DEVOUR ME: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Wicked Angels MC)

by Sophia Gray

  She started walking toward him as she always did in the mornings, but before she reached him, Butler took her aside. Hank couldn't hear their exchange, but whatever it was, Beth looked confused and unhappy about it. She stole a quick glance in his direction, then walked back the way she came.

  Butler sauntered over to Hank. “Shower time. Get your butt in gear.”

  Hank almost asked why Beth wasn't on shower duty today, but he stopped himself. That was exactly the wrong kind of question to ask if he wanted to keep his prior relationship with Beth a secret. He knew that Bull and Butler were already aware of their connection, but it still wasn't a good idea to bring it to the attention of the other inmates.

  So Hank stood and followed Butler, expecting him to round up four bikers or Aryans as well.

  Instead, Butler paused outside a pair of cells a few steps away. “White, Samson, Morales, and Hitcher. Come on, it's shower time.”

  Hank's heart froze in his chest as the men emerged from their cells. He knew those names. All of them were members of the Nation of Sinners.

  And all of them were huge.

  Butler led them to the outer chamber of the shower room where they stripped off their clothes and grabbed their towels and wash cloths. The four gang members' eyes burned holes in Hank as they whispered and snickered among themselves.

  So this is my punishment from Bull, Hank thought. This is why Ram made sure I stayed awake all night—so I'd be in no shape to face these brutes today.

  Before they stepped into the tiled shower area, Butler stopped Morales and made a show of examining his towels. “That wash cloth looks kind of dirty to me,” Butler said. “Here, I'll send it back to the laundry, and you can use this one instead.”

  He handed Morales a wash cloth that was clearly folded around a shiv made from a sharpened toothbrush. Morales took it, grinning from ear to ear.

  The five convicts entered the shower, and Butler switched the water on. The room filled with steam almost immediately.

  “Well, I guess you boys are going to want some privacy while you wash up, huh? I'll come back in a few minutes.” Butler gave Hank a sly wink and walked off, leaving them unsupervised.

  “Would you guys look at this?” Morales brandished the shiv as the other men surrounded Hank. “If it ain't Rocky fuckin' Balboa himself, with none of his Nazi-ass white friends around to back him up. You wanna try out some of those sweet boxing moves on us, Rocky? Or you wanna poison us like some kind of cowardly bitch, the way you did Manolo?”

  “I had nothing to do with what happened to Manolo. Bull told me it was a regular fight. When I found out what he'd done, I tried to stop the match.” But Hank knew these words would mean nothing to them, and he was already preparing himself for the inevitable attack.

  “Save your bullshit for some motherfuckers who care,” Morales sneered. “Roberto says we need to take you out the first chance we get, an' this looks like a hell of a chance to me.”

  “Yeah, and who gave you that chance? Butler? He's in Bull's pocket, so why the fuck would he help you? Think it through, guys. You're being used.”

  The Sinners continued to press in all around him. Morales tossed the shiv back and forth between his hands, licking his lips in anticipation.

  Hank tried to tense his body, but his major muscle groups cramped again sharply. Worse, he was still foggy from lack of sleep, and the heat surrounding them was making everything around him seem blurred and dreamlike. He tried to stay aware of all of the men around him, but all his eyes could focus on was the sharpened toothbrush.

  You're going to be stabbed, Hank told himself. There's four of them and one of you, and that shiv is absolutely going into you, no two ways about it. Stay afraid of that, and you'll be too busy trying to avoid it to survive this fight. Accept it, embrace it, and you might have a chance.

  One of the Sinners behind Hank gave him a light shove, trying to distract him as Morales lunged forward. Hank leaned into the shiv instead of away from it, using his forearm as a shield to catch the blade. Morales' eyes widened, and he was caught off guard enough for Hank to close his other hand around the handle of the shiv and yank it away from him.

  In the seconds it took for Hank to pull the shiv from his arm, the men behind him managed to kick his legs out from under him. He tried to maintain his balance, but the slippery tiles betrayed him, and his kneecaps hit them hard. Morales loomed in front of him, and Hank propelled himself to his feet again, sinking the sharpened toothbrush between the ribs in Morales' left side even as the other Sinners' punches connected with his spine and kidneys.

  Morales shrieked in agony, backing away until he hit the wall. Hank felt the plastic shiv snap in half.

  Shit. So much for using it against the others.

  Hank spun around to face the rest of them, but he was too slow. Another savage kick to his legs almost brought him down again, and a fist slammed into his face, smashing his nose and stunning him momentarily.

  Okay, he thought groggily, raising his own fists and preparing to strike. The blade is out of the picture, and you're down to three guys. Fine. Good. You've taken on three guys before. You can win this.

  But pain kept blooming in Hank's face and lower back, and his vision was starting to double. And those other fights had mostly been against drunken truckers, hicks, and barflies in parking lots—not these hardened mountains of muscle and hate.

