The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)

“Hey, we’re out of chips. Got anymore? I can’t eat this dip with my fingers?” Hawk requests, his mustache hiding the top of his lips as he eyes the table as if more chips will suddenly appear.

“I’ll make a run to get some. Hold tight, grumpy,” I reply, grabbing the empty chip bags and throwing them in the trash. I hear Bull, his voice rising with a tone of concern, catching my attention.

“What?” Dani asks, her hands held out as she looks down at herself. She has on a leather bikini that is sure to drive every guy at this party on her trail and piss Bull off.

“Go change,” Bull demands, pointing off across the beach. I smirk and abandon Hawk to rescue the poor thing.

“Oh, leave the girl alone,” I laugh, walking up to Bull and Dani.

“Do you see the shit she’s wearing, or not wearing for that matter?” Bull questions, exhausted and pointing at Dani. Her cheeks turn a shade of red in embarrassment. Poor girl is going to have it rough with a man like Bull as a dad.

“She looks fine, Bull. It’s a beach party,” I sass, trying not to laugh.

Bull shakes his head and growls, walking away.

I eye Dani, curious if she told Shadow about what we did, what she did to prove herself to me and the girls. I am grateful for her helping me in my time of need with my niece, but I don’t trust she won’t run to Shadow and tell him. Love makes you do stupid things.

“How ya doing, doll?” I ask, looking at her from the corner of my eye.

“I’m all right,” Dani replies meekly, shrugging. I nod, not getting anything from her tone if she has opened her mouth or not. I look away and smirk.

“That’s good. You better get used to your dad trying to make you wear a paper bag,” I inform her. I look over and see Hawk finger the dip. Gross. I better go get those chips. “Enjoy yourself, ya hear?” I tell Dani, walking back to the table.

“Don’t put your nasty finger in the damn dip, Hawk!” I yell, slapping his hand away. He looks at me and scowls. Well, his face is so wrinkly, I think he scowls.

“I didn’t,” he lies. I put my hand on my hip, my mouth gaping open. I just saw him put his fucking finger in the dip! I close my mouth and shake my head. I know what I saw.

“I’m going now to get chips; stay away till then,” I demand, pointing at him. He grumbles and tosses his plate on the table before walking away.

I grab my keys out of my pocket and head toward my truck, passing Locks on the way.

“Where you going?” Locks asks, grabbing my arm tightly. I yank my arm from his hold with force.

“To Pop’s store to get chips. That okay with you?” I sass, raising a brow with anger. I can’t wait to break free from his ass.

Locks smiles sinfully. “Of course, dear,” he replies condescendingly, his tone making the hair on my neck rise.

I turn my head, unsure, and stare at him as he walks away, digging in his pocket and bringing his phone out.

“Okay,” I mutter nervously.

I hop in my truck and head to the exit ramp, a stop light stopping me before I can turn for the off ramp. A car pulls up next to me at the stop light, a red convertible with the top down and Noah Gundersen playing “Day Is Gone” as loud as it can. The light turns green and I head to Pop’s, arriving quickly.

I scan the chips, looking for the scoops that go perfectly with my cheese dip.

“Aha,” I mutter, grabbing several bags. Who knows how late the party will run.

I head to the cashier and pay, sticking my money in my back pocket as he bags them.

I grab the four bags and head back to my truck. Lyrics of “Day Is Gone” still in my head, I sing them off key as a bright light catches my eye. I look over, and before I can react, a white car plows into me; its grill is hot and the sound of the world’s absent. I fly in the air, the bags of chips scattering everywhere and time freezes, followed by white noise. How come I don’t feel any pain? Surely my legs are broken. Surely something has been damaged by the hit. Like the snap of a finger, time rushes forward and my head slams into the car’s windshield. My head throbs and my face stings where the glass slices through it. I open my eyes, looking through the splintered glass, only to see a green hat before my body tumbles across the roof heavily. I see the pavement as my body is twirled from the car. I try and push my arms out in front of me to break my fall, but it’s no use. I’m not quick enough. The front of my head dives forward, impacting the asphalt with a loud crack, following with blackness.



I place both hands on my bar’s countertop, bracing myself. Where is Babs? Where did she go and why isn’t she answering her phone? I can’t get over the idea that something bad might have happened. I look up and notice the sun is rising. I look at the clock and find Babs is an hour late. Something bad happened; I know it. I push off the bar and pace the floor, pushing my hair from sticking to my sweaty face. My phone vibrates and I nearly break my wrist pulling it from my pocket.

I look at the screen and find Doc is calling. I scrunch my face in confusion and answer.

“Hey, Bull, you might want to get to the hospital,” she says gravely.