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

“What did the cops say?” I ask, tapping my fingers on the table.

“Oh, you know, the same bullshit they tell everyone,” he explains, rubbing his beard.

“Which is what?” Shadow grates, irritated.

Locks looks at Shadow, his face starting to turn a shade of red. “That they will do their best.”

“Who found her?” Bobby asks.

“Some passerby,” I answer. I did manage to get that bit of info.

“Any video surveillance around the area?” Old Guy questions, which is a good question. Hope making me sit up straighter, waiting for Locks to answer.

“Yes. But it only shows a white car speeding like a bat out of Hell. Can’t see anything but a white blur,” Locks rambles, his voice wobbly with excitement.

I can’t stand another moment of this. I can’t make out if Locks is truly upset and just handling this shitty, or if he just doesn’t care. What the fuck is wrong with him? Could he loathe Babs that much, to the point of not caring if she lives or dies, not craving to revenge her death? I exhale, trying to get a hold of myself.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go over and see her,” I state, needing to escape this confusing situation. I pat Locks on the shoulder in passing. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Locks,” I encourage, trying to get a read of his body language, but I get nothing.

***

Weeks have passed; it feels like months. I’m starting to worry she won’t wake, that something is wrong. I have visited Babs daily, holding her hand and talking to her. The club seems cold and unwelcoming without her. I gave in, started drinking my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, hoping to relieve some of this rage and depression building up. I have reached out to every club in the area, looking for a hit on the white car that struck Babs, but nothing has come back. I have used every one of my favors in the area, and I got nothing. My best man, Shadow, has been sloppy lately. Showing up late when I do pull my ass out of bed and have a meeting, forgetful of runs, and that’s just to name a few. He is mindless since he has made up with Dani. Things were rocky when Dani returned from her mother’s hold. I knew they would work shit out though, and they did. I need Shadow right now. I need him focused. Looks like I will be having a chat with him. Hopefully, it won’t involve me shooting him in the arm like last time when we discussed my daughter. I hate that he is with her, but to see that damn carefree smile on her face, I don’t want to ruin that.

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. “What?” I bark.

“She is awake,” Doc chirps. My body swells with relief. I don’t say goodbye. I just hang up and race toward the hospital.

***

As soon I get there, I say fuck the elevator and take the stairs. I need to see Babs’ eyes, hear her sassy mouth now.

I run into her room and find her… not awake?

“What the fuck?” I whisper. I thought she said she was awake.

“I heard loud-ass boots stampeding through the hospital,” Doc says, walking into the room. “I knew it would be you,” she continues.

“I thought you said she was awake?” I ask angrily, my emotions are not to be toyed with right now.

“She’s asleep. She’ll be very groggy and weak for a while,” Doc explains, looking at Babs.

I walk up to Babs. Her red curly hair is matted from where she has been laying, and her face bare of makeup shows more freckles than I have seen before. I can’t wait to make her mine. As soon as this is all over, I’m telling the club this shit about owning women, that caveman crap my pops ruled in, is out, and I’m claiming Babs’ ass.

“Can you hear me, doll?” I mumble close to her, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

I look up, expecting something from Doc from my over friendliness toward Babs.

“I knew it,” she says, her eyes smiling. “That’s why I called you.”

I smirk and return my gaze back to Babs.

“B-B-Bu…” stammers from Babs’ dry lips.

I open my eyes in confusion, the words leaving her mouth a slur and strangled.

“She is having a really hard time with speaking. We are doing some scans on her brain, see if we can find anything effecting the frontal lobe.

“I’m here, babe. Just take your time and rest,” I mumble into her hair before giving her forehead a kiss.

She doesn’t say anything.

“She’s back asleep,” I observe, running my hand over her head where stitches line her scalp.

“This is a big step to going forward, Bull. You should be hopeful, but like I said, the brain is tricky.

***