The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(36)

“Jesus, she does look like a f*cking doll,” I mutter, taking the last sip of my drink. She’s hot, though; if I could, I’d f*ck her.

“Dibs,” Tom Cat claims, walking up beside Bobby and slapping his shoulder. Tom Cat was patched in not too long ago; he’s all right as far as they go.

I laugh, because Tom Cat obviously knows nothing about women. If a woman heard you call dibs, she’d laugh in your face and walk away. Well, the kind I’m interested in anyway. Feisty, stubborn, hard to get.

“Yeah, good luck with that.” I chuckle.

“What, you want her? You hopping off the ol’ Cherry train there, Lip?” Tom Cat taunts, running his hand through his brown hair. I glare in reaction.

“You best shut the f*ck up if you know what’s good for ya, Tom Cat. What I do is none of your f*cking business.”

His face falls flat, and Bobby looks at me with confusion. I hand Tom Cat my empty glass and stride past the girls.

“Lip!” I stop and look at the group of girls, curious who called my name.

“Hi, I’m washing your bike and was curious if there was anything,” she bats her baby doll lashes at me, “special you might need.” I inhale a strong breath, not sure how to handle the first piece of ass that has thrown themselves at me since I’ve been out. She obviously doesn’t know Cherry, because every girl who has strutted into this club knows Cherry and I are together.

“Yeah, clean it. You missed a spot, Dolly,” I reply coolly, pointing to my Harley tank. Her eyes widen, and she looks back at my bike. The guys laugh behind me, clearly amused by my *ry.

“Where’s Bull? I thought we had church this morning,” I ask Shadow as I walk into the kitchen of the club. Shadow is the VP now, and is also married to the president’s daughter. Yeah, who knew Bull had a f*cking daughter? That was one of the not-so-fun events I missed while being locked up. I’m not saying Bull favors Shadow now… but Bull favors him. After I got out of prison, Bull was waiting to pick me up, my patch in hand. Best f*cking welcome home gift ever. We had a small party, naked chicks, booze, drugs—all of it. I didn’t f*ck around, though; my mother taught me better than that. Seeing the pain she went through when she found out my father messed around on her, I couldn’t do that to anyone.

“He had an emergency this morning,” Shadow mutters, pulling out a tub of ice cream.

I turn and lean against the counter. When I was locked up, a lot of shit went down in the club. FBI was knocking on our door, and I mean that literally. Babs was killed in a hit-and-run, and we even found out that Locks, our previous VP, was a rat. I never did like that guy. During this time, Bull stepped out of reality, too. I got orders inside of prison from Shadow for the last several months I was in the joint. His orders were different then Bull’s—more digressed, more violent. Things I never had to do before, Shadow ordered me to do. He was the VP, so I did what I was ordered.

Lots of shit can go down in a six-year period, but it was all worth it because I got patched in as soon as I walked out of there. I look down at my cut and smirk. Feels good to be a member, to belong. But prison changed me in a way, the things I did and saw; my mind slowly became as tarnished and marred as the walls that imprisoned me.

“Bull’s gone? What about the drop tonight?” Bobby questions, digging in the fridge.

“It’s all set up. It should run smoothly.” Shadow shrugs.

“Suppliers paid?” Bobby asks, pulling out a tub of coleslaw.

“Shit!” Shadow exclaims.

“I’ll take care of it,” I offer.

Shadow looks at his phone and shakes his head.

“If you can, man, that would be great. I need to meet Dani about Zane’s school,” Shadow states. Dani is his wife, and Zane is his little boy. Shit has changed since I was in prison. I never would have thought Shadow as the prime example of a happy family. I mean, his kids are cute, but I don’t want any. Fuck. That.

“Can do,” I reply.

“Want me to come with?” Bobby asks, diving a fork right into the container.

“Nah, I got it. I gotta go to my mom’s afterward.”

“See ya tomorrow, brother,” Bobby sounds around a mouth full of food.

***

The sun is hot on my arms, and the wind is sweeping through my hair. In prison, I thought about a lot of shit. *, good food, a nice bed. But what I missed the most was my bike. There is no therapy like wind therapy. Having the open road at my mercy, my thoughts free to roam where they please. It’s a freedom I longed for.

I pull into the shady-looking bar and turn my bike off. Striding inside, the smell of mold and stale beer is strong.

“I was wondering when you’d be here,” a guy sitting at the bar states. He looks Mexican, with short, dark hair. He has a tattoo of a marijuana leaf on his dark tan skin. He’s wearing a white shirt and black jeans, a gold Rolex shining amongst the shitty bar lights. This place is clearly a front, a way to hide the outrageous amounts of money he’s pocketing. I step over to him and slap the envelope on the counter.

“You Bud?” That is obviously not his name, but what the f*ck ever.

“Yup. That two thousand?”

“Yeah.”

He slides his hand over and grabs the envelope.

“Everything’s on schedule then.”