Page 25 of Devil's Work: Dark

Then worse than him turning down the offer to be my new permanent guard, he does as he threatened and pulls his phone from his pocket. He gets up from the table while pressing, I assume, Dark’s contact.

“Go ahead and eat, buddy.”

He once again drops his hands.

The kids and I finish our dinner.

I hoped Green would want to guard us. This situation isn’t optimal, but I thought we’d at least be able to work out a deal. Why of all people in the world, did I have to develop a crush on my bodyguard? It was enough for me when I thought we were friends. Now that I know we’re not, it makes it all the worse. My heart is sad. Monday, I’m going to call Dusty. She seems tight enough with Reaper that they might be able to figure out a way for me to get Dark out of my house.

9

DARK

This shit is not happening. I can’t believe she hung up on me after the enemy upped hostilities against her. In a fucking Walmart parking lot. It’s time for a meet with the brothers. I told Rae that I had shit to take care of when in reality, I just had to ride. I needed to clear my head. Rae’s just been fucking messing with it.

When I turn onto the compound, I see Vlad, Sarge, Rough, and Sarge’s friend, the journalist, standing in a huddle between Vlad and Sarge’s homes. I ride close and park. The group turns to look at me.

“Green still on Rae?” Vlad asks.

“Yeah, why?” I ask back.

“You haven’t heard the news?” Roughneck asks.

Obviously, I haven’t. “No. Someone fucking tell me.”

“A woman’s body was discovered today outside Nicholasville. Cops are linking it to the Bible Belt Killer,” Jack, the journalist, says. The man has won some serious accolades including a Pulitzer for his photography. And here he is, doing a story on us. It’s no wonder he ended up as a photojournalist after getting out of the Raiders. Sarge says he was one of their best recon men, going into some of the sketchiest places imaginable, like Jihadist compounds, to get the intel. At about six feet, he wouldn’t have stuck out. He’s got this reddish-auburn hair that, despite what most people assume about the hair coloring of that region, has a foothold there, too.

But shit. Nicholasville? That’s less than a two-hour drive and practically a straight shot. This is the last thing we need right now. I pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to clear my head. Dealing with women is doing my head in. We’ve got Nic and Greer, and even Dusty. She might not be anyone’s old lady, but she’s part of the club. A part we need. A part, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t want to do without. There’s a shortlist of women that I give the same level of respect to as my brothers, and Dusty falls squarely on that list. Plus, there’re the pussies who show up to the club to fuck. They belong to the club. And on top of all that, now I’ve got Rae to deal with.

“There a reason you showed up here?” Vlad asks, dragging me from my head. The gates open and several cars roll through. The pieces have started showing up.

“What?” I ask.

“You’ve been diligent with guarding her. Now you’re here. Miss the party? French got out of the joint today. We’re celebrating.”

French?Fuck.Why didn’t anyone call me? French got locked up on weapons charges when we went to war with Rage and his loyal Horde. He didn’t have a permit for his gun. He didn’t have it because he’d stolen it. The stupid jackass used a stolen weapon. They still should’ve called me.

Though now I’ve got bigger things to deal with than French’s party. There’s a reason we voted Vlad in as president after that battle. He’s a smart motherfucker. He sees everything. A good man to have on your side. Shit to have as an enemy. I give him what’s on my mind.

“Rae went to a job interview today. Walmart in Middleboro. They had to have eyes on her because they tried to grab her after she left the store.”

“Eyes on her?” Vlad asks.

“Yeah, and I’m diligent. I keep eyes open at all times. Green keeps eyes open at all times. So where the fuck did they come from?”

“Got a description?”

“Call Green. He drew on the guy. He got the best look.” I don’t want to tell him that I wasn’t there when Rae was attacked. I don’t want to admit that she’s been fucking with my head and I had to get away.

Bitches fuck with my dick, not with my head.

But it’s as if Vlad, that fucker, has a sixth sense when he laughs, slapping the back of my shoulder. He says, “I know, I’ve been there.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argue. He doesn’t bother to respond, simply laughing again as he walks away.

I need to get home—shit. Rae’s house.Thisis my home. Rae’s place is Rae’s place. Even as I think it, I’m walking from the group of men to ride back to the woman and kids who need me.

She needs a real man to take care of her.

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