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

by Sophia Gray

  "I'll never be fine." I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him. At times, I hated him. Didn't matter if that wasn't fair. Maybe I was incapable of love. I sure hated myself. How could I say I loved Jasmine if I hated everyone else?

  "I can apologize until I'm blue in the face, and you'll still never forgive me."

  "You've said I'm sorry so many times I don't think you know what it means." I opened my eyes and glowered at him.

  "You just need to know that I'm not going to say I'm sorry about telling Jasmine."

  My fists clenched so tightly my teeth ached. "She left me because you couldn't keep your big mouth shut."

  "She came back because she was worried about you. It was because of her that I even knew you had taken off. We tracked your cell—"

  My cell. Right before darkness had claimed me and I thought the Grim Reaper would be the next person I saw, I had wanted so badly to call her. I hadn't been able to, but it hadn't mattered. She had heard the cry of my heart anyhow.

  What the hell? Cry of my heart? The medicine they were pumping into me must be making me loopy or something.

  "—and we found you. Got you out of there a minute or so before the police arrived. The only reason why you're here and not in a morgue is because of Jasmine. Her concern saved your life. So no, I'm not going to apologize. If you want that woman to be in your life for the long haul, she has to be able to accept you, all of you, your past, your present, your future. All of it. And I think she might be able to do that."

  Damn him. That was why I had told Allie about my job in the first place. I had wanted her to understand me, to accept me, to be on my side. But she hadn’t been able to, so I hadn't planned on ever telling Jasmine for fear that she would have left me too.

  And she had left me.

  And then come back.

  Jasmine must still care for me, and I sure as hell cared for her. Hope filled me, and I couldn't talk, some of my anger melting away.

  A nurse, an older woman with a kind face, even though she had enough wrinkles to be an authentic witch for Halloween, came in then. After she had checked me over, I cleared my throat. "Is there a woman waiting to see me?" I asked, glancing between the nurse and my father.

  "I'll go see. Would you like to sit up?"

  I grimaced. "Can I?"

  "Let me know when I should stop." She pressed a button on the side of my bed, and it raised me up to a sitting position. Holy fuck did it hurt, but once I was somewhat upright, I felt a little more human.

  "Thanks," I muttered.

  She nodded and left.

  My father and I sat in silence. When Jasmine came in a good ten minutes later—during the wait I figured she wasn't going to bother to come, that she had changed her mind about me again, that she had left—I gasped. She looked beautiful, like always, but I could see she was trying to hide the fact she had been crying. Over me.

  Over me.

  My heart began to race. Even here, in a hospital bed, after surgery, I still wanted her. I would always want her. I had to have her in my life. Didn't she realize how much she meant to me? She was the only good thing in my life, the only light. Darkness was all I had without her.

  "Jasmine." I held out my right hand to her. My left arm was bandaged in such a way that I couldn't move it, not that I wanted to.

  Her face unreadable, she approached the bed but didn't touch me. "You're alive."

  "For now." I cracked a smile.

  Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say because she grimaced. "That's not funny."

  I opened my mouth but quickly closed it. I didn't want to fight with her. Not again. So I patted the bed, needing her to be close to me. "Please, sit."

  For a moment, I thought she would refuse, but then she gingerly sat down. The bed shifted, and I gasped in pain.

  She jumped back up, hands at her mouth. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." I grinned. "I'm just a little broken, that's all. I'll be as good as new soon, you'll see."

  "'A little broken,'" she repeated. She shook her head, lips pursed.

  "All right. A lot," I admitted. Hell, she wouldn't give me an inch. Maybe that was a good thing. I needed someone who would stand up to me. But I also needed someone who would stand up beside me too. I so badly wanted her to be the woman for me, but maybe I was expecting too much of her. Maybe I was supposed to be alone.

  "Pax…" She wrung her hands. "What happened?"

  "I—"

  "Your blood was all over the carpet." Jasmine bit her lower lip. I hated seeing her so worried, but it also gave me hope. If she was worried, she really did care for me, which meant I still had a chance.

  Right?

  "Do the police…" She took a deep breath. "Do they have your DNA on file? Will they know you were there, that you were shot? Will they track you down?"

  "They don't. I've never been on their radar. Too smart for that." I grinned and winked at her. "I make sure to pay my speeding tickets immediately. All they've ever gotten on me."

  "Not even when…" She swallowed hard. "No transactions?"

  Drug exchanges? I shook my head. "Too careful for that."

  Her eyes widened. "The mob protected you, didn't they?"

  She was too smart for her own damned good. "Yeah. Ok, so maybe there had been one thing, but they made it go away. Sure, the police will enter the blood into their system, but it won't have anything to match to."

