by M. N. Forgy
“Um, I’m sure Dolly is just making shit up. Why don’t you head on home,” Kane suggests. The blonde trails her eyes to me before turning and lifting up on her tiptoes.
“Will you call me later?” she tries to whisper. Kane tilts his head, twisting his lips with an unsure gesture.
“Probably not, babe. I told you before I brought you to my room not to expect anything more than a fuck,” Kane explains. I smirk and turn around to give them privacy. The blonde stomps past me in a fit of anger.
“Fuck, that ass was tight,” Kane whispers, adjusting himself as he watches the girl leave the club.
“Why you telling her to fuck off then?” I ask. Kane smiles a big-ass, toothy grin.
“Her ass is fine but not the rest of her, brother. Little coyote ugly right there.” He points at her, his fingers covered in skull rings.
“She didn’t look too bad to me.” I laugh, crossing my arms. She was actually pretty skanky-looking. Her makeup was caked on, and her clothes were two sizes too small. I have yet to find a woman in zebra print sexy, either.
“Yeah, well she looked a hell of a lot better when I was shit-faced.” He gives me a pat on the back and looks back at the chair. “I’ll get this cleaned up before anyone starts asking questions.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Kane and Tom Cat get the chair and blood all cleaned up, teeth included.
“You know you’re one fucked-up individual, right?” Tom Cat states, coming back into the club. I lean against the bar and shrug.
“Teeth, brother?” Kane chuckles, standing next to Tom.
“He fucking bit my property till she bled. He had more than enough warning, let alone not abiding by the rules of my club,” I explain, my tone stern.
“I agree. I would have snapped, too, if I cared about someone enough to get jealous over,” Kane states, sitting on a barstool.
“THE COPS ARE HERE!” Dolly screams, running through the club.
“Fuck,” I mutter, standing up straight. Bull throws open the kitchen doors, Shadow right behind him. Bobby runs into the main area from the hallway.
“Everything clean?” Bull asks.
“I’ll do a sweep,” Kane replies, walking away.
It’s not unusual that we get a random search warrant, but it kind of sucks when we get one after a party.
“Fucking get out!” Kane yells from down the hall. I step away from the bar and see Kane escorting two girls out the back door of the club.
“You’re an ass!” one sneers.
Kane shakes his head and slams the door in their faces.
“Couple girls who are wanted, apparently,” Kane informs. I give a slight nod and turn to Bull.
“Probably prostitution,” Bull explains.
“We’re clean.”
Two men with blue windbreakers and loaded shotguns walk in and step to the side. Then Stevin walks in. My face falls and my heart slams against my chest in a slow, tortuous rhythm. These aren’t cops, they’re FBI.
“What. The. Fuck?” Bull growls and I swallow. Today might be the last day I breathe air. I thought Stevin was bluffing when he said he’d come after the club himself, but I guess not.
“Well, well, well. The Devil’s Dust. Long time, no see, huh?” Stevin smiles that fucking Cheshire grin of his.
“Oh, wait. Except for you, Lip. We’ve spoken fairly recently, haven’t we?” Stevin chuckles, swiping his hands through his hair. My nostrils flare with anger. He knows what he’s doing—he’s stamping my death certificate.
All the brothers turn their head toward me with concerning looks. Fuck.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shadow growls. I tilt my head back and thumb my fingers in my belt loops.
“Oh, Lip here has been a real sport. Very cooperative with the FBI,” Stevin lies. I step forward and one of Stevin’s men jumps in front of him.
“You’re a fucking liar, and a coward,” I snarl, pointing at his face with vengeance. Kane grabs me by the shoulder and pulls backward.
“Easy, brother,” he whispers.
Stevin twirls his finger in the air. “Clean it. I want any dirt you can find,” Stevin demands, his tone serious. “If there’s a fucking Lysol can being used unlawfully, I wanna know!”
I trail my gaze from Stevin to Bull. His eyes are a shade darker and squinted with anger. Shadow’s hands are balled in fists, and Bobby has his arms crossed across his chest. They’re pissed. I don’t blame them. As many rats as we’ve had in the club over the years, I bet I look guilty as sin.
