Love That Defies Us (The Devil's Dust #2.2)

Love That Defies Us (The Devil's Dust #2.2)

M.N. Forgy


The bottom of my boot lodges between Mr. Bowen’s chin and collarbone perfectly. I slightly apply pressure against his throat, making him squirm in fear. His head is buzzed, holding just enough hair to give that scruffy look, his scalp creasing with wrinkles as he struggles beneath me. His brown eyes which are way too big for his long face squint with worry, and his hairy hands grab at my boot, which is currently choking him.

“You got our money, Mr. Bowen?” Bobby sneers, squatting next to the guy’s head.

“I-” he begins, but can’t get the words out from my boot pressed so tightly against his throat. I lightly ease up on his throat. Not that I want to; I feed off other people’s fear. That feeling of having the control to end someone’s life as you see fit is an addictive high only the worst people in this world can relate to. I thirst for another’s blood; it helps me feel like I’m in control of my own life. Well, it used to help me feel in control, anyway. Before I went and fell in love with a woman named Dani. She threw my craving for blood out the window. As long as I have her, I feel like I can breathe, that I can make it to tomorrow. This right here, the guy squirming beneath my boot, is nothing but a typical house call for the MC. Fucker owes us money, and he needs to pay.

“I have some of it,” he responds, his voice high-pitched and strained.

I sigh and loll my head back against my shoulders. I would much rather be at home with Dani, who is pregnant and ready to deliver my daughter soon. Things between Dani and I have gotten a little rocky lately; I don’t feel as connected to her as I used to be. Between our son Zane and the pregnancy, my responsibility as the vice president at the MC has kept me away. Like tonight.

“Some? What the f*ck are we supposed to do with some?” Bobby questions, standing up.

“I’m trying, but you didn’t give me enough time,” Mr. Bowen complains, his eyes flicking between Bobby and me.

“We gave you two weeks,” I argue, running my hand along my neck in irritation. Mr. Bowen bought guns from us; he was supposed to give us cash after he received the shipment but ran instead.

“You know what I do with scum who take our merchandise and don’t pay?” I ask, my tone intimidating. “The fact that you thought you could turn one over on The Devil’s Dust is insulting,” I continue, shaking my head.

“Please, just give me some more time!”

I hear a barking sound from behind me, taking my attention off Mr. Bowen. In his red truck is a puppy licking the window vigorously, panting against the glass, and fogging the window. Zane would love that dog; he is obsessed with animals lately. Zane is mine and Dani’s first child and is two years old. He’s a handful but has taught me more in the last two years than I could have ever imagined.

“That your dog?” I point to the truck window.

“Mr. Bones?” Mr. Bowen shrieks, his tone giving a sense of concern which answers my question.

“What kind of name is that for a dog?” Bobby insults with a snort.

“He’s mine now,” I inform, narrowing my eyebrows.

“What? No!” Mr. Bowen yells, trying to get out from under my boot. I apply pressure, making him choke as he swallows.

“You have me out here dealing with your ass when I should be at home with my family. You want more time for something you should have paid in full two weeks ago? Me taking your dog, not shooting you in the head, and giving you more time is more than generous,” I explain, gritting my teeth as I press my heel into his neck.

“Too generous,” Bobby adds, crossing his arms across his chest.

Mr. Bowen shakes his head, refusing my offer.

“Ok, fine. I’ll just shoot you in the head and not take the dog,” I bargain, reaching in my holster for my gun. The guy shrieks, his hands releasing my boot and putting them up in surrender. I tilt my head to the side, as if I hadn’t heard him.

“What was that?” I taunt, letting my boot up just barely.

“Ok,” he gargles.

I take my foot off his neck and cross my arms.

“You get us our money. You have one week. Next time I won’t be generous, Mr. Bowen,” I warn, my tone surly.

He stands up, brushing off his cheap suit and rubbing his neck where my dirty boot-print stains his skin.

“Fine, just go,” he croaks. I smirk, walk over to the truck, and open the cab door. Getting a better look at the puppy, he looks to be a Rottweiler. I turn and look at the guy dumbfounded.

“You named a Rottweiler Mr. Bones?” I ask, trying not to laugh. The guy rolls his eyes and turns his head.

“How you going to get him home?” Bobby questions, rubbing the dog’s ears.

“He can ride on my bike with me. He’ll be fine,” I reply, lifting the dog from the seat.

***

Dani

I sit down on the leather couch, prop my feet up on the coffee table, and grab the remote. Zane just fell asleep and I’m exhausted and missing Shadow. When they call it the terrible twos, they are not lying. Zane is into everything and is running nonstop. I haven’t seen Shadow since yesterday; ever since my father made him the vice president of his club, Shadow’s responsibilities have doubled. I understand, though. The Devil’s Dust is just as much a piece of me; it’s my family. I love the MC. I feel a kick in my belly, grabbing my attention. Delilah cannot come fast enough. I’m thirty-seven weeks pregnant with mine and Shadow’s little girl. My feet hurt and are swollen like water balloons, and they feel like they are ready to explode at any moment. I have to pee every five minutes, and I feel like a beached whale. Any day now is what I keep telling myself. I know it will all be worth it in the end. We are naming her Delilah after a member of the club who was dear to Shadow and me. Her club name was Babs, but her real name was Delilah. She passed away a couple years back.