Devil's Girl: Dust Bowl Devils MC (4 page)

I jumped on the chance to warn her away. Girls like her tended not to listen until they got a good look or taste of this life for themselves. "These aren't nice men, Dawn. They can't be changed into nice men, either."

She was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes nice men turn rotten, too."

"Is this what you want, though? One of these days, Gunner or one of the others is gonna go just a little too far."

Her voice was small all of a sudden, reminding me of her youth. As if I was so old myself. "How could you do... that? You trust him not to hurt you?"

"I don't." I shrugged. "I'm fucked up, too."

“I like your tattoo,” she said, charging right past the awkward moment.

“Oh? Thanks.” It was a small version of the club’s devil skull face, placed just to the left of my lower back. The text surrounding it read “Property of the Dust Bowl Devils.” The vice president himself had tattooed it there.

She finally left my side and climbed off the bed. She handed me my clothes from where I left them on the floor. "Think Nella will make me leave?" she asked as I dressed.

"What for?"

"'Cause I made Gunner mad?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't take much to make him mad. You're fine."

"Good." She nodded decisively. "He just should have warned me is all. Now I know. I'll do better next time."

"Next time?" Finally dressed, I reached for the door. "Girly, don't say I didn't try to warn you off." Maybe she was just plain crazy. Or maybe she was just like me. Either way, I was done warning her. She was allowed to make her choice, and I was curious to see how long she'd last. Maybe she would be a lifer too, like Nella was, like I was afraid I would be.
Poor choices all around.

I helped Dawn find a temporary place to stay the next day. The town’s motel did long term deals, and I set her up with a couple of weeks using her tips and a small cash forward from Nella.

Dawn had seemed genuinely taken aback. “You guys are gonna help me? Just like that?”

“Yes,” Nella said, handing the wad of cash to me. “But don’t make me tell the guys that you owe the club a debt. Make sure you work off what you owe before you decide to leave town. Understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.” She shook her head as she followed me out the door.

It was thanks to me, of course. I told Nella that I thought the girl would be sticking around for a while, that she seemed eager to be part of the inner circle. And that she pretty much had nowhere else to go, anyway.

So after all our help, I was more than a littler surprised by her tone when we got her settled in a room at the motel. “I know you have a thing for Gunner,” she said, “But I like him, too. I just think you should know.”
Ah, so now that she feels secure, her true colors show.
“I think I like that Theo, too,” she went on, “And Jester isn’t bad looking, either.” She sat on the edge of the motel bed and kicked off her shoes while I stood by the front door.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Take it easy, girly, it ain’t a contest. You can work your way around the whole club for all I care.”

She gave me a pitying look. “Everything’s a contest. My dad taught me that.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re competing for. I don’t have a thing for Gunner. You’re welcome to fuck him all you like.”

Dawn shrugged. “Just wanted to let you know. That’s all.”

I shook my head. “Whatever. I’ll pick you up before I head to the bar tonight if you want. Just text me.”

“Thanks.”

I knew exactly what she was doing. I silently fumed as I walked back to my truck, leaving her behind for the day. She wanted to command the guys’ attention, to have first pick, to “run the room,” as it were. She wanted to be the baddest bitch. I’d only held the unofficial position for as long as I had because there’d been no competition in a long time. I knew the day would come that some chick would stroll it and usurp the spot from me. I simply didn’t have a big enough presence.

But she didn’t need to be such a… a
bitch
about it. My better sense gave way to the jealousy roiling in my stomach.
Fuck her. I’m not giving it up that easily. Not to her.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

The bar was quiet that night. Dawn pretended our earlier conversation never happened when I picked her up. I just flipped through the radio stations while she talked about nothing in particular. When we pulled into the parking lot, she asked, “Do you think Gunner will be there tonight?”

Eager to take my place?
“Eager to give him another try?”

“You know it.”

I parked the truck in my usual spot behind the building. “No clue. Nothing’s going on as far as I know.” We strolled inside, both of us just a touch unsteady on our too-high heels.

“Ladies!” Irish was in his usual position behind the bar. It was one of Nella’s nights off, though, and she was probably home.

Time passed slowly when there was no one to flirt with. Anchor came by with his wife, and Bill stopped in but left almost immediately. Some townsfolk showed up, so the place wasn’t deserted, but they weren’t who I was there for.

Dawn looked as bored as I felt. Some customers beat me to the jukebox, so I didn’t even have that to keep me entertained. Finally I put my pride aside and took a seat next to her at the end of the bar. With a heavy sigh, I asked, “Want to play a round of pool?”

She gave the room a disinterested glance. “Yeah. Get the Prospect to give us a few beers and I’m in.”

“His name’s Irish,” I said as I flagged him down.
Giving me orders, are you?

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Dawn will flash you her tits for two beers.”

Both of their eyebrows went up. “One flash for two beers?” Irish asked.

Dawn’s face finally broke in a grin. “Two titties, two beers.”

He nodded. Dawn pulled her tiny t-shirt up. Wearing no bra again, her huge breasts spilled right out with a perky bounce. Irish licked his lips. “Goddamn. All right, honey. Coming right up.” He stood frozen, though, until she finally pulled her shirt back down and covered her chest. “Goddamn,” he said again.

