The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(62)

Stunt gives Lip a sideways glance as if he’s thinking about it. I survey the Devil’s Dust, noticing Bobby’s hand on his weapon sitting in the back of his jeans, and Bull’s handling his pistol in his holster. They’d go to war with another club to protect Lip. They’re a brotherhood; I envy that about this club. Loyalty is the common DNA that runs in their blood—they all have it.

My hand is grasped by a smaller palm. Looking to my side, Dani gives me a tight-lipped smile and squeezes my hand. She’d have my back no matter what—I know it, and I feel it. I’m family.

“Yeah. Fine, but we ain’t open for business anymore,” Stunt responds, replacing his weapon back in his waistband.

“I think that’s best,” Bull agrees. Everyone seems to relax as the Ghost Riders retreat back to their bikes. Now that the show is over, everyone starts going their separate ways, but I can’t seem to move. My eyes are glued to Lip. He told that guy to kill him, and in doing so, I realized I still care for Lip, that I want to try and work through our lies. But does he? Lip eventually strides toward me, his teeth biting on his lip ring.

He stops in front of me and crosses his arms, his stance cocky. I rear my hand back and slap him in the face hard. His head whips to the side, his arms uncrossing to grab at his face.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I sneer, tears filling my eyes. He removes his hand, revealing a bright red handprint. I huff and return to the room, angry that he makes me care, pissed that I love him, and furious that I ever climbed on the back of his bike.

***

Dinnertime rolls around, which consists of burgers and chips. I grab a tomato from the fridge and start slicing it up for the tray of sides.

“Cherry, I don’t like ‘matoes. They taste weird,” Zane says, lifting on his tiptoes to watch me slice it.

“You think so?” I laugh. He scrunches his nose and nods.

“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of them, either,” I agree.

“My mom says I should eat them ‘cause they’re good for me.” Zane sticks his tongue out, and I giggle.

“Well, mommies know best.” I smile. Zane acts like he’s going to gag and runs off. I shake my head at him and grab an onion to slice next. As soon as the knife cuts through it, I feel the room shift and my back tense. I glance up and find Lip grabbing a plate. Seconds go by, but they feel like minutes. I peer up from under my lashes and find Lip staring at me once more. My breath hitches, and a sharp piercing fills my finger.

“Ouch!” I gasp, shifting my eyes to my finger. Blood gushes out of my finger. Fuck, I’ve cut it.

Warmth presses along my back, and a hand grabs mine.

“Is it bad?” Lip asks, his smell and touch making me shift on my feet. I pull my hand from his and hiss.

“It f*cking hurts, I know that,” I state. I look at my finger and notice a small cut.

“First-aid is in the bathroom in the main hall,” Tom Cat tells me, grabbing a tomato.

Lip grabs my wrist and pulls me around the island in the kitchen and out of the double doors. He drags me down the hall and opens the main bathroom door.

“Sit,” he instructs, pointing at the sink.

“I can put a Band-Aid on myself.” I roll my eyes but still sit on the sink’s counter.

He leans down, pulls the kit from under the sink and takes a Band-Aid out. He grabs my wrist and surveys the pad of my finger.

“You nicked it pretty good,” he mutters.

“It’s your fault,” I whisper. His brown eyes flick to mine and I scowl.

“I’m pretty sure you were too busy checking me out and forgot what you were doing.” He smiles wolfishly.

“Yeah, that was it,” sarcasm drips from my voice. “Pretty sure I just suck at cooking.”

Lip’s mouth lifts at the corner into a small smile. “Not arguing that.” He winks. My mouth falls open, and I give him a slap to the arm.

“Hey, I’m getting better,” I defend, laughing.

He turns on the faucet and slowly places my finger under it. The cool water splashes into the cut, making it sting. I hiss and yank it from the stream.

“Ouch, that hurts!” I yell. An evil grin fits his face and he pushes my hand back under the water.

“You gotta clean it.” He chuckles. “Stop being a baby.” I furrow my brows and roll my eyes.

He dries my finger off with a clean cloth and gently wraps it with a Band-Aid.

“There, all fixed up.” He smiles, holding my finger up to display a Spongebob Band-Aid.

I laugh. “Thanks.” Spongebob makes me think of Piper, a small sting in my chest resurfacing.

“Shadow will be back tomorrow with details on Eric and everyone involved,” Lip states. It’s crazy how he can still read my mind, even after this many years.

His hands rest on my knees, and the simple touch of his palms sends shivers up my thighs. I slowly shift my gaze from his hands to his face. His eyes are hooded, and his mouth is parted. Silence fills the air, and the tension becomes thick. I bite my bottom lip and hop off the counter. Just as I’m about to walk out, he grabs my arm, stopping me. His forehead wrinkles, and his eyes display a sense of sorrow, like he wants to apologize but doesn’t know how. Almost as soon as they arrived, the wrinkles disappear, and he lets go of me. I bite my cheek, feeling a little defeated, and walk back to the kitchen.