The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(24)

“Lindsay! Where have you been?” His frantic voice makes tears prick my eyes.

“Things have gotten out of control with Eric and the lawyers. You know how I told you that I found the judge being paid off?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he has people in his pockets, and they tried to kill me. I’ve been living in my car.” I’m crying now.

“Fuck, Lindsay, why didn’t you come to me?”

“‘Cause I didn’t want to lead them to you.”

“Nobody has been here. Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”

I growl into the phone. “I’m sure.”

“Wait-how do you have a cell phone?”

“This guy, he picked me up on the side of the road. He’s really nice—too nice, maybe. He asked me to stay with him, so I’m laying low here.”

“Too nice, huh. You know when they say that, that means something is wrong.”

“Yeah, he is really persistent.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, he has a flaw: he really doesn’t like kids.” My head falls with the thought.

“Um, that’s a problem, right?” His tone comes out low.

“Not really. I mean, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’ve lost Piper, and I can’t do anything about it. If I do, I’ll be killed.” Saying those words, my heart literally feels like it’s being torn in two. I hate myself for not being able to do more with my current situation; being backed into a corner without a safe move forward is a feeling of helplessness I can’t overcome.

The phone goes silent.

“You’re probably right, Lindsay. I know you love your daughter, and I’m not saying give up on her. I love her, too. But if you really think someone is after you, you should let this shit blow over before you try to get her back.”

I nod because I know he’s right. It’s just hard to accept.

“We should meet up,” he suggests.

“You think it’s safe?” My eyebrows rise.

“What part of town are you staying in?”

“I’m near the docks, I know that. I can hear and smell the ocean.”

“Yeah, I think you’re far enough away that nobody would recognize you, and that’s if anyone is even after you,” Tyler ensures. “I think maybe they were sent to spook you more than anything, make you keep quiet about the judge and all.”

“Well, it worked. I’m scared to death,” I mutter.

“You want me to come get you? You can stay with me, ya know.”

I look down at my hands and sigh. “I know,” I whisper.

“You’re not going to, are you?”

I don’t reply. I don’t know what this is between Lip and me, but I want to find out. Not only that but if Tyler’s wrong and the judge is after me, he’ll find me quickly if I’m around that area.

“This guy you’re with, be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, shithead.” He laughs, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Love you, turd licker.”


LIP

We ride out of town for the potential suppliers. I have no clue where we’re going, but I don’t care. My palms are sweating and my heart is beating like a f*cking beast. This is my test, to show Bull and the club if I’m worthy to be a Devil. Loyalty and respect are something that swims in my DNA, and I need my pack that shares the same dominance. I need that brotherhood, that family that would do anything for one another. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have it growing up, f*ck if I know. All I know is being patched into the Devil’s Dust, being called a brother… that’s all I want in life right now, and if I f*ck this up, I won’t have it.

We pull up to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. No grass, no houses, not shit. Just desert and some aluminum-sided warehouse. I blow out a ragged breath, trying to compose myself. Maybe I should ask Bull for a cigarette, calm my f*cking nerves before I have a heart attack.

I pull in behind Locks and park my bike.

A middle-aged guy in a sleeveless flannel shirt walks out of the door to the shitty warehouse, a couple of armed men standing behind him.

I swipe my sunglasses from my face, searching the area for anything suspicious.

“Devil’s f*cking Dust,” the guy chimes.

“Bart,” Bull greets, his tone anything but welcoming.

“You looking for good weed, we got it.” The guy holds his hands out wide, as if this trashy warehouse is gold or some shit.

“Yeah, let me be the judge of that,” Bull sneers.

Bart loses his smile and opens the door to the warehouse. Walking in, there are tables lined with Ziploc bags and scales. Along the back of the warehouse are crates and lights hanging from the ceiling. There aren’t any marijuana plants in sight, though, so this isn’t the main warehouse where he grows. This is just where he packages.

“This is my top shit.” Bart points at some dime bags on a nearby table.

I walk over to the supply and open a bag. The smell isn’t strong. I glance inside the bag and notice more seed than bud. My father taught me all I needed to know about marijuana, coke, the quickest way to kill a man—the list goes on.

“It’s ditch weed,” I state, shuffling the bag around. Bull lifts an eye at Bart and grabs the bag from me.