  The Sinners spread out, surrounding him again in a loose circle. Hank tried to surprise them by targeting the one behind him with a backward kick, but he missed and the man grabbed him by the ankle, sending him back to the floor. A bare foot slammed into his side, and he felt two of his ribs snap.

  Before Hank had a chance to move, the three men were on top of him, shoving him facedown and holding down his arms and legs. He felt hot breath on his neck and naked flesh pressing against his back.

  “Since you feelin' so frisky an' all,” the man said, “I figure we can have a little fun wit' you 'fore we kill you.”

  Suddenly, Hank heard a loud crack near his ear, followed by a howl of pain...and Beth's voice.

  “You get the fuck off of him right now!”

  Hank didn't have time to process this before he heard another crack, and another, mixed with a wet snap and more yelling. The hands retreated from his body, and he saw blood oozing between the tiles on the floor, mingled with the hot water.

  “You men get back against the wall and stay there, or I swear to God I'll break every bone in your fucking bodies.”

  Beth again.

  Hank tried to lift himself off the floor, but only managed to slump over onto his side. The Sinners were sitting and leaning against the walls of the shower. One was bleeding from a gash over his eye, while another held onto his arm as it jutted out at an odd angle. The third appears unscathed, but his back was against the wall and his arms were raised. Morales was still clutching the wound in his side.

  Beth crouched down next to Hank, keeping her baton at the ready. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

  He tried to answer, but all he could manage was a soft moan. The pain was excruciating—his entire body felt like it was stuffed with broken glass and rusty nails.

  She'd saved him.

  He'd spent all this time worrying about how he was going to keep her safe in here, and she'd saved him from certain death and worse.

  Butler entered the shower with two other guards, shutting the water off. “What happened in here?” he barked at Beth. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be working the visitor's desk. I told you I'd handle shower duty.”

  “Yeah, and it looks like you did a bang-up job,” Beth spat back. “These four Sinners attacked H-Hall.”

  Hank heard the catch in her voice, and realized she'd stopped herself from referring to him by his first name. Even after fighting off three massive Sinners, she was still level-headed enough to keep up the pretense.

  “One of them even had a damn shiv,” Beth continued hotly, getting right in Butler's face. “How
does that happen when they're supposed to strip down in front of you, huh? Tell me that!”

  Maybe I underestimated her, Hank thought, watching the blood drip from the hole in his arm. All this time, maybe she was tougher than I gave her credit for. And why not? She's Bib's niece. Apple doesn't...fall far...from...

  Then the agony and exhaustion washed over Hank, and everything went black.

  Chapter 24

  Beth

  “How the hell do these things keep happening?” Dr. Spector asked incredulously as he stitched the hole in Hank's arm. He'd already taped up the busted ribs and set the broken nose, but he'd expressed some concern about the possibility of internal bleeding after seeing how Hank's kidneys had been pummeled.

  Beth watched as Grant and Lockley, the infirmary's orderlies, took the injured Sinners to a row of beds to await treatment. All of the men had been given cheap medical gowns, since they'd been brought in naked. They were glaring at her sullenly, and she heard one of them murmur about how “the white boy gets patched up first.” The truth was, Spector had determined that Hank's injuries were the most severe, and therefore required the most immediate attention.

  “First that man Cartwright gets worked over after lights-out,” Spector continued, shaking his head. “Then Manolo Torres ODs, despite the fact that there was no evidence he was a drug user. And now this mess. Why on earth do we even have guards in this place, if they can't or won't stop these terrible things from happening?”

  He finished the stitches and taped a bandage in place, gesturing to the orderlies. “Grant, take Hall over to one of those beds and bring Morales over. That shiv doesn't look like it went in far enough to hit any organs, but the pieces will still have to come out.”

  “You can't put Hall next to those men,” Beth insisted. She kept her voice low so the Sinners couldn't hear. “In fact, you can't keep him in the main area of the infirmary at all. He needs to be kept separate in one of the secure rooms so no one can get to him.”

  Spector eyed Beth for a long moment, then took his glasses off and polished them slowly. “Officer...D'Amato, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Officer, I could have gone into private practice. Instead, I decided to work here, where I could heal the people who need it the most—the ones most doctors don't care about. Every day, these men try to involve me in their games and schemes, but I stay out of it all. No matter what horrors they inflict upon each other or what their reasons are, I just patch them up as best I can.”

  Beth opened her mouth to speak, but Spector held up a hand to silence her.

  “Even so, I hear things. It's common knowledge, for example, that Captain Butler's loyalties are to the Aryans, along with half the guards under him. And it's also fairly well-known that since you started working here, you've been doing favors for the Aryans on his behalf. And now Butler sets some Sinners loose on Hall, and you step in to save his life...” Spector shook his head. “I don't know who's working for whom here, or to what end. What's more, I don't want to know. It's not my job to keep track of everyone's agendas and shifting affiliations. But whatever's going on, you're clearly involved somehow, and I'm not inclined to trust you or assume you have my patients' best interests at heart.”

