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

I smell a faint tone of soap, causing me to look around for the source. I pull my shirt to my nose and sniff, noticing clean clothes. I run my hands through my hair to find it has been washed and combed.

“Did someone fucking bathe and dress me?” I question in disbelief, growing angry. I’m a grown man; I don’t need dressing and bathing.

“You smelled really bad, and your penis isn’t that impressive, so don’t worry, I didn’t fondle it.” I look up and see Doc walking into the room with her medical bag, her blonde hair down, wearing blue scrubs.

I snort. “Don’t act like I don’t have a bull’s dick,” I remark, staring at her.

“I see your sense of humor is still with you,” she says with a smile.

She sits on the bed and looks at me with furrowed brows.

“I’m worried about you, Bull,” she informs gravely. I remember when she came to the club in shitty shape years back, knocking on death’s door with a little blonde-haired girl at her knees. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be as good as dead. Both of them.

“How’s your daughter?” I ask, changing the subject. She looks away. She doesn’t like to talk about her daughter, doesn’t bring her to the club either. She is a protective mother, a good mother.

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’,” I inform her, trying to sit up. She nods and looks back at me with serious eyes.

“Bull, have you thought about therapy?”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” I ask.

“Booze and drugs are not a form of therapy,” she clips, her face scrunched in anger.

“So you say,” I snarl.

She looks away and huffs. “I think I know why they call you Bull; you’re bull headed,” she mutters, making me laugh.

“I refuse to believe this is it for you, Bull. You look so broken and unhappy,” she mumbles, sliding her hand up and down my arm in sympathy. I am broken and unhappy. I can’t keep my club safe, failing as a president, and I lost the woman I love. I loved Babs, still do. I blame myself for my fucked-up life. I should have told everyone about me and Babs, dealt with the blowback. I caused my unhappiness, paved my road of misery.

“There is no happily ever after for Bull, darlin’,” I say gravely, being honest.

Doc’s head whips in my direction, her sweet round face scowling with disapproval. “I refuse to believe that,” she snaps. “Everyone said Babs and the girls did what they did because of some niece,” she says, looking at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, so?” My tone urging her to get on with what she’s getting at.

“So have you tried to connect with her? If she has a niece, she has to have a brother or sister. Have you talked to them?” she asks, her tone laced with sincerity. At Babs’ funeral, it was just the club, no family had arrived, and nobody knew how to contact any.

“I don’t know how to get ahold of any of them,” I inform her.

“Yeah, the only person on her emergency list was Locks,” Doc informs. I look at her, an idea popping in my head.

“What about her niece’s contact list, who is on that?” I ask, my face lighting up with hope.

“Babs was on the list, but it was just updated not too long ago. I don’t have access to previous files,” she says, a frown on her face.

“So, find out how to get them,” I suggest, shrugging.

Her face twists in thought before she finally smiles. “You mean pull a Devil’s Dust and work my way in, pay people off?” she says with humor.

“Exactly,” I reply seriously.

Her face goes from a smile to serious. “What?” she says, confused.

“Pay off whoever you need. I’ll give you the damn money. Do whatever needs to be done to get to those files,” I pause. “I am fucking this club up left and right. It has taken its toll on me breaking me, as much as I have broken it. I need something to hope for, doll,” I say, my tone nothing but desperate and needy.

She looks away and lowers her head, running her hand through her long blonde hair before looking at me. “I’ll do it. For you, Bull. Maybe you can find some kind of closure to all this,” she remarks.

That’s highly unlikely.