Shafted (Devil's Blaze MC Book 4)(10)

By: Jordan Marie


The waitress takes our drink order and hands us a menu. Bree’s quiet for a bit, at least until she gets her drink. That’s when I feel her eyes narrow on me.

“You confuse me, Jax.”

“I’m pretty much a what you see is what you get kinda man,” I tell her and it’s not a lie. I always have been, at least until she walked into my world and twisted me up in knots.

“If you say so. I’ll just take chicken strips,” she says. I order her chicken and me a burger. Then I sit back and wait. I throw my hand over the back of our booth and stare straight ahead, wondering what the fuck to do now. When I hear Bree sigh I look over at her.

“If you were just going to ignore me, you could’ve just driven me straight to Beth’s. I would’ve found food there.”

“I’m not ignoring you.” I don’t offer any further explanation. Glancing around the dining room, I look at the rustic décor. A picture of John Wayne hangs on the wall under a longhorn skull.

“It sure feels like it. If you don’t like me why are you picking me up? I’m sure one of the others would have.” She fidgets with the red and white checkered napkin, unfolding the silverware.

“I told you I’d pick you up and I did. I keep my word.” My word is the one thing I have.

“Well, you shouldn’t have bothered if it’s gonna be a struggle to talk to me.”

“I can talk,” I offer. “What do you want to talk about?” I angle my body towards her, and she turns into me. The sweet smell of her hair hits me. Sitting beside her was a bad choice, but what can I say, I’m a glutton for punishment.

“Okay then. How’d you get the name Shaft?”

I go tense. “About anything but that.”

“What? Why?” she scoffs.

“You’re too young,” I answer her honestly, knowing she’ll be insulted by my choice of words.

“You heard the part where I’m eighteen right? I’m pretty sure that’s adulthood in most countries.” She rolls her eyes, and I want to bend her over my knee right here and spank her ass.

I deadpan, “I think you’re confusing that with twenty-one.”

“The right to drink has nothing to do with being an adult. I’d say I’m more adult than any twenty-one-year-old I know,” she counters smirking those thick lips at me, lips I’d love to have wrapped around my cock. I’ve got to stop thinking about her like this. Nothing good can come from it.

“You do? Tell me sweets, how many twenty-one-year-olds do you hang around with?”

“I told you, I hate that name, Jax. If you insist on using it, then I will call you Shaft. Well, that or asshole. Right now, asshole seems a better fit.”

“Damn, you can be mouthy for a kid.” The girl has sass and it makes my dick practically weep with want.

“I’m ignoring you now.” Those tempting lips screw into a pout, serving as a reminder of how old she is.

“What? Did I hurt your feelings? Pouting is not what an adult would do.”

“You really are an ass. I happen to think that your experiences, and the things that life throws at you can age you as much, if not more than years, Shaft. I grew up with Viper as my father for most of my life. That’s it, unless you count a club whore, who took pity on me. I had no one other than them, until my grandfather rescued me. So, I figure in the grand scheme of things I’m more adult than most people I know. Especially asinine bikers who think they can talk down to people and get away with it.”

“Viper was a fucking prick, I give you that. But, at least you had him. You had someone to look out for you. You have no idea how cruel the real world is. Be thankful for the hand you got dealt,” I tell her. I admit I shouldn’t say that to her. It’s a dick move, but she touched a wound I haven’t revisited in way too many years to count.

I expected her to spring back at me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bree, she’s quick to come back at me. She doesn’t take crap, and I have to admit I like that about her. I like it more than I should. Fuck. I like every damn thing about this girl—except her age and her relatives. I could get lost in her, and I can’t. I’m too fucking old for her. She’s beauty. The real kind. The kind that goes to the very depth of the bone. The kind a man protects and feeds. The kind that makes a man sell out his own brothers to touch. Too fucking precious for a son of a bitch like me. She doesn’t come back at me though. She goes quiet, too quiet, and I’m too fucked up in the head to push it, so I let the words lie between us. I let the silence stand as a wall between us.

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