Page 12 of Devil's Work: Dark

Oh my god, how do I tell Mable that I don’t have money? I wanted to give her money for once. And Jesus, is my sister okay? Tears prick the back of my eyes then begin to roll down my cheeks with reckless abandon. They don’t stop the rest of the way home. This weekend turned out to be one giant shitshow. All I wanted was to earn a little extra cash. Now I’ve got men jumping me at gas stations? I don’t know what to do.No, Rae—crying gets you nowhere. Get it together. Your kids can’t see you upset.Right. They can’t see me upset. I allow myself one more mile of self-pity and then that’s it. I wipe my eyes, take in a deep breath, and I’m done.

It’s daylight by the time I reach Bentley. My ankle is three times the size it’s supposed to be, probably because I had to drive home on it. Instead of heading straight home, where I want to be, I pull into the parking lot in front of my doctor’s office. She’s actually a physician’s assistant named Dusty. She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she knows her job, and she accepts my insurance.

I can only hope she’ll see me since I don’t have an appointment. It’s hard, but I hobble inside the lobby.

“Can I help you?” the nurse behind the counter asks. She’s a hard lady, and when I say hard, I mean she grew up in like Russia or somewhere. She has the build of an Olympic dead lifter, and would live in a constant state of unibrow if she didn’t pluck it daily, but she’s actually cool. I heard that she even helped stop murderers or something.

“I hurt my ankle,” I reply. The nurse stands and looks through the cutout window. She doesn’t have to ask which one. It’s more than obvious.

“Have a seat,” she says in a semi-thick accent. It lessens the more time she spends here. “We normally ask that you make an appointment, but you caught us on a slow morning. If you had to get hurt, you did it at a good time.”

I try to laugh, but I’m in pain and have been through hell. I just want to get home to my kids and my bed. She said sit, so I plop down in the seat closest to me and wait. Dusty and the nurse come out from the back a few minutes later. They help me to the back into a room.

It’s not hard to discern that Dusty’s sizing me up. The dress. The hair. The makeup. The scrapes and dirt from my scuffle. The ankle.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Rae. I can help you.”

I shake my head a second time.

“Then tell me this, are you safe?”

And like a stupid ninny, I break out in a fresh round of tears. She knows. She knows somebody did this to me.

“Come on, Rae. You need to tell me. What about your babies? If you don’t let me help, you’ll be putting them in danger.” She examines my ankle. Sprained. Not broken. She wraps it for me and calls for the nurse to bring me a pair of aluminum crutches.

Sighing, I spill my guts. Everything. From the state of my finances to my sister’s call, going to Nashville, the party, the men, rescuing Kaileigh, and then ending with the other men trying to kidnap me, when the ankle injury occurred.

“Honey,” she says while pulling her phone from her pocket. She finds someone’s number and presses their contact. After about thirty seconds, she says, “Reap, I need you.”

About twenty minutes later, one of the largest men I’ve ever seen in my life walks into my room. He fills the space with his presence. All jeans, white T-shirt, black leather vest, black boots and sex appeal.Damn, son…If I’m not careful, I’ll end up drooling all over my chin. The patch on the front of the vest reads,Reaper. He might be gorgeous, but the man does indeed look like he’s collected a few souls in his life.

When he sees me, he honestly growls. If not for his eyes telling me that he feels sorry for me, I’d have jumped. “Who did this to you, sweetheart?” he asks.

“I don’t know. But I think they work for very rich men.”

For the second time today, I spill my guts. This time, it’s to a biker of all people. One of the Bedlam Horde. Of course, I know of the Horde. No one who lives in Bentley isn’t aware of the Horde. They used to be outlaws, but now I guess you’d call themvigilantes. They’ve been trying to clean up their image.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, sweetheart,” he says. “Your sister is shit for not telling you, but for your sake, I hope she’s okay.”

That was nice of him to say. She should’ve told me, but I don’t think she’s shit. I don’t accept handouts and I just think she knew I’d never work the party if I’d known the actual job and she wanted me to make some money.

“Listen, you wait here. I need to talk to Dusty for a minute, then we’re going to figure this out.”

I think I just accepted a handout.

Dammit.

5

DARK

I’m at the auto shop in town when my phone rings. “Talk to me,” I answer.

“Where are you?” Reaper, my Horde brother, asks.

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