Page 21 of Devil's Plaything

I use a toothpick to scrape the dried blood from underneath my fingernails. My bacon cheeseburger remains untouched. The waitress has come to check on me a few times and I keep telling her I’m good. I’m starting to really wonder if there’s any truth to that.

Shawn is still hanging from those chains. I’ve sawed off a few of his toes and flayed most of his skin. Laughed at his screams. Ignored his pleas. He’ll die the slow and painful death he deserves.

But I have a regret. Just one. I wish Cleo would’ve been by my side. Only my brothers in the MC have witnessed my depravity. Some have even been shocked by it. Would she be shocked or would she accept it? Better yet, would she understand it?

As if my thoughts were projected out loud, Cleo walks into the Broken Shaker. Her step waivers when she sees me but, with this determination only she seems to have, she walks confidently to my table and picks up my bacon cheeseburger, taking a huge bite before slamming it back down to the plate. I fight the urge to laugh because it’s so her to do some shit like that.

“Hungry?”

That one word further fuels her anger and she picks up the plate, hurling it across the room. The other patrons seem both startled and amused.

“Hey! You’re going to have to leave!” My helpful waitress tells Cleo, trying to intervene.

“I’d love to see you make me.”

Cleo advances as I stand up, getting between the two of them. I toss some money onto the table and thank the waitress before grabbing Cleo’s arm and shoving her toward the door.

“Don’t touch me!” she screams. “I hate you!”

“Doesn’t matter if you love me or hate me, sweetheart. You’re still obsessed.”

“I just want to know why.”

She doesn’t have to explain herself. Why did I leave her? Why did I make a promise I could never keep?

30

Cleo

“You act as though you were important to me or something. You were just a plaything. A way to pass the time when I was bored.”

His words are harsh but his eyes betray him, making me laugh. “You really are good at lying to yourself, aren’t you?”

“We had fun but that’s it. Move on, sweetheart.”

He tries to walk away, get to his bike and get the fuck out of there. The longer he stays, the more of a chance there is that he’ll say something he’ll regret.

“You think I’m damaged goods now. Is that it? You think what that piece of shit did to me ruined me? Fuck that! What happened to me didn’t change me!”

“It fucking changed me!” he yells, stunning me. “Now, we’re done! It’s fucking over! You disgust me!”

Unable to resist, I reach up, the tips of my fingers brushing his cheek before he jerks away as though my touch has burned him.

“How can someone so devastatingly beautiful be so terribly cruel?”

He glares down at me. “Are we finished here? I have better things to do.”

Nodding, I take a step back. “You run, Zeke. You run as far as you want to and as long as you want to.”

“I’m not fucking running.”

“I’ll be at the Fuzzy Peach Friday night. If you don’t show up, I’m done. You won’t hear from me or see me again. If that’s what you really want.”

As I walk off, he yells, “Don’t waste your fucking time!”

I flip him off, never looking back.

31

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