The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(20)

About an hour after he went in, Parker leaves his house and walks toward the car I’m waiting by.

“Get off my car, *,” he yells, pointing his briefcase at me.

I look behind me at the car then back at him. “You mean this car?” I taunt.

“Yes, that car,” he says, his tone irritated. I smirk and walk forward, my steps ones of a deadly promise.

“If you don’t leave my property now, I’m calling the police,” he snarls. His forehead starts to sweat, causing his hair to curl around his forehead. As soon as he’s within reach, I grab him by the back of his head and pull him close.

“The police can’t save you, pretty boy,” I grit out, my teeth clenched with anger. I tighten my grip on the back of his neck and walk him to his car with force. With a violent thrust, I plow his face into the side mirror. His face breaks the mirror completely off, making him howl in pain. His body crashes to the ground, his face bloody and his nose probably broken.

“What do you want from me? You want money? I can get you money!” he pleads, holding his bleeding nose. I tilt my head to the side and laugh. Then kick him in the gut as hard as I can. He grunts in pain and starts coughing.

“I think you would do well to stay away from what’s mine,” I sneer, pulling him up by his gelled hair. His mangled face looks up at me as I threaten him. I throw him across the hood of his car, the weight of his body denting it as he tumbles off the hood. I walk around, not finished.

“She came on to me, asked if we could fool around in the back of my car,” he justifies, talking about the girl he messed with earlier.

“I’m not talking about that girl, but you should be kicked in the head for that. Were you going to treat Dani like that?” I snap.

“Dani?” he questions. His eyes take on a confused look before brightening. “You mean Danielle.” He looks at the ground and shakes his head. “I should have known,” he mumbles. “No, that’s why I found some nobody at a bar.” He pauses and wipes the blood from his face with a handkerchief. “I wouldn’t hurt Danielle.” Dani’s name in his mouth has me pouring with hatred for this f*cker.

“Tisk, tisk. You should know, she’s Devil’s Dust property,” I inform him. I grab him by his collar and drag him to his feet. “You will stay away from her and never talk to her again,” I demand.

“Danielle is big enough to decide for herself who she wants to be with,” Parker states, his voice calm. I tried to be nice in giving him the option to leave her alone.

I grab him by his shirt and pull him close. “Wrong answer, *.”

I pull my fist back and slam it into his eye, marking his face with the impact of my hand.

“Okay. Okay. I won’t talk to her again. Let’s just go back and think things through,” he says pathetically. He’s a liar. First chance he gets, he’ll be back sniffing on Dani’s trail like a predator.

I pull his face close to mine. “There’s no going back,” I whisper.

I grab him by the throat and slam his head into the passenger-side window, the force shattering the glass as he falls to the ground, unconscious. I pull my gun from my holster and aim it at the back of his head. As my finger touches the trigger, I hear a shrill scream come from his house. I look over and see a frantic old woman dressed as a maid eyeing me with fear.

Shit. I put my gun back in its holster and hastily walk back to my bike. I’ve gotten sloppy; Dani has made me unfocused and careless at what I do best. I look behind me before pulling off and see the little old lady running out to Parker’s limp body.


Dani

A week has gone by, and I haven’t seen Parker. He also hasn’t picked his daughter up from ballet or called me.

I grab my bag and leave work. A prospect named Tom usually shows up to take me to work and picks me up after. I’m not sure how he even knows my schedule; I don’t know if he even speaks. He is always waiting outside on his bike with sunglasses and a helmet on, wearing a Devil’s cut and blue jeans.

“Thanks, Tom!” I yell over my shoulder, entering the apartment after a long day of teaching girls to dance en pointe. When I enter the apartment, I see Bobby sitting on the couch watching T.V.

“Oh, hello,” I squeak, shocked by Bobby’s presence. I haven’t seen him in about a week, either.

“Hey,” he answers, lifting from his relaxed position.

“You’ve been gone,” I say, pulling my keys from the door.

“Yeah, been on a run,” he replies.

I set down the bag containing my leotard and head for the fridge.

“Shadow knows,” Bobby tells me calmly.

“Knows what?” I ask, but I already know. Bobby opened his damn mouth about Parker and me. I bet that’s the reason why I haven’t seen him around.

“He knows about you and Pretty Boy,” he informs me.

This catches my attention, I walk back into the living room and sit beside him.

“How’d he take it?” I ask.

“Not well; trust me,” Bobby smirks.

“So, what happened?” My tone urges him to tell me more. He looks at me, holding my gaze for a moment before standing from the couch.

“You guys really need to work shit out. Just f*cking talk to him.” He grabs his cut from the couch and leaves.