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

“I’m sorry. Are you family?” a nurse asks, stepping right in front of me. My face blisters with anger as I try and look around the damn nurse to see Babs.

“Damn right, I am!” I shout, knocking the nurse out of the way, causing her to stumble into another staff member. My hand cups my mouth when I see Babs. Her face is pale and still. Blood vessels popped all around her eyes, paddles on her chest. She looks like someone sucked the life from her. I turn quickly, wanting the image to go away. Replacing it with the laughing, sassy-mouthed woman I grew to love. How can she have gone downhill so fast, so quickly? I thought Babs was getting better. Doc, she warned me about her brain injury, the unpredictable outcome it could take. I turn around, my head falling forward, accepting the truth of the situation. Life is unpredictable. Death is unpredictable.

“What happened?” I ask gravely, my eyes watering.

“I was in surgery when I got the distress call. She had a stroke; it could have been caused by a brain clot. Her head took quite the impact when she fell, and brain clots are hard to find. We did everything we could.” I don’t look up, just listen.

“We did everything we could.” Another line I can’t stand to hear from doctors.

“I called the husband ten minutes ago when the patient started having problems,” a young sounding nurse adds. I inhale a sharp breath. Where the fuck is Locks? Why isn’t he here? For the life of me, he better be in a fucking supply closet crying his eyes out, or I will kill him. I will take that fucking patch and burn that tattoo on his back claiming him as one of my brothers.

“Did you get a hold of him?” Shadow asks.

“Yes, I did,” she responds.

I lace my fingers around Babs’ limp hand, her body still warm. I remember when we were at the Santa Monica Pier and I held her hand for the first time. The look on her face, surprised. A sudden sob escapes my lips, taking me by surprise. I close my eyes, trying to fight the tears welling up.

“Someone will pay for this,” I promise, my voice trembling with anger and mourning. I lean forward and brush my lips against hers, kissing her goodbye. A tear slips from my eye, trailing to the bridge of my nose. It drips, landing on her cheek. “You deserved so much more,” I whisper against her lips, wishing for the life of me she could kiss me back one last time.

I pull away, closing my eyes to confine my emotion.

I walk out of the room and find Shadow leaning against the wall, his eyes glassy. She was like a mother to him. I have seen her around the club giving him motherly advice. I swallow, pushing the thought out of my head.

“You get Dani to tell you fucking everything,” I demand. I have to know what these girls got themselves into, unless I want another member of my family dead.

***

I grab the last bottle of whiskey and head toward my room, passing Dani and Shadow’s room. I hear yelling and hollering. I want to go in there, yell at Dani for being so damn stubborn. Why didn’t the girls come to me, why didn’t they bring whatever they did to the table?

I walk in my room and slide against the door, my ass hitting the floor with a thump.

“I got her to spill it,” Shadow mutters from the other side of the door. I scrunch my knees, scooting myself away from the door so he can come in. I twist the cap of the bottle back and forth waiting for the details.

“Babs has a niece who was beaten up by some guy in a green hat, or some shit, behind a club with green lights. The girls found the guy and repercussions took place,” Shadow spills in a nutshell, making my head fall forward with a groan. Green clothes, green club, I bet it was the Green Room on the wrong side of town, forbidden territory, and probably Augustus’s man.

“Why didn’t Babs bring it to the table?” I ask, confused. Shadow rubs his head and sighs.

“Babs told Locks, and he told her no,” Shadow explains, drawing out the word no.

I literally growl. Who is Locks to fucking dictate that motion? I am the fucking president, not him!

“Call the boys to the table,” I demand, trying to stand from my uncomfortable position on the floor.