The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)(9)

“Well, you’re about to take a day off. Let’s go,” Bull states. I drop my knife and look over my shoulder at him, wondering who he is talking to.

“What?” I ask, confused. Before I can ask anything else, he grabs my forearm and pulls me out of the kitchen and toward the front doors of the club. We are leaving? Together?

“I can’t. What if Locks—”

“He ain’t getting up for a while; he just went to bed with…” He stops himself. “He just went to bed and won’t be up for a while,” he states again.

I bite my bottom lip, looking down the hall where Locks is staying in an adjacent room.

I look back up at Bull, his bright green eyes looking at me, waiting for my answer.

“Okay,” I mutter. Why not?

***

I look down the road and notice the Santa Monica Pier coming into view as I ride on the back of Bull’s bike. As long as I have lived here, I have never been there, and don’t plan to go anytime soon. I’m afraid of heights. Bull pulls back on the throttle and we fly forward, racing down the road. The hot sun makes the breeze feel cool and refreshing mixed with Bull’s smell of aftershave and leather. I inhale deeply; I can’t get enough of the scent. I notice the big Ferris wheel, which the pier is famous for, coming closer as we go forward, making my eyes furrow in confusion.

“Where are we going?” I yell, trying to shout over the wind and loud motor. Bull doesn’t reply; he takes his hand off the handlebar and points toward the Ferris wheel.

“No way! You better turn around now!” I yell, my grip on his hips tightening. I feel his back rise and fall rapidly. He’s laughing at me, that f*cker.

We pull up to the pier and Bull turns the motorcycle off.

“I am not going on any of those rides,” I inform stubbornly, not budging from my spot.

Bull throws his leg off the bike and places his helmet on the handlebars.

“Suit yourself, darlin’,” he replies casually. I roll my eyes, defeated. I don’t want to sit here all by myself. I throw my leg off the bike, toss my helmet on the handlebar, and place my hand on my hip, annoyed.

Bull chuckles and runs his hands through his hair.

“You’re a mess, Babs. You know that?” he says, his voice high in humor.

I purse my lips and nod, looking off at all the rides. Just the site of them makes my stomach fall.

“When is the last time you just had fun?” Bull questions. I flinch, his question like a slap to the face.

“I, well, I m-mean…” I stutter. I can’t think of the last time I did anything for fun, or anything else for myself for that matter.

“Exactly, now come on. We’ll go on one ride, and I’ll even buy one of those damn funnel cake things,” Bull bargains, grabbing my hand. His touch shoots flames up my arm, causing my palm to sweat. Such a simple gesture, yet my body reacts critically to it.

He pulls me down the wooden boardwalk, the smell of salt water and food lingering in the air. The closer we get, the louder the screaming and laughing. His large hand still holding mine has my whole body catching on fire, causing me to sweat uncontrollably. I inhale. Get a grip, Delilah.

Bull steps up to the long line behind the ticket booth and grabs our tickets.

“Shall we?” he asks, his hand pointed out toward the Ferris wheel. I smile and lead the way.

We stand in line behind several couples, some with children. Locks and I tried for children the first year and half we were together, but we never succeeded. Maybe that’s why our relationship failed.

“So you’ve never been here?” Bull asks, tilting his head to look at me, breaking my train of thought.

“Nope,” I reply. Bull pulls his lips tight, like he can’t believe it.

“Been here a few times, but not for a while,” he says, looking out at the games lining the way, his black and silver hair slightly shifting with the breeze. The line finally moves forward and allows a few people at a time to get on the ride.

“Watch your step,” the carnie warns, as we are up next to get in our death contraption. It’s yellow with a little blue umbrella hanging above it. I take a step in and it sways from my weight.

“Uh…” I remark, my voice shaky.

“You got it, babe,” Bull comforts, grabbing my hand and helping me in. I pull myself into the swaying contraption and quickly sit down, gripping the side. It smells of lemon and dirty feet. Bull sits next to me, resting his arm along the back of me.

“Enjoy,” the carnie mutters, slamming the door to the cart. The ride begins, making us move upward. My stomach fluttering with nerves, I squeal and close my eyes.

“You going to close your eyes the whole time?” Bull laughs.

I nod. “That’s the plan,” I whisper, scared to death.

I feel the cart stop, making my heart stop briefly.

“Why have we stopped?” I question, my eyes closed so tightly I see white spots.

“Open your eyes,” Bull requests, his voice smooth and softly.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head stubbornly.

I feel his rough fingers gently grab both sides of my face. “Open those eyes, Babs,” Bull says sweetly. I slowly open my eyes and see his emerald ones staring back at me. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip gently, causing it to tingle. He leans his face down and stops a breath away. His eyes look from my lips to my eyes, silently asking me if it’s okay. I lean forward, closing the gap between us, and press my lips to his. His lips part mine as he slightly sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, kissing me. He rubs his thumb across my lip as he pulls away, looking over my shoulder. I pull my gaze from his mouth and look at the scene below. My stomach feels dizzy and my heart is thudding against my chest. I just kissed Bull, the president of the Devil’s Dust. It’s wrong on so many levels, yet it felt amazing.