“Oh, my God, you got donuts!” The way she says that, it sounds similar to the little moans she makes when I’m deep inside of her.
“Damn, you really like donuts, don’t you?”
She smiles, wraps her plush mouth into the soft dough and bites down, strawberry icing sticking to her teeth. “I told you, they’re my thing.” I can’t help but laugh.
Reaching over I grab a chocolate one from the box, and take a big bite.
“I think donuts may be the only honest memory I have of my father right now.”
She looks out the window deep in thought as she sucks on her fingers to rid the excess icing.
“You okay?”
Turning her head, her forehead wrinkles, and eyebrows come together in question.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know; you’ve never stolen anything before. Hell, I don’t think you’ve even used your pepper spray out of its intended use,” I jab.
She looks down. “It was what had to be done, but yeah, I’m second guessing it. I just—” She looks back out the window, the wind blowing in her hair. “I don’t do things like that.”
Guilt rushes up my back making me sweat. I should have stolen that gas, I knew it. I know she was doing it because she’s trying to pull her weight, but like she said…it’s not her. Which I’m totally fine with. It’s why I love her. She’s the light to my world, without her it’s dark and violent.
Grabbing another donut out of the box, I offer it to her. “Here, take another donut. It’ll make you feel better.”
Looking down, she nibbles on her bottom lip and takes it from me.
“I’m such a shit deputy.”
“No, you’re not. You’re trying to live, and you stole a little bit of gas. So what?” Reaching over I rub the back of her neck. “Besides, there can only be one bad ass in this relationship.”
***
JILLIAN’S THROAT BOBS, as she looks out the windshield. Realization that we are about as deep as you can get in this shit storm. Her shiny badge, and department-issued pistol mean nothing here.
The stake out car is gone, and now is our chance to go in if we’re going to do this.
“You stay here.”
Her head whips in my direction.
“No. I’m not staying in here.”
I grit my teeth. Why do women have to be so goddamn stubborn?
“Yes. You are. If Lip loses his shit and kills me, you need to run.”
Her eyes fill with tears as she looks back out the windshield.
Glancing around I notice a guy with a trash bag, cleaning up trash. Probably a prospect.
She looks down, a tear slipping down her cheek and landing on her hands.
“You got this, Jillian,” I open the rusty van door. “Just remember if shit goes down, you run.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, her eyes wide. I grab the gun off the dashboard, and close the door, my heart slamming against my chest at the same time.
Blood rushes through my body so fast the edges of my vision blacken. This is it. I’m about to see my little brother since…well, since we nearly killed each other.
This is going to end up one way…mayhem.
Tucking the gun in the back of my waistband, I blow out a nervous breath and round the van.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper to myself.
The prospect glances up. He’s wearing a beanie, sunglasses, and a beard that is sporting some serious gray. “Lip around?” I ask. He drops the trash bag and runs inside. Guess my face is known around here?
I don’t falter in my steps, and head toward the club.
Twenty feet from the door, it’s thrown open, and out steps Lip and the rest of the Devil’s Dust. The look on their faces hard and cold. Fuck.
I stop, tucking my thumbs in my pocket, leaning my head back slightly as I take in my lil’ bro and his men.
He looks the same as last time, just less bloody. He’s still sporting the same brownish, reddish colored hair, pretty boy looks, and that scrawny as shit build.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He points at me, drawing his gun with his other hand. The rest of his men pulling some kind of weapon out. Gun, knife…is that a fucking bat? I would like to say I never saw that coming, but in all honesty I expected that.
“Little brother. Nice to see you again.” My tone comes out calm, and collected. But I’m anything but fucking fine.
“You ain’t my fucking brother,” he sneers. I hate it when he says that.
“You killed one of our brothers, then walk on our turf,” a man with dark hair starts, “It’s like an early Christmas.” He rubs his hands together, clearly ready to end my life. Glancing along his cut, his name is Shadow and he’s the Vice President.