Warped (Dueling Devils Book 4) (4 page)

“No,
no problem. They were just seeing how I fit in,” Symone said quickly. The last
thing she wanted was this man, who for some reason saw something in her to be
protected, to get into trouble.

“She’s
doing a great job.” Monster placed his hand on the back of her chair.

Her
stomach clenched. She wanted to scoot her chair away and lean against his large
frame at the same time.

“Must
be. It’s not like you to speak up about shit,” Demon said, obviously amused.

“I
just call it like I see it,” he replied.

“Alright
then.” Demon nodded. “I heard all I need to hear.” He turned and headed for the
bay, leaving a stunned Lefty behind.

He
closed his mouth and spun to follow Demon.

She
released a sigh and slumped in her seat.

“I
get the feeling there’s never going to be a dull moment with you around.”

“Not
by choice.”

“Hmmm.”

She
glanced up at him.
I should say thank you.
The words stuck in her
throat.

“I
came up here to take a look at the schedule to see what job we need to
concentrate on next.”

“Yeah.
I’ll just go grab some coffee.” She pushed away from the desk, stood and half
stumbled away from the desk and the man who felt larger than life.

*  *  *  *

Monster
took a long draw from his beer and watched the women flock to his brother. Another
party at the clubhouse. Since he had shit else to do, he’d opted to tag along.

The
veteran biker bunnies stayed away from him and the new girls stood in a corner plotting.
They all seemed to think if he got a taste of pussy, they could drag him around
by his dick like a dog on a leash.

A
petite blonde with big brown eyes sidled up to him. “Hi.”

He
glanced around. “You talking to me?”

“Um,
yes.” She leaned closer slightly, focusing on his patch. She narrowed her eyes,
trying to see it in the dim lighting.

He
shifted his weight on the stool.

She
jumped back.

Monster
chuckled. “Boo.”

The
blood left her face. “I—I thought you might like some company?”

“Really?
Is that why you look you’re about to pee your pants?”

Running
her fingers through her hair, she glanced away. “You know, I was just trying to
be nice.”

“Oh,
and offer me a mere moment of your time? This ain’t high school and I’m not
some nerd you can get to do your homework. I eat little girls like you for
breakfast.”

She
scowled. “Whatever, Freddy Krueger. I was trying to throw you a bone.”

“I’ll
pass.”

Sliding
off the stool, she flounced away.

He
raised his bottle to her.

“I
see you’re using your charm again.”

Monster
glanced up at Pan and shook his head. “Don’t you have a girl to be banging
about now?”

“I
find I’m not interested.”

Monster
frowned.
I don’t like this.
“Why not?’

“Because
we have an intriguing mystery right under our nose and I find myself thinking
about her more often than not.”

“Who
are
we
talking about?” Monster sat up straight and slammed his empty
bottle on the bar.

“I
think you know.”

“Not
her.”

“Why?
You plan on doing something more than make eyes at her?”

“Because
she’s not one of your vapid biker bunnies you can nail and toss aside. One look
and you can tell you she’s been through enough.”

“Who
said I want to toss her aside?”

He
balled his fists. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Really?
What’s that?” Pan leaned against the bar and smirked.

His
lackadaisical attitude grated on Monster’s nerves.

Pan
swirled his drink and arched a brow.

Monster’s
jaw ticked. It’d been awhile since he wanted to take his brothers head off so
badly. “Trying to get under my skin and push me to the edge.”

“Now
why would I do that?”

“Good
question, Pan. Don’t you have enough?”

Pan
narrowed his eyes. His brow furrowed and his eyes dulled. “Enough what?”

“Of
everything.” Monster slapped his palm on the bar. “Give me another one.” He
barked. “You have the pretty face, the charm, the better luck of the draw. So,
why the fuck do you care about someone like Symone?”

“Someone
like Symone, are you listening to yourself? You don’t know anything about her.”

“I
know she’s like me,” Monster whispered.

“Like
you, what are you talking about?”

“Scarred,
ignored and reminded daily how different she is. Even Frankenstein got a wife.
What use would you have for her?”

“I
can’t believe this!” Pan shook his head. “You’re really this hung up on her?
She turns you into someone I haven’t seen in a long time. You think I’m going
to leave you to the wolves?” Pan asked.

“Thanks
for the concern, baby brother. I take care of myself just fine.” Monster shook
his head.

“Younger
by three fucking minutes!” Pan exclaimed.

The
brunette bar bitch for the night was one he’d only seen briefly. She slid a
fresh bottle across the counter and took away the old.

He
nodded his thanks.

“She’s
not like anyone we know. I’m intrigued. You need me, or this shit will never
get off the ground.”

“Fuck
you.”

“It’s
been so long, you’ve got shit all twisted.”

Monster
rolled his eyes. They were an unhealthy pair of assholes. Of course, being the
product of near death experiences that wiped out your entire family would do
shit like that to you. Any girl he was with had to accept the pain in the ass
that was Pan. “And tell me, how do you plan for this to all go down?”

“Now
you’re talking.” Pan clapped him on the shoulder. “She might be wary of me, but
she likes you. A blind man could see that.”

Monster
shrugged. He wanted to believe him, but hope came with pain. He’d felt enough
of that emotion to last him for the rest of his life. “I think you’re reading
too much into things.”

“I
know I’m not and this is why I can’t leave you alone to do this.” Pan shook his
head. “We need to do this together. It feels right to me.”

Monster
toyed with the label on his beer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share something
with his twin brother. “We’ll see, Pan.”

“Better
than a no.”

Monster
sneered but remained silent. Anything he said would be giving him more fodder.
He downed his beer. “I’m not feeling it tonight. I’m going to hit it early.”

