The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(50)

“This pile of shit is a death trap,” I mumble under my breath. The bar that Piper is hanging on to suddenly snaps and she tumbles to the ground.

“Shit!” Rushing to her side, I pull her to her feet. She is so small and weighs nearly nothing.

“Are you okay?” I question, looking her over. She pulls her palm up and hisses, a good-sized cut slicing right through it.

I gently take her hand in mine and look it over.

“Well, you won’t need stitches, but you should go clean it up,” I recommend. “Does it hurt?”

She shoots her gray eyes from her palm to me, her nose dusted with little freckles.

“Some,” she mutters.

“Go get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I have anything in the car to fix the bar. But please, stay off the top. You could have broken your leg or something,” I state in frustration. She nods slowly and takes off toward her house.

“Piece of shit,” I mumble, kicking the jungle gym. I make my way to my car and lift the back hatch for something to cover the jagged edges of the broken bar, but all I find is duct tape.

“Guess it will do.” I grab it and pull a big piece with my teeth and fingers. A loud zip sound vibrates my teeth and fingers as I pull it as far as my hand will stretch.

I eye the silver bar, the end of it rusted and sharp as hell. Shit, she might need a tetanus shot. I wonder if Doc would come over and look at Piper’s hand without telling anyone. I bite my inner cheek at the thought; I don’t want to get anyone else involved with my secrets. Grabbing the bar, I start wrapping the end of it. I need to tell Lip today. It’s only getting worse the more I keep Piper a secret.

Something tangles in my hair—a hand. My body stiffens, and my mouth parts in fear. My head is suddenly yanked back and my skull slams into the jungle gym. My head rings, and my vision goes black, my body feeling ten times heavier than before as I free-fall to the ground. The side of my face slams into the dirt. I blink rapidly, trying to break the blurriness claiming my vision. I see someone step beside me, but I can’t make out who it is. Blackness envelops me.

***

“Wake up, bitch!” My body is kicked over, and I cough into the dirt. My head pounds with anguish, making me wince. I push myself up with my hands and remember someone attacked me. I turn quickly and a small cry leaves my lips.

“Eric,” I whimper.

“Tell me I’m seeing a f*cking ghost. Your ass is supposed to be dead.” He points at me, his face beet red from the sun. He’s thicker than the last time I saw him, more muscular, his blond hair grown out and pulled into a ponytail. He has on torn blue jeans and a red flannel shirt that’s open and showing off his tanned skin. I take a step back and eye him.

“Fuck you!” I push through gritted teeth.

“How long you been around my daughter?” he questions, his upper lip curling.

“You mean our daughter? Long enough to know you suck at raising a little girl,” I fire back.

His body puffs out and his teeth grit together.

“Run. You better run,” he threatens, his tone deep and monstrous.

“You don’t scare me.” I stand up and straighten my white tank top and glare at him.

“I’m not going away that easy, not this time. I know people now, people who will have you eating your f*cking fingers by the time they’re done with you,” I threaten.

“Yeah. We’ll see about that.” He juts his chin upward. “I’m going to get my gun. If you’re here when I get back, I’ll kill your white-trash ass.” He turns on the heel of his boot and takes off toward his house. My bravado flees my body, and I begin to breathe heavily. My heart feels like it’s slamming against my chest so hard it may combust. I grab my chest and try to calm my rapid breathing but it’s no good. I’m panicking. I turn, looking the trailer park over. People are standing on their porches watching, not doing a damn thing about what just transpired. I pick up my pace and jog to my car. As soon as my ass hits the seat, I notice Eric stomping down his porch steps, rifle in hand. I start the car and peel out of the graveled parking, dust and smoke the only thing I see in my rearview mirror.

I glance at the clock on my dash: 1:30pm. I lost track of time, lost in my thoughts about Lip. Eric gets off at noon on Sundays. I walked myself right into my coffin. Eric will hire out, will find someone to kill me. I have to tell Lip. I have to tell the club.

My hands begin to tremble, my chest wracking with emotion. I jerk the wheel to the side and pull over. I can’t help it; I let the tears that have been stinging my eyes fall. Throwing my head into my hands, I cry. I cry because the man I love is someone I don’t know, because I may never see Piper again. I tilt my head back and take a slow breath. Pulling down the sun visor, I look at myself in the mirror. The corner of my eyebrow is split open, dried blood sticking to the side of my face.

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. I lick my finger and try and rub at it, but more blood just escapes the wound.

I call defeat and slam the sun visor closed. I’m going to need stitches.

CHERRY: Hey. I need a favor.



DOC: What’s up?



CHERRY: I have a cut I need you to look at, but don’t tell Lip.



I need to be the one to tell Lip, not her. Seconds feel like minutes as I wait for her text.

DOC: Head over to the hospital. I’ll let the front desk know you’re coming.