Page 36 of The Devil's Redemption

“Blade,” I begin. “I want you to know that Iwillbe going back to work when I’m able to.”

He looks over at me again, taking his eyes off of the road for longer than I am comfortable with. He doesn’t answer me before returning his gaze to the asphalt.

“I know you’re worried, and I understand why. But working is the only way I’ve ever been able to deal with the shitty things that happen in my life. When everything feels like it’s spinning out, I like that there is one thing that I can count on, that I can control. And that’s working.”

He doesn’t look at me again, but I know he’s irritated by the constant flexing of his jaw. Taking a deep breath, he finally speaks.

“Let’s table this conversation until you’re feeling a little better. I don’t want to argue about it until we have to.”

That’s fair enough for me, and I’m too tired to argue. It’s not a long walk from the infirmary to the lot around back of the clubhouse where Blade keeps his truck, but after not moving more than ten feet for the past week, getting dressed and making that trek took a lot out of me.

The moment Blade pulls his truck into the parking lot of my apartment, my hair stands on end, and I begin to feel nauseated again. I swallow, trying to stomp down my fear, but it doesn’t do any good. Blade turns the truck off but doesn’t get out.

“Are you okay?” he asks, turning to face me.

I nod my head slightly as I reach for the door handle.

“Uh-uh, you better wait for me, little girl.”

He drops down out of the driver’s seat and walks over to my door. Opening it, he carefully lifts me out of the truck. I wait for him to put me on my feet so I can walk to my door, but I don’t know why I thought it would be that simple. Of course, Blade has to make a show of carrying me to my door as though he’s my knight in shining armor.

I mean, he is. But he doesn’t need to be a show-off.

He puts the key into the lock and turns it. A curious look falls over his face before he opens the door.

“What’s the matter?” I inquire.

“Hmm,” he grunts. “I could have sworn I locked this door the last time I was here.”

What?

“Blade, stop messing around. You’re scaring me. And what do you mean the last time you were here?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I’m being serious. I came here to clean up while you were still unconscious. I know I locked it behind me, but it’s unlocked now.”

He places me down on the top step outside my door. Stepping in front of me, he holds one hand out, shielding me as he opens the door. I watch as it swings open, and I see the splintered wood on the ground of my living room. Exactly where it was the night I was taken. Blade may have cleaned up my house, but that image, and several others, will be ingrained in my mind for the rest of my life.

“Sasha, get back to my truck.Now.”

“What? Why?”

I look around Blade’s large body and just manage to make out the wordsI’m not done with you yet, princess, painted on my walls in what looks to be blood.

Oh, fuck.

I nearly trip over my feet, trying to make it back to Blade’s truck. I can barely see through the heavy flow of tears that have begun to pool in my eyes, again. Blade hoists me up into the passenger seat then quickly shuts the door behind me. I hear the automatic locks fall into place as I watch Blade walk back to my front door, gun drawn as he enters the apartment.

“What are you doing?” I scream in terror, as if he can actually hear me.

The minute it takes him to come back out feels like days. When he’s finally back in the truck, I start wailing punches on him.

“Why did you do that? You could have been killed!” I screech at him, my words barely audible through my tears and my rage.

“Stop it,” he yells, grabbing onto my wrists and holding my arms still.

“Ow!” I yelp at the pressure on my rope burn wounds.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Sasha,” he apologizes, letting go of my wrists immediately. “Are you okay?”

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