  “I see your point,” Beth said. “I do. And you don't know me, and you have no reason to trust me. So all I can do is trust you enough to tell you that I've known this man for a long time, and he means a lot to me. He's been dragged into all of these gangs' bullshit against his will. He tried to do the right thing and stay out of it, and now he's got a target on his back. If he's kept with the rest of your patients, one of the Sinners will almost certainly kill him, or else one of the Aryans will, or even one of the guards. I'm all he has left in here. I'm the only one who's looking after him and trying to keep a two-year stretch for assault from becoming a death sentence. He doesn't deserve that. He's no saint, not even close, but he hasn't done anything he deserves to die for. You don't have to get involved in any of this...you're right, it's not your job. But you can help me save his life. Please, I'm begging you, just keep him in a secure room until he's well enough to go back to his cell. Don't let anyone in to see him, even Butler or the other guards. Please.”

  Spector considered this for a moment, then called out to Grant again. “Take Hall to secure room 2, please.” He turned to Beth. “He should be waking up fairly soon, if you want to wait and speak with him. Please don't make me regret this decision, Officer.”

  Grant placed Hank into a wheelchair and brought him into one of the small white rooms. He lifted Hank into bed with a grunt, handcuffed Hank's left wrist to the metal rail next to it, and left, closing the door behind him.

  Beth stood, waiting.

  Her uniform was still damp from the showers, her body was still quivering slightly from the fight with the Sinners, and her throat was filled with the coppery taste of adrenaline. When she'd seen the huge gang members standing over Hank, she'd swung into action without a thought for her own safety. Now that it was over, she couldn't help but think of all the different outcomes that could have occurred. She was amazed that she'd been able to overpower so many of them, even armed with a baton.

  Where had that strength and fearlessness come from?

  As if in answer to her silent question, Hank's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her.

  “You saved me,” he said immediately.

  “Yeah, I, uh...guess I did.”

  She shifted her weight nervously. Hank's expression was unreadable, and his voice was toneless. Would he be angry at her for risking herself for him? Would he be ashamed that she had come to his rescue?

  Hank took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as though trying to collect his strength. “Before. The stairwell. Those things I said to you. I was wrong. About...all of it. You're stronger than I thought. You're not...I don't...you're not just one more thing for me to worry about in here. Seeing you every day has made it easier for me. I think about what happened between us at the bar, and I hate myself so much, because if I hadn't done what I did afterward we'd have had a real chance. To be happy. Together. And I fucked it all up, I fucked everything up...”

  Beth touched his hand gently. “No, you didn't. We can still find a way to be together.”

  “How?”

  “I don't know. But we will. Somehow.”

  “This place...”

  “Shh. This place won't take it away from us. We won't let it. We'll survive. We'll find a way out of this together. I promise.”

  Before Hank could say anything more, Beth leaned over and kissed him, her fingertips stroking his hair. His tongue met hers eagerly, the comforting familiarity of his taste slowly filling her mouth. He tried to reach up for her with both arms, but his left wrist was still chained to the bed.

  “Relax,” Beth breathed. “I'll take care of everything.”

  Beth kept kissing Hank, her lips caressing his jaw, his neck, his chest. She slipped a hand down over his crotch and felt him grow hard almost instantly.

  She reached up to unbutton her shirt, pulling her bra cup down below her right breast to expose it. Her nipple was erect and she took Hank's left hand, lifting it and placing it under her shirt. His rough fingers traced lines across her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time. The look in them was tender and full of longing.

  “Touch me again,” he said.

  Beth pushed his medical gown aside and put her hand around his cock, more firmly this time. It grew larger against her palm, and she put her thumb and forefinger around the tip, sliding them down to the base of the shaft and back up again. He was so warm and firm at the same time, like living stone. She continued to stroke him slowly, and he let out a moan.

  “Remember to keep your voice down,” she whispered with a smile. “We don't want anyone barging in on us.”

  Hank nodded. “Just don't stop.”

  She kept running her fingers up and down, feeling the hot blood cour
sing through his veins. Her fingertips fondled his balls, and she saw rows of goosebumps appear on his skin as he shivered with delight.

  “God, that feels so good,” he sighed. “I've missed your hands on me.”

  “They've missed you too,” she purred.

  “I want to taste you.”

  Beth chuckled quietly. “That's going to be a little tricky with your broken nose. But I think I can give you something to tide you over.”

  She unbuckled her belt and pulled down the zipper on her pants, sliding her hand down into her panties. Kissing and touching him had already made her wet, and she pushed two fingers inside herself, relishing the feeling of her own fingertips gliding against her clit on the way in. Then she pulled them out again, offering them to Hank.