Page 2 of Devil's Contract

"What the fuck was I supposed to do, Ghost? Keep living in that damn trailer? Dani and I had been living there since I took over. I'm the Prez, and I deserve to live in a home fitting for that. She and I work fuckin' hard. If it weren't for her, we wouldn't be growing the way we are." I defend the decision my wife and I made.

He looks around, as if he expects someone to jump out of the shadows. "My nerves are shot, and I'm looking for shit that probably isn't here, but everyone needs to be on alert. We have got to be watching what we're doing. There's too much at stake. The other charters count on you all to help provide the product. Who knew Laurel Springs, Alabama had such fertile land to grow on?"

"Me." I wave my hand at him. "I'll keep Saints Garage flowing with business, too. The more money we make there, the less they'll be looking for the weed. We're fine. Don't worry so much, it'll send you to an early grave." I put my hand on his shoulder, offering some support.

He shakes his head, chuckling. "Comes with the territory. Let's go to church."

Two

Dani

I watch the taillight of Devil's motorcycle until I can't see it any longer. Now that he's gone, the house feels quiet and alone. I wish he were here all the time, but I know he's got his own life. The part of his life that isn't mine is dedicated to the Saint's Outlaws MC, Laurel Springs Chapter.

Which I'm used to, considering my dad was the president before Devil took the position. I've spent much of my life being surrounded by members of a club, and everything that goes with it. I head back inside, and right as I put my phone on the granite countertop, I see a FaceTime request coming through from my best friend Allison.

Thankful that I'll have someone to keep me company while Devil is gone, I answer it, a smile on my face. "Hey! How's it going?"

She sighs, blowing out a raspberry. Her hair is up and her face free of makeup, but there's a tiredness in her eyes. "Teaching teenagers is not for the weak. I got talked back to so many times today I wanted to smack someone, and a fifteen-year-old boy with acne hurt my feelings. How's your day?"

I never feel more blessed with my line of work than I do when I talk to Allison. "That sounds fucking awful. Why don't you come over and have dinner with me? Devil's at church and then has an errand to run. I'm going to eat and then start on these wedding flowers for Saturday. At least we can keep each other company."

"I don't knowwww..." she whines. "I kind of just want to take a bath, but I know I'm going to think about what that asshole kid said to me."

Tilting my head to the side, I

"I live two miles down the road. Don't act like you have to make a special trip." I roll my eyes. "Come on. I have leftover chicken."

"Is it the fried chicken your mama made?" She sighs heavily.

"Yes, yes it is, and the mac and cheese. Homemade."

I know I've got her when she groans and throws her head back. "Okay, okay, I'll be there in a few minutes. You don't play fair. You know I can't say no to any of that."

"I'll be here. I'll be ready to hear you bitch about your class, too." I assure her.

"You better be."

We disconnect, and I take a second to look around. Most of the time our house is close to spotless, but I've got a big flower order and stuff is everywhere right now. I'd be freaking out if it were anyone but Allison. Glancing out onto the sunporch, I can't help but smile with pride. Back when Devil and I met four years ago, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life. I was living off my parents and was nothing more than a spoiled brat. My dad gave me everything I wanted, and I took complete advantage of being a MC Prez's daughter.

Devil made me question it all. He immediately started asking questions, wanting to know why I was okay sleeping my days away. He wanted to know if I had dreams. That'd been a hard question to answer, because I never thought of it before. Didn't realize that was what I should think about, and I wanted to impress him. Devil Peterson was the hottest man I'd ever laid eyes on. Every time I saw him straddling his bike, all I could think about was if I were the one straddling him. But he wasn't interested in a girl who didn't know what her future was.

Meeting him matured me in a way I don't think anything else could have. Within six months, I'd decided what I wanted to do with my life, and I'd started a small, albeit successful, flower truck. I couldn't afford a shop. So I did what everyone trying to start a restaurant did - got a truck and sold out of it until I could make enough money for a storefront.

Allison comes through the front door, breaking my thoughts. "Hey girl, hey. I'm just here for the fried chicken." She says as she walks toward the kitchen. "Oh my gosh, those are gorgeous. Did you grow them?" She points to the flowers on the counter.

"Yeah." I smile. "I've finally figured out the right ratio of nutrients for the ground. These are so much better than I can get anywhere else. I was even getting stuff flown in from Atlanta. You should've seen the price of that."

She whistles between her teeth. "Oh, I can imagine. It's insane to me that brides were paying those prices for their flowers."

"It was typically the parents, but either way, I felt bad having to charge them." I grimace, thinking of the one bride who broke down in tears when I told her the price, because they were going to have to be flown in. I'd felt guilty for weeks afterward. I was covering the cost more than I should have. "But it's a business and I have to make a profit."

The oven beeps, letting us know that the chicken is done. "My god, that smells so good," Allison moans. "I didn't have time to eat lunch today. I had to spend the afternoon in the principal's office."

We fix our plates, and I pour us two glasses of wine, sitting them down in front of us. We sink into our seats and dig in. "Why were you in the office? You look like you're ready to kill someone."

She sighs heavily, shaking her head. "I'm so annoyed. I've tried to implement a few changes this year, and there's one parent who hates all of it. She thinks her daughter can't be a pain. I mean, was she or was she not a teenage girl at one point? This girl..." she plays with her fork, before taking another bite. "Is purposely argumentative and when the attention isn't on her, she disrupts the c;lass to get it. I lost my temper and told her that her need for that attention isn't going to get her very far once she realizes it's not always good."

She's my best friend for a reason. "Oh, my goodness. What did the principal say?"

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