  "For now." She crossed her arms. "One day, though, you'll slip up and then they'll be able to match you and what then? They'll have you for…" Her voice had been rising, echoing in the small hospital patient room, but now Jasmine glanced around and lowered her voice, leaning close to me. "Murder," she hissed in a low whisper.

  "Self-defense." Which was the truth. The guy had fired off a hell of a lot more shots than I had. He'd had two guns, for fuck's sake!

  "You went into that apartment armed with the intent to kill, to commit murder." Her glower would make anyone confess.

  Fuck, we were fighting again. Time to change the subject, and the words poured out, straight from my heart. "Jasmine, I can't thank you enough for coming back. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead. You saved my life."

  She straightened and backed away from me, holding up her hand to stop me. "You took off by yourself. How could you go out like that? On a suicide mission! Didn't you realize how that would affect me?"

  I gaped at her. She had been the one to leave me, but she was acting like it was the other way around. Ok, yeah, so I had been a little suicidal. That was as much on her as it was on me. "I wasn't aware you still cared for me," I said bitterly.

  Jasmine stared at me, eyes flashing. Then she whipped around and stormed out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jasmine

  Ever since the car accident, I hated hospitals, and having to wait in one for so long to find out if Pax would make it, if he would survive, had left me on edge. Seeing him in that bed… He had still looked strong somehow, despite being so pale. That he hardly moved his body at all worried me. Was he really going to recuperate?

  Of course, despite everything, I wanted him to recover. I wanted him to heal—both body and soul. Emotionally, he would never salvage anything worthwhile, not without help, and that help he clearly didn’t want.

  Suicide. I snorted as I rushed down the stairs. A woman slowly walking up them glanced at me strangely. I ignored her. Suicide was no joking matter. It irritated me, frustrated me, killed me that he would do something so reckless and stupid. It had been my fault in a way that he had gone off like that, on the mission by himself. My leaving him the first time had left him in such a really bad state that he had tried to push me away a second time by shooting a guy right in front of me.

  Because he had saved my life from those guys with the van, I had hung around, trying to save him, and now I had. We were even.

  But something had happened between the van and the apartment. We had both fallen back in love with each other. Yes, I loved him. A pa
rt of me would always love him.

  Love wasn’t enough though. I had only saved his body physically. Emotionally, he was still a broken mess of a man. Maybe I couldn’t save him. Maybe he was beyond saving.

  By now, I had reached the last step. I grabbed the railing like it was a life preserver and leaned my head against the cool wall. A few tears trickled down my face. Was walking away the answer? On the other hand, staying didn’t feel right either.

  The anger I had felt in the room had long since dissipated. I felt drained. I had slept on and off during the wait, and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

  Pax, what am I supposed to do? With you? With me? With us?

  I had no answers.

  I opened my eyes and left the hospital. In my pocket were the keys to Pax’s father’s car. I’d take it and go. He could call me when he was ready to leave, and I’d pick him up. Or I’d leave the keys with Sam the Slayer and call Marie. I needed someone to talk to about all of this. Even though I knew what she would say, I still needed to hear it. My memory was almost fully back now, and I realized I had only ever complained to Marie about Pax, only spoke ill of him. No wonder she thought I was so crazy for sticking around after I’d told her he was a bad man. She didn’t know about the good parts of him. Well, I had told her about how great he was in bed, which was why she referred to him as Wonder Cock, but nothing about the love we had shared.

  Despite his darkness, there was a little bit of light remaining in Pax. If he wasn’t careful, that light would be extinguished, and then there would be no way to ever bring him back.

  Twilight had fallen, casting strange Paxs on the ground as I sped my way through the parking lot to the car. I was just opening the door when a meaty hand came out of nowhere and slammed it shut.

  Whirling around, I spied a man I had never seen before. He was taller than me, but much shorter than Pax, not nearly as strong as Pax either, by the looks of him.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, edging away from him. If he wanted the car, I was inclined to give it to him. Life was too precious, I’d learned again and again since the car accident and the van incident, even from Pax and his missions. Which was why I felt so betrayed that he would turn one into a suicide mission.

  He didn’t say a word. His arm cocked back.

  I ducked.

  His fist slammed into the car.

  What the hell?

  I scrambled away and held up the keys. “Here. You can take it.”

  But he was following me, stalking me as I darted around the other cars in the packed lot. He had a slight limp, I noticed, but he was still gaining on me.

  Backing up, I slammed into a car’s side mirror. “Ow!”

  I opened my mouth to scream again. Even though we were toward the back of the parking lot and despite the huge number of cars, no one else was around to hear me. He raised his hand again and backhanded me. On his wrist was a distinctive dragon tattoo, black but intricate and detailed.

  Blood filled my mouth from the blow, and I spat it out, right in his face. He lunged for me, his thick-fingered hands reaching for my neck. I ducked and dodged him, running to the right, but he grabbed my long hair and dragged me back to him. His hands found my neck after all, and he squeezed.

