The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(71)

“Jesus Christ, this one’s squirrelly,” a man says, his voice thick with an accent.

The bag is ripped from my head and I blink a couple of times, my vision blurry from sitting in the darkness. A rusted, metal building sits behind a bunch of guys, one streetlight shining barely enough to see in front of me.

“Do you know who I am?” a rough voice asks. I squint, trying to make out the man standing in front of me. He has scruff lining his tanned cheeks and the top of his hair is pulled into a ponytail, with the rest of his head shaved. He’s big and tattooed. “Well?” he continues.

“No,” I mutter, eyeing him from head to toe. If I didn’t hate him so much right now, I’d be attracted to him. He’s sexy in a menacing kind of way.

He pats at his patch. “Zeek, the name’s Zeek,” he informs. I shrug, still not knowing who the f*ck he is.

“Really, lil bro never told you about me? I’m hurt.” He laughs, sarcasm dripping from his voice. I shake my head confused. Lil bro? My eyes suddenly perk. Lip. Zeek is Lip’s brother. My eyes shoot to his.

“Aw, so you do know who I am.” He grins. Lip told me how much he disliked his brother, how his brother was like his father. Evil. My heart sinks further into the pit of my stomach. I’m screwed.

“I’m the president of the Sin City Outlaws, and right now, I own your ass,” he sneers, pointing at me.

I scoff. “Fuck you,” I grit bravely.

His brows furrow in and his jaw clenches. “You will respect me, bitch,” he seethes.

I scowl, but I don’t say anything.

“I think she needs to learn her place around here, brother.” Another man chuckles, walking up beside Zeek. He has thick, black hair and really tanned skin.

“Bow to my president.” He points to the ground.

“I don’t bow for any man,” I whisper, swallowing hard.

“Wrong answer,” the thick-haired man growls. He stomps forward and kicks me hard in the back of the knees. My legs give out and I fall knees-first into the ground. I want to holler out with pain, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me.

“Looks like you’re bowing to me now, but I’m not just any man.” Zeek squats in my line of sight and smiles hard. “I’m the f*cking king of Las Vegas, baby,” he states proudly. I turn my head, not wanting to give him eye contact.

“You’re going to be a dead king,” I mutter, staring off into the darkness. Hands grip my chin, pulling me to look into Zeek’s dark eyes.

“You sure do have a mouth on you, putana.” His teeth grit together. I jerk my head from his fingers, nearly falling over in the process.

“What now, boss?” one guy asks.

“We wait. Lip will call soon.”

The guys stand around smoking, some talking in English, others in another language. I hear a familiar giggle, and my eyes shoot toward the crowd. Two guys shift on their feet and my eyes land on Dolly. That f*cking traitor. She smiles and looks my way. Her grin quickly fades, and she purses her lips as she walks toward me.

“Well, well,” she taunts, sashaying.

“You’re a dead bitch,” I snarl.

She flips her hair over her shoulder and laughs.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, honey. I don’t think you realize who you’re messing with.”

“You’re a f*cking traitor, club-hopping like the whore you are.” I smirk, but she just smiles wider.

“You don’t get it, do you. I’ve been with the Sin City Outlaws this whole time, relaying info about Lip back to Zeek.” She tilts her head to the side and gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’d do anything for Zeek,” she mutters.

“I hope you like dying for him, ‘cause when I get a hold of you, I’m going to stuff your mouth with those fake-ass hair extensions,” I threaten. Her eyes furrow in with anger.

“Get!” Zeek snaps at Dolly as he walks up beside her. She turns, glaring at Zeek, and he grabs her face hard.

“Don’t mouth me; do what you’re told,” he scolds. She pulls her face from his grip and stomps off.

“You thirsty?” Zeek asks me.

“No,” I reply seriously.

He squats in front of me.

“Aw, don’t be like that. This,” he waves his finger between us, “it’s just business, nothing personal.”

My lip curls. “Gee, that makes everything better,” I respond, sarcasm lacing in my tone. He nods, a half-laugh escaping.

“I don’t get why we have to go through all this trouble, Pres,” a man with a big gut states, his hair curly and long.

“I told you, Uncle wants Lip in the family business, one way or another. This is the only way,” Zeek announces, looking at his shoes.

“Fucking family, they’re nothing but problems.” The guy shakes his head, walking away.

A phone suddenly rings, and Zeek jolts upward.

“You better hope that’s your Prince Charming. I’m getting tired of waiting,” he tells me.

Someone hands him a phone, and his eyes lift.

“Phillip, so nice of you to call,” he greets casually. I can literally hear Lip hollering into the phone.

“Brother, brother. She’s good, no harm. But that will change real quick-like if you and your club don’t want to be friends.” Zeek chuckles, the sound menacing. His face suddenly falls, and he rubs at his chin.