What Doesn't Destroy Us (The Devil's Dust #1)(82)

“FBI, GET ON THE GROUND NOW!”

I look around and see a swarm of people in black gear surround the box trailers with guns pointing at us.

Shadow pushes me down hard and my head smacks against the ground. My heart is thumping so hard I can feel it pulsing in my fingertips. I look out under the box trailer and see black boots running away on the other side. When the person is off a distance, I can see it’s Bobby with a gun in his hand. Did he shoot Cassie?

“Look at me,” Shadow whispers. Emerald green meets stormy blue as our eyes lock.

“Shit, they shot the Criminal Informant,” I hear a familiar voice say. I look up and my blood drains from my body; my heart stops beating and I can feel my face pale.

It’s Stevin, wearing a blue wind breaker that says FBI.

One of the El Locos gets off the ground and walks toward Stevin. “Man, if I knew she was going to do that, I would have tackled her,” he says.

‘You f*cking traitor,” another of the El Locos shouts out.

“You see who shot her?” Stevin asks.

“No, one of them though,” he says, pointing toward us.

“They did what?” I hear a familiar voice say, coming around a box trailer beside us.

My mother steps next to Stevin; she's also wearing a blue windbreaker that says FBI.

My world starts spinning; I feel myself hyperventilating.

Stevin and my mother hear me gasping for air and start walking toward me.

“Shit,” Stevin mutters.

My mother bends down and smiles like the devil.

“Someone get over here; we've got a witness,” my mother yells. Suddenly, I’m lifted off the ground; everything moves in slow motion.

“Get her in witness protection now,” she says.

“Say goodbye to Lover Boy,” she whispers in my ear as I’m being pushed away.

I look over at Shadow, who’s as shocked as I am. Then his shock leaves, replaced with a look of confusion and finally pure betrayal.

One of the El Locos is an undercover; my mother is an FBI agent; and I look like I am one of them. Shadow's eyes glass over with pure hatred; every little ounce of love replaced with distrust.

My mother signed my death certificate, making me a possible threat to the club. Shadow kills people like me. Before I can say anything, he turns his head away in disgust and I’m hauled out of sight behind a box trailer.





TO BE CONTINUED





I’m brought to a stereotypical interrogation room. There’s a metal table with a chair opposite of me and a two-sided mirror behind that. There's also a camera in the upper corner; guess they don't want to miss anything. It smells of bleach and coffee in here.

I look down at the cup holding the brown java. My nails dig into the side making grooves as I try and make sense of everything. Looking back, I wonder how I was so blind. Things make sense now, like my mother resenting me more since she’s been with Stevin. She used me; she knew the club wouldn’t turn her down if she used me as leverage. Making me out to be a rat seals my fate in the eyes of the Club. Shadow’s trust now nothing but a grain of sand in the desert wind.

I sigh in defeat.

The door clicks open and in steps a fat-bellied man with a folder. He sits down across from me, splaying out paperwork across the table. His black mustache curves and grooves across his pale skin as he scrunches his lips side to side.

“Miss Lexington, do you recognize this man,” he asks, pushing a picture across the table. Apparently he's not one for idle chit chat.

“No,” I say without looking.

The man sighs. Laying his arms across the paperwork, he folds his hands together. “Miss, this will go a lot easier if you just cooperate.” He wiggles his mustache as if it is tickling his lips.

“Again, do you recognize this man?” He pushes the picture in my direction.

I look down and my heart seizes. I take a calming breath at the mugshot of Ricky sitting before me.

“No,” I say, crossing my arms and looking the other way. “We done?”

“Really?” he asks, lifting his shoulders. He digs in his folder and pulls out another picture. “Because in this photo, Adrian Kingsmen, also known as Shadow and the Sargent-of-Arms of the Devil's Dust Motorcycle Club, is carrying you out of that man’s house.”

My eyes widen at the picture shoved in my direction, displaying my lies in black and white.

“You want to try ag-“

Knocks sound from the other side of the tinted glass, cutting off Mr. Mustache.

The door is flung open and my mother steps in.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” she asks, pointing at the picture.

“Sadie, you weren’t given clearance on this. You were too close to the case and taken off. You need to go back into the other room now.” The guy calmly points at the door.

My mother huffs, eyeballs me and steps out of the room.

“Now, where were we?” the man asks as he shuffles his fat belly into the metal chair.

“This man?” he asks, pointing at Ricky’s photo.

I sigh. I know I have to give them something, but maybe I can give them something without giving them anything.

“He called himself Ricky. I woke up in that house kidnapped by him and Cassie. Shadow and the rest of them rescued me and took me back to the club. Other than that, I don’t remember. I was pretty banged up; I had a slight concussion.” I push the photo back in his direction.