“What the hell is he talking about, man?” Kane whispers. The agents pull everyone from the rooms, and what women they were with, whether they were dressed or not. The Ghost Riders do not look pleased.
My feet are suddenly kicked apart, and my arms are yanked out. I pull from the agents’ grip, turning to push them off me. Without warning, two agents walk up behind me and slam me face-first onto the bar, while another checks me.
“Everyone’s clean!” the agent behind me yells.
“Perimeter is clean,” one of Stevin’s men announces, walking through the kitchen doors.
Stevin shakes his head, an evil smirk fitting his face.
“Ah, you Devil’s Dust are tricky-tricky.” He pins me with a serious glare before trailing it to Shadow. “I’ll be back. You can count on that.”
Stevin sneers, stepping toe-to-toe with me.
“If you’re done here, get the fuck out,” I demand, my jaw clenched. Kane clamps his hand down on my shoulder. It’s a good thing it’s there; it’s grounding me, reminding me to keep calm. Stevin turns his head, his eyes finding mine.
“Let’s go, boys!” Stevin hollers.
As soon as they exit, Shadow stomps toward me and slams his fist in my gut. I fall to my knees, coughing and gasping for air. “You fucking traitor!” Shadow roars.
“It’s not what you think,” I wheeze. Shadow doesn’t hear it, though; he rears his foot back ready to drive into my chest, but I dodge it. I grab his boot and twist it, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor.
I stumble to my feet and grab Shadow by the neck, pulling him back up. Growling with a fury so deep my throat bleeds, I ram my shoulder into his body, slamming him against the club wall. Frames and shit fall to the floor. I pound my fist into his mouth then drive my other hand into his gut.
Shadow clocks me in the side of the head hard, and I stumble back.
Bull steps between us and raises a hand to both of us, stopping our brawl. Huffing and puffing, I point at Shadow who’s bending over at the waist, his lip busted open from where I hit him.
“Fuck,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. My head splices with a sudden pain. I touch my forehead next to my eyebrow, finding blood.
“Did you talk to him about anything dealing with the club?” Bull questions.
“No,” I seethe.
“Then what the fuck is that prick talking about?” Bull asks. I thumb the blood dripping from my brow and look off.
“He came to me, telling me he could get me a plea deal, get me immunity, protection if I gave the club up. I didn’t tell him a damn thing. I was then cornered one night in my cell by the guards. I got the shit beat out of me, all at the hands of Stevin. I got out before he was done trying to pry me for information, so he’s been stalking me around town, threatening the club and Cherry.”
Bull nods, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger.
“You were locked up when it happened, but that fucker there,” Bull points at the door Stevin left out of, “He was the FBI agent who came knocking on our door, managed to even infiltrate our club. He’s dirty, and he’ll be back.”
I shake my head, angry that I didn’t know more when I was in prison. All I was told was we had law enforcement infiltrate our club. Dani’s mother hated Bull and got together with some agent to take the club down under Dani and Bull’s nose. The boys said it was taken care of, so I didn’t ask any more questions. Seems I should have.
I glance up at Shadow who has a softer look on his face. It’s one thing to fuck with the club, but when you bring family in, that’s a whole other level.
“Get Doc here, get that eye stitched up,” Bull orders.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I insist. Bull raises his brow in warning. “Fine, I’ll get it looked at,” I growl.
Bobby turns and dials Doc.
***
Thirty minutes later, Doc shows up, her blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders and bright green scrubs hugging her figure.
“All right, who shot who?” she teases.
“Lip got his ass kicked,” Bobby states, taking a big bite of a sandwich.
“Fuck you, Bobby, I didn’t get my ass kicked.” I flip him off, and he just smiles around a mouthful.
Doc sits on the coffee table right in front of me, her little black bag sitting on the floor next to her feet. She cups my chin and turns my head.
“There is quite a bit of blood,” she whispers.
“I’m fine, really,” I insist. Her eyes fall to mine and a sympathetic smile crosses her face.
“I’m sure you are, but I’m going to clean it and at least put a butterfly on it.”
