Read Online Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2) by Amo Jones - Free Book Online

keys to the new manager I hired, though. Maybe we could go do that when you’re ready?”
    “Sure. I just need food.”
    “Worked up a bit of an appetite early this morning, did you?” Hella smirks, winking at Meadow. I look between Hella and Meadow. Meadow’s eyes narrow on Hella before I look to Beast, who’s shaking his head.
    “Oh my God! You slept with him!” I yell, my hand flying up to my mouth.
    “I slept with you last night,” she answers, her eyes growing wide.
    “I can work with that too, baby,” Hella retorts with a grin. I roll my eyes, shoving my plate into Hella, who takes it from me while keeping his eyes locked on the TV, popping a piece of my bacon into his mouth.
    “Me. You. Kitchen. Now.”

Melissa
    After Meadow fills me in on all the finer details of her and Beast’s sexcapades last night, I sit on the sofa as she walks in with her plate of food filled to the brim. Taking a seat, she bites down on her sausage and looks at Beast. “Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Beast looks toward Hella, who shuffles to the side, watching me carefully. I pick up the remote and switch to a music channel.
    Beast clears his throat. “We need to head back to Vegas today. We have other serious shit that we need to handle. It turns out, that explosion was retaliation for some biker’s feathers Blake ruffled up a few years ago for Phoebe.” My ears zone out as I watch Miley Cyrus dance around in a basketball dress. Meadow waves her hands around and mumbles out in agreement before Beast corrects her. “Yeah, no, that’s not what I mean. We’re going to need you both to come with us.”
    That grabs my attention. I look at Beast to see if he was joking, only to find him dead serious and watching me closely. I begin shaking my head. “Wait. Both? What? No, I can’t!” I yell, bouncing up from the sofa in mortification. “Not only because I have a life, and a business to run, but I fucking hate you!” I point at Hella.
    His shoulders square before a cocky smirk comes on his face. “Yeah?” he quips, standing from his spot and pressing his chest up against mine, causing me to inch backward. His jaw flexes in frustration. “Well, guess what, Princess ?” His head bends to my ear. “I hate you, too,” he growls, his warm breath falling over me.
    Anger erupts deep inside me and my hands fly up, pushing his body, only for it to not move. I turn in my step, run towards the kitchen, and snatch my handbag before making a dash for the door. Fuck that, and fuck him. 
    Bolting down the stairs toward the lobby, I realize people are looking at me and remember I have the damn towel-turban still on my head. I roll my eyes and rip it off, dumping the towel in a passing trashcan. I walk all the way back to my apartment, which is only a few blocks away. Entering, I throw my handbag onto the kitchen table and walk to my bedroom. My hand is on the doorknob when my phone begins blaring from the kitchen. I ignore it, pushing through into my bedroom and opening my curtains to let the afternoon sun through. Nate Dogg’s “Your wife” begins playing from my phone again—yes that’s my ringtone, Nate Dogg was one of the greats—and I roll my eyes, storming back out of my room and towards the kitchen.
    “Yes?” I answer, clutching my phone in my hand.
    “Melissa, don’t be mad.”
    “I’m not mad, Meads. I just don’t want to be around him anymore.” I sigh in defeat, walking towards the refrigerator and taking out the orange juice.
    “Why?” she asks softly, and my guard drops. This is Meadow. I don’t want to do anything to piss her off; she doesn’t deserve it.
    “Why? Do I have to tell you?”
    She snorts. “No, I guess you don’t, but this is deeper than you and him. We need to do this, Melissa. You could be in danger too, until we know what set this off. Hell, you could be more in danger because of your relationship with Phoebe. And if Lisha could see what Hella has going on for you, someone