“Shit,” I whisper.
“You said another bad word.” Piper laughs and points at me, nearly jumping with excitement where she stands. My state of alarm dissipates.
“You must be a bad influence.” I smile. A raindrop splashes my arm. I glance up and notice a big, dark cloud starting to mask the hot sun. Fuck, Eric will be pulled off the construction site if he hasn’t been already.
“I gotta go, baby,” I mutter. Her face saddens, and she glances back at the jungle gym.
“Remember to stay near the bottom,” I remind her. She nods and starts climbing it. I step behind her and pull the back of her head toward me, kissing it.
“I’ll see you around.”
“Will you come by tomorrow?” she asks.
Tomorrow is Sunday, and Eric usually works till noon on Sundays.
“I’ll try, but no promises.”
LIP
Kane strides out of one of the rooms with a blonde chick wrapped around his side. He’s Native American and is always with a different girl every night. He’s a prospect, but not for long. Last week, twins got in a cat fight over him. It was pretty awesome to watch.
“Fuck, man, what happened?” he questions, looking at the blood around the chair.
“You didn’t hear?” The blonde looks up and questions Kane. “Dolly said some Ghost Rider member was duct-taped to the chair and had teeth hammered into his skull.”
I pull my brows together and pin Kane with a glare. Dolly must have been the bitch who screamed this morning.
“Um, I’m sure Dolly is just making shit up. Why don’t you head on home,” Kane suggests. The blonde trails her eyes to me before turning and lifting up on her tiptoes.
“Will you call me later?” she tries to whisper. Kane tilts his head, twisting his lips with an unsure gesture.
“Probably not, babe. I told you before I brought you to my room not to expect anything more than a fuck,” Kane explains. I smirk and turn around to give them privacy. The blonde stomps past me in a fit of anger.
“Fuck, that ass was tight,” Kane whispers, adjusting himself as he watches the girl leave the club.
“Why you telling her to fuck off then?” I ask. Kane smiles a big-ass, toothy grin.
“Her ass is fine but not the rest of her, brother. Little coyote ugly right there.” He points at her, his fingers covered in skull rings.
“She didn’t look too bad to me.” I laugh, crossing my arms. She was actually pretty skanky-looking. Her makeup was caked on, and her clothes were two sizes too small. I have yet to find a woman in zebra print sexy, either.
“Yeah, well she looked a hell of a lot better when I was shit-faced.” He gives me a pat on the back and looks back at the chair. “I’ll get this cleaned up before anyone starts asking questions.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Kane and Tom Cat get the chair and blood all cleaned up, teeth included.
“You know you’re one fucked-up individual, right?” Tom Cat states, coming back into the club. I lean against the bar and shrug.
“Teeth, brother?” Kane chuckles, standing next to Tom.
“He fucking bit my property till she bled. He had more than enough warning, let alone not abiding by the rules of my club,” I explain, my tone stern.
“I agree. I would have snapped, too, if I cared about someone enough to get jealous over,” Kane states, sitting on a barstool.
“THE COPS ARE HERE!” Dolly screams, running through the club.
“Fuck,” I mutter, standing up straight. Bull throws open the kitchen doors, Shadow right behind him. Bobby runs into the main area from the hallway.
“Everything clean?” Bull asks.
“I’ll do a sweep,” Kane replies, walking away.
It’s not unusual that we get a random search warrant, but it kind of sucks when we get one after a party.
“Fucking get out!” Kane yells from down the hall. I step away from the bar and see Kane escorting two girls out the back door of the club.
“You’re an ass!” one sneers.
Kane shakes his head and slams the door in their faces.
“Couple girls who are wanted, apparently,” Kane informs. I give a slight nod and turn to Bull.
“Probably prostitution,” Bull explains.
“We’re clean.”
Two men with blue windbreakers and loaded shotguns walk in and step to the side. Then Stevin walks in. My face falls and my heart slams against my chest in a slow, tortuous rhythm. These aren’t cops, they’re FBI.
“What. The. Fuck?” Bull growls and I swallow. Today might be the last day I breathe air. I thought Stevin was bluffing when he said he’d come after the club himself, but I guess not.
“Well, well, well. The Devil’s Dust. Long time, no see, huh?” Stevin smiles that fucking Cheshire grin of his.
“Oh, wait. Except for you, Lip. We’ve spoken fairly recently, haven’t we?” Stevin chuckles, swiping his hands through his hair. My nostrils flare with anger. He knows what he’s doing—he’s stamping my death certificate.