“Uh
huh.” Pan did nothing to hide his skepticism, but he remained silent, so that
was something.

He
walked away from the bar taking in the scene. Loud rock music filled the smoky
air and bodies moved together on the dance floor, against walls and over a pool
table. He envied the freedom they had. It was part of the lure of the club.
They did what they wanted, when they wanted and only answered to one another.
He’d lost the ability to live by that code when the fire ruined him. Revealing
his scars was more than a sore point—it’d been a joy killer.

There
was nothing worse than knowing something about you sucked the happiness out of
everyone else. The life could be more than hard and it left plenty of scars and
ruined lives in its wake. If you didn’t keep up, you ended up road kill
underneath the tires, because the machine never stopped for anyone. He moved
around the couple fucking up against the wall and escaped into the quiet of his
room in the middle of the hallway. The door shut with a definitive click and he
leaned against it.

Symone
had him off his game and he couldn’t even pinpoint why. Infuriated by his
involuntary infatuation, he plopped down on the bed. Expectations were a
dangerous thing to have, because they could lead to horrible disappointment. He
tucked his hands behind his head and thought back to the time when he was Hayes
instead of Monster and Pan was Hartley
.

To
the night that changed everything…

*  *  *  *

“Great,
he’s drunk again,” Hayes said.
He plopped back on his
bed and tossed a baseball into the air, catching it over and over as he tried
to block out the yelling coming through the paper thin walls.

“When
isn’t he?” Hartley asked. “Let’s face it, he’s getting worse, not better.”

“Yeah,
Pres ain’t going to like it.”

“Only
reason he gives a shit is because Dad’s been fucking up. He’s letting the
bottle get the best of him. If you can’t be accountable, Pres is going to step
in and make you be,” Hartley said.

“Good,
then maybe we could get some sleep.” Hayes glanced over at his brother and
exchanged a look full of understanding. If he laid into their mom again, they
were stepping in.

Their
mother was a soft-spoken, brunette with a wide smile, easy-going manner, and gentle
spirit. Her petite frame and mild temperament made her an easy target.

Arthritis
had set -in and the constant pain turned their father, Freebird, to drinking. The
worse the rheumatoid arthritis grew, the more he self-medicated. Without the
ability to ride as he once had, their light- hearted father had slowly morphed
into their worst nightmare. Glass shattered.

“Stop
it, you’ll wake the boys.”

“You
think they’re stupid or deaf?” The wall shook under the impact of what Hayes
assumed was his father’s fist against the wall. “I’m sick of being stuck inside
these four walls with you. It’s not the life I wanted. You make me sick.”

“What
do you want me to do, Freebird? Just tell me.”

“You
can’t give me what I need, Regina. You can’t be the open road or the lady I’ve
always loved most.”

Hayes
looked at Hartley. He was referring to his bike. His stomach cramped. His
father sounded less angry and more broken.

The
brokenhearted sobs that left their mother ripped at his heart. She didn’t deserve
this. For their entire lives, she’d been the one consistent thing. Freebird was
in and out on the wind, living the life of an outlaw while they were left
behind. It seemed cool from a distance. He used to aspire to be just like him.
Then this happened, and he was forced to see the ravaging effects the club
could have. The sounds of their father’s boots leaving the kitchen relaxed him.
It was over for tonight.

Hayes
rolled onto this side to keep Hartley from striking up a conversation. There
were no words to make this situation better. Their mother wasn’t going to leave,
and their father couldn’t overcome the disease that’d crept in and stole the
use of his hands. As the time continued to pass, he’d get worse and worse.
Anger swelled in his chest. Being young made you useless. I can’t get a job,
speak my mind, or keep the one person I love most safe. Eventually, exhaustion
set in and he drifted off to sleep.

He
woke up coughing. His throat protested and his body shook as he expelled air.
Nausea made him groan. He peeled open his eyelids and blinked. A gray haze
clouded the air. His eyes watered. He wiped at them with the back of his hands,
blinking. He rolled onto his side, ignoring the fatigue that made his limbs
feel like lead.

Hartley’s
bed was empty.

 He
rolled from the bed. His body protested the rough landing.
I have to find
Hartley.
He low-crawled across the floor while his burning throat and aching
lungs thanked him for the cleaner air. Time all but slowed to a halt as he
continued to pull his dead weight out into the hallway. Intense heat permeated
the house. Sweat slicked his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Sweat beads
ran down his face and into his eyes. He could hear the crackling of burning
material. “Har—?” He coughed again, unable to force the words out. His throat
refused to cooperate.

The
smoke seemed the worst toward the front of the house. That must be where the
fire began. His eyes darted back and forth as he searched for his brother and
mother. If his old man was too drunk to vacate the premises, that’d be on him.
Hell, he’d probably prefer that. Brushing the wall, he kept to his left. He
ended up at the end of the hallway. He glanced to the left and squinted to make
out shapes in the murky grayness. A pair of bare feet stuck out from the end of
the couch. He pulled himself along, realizing he’d been trying to save their
mother, who lay on the couch.

Her
stillness set a slow panic off inside him. “Hartley,” he croaked. His brother
didn’t respond.

Hartley’s
body rose slightly.

He’s
alive.
He gripped Hartley’s shirt with clumsy fingers and
tugged. “Wake up.” Nothing happened. I have to get him out of here. He peered
at his mother on the couch. Her arm hung limply over the side. If she was
breathing, he couldn’t tell. Torn between his mother and his twin, he
hesitated. A fresh round of coughing shook him into action. It might be too
late for his mother. But he knew he could save Hartley. I’ll come back for you,
Mom.