“A what?”
She pulls out this little white strip. “It pulls the skin together,” she informs.
“Ah.” I nod.
She cleans my cut and puts the butterfly bandage thing on within seconds.
“I’m glad we cleared that up, Stunt,” Bull’s voice sounds. I slowly tilt my head up and find Bull and Stunt leaving the chapel.
“Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” Stunt shakes Bull’s hand.
“Let’s ride, boys,” Stunt instructs his men. “Where’s Boonie?” Stunt questions.
“We dunno. His bike isn’t here,” one of the Ghost Riders informs him.
“Fuck, who knows where he is. He probably went out while drunk last night. Let’s go,” Stunt continues, clearly annoyed with Boonie. “He’ll find his way home.”
“All done,” Doc states, standing.
“Thanks, babe.” I sit up and give her a nod.
“No problem.” She smiles then struts over to Bobby and kisses him. “See ya for dinner?”
“Damn straight. These fuckers can’t cook for shit.” Bobby smirks.
“You all right, son?” Bull asks, sitting down next to me.
“Fine,” I reply.
“You good?” Bull asks, pointing at Shadow, who looks at me then back to Bull.
“Peachy,” Shadow mumbles.
“This Stevin guy needs to eat a damn bullet,” I state, irritated that he’s trying so hard to get me killed.
“Agreed!” Bull and Shadow say in unison.
“Want me to take him out?” Shadow questions, his words sounding way too eager. Bull’s face goes hard as he stares off.
“No, not yet.” Bull flicks his gaze to Shadow. “That is one soul I personally want to deliver to the reaper.”
CHERRY
I roll the windows down in my car and let the warm breeze sweep my strawberry-blonde hair off my neck. Traffic is backed up from a car accident and it’s taking forever to get to Piper today. She probably thinks I forgot. Resting my elbow on the car door, I rub my temples. I’m so confused on so many things. There was blood and teeth on the club floor yesterday; I never thought Lip had that in him. I know he takes a spot in the most notorious outlawed club in LA, but the Lip I know is not the kind of guy who shows no mercy. He’s goofy, a horny bastard, and sweet.
I blow out a frustrated breath and pull into the drive of Golds Trailer Park. I turn the engine off, throw my sunglasses on the dashboard and slump in my seat. If I didn’t know Lip was capable of doing such a thing, to not know Lip might be darker than he portrays… what else do I not know about him?
Looking out my window, I see Piper on the dome jungle gym, of course all the way at the top.
“Damn it,” I mutter. She knows it’s not safe to be up there.
I throw my hair out of my face, pieces of it sticking to my cherry-glossed lips, and head over to her.
“I thought I told you not to climb up there?” I snap, my hands on my hips.
“It’s okay, as long as you stay away from that side,” she assures me. She swings down from one of the bars and beams a gorgeous smile.
“This pile of shit is a death trap,” I mumble under my breath. The bar that Piper is hanging on to suddenly snaps and she tumbles to the ground.
“Shit!” Rushing to her side, I pull her to her feet. She is so small and weighs nearly nothing.
“Are you okay?” I question, looking her over. She pulls her palm up and hisses, a good-sized cut slicing right through it.
I gently take her hand in mine and look it over.
“Well, you won’t need stitches, but you should go clean it up,” I recommend. “Does it hurt?”
She shoots her gray eyes from her palm to me, her nose dusted with little freckles.
“Some,” she mutters.
“Go get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I have anything in the car to fix the bar. But please, stay off the top. You could have broken your leg or something,” I state in frustration. She nods slowly and takes off toward her house.
“Piece of shit,” I mumble, kicking the jungle gym. I make my way to my car and lift the back hatch for something to cover the jagged edges of the broken bar, but all I find is duct tape.
“Guess it will do.” I grab it and pull a big piece with my teeth and fingers. A loud zip sound vibrates my teeth and fingers as I pull it as far as my hand will stretch.
