didn't even know I should have had, and he…" Pax's father squeezed his hands into fists. He was almost trembling with anger. How could Pax not realize his father was tormented over what had happened? He needed his father. He needed more good people in his life.

  I scooted his barstool closer to him. "Why don't you sit?" I suggested.

  He sat next to me and went back to staring straight ahead, behind the bar instead of at me. "When I first learned about Pax, I sought him out immediately. It was late at night, and Pax… well, it didn't go well. I'm not sure what exactly I expected but… We had a rocky relationship at first. Very rocky," he muttered. I felt a stab of envy at the distant expression on his face. He was clearly remembering that night, and while it couldn’t have been a happy memory, at least he could recall it.

  "Did he blame you?" I repeated. I wanted to touch his shoulder, to try and comfort him, but I didn't. I wasn't sure if Pax would appreciate his father telling me all of this, and while that didn't matter to me, it did feel strange to be talking about Pax behind his back.

  "Of course he did. I wasn't there for him." He lowered his chin toward his chest as if in defeat. "The only father figure he had in his life abused him, and now I showed up, years too late. Eventually, we did manage to work through things. I guess you could say we've reached some kind of truce." He shrugged. "Better than nothing, I guess."

  "That's good," I said slowly. What else could I say?

  "You know it's not enough." He rubbed his chin.

  I nodded. "I don't know what will be enough," I confessed.

  "Where is he?" His father twisted toward me. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face.

  Did he know his son? Truly know him? Did he realize how badly damaged he had become as a result of the abuse? Could Pax have opened up to him about his missions? Or maybe Pax might've told him to lash out at him. A "you weren't there for me so look at what I became" kind of thing.

  "Do you know what your son does for a living?" I asked, and held my breath.

  "Yes." He nodded once, decisively. "So he's out hunting a pedophile. I wondered if that
might be the case."

  A lump formed in my throat, and my chest tightened. I couldn't answer verbally, so I just nodded. Did his father hate Pax's missions as much as I did?

  "Well, at least this obsession is better than when he was a contract killer." His father shrugged. "I'm sure you agree."

  My world felt as if it tilted on its axis. A contract killer? Pax? He had been a hired gun? As god-awful as it was to kill pedophiles, it was a thousand times worse to be a contract killer, to kill for money.

  A freaking contract killer. Oh my God. Pax. My Pax. Talk about being cold hearted. A part of me couldn't believe it.

  But another part of me could.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jasmine