The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)(2)

I grab Babs by the chin and pull it upward so she has to look at me.

“This is all your fault,” she whispers, pinning me with angry eyes. “I understand you got your guy code, bros before hos and can't be a cockblocker bullshit, but you’re still just as much an * as he is.”

I nod. She would think that, and she's right. I knew it was going on and I felt like shit watching it. I know she deserves better, but damn, it's not like I could do anything about it. Fucking Locks. I look back down at Babs and I groan deeply. She is so beautiful. I have always had an eye for her. That fiery red hair and sassy mouth of hers is captivating. To see her so broken, it’s unnatural and unfair to her.

“Let me make it right,” I offer.

She pulls from my grip and stares at me. Why the f*ck I feel so guilty is the question of all this. I wasn’t the one who f*cking cheated and I didn’t cause this, regardless of what Locks told Babs.

I look back at the club and push my hands in my pockets. The rage from Locks disrespecting me in front of the girls surfaces as I stare at it. I look back at Babs and grin.

“Work for me,” I suggest. She winces, closes her eyes, and looks back at me.

“What?” she asks, her face scrunched in confusion.

“My club could use a woman’s touch, someone to cook a few times, clean some sheets—”

“Do I look like a f*cking maid? How is that supposed to make it right?” she interrupts, her hand held up to stop me from talking.

“I’ll pay you,” I say, sliding my hands through my hair, her tone starting to anger me.

“I have a job, thank you very much,” she spits, placing her hand on her hip.

“Where do you work, doll?” I ask, crossing my arms, curious who could handle her attitude and big mouth and not fire her in one day’s work.

“Dirty Barrels,” she replies. That dirty little bar across the freeway? I try not to laugh. Of course she would be a bartender. I’ve been to Dirty Barrels though. It’s a shit place, and I bet the tips aren’t any better.

“I’ll pay double, and working here you can keep an eye on Locks.” She snorts, as if I’m ridiculous. “If you want to look after him that is,” I continue. She looks off into the distance, as if she is thinking about it. I don’t have time for this. “Take it or leave it,” I say, walking back toward the clubhouse.

“Fine, I’ll take it,” Babs says, giving in.

I keep walking toward the club, turning my head just barely to get a glimpse of her. “Good choice, I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

I walk into the club and find Locks in the kitchen and Candy on a barstool examining her nails as if nothing just happened. The calm state she’s in angers me. I grab her by her trashy blonde hair and pull her off the stool.

“Time for you to leave!” I growl.

“Let go of my hair, you *,” she screams, grabbing at my fist in her hair. I push her out of the club doors and stare down at her. I can tell this bitch is going to be a problem.

“You are going to f*cking pay for my hair; I just had those extensions put in!” she shrieks, looking at the strands of hair falling from her head.

“Yeah, don’t hold your breath, doll,” I spit angrily.

“Wait until my mother hears of this,” she threatens. I curl my lip, looking at her in confusion. Why the f*ck would I care what her mother thinks?

I shut and lock the doors, scowling at the slut littering my courtyard.



I jump in my truck and fly out of the courtyard of the club, my eyes leaking uncontrollable tears as my mouth makes this horrible sobbing sound.

“Fucking *!” I scream as my foot pushes down on the gas pedal.

“I knew he was cheating, I knew it, and he didn’t have one ounce of guilt!” I yell, my voice echoing through the truck. It started several months ago; he started staying at the club overnight. As the weeks carried on, he began to stay at the club for days on end. He tried to blame Bull, but I knew better, especially when I came across a pink lacey thong, which wouldn’t even fit my left tit, in Locks’ jean pocket. When he didn’t come home last night, equaling a week total he hasn’t been home, I came to the club pissed, and find out exactly what I had expected the whole time. He’s been sleeping around on me.

Another sob escapes my mouth. He hit me. He actually f*cking hit me, and I did nothing in return. Why? How could I not stand up for myself?

Locks and I met several years ago at the Dirty Barrels. My dad split when I was twelve, and when my mother died of cancer a few years ago, I came to California to be with my sister. I’m starting to think it was a big mistake. I should have stayed in Texas.

“You are way too gorgeous to be working at a place like this.” I looked over from making a rum and coke and saw a guy my mother would have killed if I had brought him home. He had his long blond hair pulled back, tattoos up and down his arms, a leather vest that had patches on it, and the most ruthless grin I’d ever seen.

“Flattery don’t pay my bills, babe,” I sassed, making him laugh.

He stayed until closing time. Every time I glanced up, he was staring at me with smiling eyes. I literally felt my skin burning from his intrusive stare.

“Last call,” I warned him, wiping up the bar where he sat alone.