I eye the silver bar, the end of it rusted and sharp as hell. Shit, she might need a tetanus shot. I wonder if Doc would come over and look at Piper’s hand without telling anyone. I bite my inner cheek at the thought; I don’t want to get anyone else involved with my secrets. Grabbing the bar, I start wrapping the end of it. I need to tell Lip today. It’s only getting worse the more I keep Piper a secret.
Something tangles in my hair—a hand. My body stiffens, and my mouth parts in fear. My head is suddenly yanked back and my skull slams into the jungle gym. My head rings, and my vision goes black, my body feeling ten times heavier than before as I free-fall to the ground. The side of my face slams into the dirt. I blink rapidly, trying to break the blurriness claiming my vision. I see someone step beside me, but I can’t make out who it is. Blackness envelops me.
***
“Wake up, bitch!” My body is kicked over, and I cough into the dirt. My head pounds with anguish, making me wince. I push myself up with my hands and remember someone attacked me. I turn quickly and a small cry leaves my lips.
“Eric,” I whimper.
“Tell me I’m seeing a fucking ghost. Your ass is supposed to be dead.” He points at me, his face beet red from the sun. He’s thicker than the last time I saw him, more muscular, his blond hair grown out and pulled into a ponytail. He has on torn blue jeans and a red flannel shirt that’s open and showing off his tanned skin. I take a step back and eye him.
“Fuck you!” I push through gritted teeth.
“How long you been around my daughter?” he questions, his upper lip curling.
“You mean our daughter? Long enough to know you suck at raising a little girl,” I fire back.
His body puffs out and his teeth grit together.
“Run. You better run,” he threatens, his tone deep and monstrous.
“You don’t scare me.” I stand up and straighten my white tank top and glare at him.
“I’m not going away that easy, not this time. I know people now, people who will have you eating your fucking fingers by the time they’re done with you,” I threaten.
“Yeah. We’ll see about that.” He juts his chin upward. “I’m going to get my gun. If you’re here when I get back, I’ll kill your white-trash ass.” He turns on the heel of his boot and takes off toward his house. My bravado flees my body, and I begin to breathe heavily. My heart feels like it’s slamming against my chest so hard it may
combust. I grab my chest and try to calm my rapid breathing but it’s no good. I’m panicking. I turn, looking the trailer park over. People are standing on their porches watching, not doing a damn thing about what just transpired. I pick up my pace and jog to my car. As soon as my ass hits the seat, I notice Eric stomping down his porch steps, rifle in hand. I start the car and peel out of the graveled parking, dust and smoke the only thing I see in my rearview mirror.
I glance at the clock on my dash: 1:30pm. I lost track of time, lost in my thoughts about Lip. Eric gets off at noon on Sundays. I walked myself right into my coffin. Eric will hire out, will find someone to kill me. I have to tell Lip. I have to tell the club.
My hands begin to tremble, my chest wracking with emotion. I jerk the wheel to the side and pull over. I can’t help it; I let the tears that have been stinging my eyes fall. Throwing my head into my hands, I cry. I cry because the man I love is someone I don’t know, because I may never see Piper again. I tilt my head back and take a slow breath. Pulling down the sun visor, I look at myself in the mirror. The corner of my eyebrow is split open, dried blood sticking to the side of my face.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. I lick my finger and try and rub at it, but more blood just escapes the wound.
I call defeat and slam the sun visor closed. I’m going to need stitches.
CHERRY: Hey. I need a favor.
DOC: What’s up?
CHERRY: I have a cut I need you to look at, but don’t tell Lip.
I need to be the one to tell Lip, not her. Seconds feel like minutes as I wait for her text.
DOC: Head over to the hospital. I’ll let the front desk know you’re coming.
I sigh with relief and pull back onto the highway.
***
“So, what happened?” Doc asks. Her cold hands take my chin and turn my head, getting a better look at my cut.
“I can’t,” I pause, and inhale a large breath.
“I get it, and you don’t have to tell me. But you do need stitches,” she informs. Doc is dating Bobby at the club, and is gorgeous. She ran to the club when she was in the worst kind of Hell with her husband, and they took her in right away in exchange for her doctor duties. If anything, she should be an inspiration for me. She is the prime example that someone can escape an ex and everything turning out okay.
