The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(29)

I start to walk faster toward my car, the grass crunching loudly as I make way. I pass Bobby’s bike parked right next to the stolen car. I throw my gun case in the backseat and grab my bag then grab an extra mask and gloves and throw them at Bobby to put on. I reach in, grab the silencer, and screw it onto the end of the barrel of my pistol then climb behind the wheel as Bobby rides passenger. We drive across the overpass to the crappy hotel, hoping nobody recognizes the stolen car. Luckily, it’s late and not many cars are passing the area. I pull my mask over my face and tighten my gloves on my hands before getting out and walking toward the room concealing Lady. Her foot is caught in the door, leaving it open slightly. I kick her foot in as I enter the room, and the door slams shut after Bobby enters. Lady is lying on her back with a gunshot wound to the chest and is gasping for air. I can’t help but smile.

I walk up to her and hover in her line of sight, aimed at the ceiling. I pull my mask up to my hairline and smile. Her dull eyes widen with fear.

“I bet I was the last mother f*cker you thought you’d ever see again,” I sneer, with a wolfish grin.

She tries to talk but nothing but gurgling comes out, spluttering blood down her chin. I squat down, pull my gun from my waistband, and place it against her bloody lips. “Shhhh,” I whisper. The gun against her mouth muffles her strangled cries.

“You can’t hurt Dani anymore,” I say softly. She begins to whimper and tries to pull away from me, but she’s too weak to make much of an effort.

I stand up, point the gun at her head, and pull the trigger. The bullet rips into her skull, throwing brain matter all over me.

“There are her keys,” Bobby points, bending to pick her keys up from the floor, which are thrown haphazardly across the carpet. I place my gun back in my waistband and grab her body, throwing her over my shoulder easily and walking to the door. I try to pull the door open but it has a spring causing it to want to slam closed, making it near impossible to keep open.

“Are you going to get the f*cking door?” I ask Bobby, who’s looking at the mug shots of the club members thrown about the bed.

“Shit. Sorry, brother,” he apologizes, rushing toward the door. It’s amazing he’s not a prospect still.

He pulls the door open as I squeeze through.

“It’s spring-loaded,” Bobby explains, pushing the door back and forth, fascinated by the silver spring at the top of the door.

“Nice to know,” I remark, struggling with Lady’s limp body.

“Trunk,” I remind him. He aims the keys in hand and presses the trunk button on the key fob. It pops open with a flash of its lights. When I said I didn’t mind having Bobby around for these kinds of late-night outings, I take it back. I throw Lady’s lifeless body into the back of her trunk and slam it shut. I reenter the room and cut out the stained carpet which held her blood. Beneath it is concrete, so I pull out the small bottle of bleach in my cargo pants and pour it all over the concrete and surrounding carpet, hoping to eliminate any trace of blood. I’m sure if someone saw the square missing they would know what happened, though. Still, no evidence, no jail time.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” I say, opening the door. I walk casually to the stolen car and get in while Bobby gets in Lady’s car.

We drive off the exit ramp in search of an abandoned area.

About an hour out, I turn under a bridge. There hasn’t been anyone in sight for the last thirty minutes, and I haven’t spotted any traffic on the bridge.

I pull under it and see the headlights of Lady’s black car bouncing in the rear view mirror, pulling up behind me.

“Nice f*cking ride,” Bobby says, slamming the door to the black BMW.

He grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulls it over his head, and throws it over his shoulder. He pops open the gas tank and stuffs the shirt in. He then reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a lighter, lighting the tip of the shirt on fire before running away.

“This feels good,” Bobby states, digging in his pockets.

“What?” I ask.

“You and me, back to our old ways,” he says, smiling a goofy ass grin.

I continue to stare at the growing flame. “There is no us, and we aren’t back to anything,” I snap coldly.

I feel the air pick up tension as Bobby realizes I have not forgiven him so easily for not having my back with Dani, even if he was right. Not to mention, him putting his hands on her.

“Shadow, I just want what’s best for Firefly.” He says it like he means it and I believe he does, but I couldn’t care less. His transgression festers within me until I can find a way of revenge.

“Unless you want to wind up in the trunk, too, this conversation is over,” I declare, looking at him.

“Fine, it’s over,” Bobby spits. “But, seriously,” he continues, cocking his head to the side, not giving up on the subject.

“Bobby!” I yell, hoping my rise in voice will shut him up.

“Fine,” he says with a breath.

The car explodes, throwing a rim in our direction and shrapnel everywhere.

“Fuck, that never gets old,” Bobby laughs.

He puts a joint in his mouth and walks up to the burning car, leaning into the flame trying to light it.

“You’re going to burn your face off,” I chuckle.

“Nah,” he says, stepping back and puffing out smoke.