Free Out of the Ashes by Anne Malcom Page A

had some serious fuckin’ issues. Issues that Bull thought stemmed from the mangled scars that hid underneath his tattooed arms.
    Cade and Brock were lounging on the sofa, uncharacteristically without their women. This was because they had church early this morning. Again, unusual. But shit was going down.
    “Jesus,” Brock muttered on a grin. “The last thing we need is that fucker adding another bitch to his collection. He’s juggling too many as it is. Reckon they’re gonna find out, then one bitch’ll go crazy and shoot the fucker if he’s not careful.”
    Gage kept watching the window. “Doesn’t look like she’s here for him. Got car trouble by the looks of it.” He shook his head. “Hot as fuck piece, drives a ridiculous girly car like a fuckin’ Beetle.” He said like this was a crime to humanity.
    Bull’s head snapped up at this. He knew of only one hot piece driving a Beetle. There was no fucking way he wanted Lucky flirting with her. In a flash, he had slammed his drink down on the bar and headed toward the forecourt. He hadn’t even realized Brock and Cade were in stride with him until he reached the car with Lucky inspecting under the hood. He gave them scowls but then was silent.
    When he saw her it happened again. His demons fucking silenced. He immediately hated her for it. For making him feel shit he didn’t fucking understand. For making him want to beat his brother with a socket wrench for smiling at her and calling her darlin.’ And for making him somehow agree to go to the movies with her and the fuckin’ kid just so Lucky didn’t get his ass within a foot of her.
     

     
    It was torture. Bull had done torture. Both physical and mental. Gotten the shit beaten out of him, made to bleed. He’d damned near laughed in the faces of the pussies that did it. Then there was the mental. The torture that he went through daily. That haunted him both awake and asleep. Took him years, years of constant suffering to be able to control it. She took away that control. Sitting next to Mia, smelling her hair, feeling her fucking squirm in her seat, almost broke through every ounce of control he had. He wanted to lunge on her, taste her mouth, her pussy. Every inch of her. Her daughter was sitting right next to her, for fuck’s sakes. That was the only thing that stopped him.
    The kid somehow was breaking through every wall he’d erected to keep him sane. Kept the outside world out. Kept the demons in. Her easy smile, her unguarded chatter. The way she looked at him like he was s omeone . He felt protective of her. Fuck, he fuckin’ liked the kid. So when he saw the pimply fuck ogling her he barely stopped himself from grabbing him by the collar and shoving him headfirst into the popcorn machine. He didn’t. He merely suggested the next time he served Lexie, he keep his eyes on his fuckin’ snacks and nothing else or he’d come to his house and chop his dick off. Too far? Maybe. But like he said…no fucking control.
    So that’s why he had to steer clear. Way fucking clear. Out of the goddamned state clear. He needed to make sure he didn’t encounter either of those bitches again. Which was hard when he lived across the fucking street. But he’d do it. For his sanity. For their safety. There wasn’t any way he’d get close to anyone again. He didn’t need more innocent blood on his hands.
     

     
    When he dropped them off at the club after two hours of torture, he decided it was the last time he would ever see them
    “See you later, Zane,” Lexie chirped with a bright grin. “You totally liked it, I can tell. So you’ll come next time as well?”
    For some reason he didn’t want to disappoint the kid. “Maybe, Lex,” he lied.
    She beamed even brighter if that was possible. “Saaweet, catch you later,” she called, jumping out of the truck.
    “Bye, kid,” he muttered.
    He struggled to turn his gaze to Mia, who was dangling half out of the truck, an uncertain look on her beautiful