Page 10 of Burn Me Down

Cherry Popper: Do you have something better to do?

I looked at the door and sighed.

Dragon: Fine, I’ll be there in thirty.

Cherry Popper: Excellent. I’ll have some hors d’oeuvres ready for you.

I glared at the last message. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Giving the door one last longing look, I marched away.

Don’t be so glum. It’s not like you were going to get some anyway.

“I’m ignoring you.”

You’re off to a roaring start, and no, you can’t cut me out. If you do that, you die, and if you’re dead, then she’s dead because that food will run out at some point.

“I really fucking hate you,” I said, throwing open the back door to grab my keys.

You only hate me because I speak the truth. I’m the one keeping you from putting your foot in it again. You know like how you did with Adalyn. She was a looker and a conniving slut, but still—you actually thought you had a future with her. That’s just sad.

I clenched the keys so tight that the metal cut into my finger. I hadn’t thought of her and what she’d done to me since….

I have the answer. Wanna take a guess?

“I really would like for you to fuck off.”

I told you, no can do, not until you get over all the shit rolling around inside your twisted mind.

I stomped out to the car and started it like the rev of the little motor would somehow help. Sadly, it only made me feel worse. The old truck was too noticeable, and the police were looking for it. Getting a new car was a top priority.

Fine, I’ll tell you if you’re not going to guess. You stopped thinking about Adalyn the moment you laid eyes on the pretty brunette you kidnapped. It's a cute nickname, by the way. I wonder if she’ll like being called a food item.

“Shut the fuck up!” I slammed my fists off the dashboard and steering wheel so hard I felt bruises forming, and still, I didn’t stop. “Ah!” I screamed, my hands wrapping around the wheel like I was choking the life out of Kent all over again.

Breathless, I leaned over, waiting for the voice to call me another name and tear me down, but it remained quiet. Was it possible to know you had a split personality or that one was trying to form? A whole new level of fear filled me. What I’d experienced in my life was bad enough. I couldn’t lose the last bit of sanity I clung to like a raft. I just couldn’t.

Pulling out of the driveway, I took all backroads until I pulled onto the shitty old lane that led to the Lost Souls clubhouse. I’d cased the place a few times. You could never be too careful with those who you called friends. I had learned that the hard way, but so far, Chase had proven to be a man of honor, at least when it came to his word. I also didn’t mind spending time with him, but that was something I would never admit.

Pulling up to the closed gate, the guard wandered over and clung to the chain link.

“What do you want?”

“Chase is expecting me.”

“Oh ya? He’s also expecting Santa Claus. Do you have a sack of toys with you, too?”

I smirked, my lip pulling up. “Oh, I have toys, but none that you want to know about,” I said, memorizing his face, just in case. He apparently didn’t find my joke amusing as he narrowed his eyes and pulled the gun from the back of his jeans. He didn’t point it at me, which was the only thing that saved his life.

“What’s your name,” the guard snarled. My eyes followed the movement of the toothpick in his mouth. It was the perfect ignition point to burn his face off.

“They call me the Dragon.”

His mouth fell open, and the toothpick tumbled to the ground. “Jesus, fuck. I’m so sorry,” he rambled as he stuffed the gun into his waistband and ran for the switch to open the gates. They rattled and squeaked as they opened, reminding me of prison. I cracked my neck and forced the old memories of being caged like an animal down before something bad happened.

I pulled the car through and parked off to the side near the line of motorcycles. “Hey man, I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again,” the guard called to me as I stepped out of my car.

“What’s your name?”

I could see him swallow hard, and I liked it. Good, stay scared, little rats. “They call me Kickstand, but you can call me whatever you want.”