Authors: Cynthia Rayne
Hot as Hades (33 page)
Duke watched as the metal door leading inside swung open and Chesty came trotting out, evidently impatient to be fucked. She lit a smoke, staring at him from across the lot. She knew better than to approach without permission though.
Good girl.
“I’ll get the ID to you tomorrow,” he said to Rose. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Drink somethin’ with a bit more kick than beer. Like Jack or Jim. Self-medicating only works if you put your back into it.”
She cocked her head. “You mean you aren’t going to tell my sister?”
“Why would I? Ain’t her business.”
She nodded, standing once more and he jumped to his feet. Before she could walk away, he clutched her sleeve, yanking it up her arm before she could stop him. He needed to check something.
“Hey!” she cried, swatting at his arm with her other hand.
Ignoring her, he examined her skin. As he’d suspected, she had a series of red lines crisscrossing her pale forearm. She’d been cutting herself.
Most people assumed cutting was a suicidal gesture, but Duke knew better. Cutting had more to do with coping than anything else. Sometimes, focusing on the insignificant physical pain instead of the unbearable emotional kind could be a relief – essentially the world’s worst way to cope with excruciating shit. He noted she’d avoided the veins in her arms and the cuts were shallow, so she hadn’t done any serious harm.
“Let me go!” she howled.
He ignored her and instead carefully traced one of the lines. The skin had turned an angry-looking red, and felt hot to the touch. “These are getting infected. If you’re going to keep cutting, you need to take better care of yourself.”
“I—”
“No,” he muttered, “You don’t need to tell me a comforting lie. I don’t expect you to be okay, or normal, or whatever the fuck they want you to be. I know you’re a mess and you
should
be a mess after what you’ve been through.”
“How
did you know?” she whispered, glancing at her arm.
Across the lot, the hellion cleared her throat, and it echoed off the wall, loudly.
Fuck.
He hated needy bitches. He didn’t bother making eye contact.
“I saw you tugging at your sleeves earlier and made an educated guess,” Duke said sadly. He wished he’d been wrong. Duke read the question in her eyes. “No, I’m not going to tell your sister, but you have to keep the wounds clean, so you don’t lose your fucking arm. What are you using to slice yourself?”
Rose bit her lower lip. “A paring knife I snagged from the kitchens.”
He reluctantly released her arm. “That’s no good. You need a very sharp blade, one you sanitize between cuts. He withdrew his pocket knife and tossed it to her. “Be careful with the fucking thing, it’s sharp as shit. Don’t accidently cut your arm off.”
“Why are you helping me?” she asked with wide, wary eyes as she tucked the knife into the pocket of her jeans.
Fuck if I know.
“Because I can.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Duke sighed. “Don’t thank me. I’m only minimizing the damage, not really helping you. I want you to think about something.”
“What?”
“You’re free. You got away him, physically at least. But not mentally. Not yet, anyway.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“Don’t let him keep you in that cage too much longer or you’ll lose yourself, Rose. Oblivion is a comfort, but it’s only an illusion, it ain’t the way out.”
With that, he went to Chesty, who beamed at him, eager for his attention. Duke put his arm around her and led her to a hotel room he planned on commandeering for the night. He’d just given Rose some damn good advice.
Too bad he’d never taken it himself.
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Copyright
© Cynthia Rayne 2014
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review or book discussion, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
Cover Art
© Sarah Laney 2014
Sweet Southern Creations
Find out more about the talented cover artist’s work at
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s wicked imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
About the Author
Cynthia Rayne is the Amazon best-selling author of the Four Horsemen MC series. Her first erotic book was written when she was thirteen. Of course, the most risqué thing was a kiss, but it was the talk of her middle school! She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in education and writes whenever she can. In her spare time, she enjoys dating, shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee. Find out more about Cynthia and the Four Horsemen at
www.cynthiarayne.com
.
Club Commandments
Failure to follow any of these commandments can (and probably will) result in an ass whuppin’ and/or being kicked out of the club. Learn it. Love it. Live it.
Prospects
Must own and be able to ride a motorcycle.
Must be voted in unanimously.
Must do anything a member tells them to do.
Must do anything an old lady tells them to do after verification by said old ladies' old man. OR anything Eddie tells them to do. Because Shepherd said so!
Must abide by all club rules that members must abide by.
May not sell drugs (marijuana) or engage in any illegal activity while wearing their colors. Because prospects are stupid and prone to getting caught. By the way, don’t get caught.
No talking to cops. For any reason. Except Frost.
Responsible for watching all bikes when members are at club functions, in bars or other shady places.
Only the VP can take your colors.
Must listen to the PIC – Prospect in Charge. The PIC will announce to other prospects when VP is in the vicinity. The PIC will make sure all prospects show up on time to meetings and club rides, get other prospects in formation, keep all prospects informed of VP's orders, will relay other club member's orders to prospects as required.
Brothers
Respect is to be shown to all brothers and brothers' old ladies.
Don't wash your colors; but colors should be kept in good repair and respectful state.
You are responsible for your old ladies. If an old lady outlives her old man, she is responsible to the president.
Don’t fuck around with other dudes' old ladies. Not all old ladies have a tat, a ring, a necklace, or a patch, so ask before touching!
Only other members or an old lady can babysit your colors.
No wearing your colors in a car. Except for weddings or funerals. Or loading and unloading a bike from a truck. You must wear your colors when riding a bike.
Colors on back; patches on front. NO hippy shit.
Colors must be worn to meetings.
No member will disgrace the club.
No fighting each other with weapons. There will be no fighting at meetings. The only punches that get thrown will be by the Sgt. At Arms, for fucking up the order of business.
No throwing non-approved combustibles in the Hellfire Pit. We all remember the 4th of July incident. And we made each other a promise. Keep it.
There will be a Demon Sweep before the Prez or VP enter a new bar or establishment.
If it's not yours, don't mess with it. If you make a mess, clean it up. (Or get a prospect to do it.)
Brothers: Never call a member of another club 'brother'. He's not.
The club will always stay together on rides, runs, parties, etc. And will not associate with rival clubs. The only way a brother will be permitted to leave the main group will be to notify the president or whoever's in charge. When the time comes that the majority feels it is time to leave, we will all leave together. Anyway, staying behind at his own risk can expect no help.
Honor the brotherhood. Always be willing to help a brother out.
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