“How much is in one of these bastards?” Big Chief leaps forward, grabbing one of the buckets and dragging it out of the back of the van, he lifts the lid. I stretch my neck to get a glimpse inside.
There’re various baggies of grams and eight balls filled three-fourths of the way up. There’s gotta be about a kilo a tub which is worth about two-thousand on the streets. That means, if I’m right, we’ll be hauling about twelve-thousand dollars.
“Jesus,” I whisper, picking one of the gram bags up. “I have no clue how the fuck we’re going to move this much shit, and with it put in these fucking bags like this, the potency is rapidly depreciating.” Shaking my head, I toss the gram back into the damn bucket.
“Can’t you just sell it on your old block?” Big Chief asks, looking into the bucket.
“No, it’s not Harry’s turf anymore if he’s living in this area. Besides, I go selling out there, it’ll cause problems for the club,” I mutter. The club is my home and I don’t want to cause any more waves than I have to, especially because I’ll be bringing Piper and my baby back to it. It needs to be safe.
“Move it all, bring me my money, and you can pass without trouble,” Harry says from behind me, acting like this is fucking Monopoly. I don’t turn around, because I know if I do, I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him and everyone here.
“Let’s go.” I slam the doors to the van shut, and head to the driver’s seat. Climbing inside, Big Chief in the passenger seat, he takes off his hat and tosses it on the dashboard.
“Call Shadow, he’ll know what to do,” he suggests. I look to him, my forehead wrinkling in thought. He’s right, Shadow is our president, and if anyone can make this shit disappear fast, it’s him.
Piper
In my room, lying on the bed I’m still trying to pry apart in my spare time, I’m still reading the book Vada gave me. I thumb the worn pages to the back where there’s a place to write. Someone that owned the book before me wrote names; baby names. The handwriting girly and cursive.
Nellie
Halle
Rosy
On the other side of the page, there’s:
Trip
Carter
Jax
Malark
Nibbling my lip, I cup my belly, a flurry of names suddenly sweeping through my head like a dusting of snow on a blustery winter’s day.
Nellie is cute for a girl, I’ve never met anyone named that before. Then again, Halle is too. It’s sweet but has a sass to it.
My chest feels heavy, my heart thudding a little harder, wondering what Saint would want to name the baby. I miss him. I took advantage of the time we had together trying to work through my shit, but I’d do anything to see his face right now. For him to lay next to me and make fun of the names I think are cute, and him talk to my belly. Tears fill my eyes, an ugly sob ready to cascade through the split of my lips.
Closing my eyes, I can imagine his large hands cupping my body, feel the way his teeth would nip my neck. I felt like his whole world, like the only girl in the world when we were together.
My nipples begin to throb thinking about him, my clit pulsing. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve had him, and these hormones make me hornier than a virgin watching porn for the first time.
Thump!
Thump!
I freeze. What was that?
Thump!
Thump!
The sound of Candy moaning fills the stairwell and sweeping into my room like a ghostly wail. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this place was haunted.
Stacks’ notorious low grumble of a voice grunts just before the bed thumps into the wall and Candy whimpers with pleasure.
My eyes widen realizing what’s going on. They’re fucking.
Grunt!
Thump!
Moan!
Inhaling a deep breath, the hand cupping my growing stomach, slowly descends downward, slipping under my panties.
My thighs tremble knowing my heart’s sinful desire. Spreading my wet lips, I swirl my clit, my mouth parting with how fucking good it feels. I want Saint so bad I could start a fire for what I feel for him.
Tuning Candy and Stacks out, I imagine Saint and I having sex at the club, or that time at my house. Everywhere and anywhere. The way his lips skidded across my sweaty skin, and the way his chiseled ass would clench every time he thrust deep inside of me.
Teasing myself, I dip just the tip of my index finger into my wetness, and my eyes flutter from pleasure.
God yes! Gritting my teeth, I swirl my clit harder and dip my finger in farther. A sinful rhythm that builds my body into a cyclone of want and need. The chain prisoning my wrist clanks against itself as I finger myself.
Opening my eyes, body arching off the bed, I hear the bed downstairs pick up its speed, my fingers now in sync.
I cup my swollen tit with my free hand, my breathing labored, and I plunge two fingers into my pussy just as my climax climbs through my limbs. My nails dig into my tit, the orgasm shaking me to my core, I close my eyes and see Saint, the look that crosses his face when he’s climaxed.
“Save me, Saint, save us,” I whisper, coming down from my orgasm.
My body feeling lax and limber. Relieved.
Rolling over onto my side, my hand on the book about expectant mothers, I blow out a slow steady breath trying to steady my racing heart. My clit buzzes from the excitement, my wrist sore from the vigorous movements. My eyes fixate on the windows and the yellow haze the lamp posts give off. It feels like I’ve been here forever. Have I?
Will the Devil’s Dust prospect save me?
8
Saint
Pulling into the courtyard, Shadow, Zane, Lip, and the rest of the boys await our arrival. We got back late, because we took the back roads and went slow. I didn’t want to draw any attention to ourselves with the drugs in the back. I can’t save Piper if I’m locked up.
Parking, I hop out just as they open the back doors. Lip grabs one of the buckets and pops the lid open.
“Holy fuck!” His face widens with surprise. I don’t think he was expecting so much in one tub.
“I know,” I mutter grimly, I lean against the van and cross my arms. He opens one of the gram bags, slides his finger into the dust and rubs it across his gums, smacking his lips. He’s testing the product to see how intense the numbing is.
“I mean, it’s not bad but it’s not the best,” he responds, tossing the bag back into the bucket.
“How the fuck are we going to move all of this?” I shrug, curious what in the fuck the plan is.
Shadow wraps one arm around himself, resting the other on it and rubbing his chin deep in thought.
“How much do you think all of this is?” he finally asks, knowing I’m the one who recently hustled drugs for Harry.
“Probably twelve thousand,” I state. “But that was a few years ago, I don’t know what street value is these days.”
“I’ll call my brother in Vegas, he can move this shit in no time,” Lip informs, closing the lid on the bucket. He has a brother named Zeek that runs a motorcycle club named Sin City Outlaws. From what I hear, they’re pretty ruthless. “Thing is, that is going to take time, and I want my daughter back now.” Lip looks to me, his eyes willing me to figure something else out.