  Oh my God. This was going to be the end. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was turning dark. I was clawing at his hands, at his face, kicking at him as hard as I could, but he only squeezed all the harder…

  Sudden light shone our way. A car was approaching, looking for an empty spot. The guy dropped me and backed away.

  Gasping for air, I dashed to the hospital, my hands at my throat. A nurse did a double take when I entered. I had to be a sight to see. Wild eyes, probably wild hair, blood stains from Pax on my shirt, my fat lip, any marks around my neck…

  Too frightened to slow down, I stumbled up the stairs. Sure, I could’ve taken an elevator, but right now, I was feeling trapped enough as it was. I didn’t need to be enclosed into a small space potentially crammed with a lot of people.

  Trapped in my body when I first woke up from my coma.

  Trapped in the hospital for my entire recovery and inpatient therapy.

  Nearly trapped and kidnapped by guys with their van.

  And trapped and attacked by some random guy.

  What could be next? I didn’t want to know.

  As frightened as I felt, I was too numb to cry. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, and I marched myself back to Pax’s room. His father wasn’t sitting by the window anymore. Maybe he had gone to get food or was in the bathroom.

  Pax didn’t look over as I approached the bed. Although sitting on it earlier had caused him pain, I risked trying to sit next to him again.

  Now he glanced over. His eyes widened and softened, but then they hardened again. His right hand came up and touched my cheek. Then he brushed my hair back. His thumb rubbed against my lips, and I winced.

  “What happened?” he growled.

  Maybe I shouldn’t tell him. He’d just add another mission onto his never-ending list. Another guy to kill.

  But the tenderness in his eyes, the worry, the concern… This was the Pax I loved. He had saved me once, and there wasn’t anywhere I felt safer than in his strong arms.

  I took a deep breath. “I…” The words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t talk. My throat hurt too much. My neck… Swallowing wasn’t fun either.

  Pax handed me a paper cup. I drank the water greedily. It helped to numb some of the pain away.

  I tried again. “I was leaving.” My voice still sounded raspy, but I could talk at least. “I was going to take your father’s car. I was trying to decide where to go when a guy came out of nowhere and attacked me. I have never seen him before! I have no idea who he is, and he just… He chased me around the lot, and then he caught me and… and…”

  “Breathe, Jasmine, just breathe,” he murmured, caressing my cheek. “You’re all right now. You’re safe now. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I wanted to believe him. I wanted that so badly. My life had been so shitty for so long now. I needed something good in my life.

  No more words came. I just stared at him, taking in his pale face. He was so handsome. Hot, sexy. My badass biker dude.

  That is, if I still wanted him to be mine.

  Which I did and I didn’t. It was a constant tug-of-war with my heart wanting to be with him but also wanting better for him too, which was further complicated by my not knowing if I could stand by and watch him destroy his life if he never did change.

  He would’ve hauled that guy off of me in a heartbeat and beaten him to a bloody pulp, maybe even enough to kill him with his fists. Pax would always keep me safe, even if the world he lived in were a dangerous one that threatened his own life.

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  His voice had taken on an edge. A slight one, but I heard it. He was pissed, beyond pissed, but he was holding it in. Attempting to control his emotions possibly. That was progress, right?

  “He…” I closed my eyes and tried to picture the guy’s face. “He was about this tall…” I held up my hand. “And he honestly didn’t have that memorable of a face. Carried a little extra weight. The only thing that stood out was…” I rubbed my lips. The one corner was split, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Then I dropped my hand to my neck. I could still feel pressure there as if his hands were still trying to crush my windpipe.

  “What stood out, Jasmine?” Pax asked quietly.

  “He had a tattoo on his wrist. A dragon.”

  His eyes grew so wide I thought they would pop out of his head. “Do I have my phone anywhere?”

  After a little bit of searching, I found it on the nightstand. He fiddled with it and then handed it to me. “Is that him?”

  The guy staring up at me with a blank look on his face was the same guy who’d tried to strangle me.

  Before I responded to Pax’s question, I scrolled down to read the article. The guy was Frank Greene
. The daycare pedophile. The one who was the reason why Pax was lying here in the hospital with gunshot wounds.

  “It is him, isn’t it?” Pax pressed.

  I nodded, trying to piece everything together. “What happened when you got to the apartment?”

  “It belonged to a friend of his.” Pax’s voice was low, quieter than a whisper, and I had to lean closer to him to hear. “He was the one I shot and who shot me. While we were trading gunshots, the pedo jumped off of the balcony.”

  “I thought so.” I felt almost proud to have figured that out already. “Maybe he didn’t leave right away. He must’ve seen your father and I drive up. Maybe he followed us here and…” My eyes widened. “You have to get out of here!”