The Fear That Divides Us (The Devil's Dust #3)(10)

“Why didn’t you stay at the scene?” I ask Tom, my tone dour as I inspect his leg.

“You were there. You saw it. I couldn’t handle those screams, the cries of people suffering. I couldn’t do anything to help them. I could barely ride my bike back to the club,” Tom replies gravely, his eyes closed and jaw ticking from the amount of pain he’s in.

I nod. I understand what he means. It was terrible. I came across four deceased, and two died on me when I was trying to stop horrendous amounts of bleeding. I ran out of supplies quickly, having to use what I could find in cars that were overturned, and napkins from fast food bags that had fallen from the back of trucks. The feeling of not being able to do everything you can is hard to bear.

“Okay, well, I need to clean it and it’s going to hurt. I’m going to have to stitch the bigger gash on your calf too, and you could probably use a tetanus shot,” I inform, placing on some latex gloves. Tom lays his head back on the side of the couch and silently nods, preparing himself for the pain to follow.



An hour and a half later, I finally finish on Tom’s leg. He’s passed out from the drugs I gave him, which is for the better, considering the way he was wincing when I was cleaning it. The entire time I worked on Tom, a blaze of desire raced along my skin from Bobby’s eyes burning into my back. Pulling my bloody gloves inside out, I toss them in the trash, and go to wash my hands in the kitchen.

“Why don’t you stay awhile?”

I turn around and see Bobby leaning up against a counter with his legs crossed in front of him. His black shirt fitting snuggly against his torso, outlining the curves of his muscles beautifully. I bite my lip and turn back to my hand washing.

“Can’t. I gotta get to the hospital and check on my patients,” I tell him. It’s not a lie. The amount of people admitted to the emergency room, I know they need me. I grab some paper towels and dry my hands.

“What about after?” Bobby suggests. I know what he is doing; he’s laying on the relentless charm.

I toss the towel in the trash and turn to face him. He has the smirk, the one that makes my whole body thirst for him. His tattooed hands are barely inside his jean pockets, and his eyes are at half-mast as he devours me with his eyes. I close my eyes and turn my head to the side, hoping when I open them, they will be looking at something other than Bobby.

“Can’t.” I push off the counter, and walk past him. I’ve gotta get out of here. I grab my bag off the floor next to Tom and head toward my Jeep.

“Can’t or won’t?” Bobby asks, jogging out of the club, following me.

I stop and sigh, wishing he’d stop pursuing me.

I turn my head slightly but continue to walk forward. “Bobby, you can have any girl you want who’s a lot easier to get than me. Leave me alone,” I quip dryly, the words hard to spit out. You would think after as many times as I have said them over the years, they would get easier to say, but they don’t, and he never listens.

“I’m just having a conversation. Who says I’m after you? A little presumptuous, aren’t we?” he mocks. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling as I continue to walk forward.

“I have to go,” I reply softly, grabbing the door handle to my Jeep.

Bobby nods, and looks out over the courtyard. “Yeah. Okay,” he responds, while tucking his hands into his pockets. I give him one last look. That blond hair, blue eyes, and his tattoos make me inhale sharply, before I climb in my Jeep and drive away.

Bobby

I walk back into the club and all the guys head into the chapel, ready for a meeting.

Bull and Shadow sit at the head of the table, while I take my usual spot in the middle. I’m still not used to seeing Shadow sit next to Bull. When Locks, our Vice President, was killed, Bull made Shadow his new VP. Shadow deserves it. He’d do anything for this club.

“So, it seems we have been making bank on some of our investments, as you all are well aware of with the payout you have been receiving lately,” Bull states, sitting back in his chair. Shining from the light above, his black hair illuminates some gray slicing through it. I’m sure his daughter Dani had something to do with some of that gray. When she and Shadow got together, it was the biggest shit-storm this club has had to stampede through.

“Can’t complain about getting money,” Tom Cat slurs, a little dazed from the drugs Jessica gave him. We have been paid pretty well lately. I can’t deny that. Got me a nice little blue Chevy heading my way from a man in the Midwest; I’m itching to break her in.

“We need to find a front, a legal business that we can exaggerate costs coming in,” Bull says, lighting a cigarette. “Lip brought it to my attention his uncle was opening a titty bar up the way and he thought we might be interested in the business.” Bull motions toward Lip sitting next to me.

“Who let one of the girls in here?” I tease, looking around the table. We used to have a girl run through here who slept with all the brothers. Her name was Lips; she had big blowjob lips that could suck start a Harley. Our man, Phillip, who goes by Lip for short, was in the joint doing time when she had arrived, and she left right before he got out. I like to give him hell for his nickname though. It’s what I do best around here.

I turn in my seat and grin at Lip, his brownish copper-colored hair all spiked up like he just rolled out of bed and didn’t even take the time to swipe his hands through it, and that damn lip ring sticking out of his lip glaring against the light. He narrows his brown eyes at me, interlocks his fingers sitting on the table, sitting up straighter.