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

I shrug, not sure.

“I think he’s in his room. You want me to grab him?” Shadow asks, sitting next to me. I look over my shoulder at Shadow and grin. Ever since we became prospects, he’s been kissing ass. I can’t help but make fun of him, and I can get away with it because I knew him way before the club.

“Yeah. Hurry up,” Old Guy demands. He runs his hands along the sides of his head, smoothing back the long hair that’s escaped from its ponytail.

I slide off my bar stool and toss my bottle in the trash. I’m curious as to what has Old Guy in such a state. Bull comes out of his room, buckling his belt.

“This better be good, goddamn it,” Bull mutters as he makes his way toward the front door.

Before we make it to the door, Old Guy comes in carrying a woman. She’s curled up against his chest making it hard to see whether I know her or not. She has blonde hair, stained with blood in some spots, and clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in days.

“What the f*ck?” Shadow whispers with disbelief. My eyes widen, shocked at the state the woman is in.

“Who is she?” I ask.

“Not sure. She pulled up in a nice car and kept asking to talk to whoever was in charge about wanting to make a deal, before collapsing to the ground,” Old Guy informs.

“A deal?” Bull asks. He walks up to the woman and brushes the hair from her face. “Someone did a number on her.”

“There’s more,” Old Guy shifts his feet and looks downward. Movement catches my eyes. I look down to find a child clinging to Old Guy’s legs.

“Fuck me,” escapes from my mouth in shock. A little kid with long, blonde hair and red cheeks hugs onto Old Guy like her life depends on it. I notice her pink dress, and kneel to the little girl’s height.

“Hi there, sweetie, is this your momma?” I ask, in a soft voice. I notice her left cheek is a little redder than her left, making me wonder if she fell down, or ran into something. Her face is stained from tears, and she has snot running down to her lips. She blinks her eyes a couple of times, as her bottom lip pouts. She looks at the woman in Old Guy’s hands, and begins to wail. Shit.

“I don’t think she can talk yet. She looks like she’s only two,” Old Guy says, shifting the unconscious woman in his arms. I shrug; I know nothing about kids.

“What do you want me to do, Prez?” Old Guy asks.

Bull nervously runs his hands through his black hair. “Shit, just take her to one of the rooms.” Old Guy heads down the hall with the little girl clinging to his legs, crying.

“What are you thinking, Prez, taking in a stray?” Shadow asks, shaking his head.

“That woman obviously has nobody else. I’m not about to throw a child, with a passed out mother, onto the street,” Bull says, his voice sharp and angry.

Shadow nods, knowing he overstepped his boundaries.

“What the f*ck, man?” I ask Shadow. I know he has issues, but I’m surprised he has no compassion for the woman and child.

Shadow glares at me with those evil-as-shit blue eyes.

“I’ll clean her up and take care of the child,” Babs says, heading down the hall.

I follow her down the hall into one of the empty rooms. I notice the little girl still clinging to Old Guy’s legs as Babs applies a wet cloth to the woman’s face. I lean over Babs to get a better look at the woman who’s lying on the unmade bed. She has a round face that’s bruised on one side. Her pouty lips red with the top lip split. She has long, blonde hair, and a thicker figure than most girls around here. Her rack is nice, too, from what I can see of it pushing against her shirt. Her white top has blood and dirt smeared over it, and her jeans are just as bad. Her bare feet, mucked with mud catch my attention. She’s not wearing any shoes. She must have been in a rush to leave without so much as grabbing her shoes. The woman’s eyes flutter open, catching my attention. They’re blue and bloodshot.

Instantly, the little girl clings to the blonde woman, the contact making them both cry.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” I ask the woman, as I sit on the bed.

Her eyes shoot to mine, her long lashes sticking together from what looks like her crying.

“My name’s Jessica. Are you in charge?” she asks, her voice cracking. Her eyebrows crease and she waits for my answer.

“No. No, I’m not,” I respond, with a kind smile. My heart thuds against my chest when her sad eyes catch mine, making me hold a sudden breath.

“This is Bobby. I’m Bull. I’d be the one in charge,” Bull says, stepping up from behind me. “Who did that number on your face, darling?” Bull gestures toward her split eye.

“I need protection.” Jessica looks over at her daughter. “We need protection.”

“From who?” I ask.

She looks up from her daughter who is straddling her lap and her eyebrows furrow. Her lips part as tears cascade from her blue eyes, like what she’s about to say is the hardest thing she’s ever spoke.

“From my husband,” she says softly.

She grabs her daughter’s small frame and pulls her close, more tears escape her tired eyes.

“Who’s your husband?” Bull asks, crossing his arms.

“His name is Doctor Travis Norwell, and he has connections everywhere, everyone is in his pocket,” Jessica whispers into her daughter’s hair, rocking the little girl back and forth.