“Come here.” I hold my hand out to help Jillian up.
She grabs onto the ridge of each side of the trap door, and pulls herself up. Grabbing her legs I help push her up, my stiches stretching and burning with the force. They’re going to rip apart before the morning is over, I know it.
“I can’t see anything,” Jillian whispers, climbing up.
Looking down, I contemplate helping the Devils’ hide shit before the cops show up. It’s out of habit more than anything.
“Are you coming?” Jillian whispers. I glance up, her face scared.
“Yeah.” Mimicking Jillian’s moves I pull myself up. The stitches snapping in my abdomen painfully.
Falling onto my back, I grab at the wound. Pulling my hand back, blood stains my palm.
“Oh, shit,” Jillian whispers, her eyes wide.
I can hear Bobby move the chair back below, and close the closet door.
“It’s fine, we need to move a little farther in, just in case they get nosey and look up here.” Hunched down, I waddle into the darkness like a fucking duck, Jillian crawling behind me.
“ON THE FLOOR!” is hollered right under us causing us to freeze. “ON THE FLOOR, ASSHOLE!” Someone else repeats, grabbing both of our attention. We look down and notice there are slits in between the worn wood beneath our feet, giving Jillian and me a small view of what’s going on.
A guy with dark hair points a gun. Men in SWAT gear throw Bull and the rest of the Devils on the floor hard. Then a deputy walks in, swiping glasses off his face in an arrogant manner. Jillian gasps, her hands slamming across her mouth. Glancing up, her face holds not only fear but…recognition. Like she knows the pig.
I narrow my brows in question, and she turns her head quickly. Yeah, she knows who that is.
“It smells like shit in here,” the Deputy says with disgust.
“That’s just Bull.” The main police officer chuckles, slamming his boot into Bull’s side. Bull grunts, grabbing his ribs.
“Something I can help you with, Skeeter?” Bull asks from the floor, eyeing the guy who just kicked him.
“Clear!” Multiple men holler from down the hallway.
“Oh, I don’t know. You see these two dip shits crawl through here?” Skeeter takes two photos from the Deputy and drops them on the floor, but Bull doesn’t even look at them before answering no.
“You’re raiding my club for two people who aren’t here?” Bull continues. “How desperate are you?”
“Word is that pretty one there, who is a Deputy, killed her own father. You know anything about that?” The Deputy, rubs at his face, pointing at the photos
Bull’s head snaps up, his entire body flexing. Fuck, he knows she’s law enforcement now.
“I said I don’t know who they are,” Bull grits, laying his head amongst the garbage covering the floor.
“Right, well, word is her and lover boy were seen here.” Bull doesn’t reply.
Skeeter hunches down, gripping Bull by the hair to make him look at him. “Let me put it this way, if we find out they were here—and I will know—I am ordered to tear this club down, brick by brick.”
The Deputy grabs Skeeter by the collar shoving him back like he’s a maggot, before turning around, his hands on his hips.
“I’m truly sorry about that, he’s just excited. Now where were we? Ah, yes…” He walks over to Lip, and squats down. “If that piece of shit brother of yours turns up here, I advise you to either kick his ass to the curb, or give us a call.” I begin to sweat, nervous Lip will call us out.
“Fuck you.” Lip turns his head, breaking eye contact. My body sags with relief almost instantly.
The Deputy grabs Lip by the hair, jerking his head back. My fists clench with the urge to go down and protect him. Why? I don’t fucking know.
“The only one who will be doing any fucking here will be me. Fucking you in the ass when I bring your entire club in. Do you understand?”
“Let him go. We don’t know anything, asshole,” Bull adds.
“Let’s just say, it’s a long way back to Vegas for you, pretty boy.” He leans farther down, and I find myself lowering myself, too, trying to hear him. “And you’ll be sucking my dick all the way back to your uncle’s.” I stiffen, not sure if I heard him right. Being up here, surely I didn’t. I scratch at my chin, replaying it over in my head. If I heard it correctly, then he’s working for my uncle. Fuck, there is no way Jillian and I can leave here with them crawling around the Devil’s Dust now.
Jillian shifts her foot, the small space we’re crammed in uncomfortable. The boards rattle with her movement, and the Deputy below glances up.
I hold my breath.
My heart strikes against my chest.
Adrenaline pounding in my temples.
“Anyone check the attic?”
“Oh, no,” Jillian whispers, looking at me.
“Don’t panic. Just stay still,” I whisper.
“No, sir. I don’t think they have one,” another man hollers from the hall.
“Oh, they have one.”
Boots thud against the club’s floor, and within minutes they find the trap door.