The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)(6)

He thrashes his hands forward and grabs ahold of my cheeks harshly.

“You are my ol’ lady till I say so,” Locks snarls. He’s hunched down and right in my line of sight. I try to pull from his grip, try to shove him away, but it’s no use. His grip just tightens painfully.

“You will be mine till the day you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He leans closer to my ear, his grip not letting up. “Try and run, and see what happens,” he whispers, his tone threatening.

I reach up and grab ahold of his hair, pulling on it so hard I hear the strands snap.

“Fucking bitch!” Locks shouts, letting go of my face, grabbing his head where I pulled his hair.

I look over Locks shoulder to see Candy chuckling, leaning against the wall.

“Fuck you and your stupid whore,” I insult. “You both better get used to seeing my face a lot around here, cause I ain’t going anywhere.” I grab my notepad off the bar and sling my purse over my shoulder as I head toward the exit. I put my hands on the door and push it to open, but stop. I look at Candy and glare. Her blonde hair is in a tight ponytail and she’s wearing a skimpy black dress. She raises an eyebrows at my sudden hesitation.

“If I catch you f*cking my ol’ man, I’ll cut you, bitch,” I threaten. Not that I give a shit anymore, it’s about respect more than anything.

“I will be seeing you at the house tonight, Delilah!” Locks shouts, his voice angry and threatening as I leave, flipping them both off in the process.

***

I’ve looked all over the house for a gun, but Locks must have removed all of them. Afraid I would shoot him when I found out he was cheating on me probably. I lean against the counter, tapping my nails against the top, trying to think. I am angry, very angry, but not hurt. What does that say about me and Locks? I’m more pissed off at the disrespect he has displayed by sleeping around on me and everyone knowing but me and the way he hit me like I was nothing more than trash. My nails dig into the counter when I think about his words.

“You will be mine till the day you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I want to run, to start over somewhere that doesn't involve Locks. But that would be like running from the heat while the flames of Hell engulfs you.

I knew what I was getting into when I accepted that f*cking property patch of Locks; he laid all the laws of the club out for me. But I thought I was so in love I didn’t care what he said. Now I’m stuck in a marriage I can’t escape, my life nothing but forgotten dreams and a future of solitude.

The house phone rings, making me jump.

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath and answer the phone.

“Aunt Delilah, this is Scarlett.”

“Hey, baby, when did you get out?” I ask, gripping the receiver tighter. To hear my flesh and blood makes me smile.

“A few days ago. My mom is gone. I went to the house and it’s empty,” she cries into the phone.

“What do you mean gone?” I question, curious where the hell my sister has gone.

“I mean she is gone. My things are just thrown out into the lawn and the house is empty. Do you know where she is?”

“I don’t. I’ll come get you. Stay there,” I reply, hanging up. Fucking Ruby, what the hell is she thinking and where the hell is she? I dial her number, my fingers punching the buttons with anger.

“I’m sorry, but this number is no longer in service,” sounds through the phone.

“What the hell?” I shout, slamming the phone down on the counter.

I grab my purse and keys and head for my truck when the front door is slammed open, ricocheting off the wall.

“Going somewhere?” Locks asks maliciously, his eyes squinted at the corners and his strides casual and collected as he moves forward. His tattoos shadow his arms as he walks through the dim lighting of the house, his leather cut topping off the level of danger pouring off him.

I point at him, backing up into the kitchen slowly.

“Don’t you f*cking come near me, you piece of shit!” I scream at him.

“Oh, come here. I’m sorry about earlier, babe,” he says, his voice deep and eerie. “Now, let’s just put that behind us and go make up. What’d ya say?” He leans his head to the side and smiles. This banter between us, where he is an ass and then comes back to me acting like prince charming, it’s just a game. A game I’m tired of losing.

“What’s wrong, your whore busy with someone else tonight?” I question, my voice hateful.

“Now I’m trying to be nice. Don’t piss me off,” he threatens.

“Fuck you. I might be stuck with your old ass, but I’m going to make it f*cking hell every step of the way, buddy,” I laugh, more out of fear than anything.

He grabs me by the throat, his face turning red with anger.

“I own you, and you will do what I say. I am the f*cking vice president and you’re mine,” he snarls in my face, his words forced out and not making any sense. He squeezes my throat tighter, making it nearly impossible to breathe. My heart thumps against my chest in fear as I realize he is not going to let go, scared he is going to kill me in the kitchen. My eyes start spotting with little black dots, my hand scratching at his to let go of my neck when my nail clips his wedding ring.

“Will you marry me, Delilah?” Locks’ asked on one knee, the entire club cheering and yelling in the background. It was just like any other family night at the club. I cooked and served with the ol’ ladies, and the men drank and hollered. To find Locks’ on one knee was a surprise I surely didn’t expect.