The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)(10)

After the Ferris wheel, Bull holds up to his promise and gets me a funnel cake. The sugary goodness is so good and gooey; we both devour it quickly, laughing at what we think some angry couple is saying to each other.

“Let’s get you back before someone starts wondering where you are, darlin’,” Bull states, throwing our empty plate in the trash. If Locks knew where we were and who I was with, he would have a heart attack. Is that such a bad thing?



I walk into the club after having a cigarette, giving Babs enough time to go ahead of me, not wanting anyone to come to any assumptions about Babs and me. I can’t believe I f*cking kissed her. I don’t know what was going through my damn head when I did that. But seeing her all scared and shit, it was cute as hell. I can’t help but want to touch her. I want her more than I have wanted anything in a long time. Babs is different when she is not under Locks’ eye. I don’t get why he won’t cut her loose. She told me what he said, told me he won’t let her go. Sadly, club law is, she is his till he says so. I’ve never followed those rules myself. If a woman doesn’t want to be around my ass, I don’t want to be around her, surely.

My phone buzzes from my pocket.

“What?” I answer.

“Need a favor.”

“And this is?” I ask, I hate how they all assume I know who the hell is calling.

“Trigger,” he announces. The Ghost motorcycle club. Their club and ours have an ‘I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine’ clause. Seems we are always bargaining with each other.

“I need a favor,” he pauses.

“Okay,” I answer, waiting for him to continue.

“Seems I’ve been bent. Someone came into one of my locations, clipped my candy man, and took my candy,” Trigger continues, speaking in code. If I’m understanding him right, someone stole from him, killed one of his men, and took his shit. I hate trying to interpret code, but you never know who is listening.

“I see. Give me the location and I’ll check out the sweets,” I answer.

After he gives me the address, I go and bang on all the doors down the hall, waking everyone up. I walk back up to the front where Babs is wiping down the counter, back to working as Shadow and Bobby sit on a couple stools, trying to wake up.

“Take the day off, Babs,” I demand. Her body stiffens from my tone, my friendliness gone now that I’m in president mode. I furrow my brows I hate talking to her like that, but I would talk like that to any other female in the wind of club business. Besides, she needs to take some time off, relax.

She nods and heads to the kitchen.

“What’s up?” Shadow asks, shrugging on his cut.

“Trigger needs us to deal with someone who stole his shit. We need to go to this place and see if it’s being held there,” I answer, handing him the slip of paper that I wrote the address on. Bobby peeks over Shadow’s shoulder and eyes the paper.

“I know where that is,” Bobby adds, snatching the paper from Shadow.

“Good, let’s go,” I say.

I let Bobby lead the way, Shadow behind me, Locks and Old Guy beside me. Old Guy is a patched in brother, has been for a while now. He’s a brute, and can be too much for the ladies to handle at times, but he’s loyal. Bobby leads us to some abandoned docks and stops just short of them when we see a few bikes parked outside of what looks like a large shed.

“This is it,” Bobby informs, looking at the shitty place.

“And you know this place how?” I ask, turning my bike off, so I don’t have to yell over it.

“My dad used to take me fishing here all the time,” Bobby mentions, looking at me with a sudden sadness. It’s a shame about his parents, killed by a drunk driver.

I nod and pull my gun out, sliding the safety off.

“Looks like we ain’t alone,” Locks says, pointing at the parked bikes.

“Let’s take care of business,” Bobby says, gun in hand.

We slide up behind the side of the building where some broken windows a few feet above us line the shed. Shadow kneels down and cups his hands, letting Bobby place his foot in them. Shadow lifts Bobby to look through the windows. Bobby sways his head back and forth looking around and holds his hand up displaying five fingers. Five men.

Shadow lowers Bobby down, and Bobby strides over to me.

“There is a large garage door in the front and a smaller door on each side of the place,” Bobby whispers.

“Shadow, Bobby, Locks, you get the front. Old Guy, you get that side,” I instruct, pointing to the side of the building. “I’ll get this side,” I continue.

Locks growls in frustration and follows Bobby and Shadow. I walk around the corner and find the white door Bobby said was on this side. Just as I hear shouting, I kick the door open, noticing Locks kick in his door across the way seconds later.

A young man, wearing a black vest with Blazing Dice MC colors, turns to face me. He’s too close to shoot, so I grab him by the neck and place him in a headlock. He rears up and hits me in the face with the butt of his gun, making me stumble back. Pain from my split lip races across my face. Before he has time to think, I slam my fist into his face. My fist is bigger than his entire face, its impact causes blood to spit from the guy’s face from all directions and all over my hand and arm. He falls on his ass, laughing, his teeth red with blood. I raise an eyebrow, a little disturbed at why he’s laughing. He jumps to his feet suddenly, surprising me by his flexibility, and spits blood in my face, pissing me off. I pull my gun up, ready to end this f*cking shit, when he pulls a knife from behind him and slashes at me, hitting my arm holding my gun. My hand instinctively lets go of the gun, letting it fall to the floor. He swipes at me again, but I jump back, making him miss. I slam my foot into his knee cap, causing him fall to the ground screaming in pain. I grab his wrist while he is distracted by the pain of his knee, and twist it, breaking it. The cracking vibrates beneath my grip as he drops the knife. I grab it, and just as I am about to teach this punk a lesson, Locks walks up behind the wailing young man and fires his weapon. The bullet flies into the back of the guy’s head, spitting blood and tissue all over my face.