Beers happily in hand, we started a game that quickly became far more competitive than it should have been, especially at our skill level.

I broke, and got nothing. It took three turns before one of us managed to score a point at all. And it was only downhill after that.

“You didn’t call which pocket,” Dawn said, an octave louder than necessary. “Accidental scores are illegal.”

“House rules,” I said, “Ask Irish.”

And then, after another two turns, I jumped up and down and shouted at her, “No bouncing the ball. Illegal. No good.”

She sighed heavily. “Damn, can’t we just keep playing?”

We continued snapping at each other until Theo seemed to just materialize at the bar. Then our whole game changed. The arguing ceased as we treated the space around the table like a catwalk. Dawn arched her back and took a shot from the wrong side of the table in an attempt to give him a good view of her ass in her scandalously short shorts.

“Seriously?” I hissed at her as I passed. I leaned over the table, though, and gave the room a view down my loose blouse as I took a poorly angled shot of my own.

Theo was oblivious. He sat and stared down at his short glass of amber alcohol and never gave us a glance. “Think there’s something wrong with him?” Dawn asked. She sat up on the table and stretched out to take a shot that made no sense whatsoever, aside from showing off her long, thin legs. Our show was making an impression on everyone else in the room. We were starting to get glares from the women patrons. Irish himself was practically drooling. But Theo remained disinterested, even as I twisted to take a shot so that my midriff was bare.

Irish finally elbowed the big guy. "You realize they're putting on this little show for you, right?" Finally he looked up with weary eyes. Dawn smirked and struck another pose as she prepared to take her next turn. I, however, lost my composure again. A big, idiot grin spread across my face and my cheeks burned. I was sure I was visibly blushing bright red. I had to turn away or risk looking like a fool once more.
Probably too late already
. Irish watched us both with his mouth agape. "I don't know if this is the best or the worst game of pool I've ever witnessed."

I flipped Irish a middle finger. Dawn took her shot, bouncing the cue ball and hitting absolutely nothing.

I leaned over the table, arching my back and hoping Theo was still watching. I wanted to make up for looking so dumb and actually score a point, so I took an extra moment studying the table. One of my striped balls was in a good position, but it was far from the cue ball, and I wasn't a hard hitter. Hell, sometimes I missed entirely and just stabbed my stick at air.

This was one of those times. I whiffed right past the ball. Cursing, I straightened up. "Goddamn. How long have you two been at this?" I jumped and turned. Theo stood at the table looking down at the shameful display.

I tried to think of something flirty to say but all that came out was, "Let's see you do better."
Idiot
.

"Be on my team?" Dawn asked, smiling and jutting her chest out.
See? Idiot!
He took the stick from her and circled the table.

He hit one of Dawn's balls - the solids - into a pocket right away. Dawn cheered with delight and grabbed his arm. He gently shrugged her off. "Still my turn."

We followed him as he circled the table.
Fuck, I need to stop embarrassing myself in front of him.
He hit one ball after another into the pockets, his face deep in concentration, his strong arms working with a practiced ease. The longer I watched, the more my heart raced.

Dawn hovered around him like a vulture, deliberately placing herself between him and me, bodily blocking me out of her ceaseless chatter. I placed myself across the table from him instead where I could watch his face as he considered his moves. But he ignored us both as he became lost in the game. I felt like a fly, like an annoyance buzzing around him. Like a tiny moon circling a massive planet. I tried to make conversation, asking questions about the game - "why don't you hit this one here? How can you avoid hitting this striped ball, too?" but his responses were barely grunts. At least he was thoroughly ignoring Dawn as well.

I perked up when one of my favorite songs came on. Frustrated as I was becoming, it never took much to put me back in a good, high-energy mood, and music was one of the easiest buttons for me. So as David Bowie began piping through the speakers, I thought
whatever, screw this game
, and swayed and sang along.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," Theo said, pointing. With a resounding crack, he hit it right where he'd indicated, winning the game for Dawn. She shrieked and jumped up and down. "You did it, we won!" She grabbed his arm and leaned into him. "That was amazing," she purred, then shot a triumphant grin my way.

Jealousy flared through me, but I tamped it down. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset, or give him the impression that I was crazy. So I just said, "Good game," with my best bright smile and tore myself away from the table to spend a little quality time with the jukebox.

Irish saw me coming and gave me a few free credits. The neon lights warmed my face as I tapped through the options. While the television above the bar was old, Bill had sprung for the fancy new touchscreen device, and I loved it more than anything. Almost any song I could dream up was on there. I browsed through more options than I could possibly listen to, figuring that the night was a bust - Dawn would entertain Theo, and it was looking like no one else would be coming by that evening.

I was happily bobbing along to a Buckcherry track and browsing the L.A. Guns options when I felt someone looming over my back.

"This one," Theo said, tapping Crazy Bitch.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I blushed -
Stop it!
- and turned to face him. He was standing close, and I had to tilt my head back to see his face. "I thought you guys would play another round."

"Nope." He nodded at the screen behind me. "Pick a few more." I turned back, and he hovered even closer as he watched over my shoulder. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the leather of his cut, hints of motor oil and aftershave. He leaned with a hand on the wall next to the jukebox screen, effectively trapping me there between him and the bar.
Oh, boy. I'm in trouble
. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.