The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)
M.N. Forgy
I dedicate this book to those who were dragged through life’s unforgiving hurdles, and came out on top.
Wear your scars with pride.
Live with no regrets.
THUNDER ERUPTS FROM ABOVE as the dark, ominous, sky opens up, allowing sprinkles to cascade down. I blink, the rain clinging to my eyelashes as I stare at the club from afar. The smell of wet pavement is heavy in the air as the rain pounds against the asphalt. I’ve been considering my options, my fate. I’ve been standing here for an hour, knowing that walking into the clubhouse could seal my future with a bullet to the head, possibly by the one I love most, Shadow, but going back to the life I had before would grant me a destiny of only surviving; I wouldn’t be living.
I was just as shocked as the club was when my mother and her boyfriend Stevin showed up at the bike show with a team of Federal Agents. Not only did I feel betrayed, I felt hurt. How did I not know my mother was a part of the FBI? That bitch kept me for two and a half days trying to pry information from me as a witness. After they got nowhere, they tried to keep me as a possible suspect. Stevin and my mother were the laughing stock of their work force.
“Look, we have wasted a lot of our resources on this club. When the informant was shot, we had to go in, breaking our six-month cover in the El Locos. Only one of the Devil’s members had a gun, and he tested negative for gunshot residue. We don’t have any evidence, and we won’t get any; they cover their asses too well to get caught. I’m calling it quits.” The conversation carried from behind the door, which led to my interrogation room. The detective speaking sounded agitated, like the one who had been questioning me all day.
“I know I can get her to talk. Just give me some more time,” my mother pleaded. Her consistency at making me her rat angered me. It also showed me just how much my mother hated me; she only kept me around in her life for this exact purpose; bringing down my father and his club and making his daughter, me, the one to do it. It’s not going to happen, though; I’ll die in the hands of my father’s motorcycle club being honest rather than live and being a rat.
“She is your daughter, Sadie,” the agent said in distaste.
“Blood doesn’t make her my daughter,” my mother spoke harshly. That should hurt but it didn’t.
“No judge is going to sign off on detaining her any longer,” the FBI agent replied sternly.
“It’s over, Sadie; it’s time to let go. We gave it our all. I gave it my all, for you,” Stevin said softly.
Three hours later, here I am.
The rain starts pounding on my shoulders as the wind picks up, its velocity so hostile, I have to firmly plant my feet to the ground to keep from blowing away. That wouldn’t be a bad thing right now. Away sounds better than here, but I have nowhere else to go.
“You!”
I look up and see my father Bull, Locks, and Bobby all standing outside the clubhouse. Shit, how long have they been standing there? Bull stands in front of the others with his hands on his hips, the rain slamming down on his leather cut; his cut claiming him as a Devil’s Dust member. My father is the president of the club. I should be fine, but with the look he has on his face; I’m not so sure my safety is on the top of his priorities. I take a deep breath, possibly my last, and move forward hesitantly.
“That’s far enough,” Bull says, his voice cold and threatening.
I stop a few feet in front of them, my body trembling with fear. I straighten my back to appear unaffected, but it’s no use. I’m scared to death.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You got a death wish?” Locks barks, his hand planted firmly inside his cut, no doubt on a gun. Locks, being the Vice President, could shoot me right here in the courtyard and get away with it.
“I -” I choke, “I’m not one of them,” I say timidly. The wind’s so loud it’s hard to speak above it.
I look in Bobby’s direction, curious as to where Shadow is. He should be here protecting me. I want to believe Shadow will keep me safe, that he will shield me from the throes of violence from the club. However, if I close my eyes, I can still see his face when the look of distrust slithered across it.
Bull looks me in the eye from a distance, his eyes darting up and down trying to read my body language. We stand silently. The wind howls and thunder claps from above. My eyes plead for him to believe me, believe that I had nothing to do with my mother and her plans to take down the club. My worst fear of all surfaces he won’t kill me; instead, he will send me away and I’ll have to go back to my mother or live on the streets.
“I have nowhere else to go,” I cry above the thunder.
“Bobby, check her.”