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

We ride toward Augustus’ place on the wrong side of town, the wind howling, bringing in a storm as we ride. When we pull up to the shithole warehouse, it’s siding grey and rusted, tension becomes thick between the boys. They know who Augustus is; they know what he is capable of. Yet, they are here backing up each other. I turn my bike off and look at my men.

“Let’s get this over with, boys,” I say, trying to master my tone of certainty. We head toward the abandoned warehouse, the pavement breaking and eroding, a rusty fence rustling with the wind matching the color of the building. Bobby stops at a blue tarp, catching my attention. He grabs a side of it and pulls it up, revealing a white Monte Carlo with blood soaking the splintered windshield and hood. It’s the car that hit Babs. I turn and swallow the lump that has formed in my throat at the sight of Babs’ blood smeared all over the car.

“Get a grip of yourself,” I whisper to myself. I turn back around, the boys eyeing the evidence. “Jesus,” I curse.

“I guess we know now it was definitely Augustus and his men who hit Babs,” Old Guy says solemnly as Bobby throws the tarp back over the bloodstained car. My hands flex with anger, lethal power pumping through them. We make our way around the building until we find a door. Without thinking, Shadow walks right in.

“Ah, the Devil’s Dust is here,” Augustus show tunes, striding down a flight of stairs, adjusting his tie that matches his suit. He dips his hands in everything and anything illegal. He is wealthy and powerful, his reign given to him by his great grandfather. “So nice of you to stop by,” Augustus snaps, his tone of humor gone. His voice pushes my last button.

“Someone is going to pay for the life of one of my girls!” I yell, my hand twitching to grab my gun and shoot him.

“I see,” Augustus says, his hand rubbing the sides of his head nervously. “George loved playing ‘cat and mouse’ with your girls, but he didn’t follow orders directly. Seems he got carried away with one, and I apologize for that.” His hand whips out and points to the guy named George. The punk is wearing a green bandana like a bunch of the thugs standing around the warehouse armed. I glare in his direction. He’ll die.

“If you’ll be so kind as to drop your weapons, boys.” Augustus kicks a raggedy blue crate toward us. I glare at it, debating if I should.

“Do we look stupid?” Bobby asks.

“Do it,” Augustus commands, his tone serious. He snaps his fingers and two men point rifles at us instantly. Shit.

I pull my gun from the holster under my cut and gently toss it in the crate, as do the other brothers. I look up at Augustus, his face in a smirk. He knows he has me by the balls.

“Talk,” I spit.

“Right,” Augustus says. “When your little bitches crippled my nephew, I was going to kill every single one of them.”

My face snarls and my brows furrow forward. Does he want me to fucking kill him?

“I even sent a warning to let you know war had begun.” I look at him confused, what is he talking about? Warning? I have not seen anything to indicate a warning.

“I sure did love that bike too,” Locks adds from behind me. I turn quickly. When the fuck did he get here, and how did he know to come?

“Locks?” Old Guy questions. Locks’ face is in a smug smile, his fingers dangling in his belt loops. It dawns on me, his blown up bike was Augustus telling me it was war. Shit!

“When I found out one of the girls who beat my nephew was your daughter, a new business opportunity came to light. I thought I would trade you,” Augustus continues, his tone collected and calm like he does this every day.

“Trade me what?” I ask, nervous at what he wants.

“Your girl’s life for a little business,” Augustus offers. I look at him with expecting eyes, wanting him to get to the point. “You let me run drugs on your side, and you can run guns on my side. You get some cash, and your women get to live.” He shrugs with a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude. I break my stare from Augustus and look at Shadow, silently asking him if he thinks we should take the deal. For some reason, I feel like I trust him more than anyone right now, which has me questioning the person wearing the vice president patch, Locks. I rub my head with the back of my hand, thinking. I don’t want to take the deal. I want to kill this fucker and every one of his trolls, but if I do, I’m sure someone will get away, or a higher ranking family member will take out my club. Shadow nods slightly before turning his gaze back at Augustus.

“Then this is over?” I ask, not wanting to miss any underlying bullshit.

“Over,” Augustus clarifies, nodding. His tone sounds like he wants this to be over just as much as I do.

“Fine.”

“Fantastic,” Augustus says excitedly. “However, I don’t condone business with clubs who have rats amongst them.”

I tilt my head in confusion.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

“Why don’t you tell them, Locks?” Augustus prompts, looking at Locks standing next to Shadow.

“What the hell is he talking about?” I question. I know I’m not going to like what I hear.