Chapter Eighteen
Sharp Edges and Open Wounds
It took Dusty a bit to recognize her surroundings, but when she did, she sighed in relief. She lay on a hospital bed in the back of an abandoned bowling alley. Her memories after Conners were fuzzy, but she was able to piece together enough to paint a picture. Conners had drugged her; the familiar pinch of the needle heralding the fog in her mind.
She remembered a gentle hand against her face. She remembered Ape and Diesel, and the confines of Ape’s sidecar hugging her close – the way the night sky sailed overhead, endless and beautiful. Little else had made it through, but she didn’t care. They were back in Briarcliff, and all was right with the world. A byproduct of the 90s, the bowling alley was shut down a few years ago after some kid climbed up into the pin lift on a dare, got stuck, and died.
Everything still worked, but his death really brought the mood down, and without the random birthday party to keep the place afloat, it soon went under. Tucked off in a dead-end lot, overlooking the highway, the bowling alley wasn’t easy to get to, and when it became obvious no developer worth their salt would buy the place, the seedier residents of LA claimed it as their own.
These days, the Rinky Dink was just as popular as it used to be back in its heyday, just in a very different way. For the most part, it was used as a med bay for all the criminals and degenerates in town who couldn’t afford health care, which was pretty much every one of them. In fact, the youngest member of the Legion—a six-year-old named Lane—had been born there.
The bowling alley was neutral territory. For now, at least, she was safe. Dusty sat up, glancing down as a painful tug in her arm alerted her to the presence of an IV. She pulled the needle out with a hiss, wondering where the others were. She was hungry for the sight of Edward and, for once, unwilling to question it.
Dusty had been placed in one of the back offices; the only room with a door big enough to fit the stolen hospital bed. Some real VIP treatment, as far as she was concerned, since the bed was reserved for those on death’s door. Either the Rinky Dink wasn’t very full, or she’d been hurt worse than she’d thought. The machine next to the bed beeped and a second later, the door flew open.
Poppy glared as she stepped inside, juggling a clean towel, some clothes, and a shit ton of toiletries. Dusty sniffed surreptitiously beneath one arm when Poppy passed the bed to dump her wares on a desk shoved against the back wall.
“Didn’t know you were working tonight,” Dusty croaked, wincing at the sound of her own voice. Holy shit, how many days had it been since she’d spoken? Too many, if the state of her vocal cords was an indicator. Poppy came around the side of the bed and pulled a lever. The head of the bed jerked backward, and Dusty went flat on her back with a yelp.
“Hey!”
“That’s what you get.” Despite her tone, Poppy’s hands were gentle as she adjusted Dusty’s blanket. “You know better than to touch the IV. Do it again, and I’ll cuff you to the bed.”
“Oooh,” Dusty purred, unable to help herself.
Poppy rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. She was wearing dark eyeliner and big faux lashes, the same pink as her bangs. The matching pink tutu went well with the scoop-neck Metallica tee and combat boots. Dusty’s eyes traveled down the length of her fishnets, and Poppy squeezed her arm in warning. “Behave.”
“You ever hear of a little thing called bedside manner?” Dusty pouted. “Might want to work on it before you finish your doctorate. Criminals have feelings too, Pops.”
“Yeah, they do. You, though?” She searched Dusty’s face. “When it comes to you, sometimes I’m not so sure.”
Dusty cleared her throat. That stung. Just because emotions were hard to access, and even harder to identify, didn’t mean she didn’t have them. Did it? “Where is everyone?” she asked, more than happy to change the subject. If she couldn’t flirt with Poppy, she might as well focus on more pressing matters.
“You mean the peanut gallery?” she asked with a sigh. “I sent them out for supplies. It was the only way I could get the three of them out of my hair.”
Those three? Striving to sound casual, she asked, “Edward was with them?”
Poppy, like always, saw right through her, nodding as she reinserted the IV.
“He’s fine, by the way,” she said. “Since you’re too stubborn to just come out and ask.”
Dusty relaxed, turning away so Poppy couldn’t see the look on her face.
Considering the way they’d left things back at the motel, she was afraid she’d seen the last of him. But worse than the thought of never seeing Edward again was knowing he’d gotten caught up in her mess. She had to get him the hell away from her before the cartels found out about Rudy. For all she knew, they were involved as well. In which case, she’d slaughtered two cash cows for the mob, not just one.
“Hey,” Poppy murmured, frowning. “What happened to your sleeve.”
Dusty glanced down, her brain slow to register what Poppy meant. She examined the black lines bisecting her skin where a bejeweled phoenix once flew, and her thoughts ground to a halt.
“Dusty?” Poppy sounded scared and Dusty frowned and turned away.
“What?” She asked. What had they been talking about again? Something about Edward? Yeah. Sounds about right .
Poppy searched her eyes, then shook her head with a curse.
“Sorry,” she said, brushing her fingers down Dusty’s arm. “I thought…never mind.”
Dusty let her work in silence for a full minute before her nerves got the best of her. She sat up again. Poppy sighed, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “What now?”
When Dusty didn’t respond right away, Poppy softened. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached around for Dusty’s hair, gathering the heavy mass of braids up in expert fingers and winding them into a neat bun.
They stared at one another across the small distance separating them. Dusty breathed her in, finding peace in the softness of her skin. The ministrations against her scalp were soothing in more ways than one.
“Better?” Poppy asked.
Dusty nodded. Wrapping her arms around Poppy’s waist, she pulled her into her lap, nuzzling the side of her neck like a cat begging for a kind hand. The fact that Poppy allowed it was an indication of just how worried she must have been. She brushed gentle fingers across Dusty’s brows. First one and then the other. It brought her eyes up once again to meet Sweet Poppy’s.
“I think your boy is in love,” Poppy said, soft.
“He’s an idiot if he is.”
A sadness in the shape of her smile. “I think you love him back.”
Well, that’s because I’m an idiot too. But what Dusty said aloud was, “You sound jealous, Chere.”
Poppy thumped her on the forehead, sliding off her lap as Dusty’s hands came up to rub the sting away. “Maybe I am,” Poppy said.
Before Dusty could dig any further, there was a knock at the door.
Poppy straightened her tutu. “Right on time,” she crossed the room to answer the door and, if Dusty didn’t know better, she would have said Poppy was running from her. She grinned but her smile died when Eliot stepped inside. Doleful, he pouted when Poppy snatched the lit cigarette from between his lips and stubbed it out on the bottom of her boot.
“No smoking around my patients.”
“My bad, Pops,” Eliot said, staring after her as she left.
As soon as the door shut behind Poppy, Dusty’s fingers drifted over to her IV once again. “You guys set up shifts?” she asked, incredulous.
“Had to make sure you were alright. You’re a popular woman, Dusty.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eliot paced the room, picking up random objects and putting them down, one by one, once they lost his interest. “You’ve been out of it, so you don’t know, but that Cop in New Mexico has been giving interviews for the last few days. Says he busted a sex trafficking ring run by none other than the infamous Adele Burdot.”
Dusty lunged forward, but Eliot grabbed her and held her still.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, face pressed tight against her temple so he spoke into her hair. “March back to Nevada and shoot him in the head?”
Since that had, in fact, been the plan, Dusty sat back, seething. “There were witnesses,” she hissed, only to freeze.
What good would the testimony of a bunch of women and children really do? Even if some of them were brave enough to point the finger at a cop - without any idea of just how many on the force were also involved - they’d all been drugged. If their memories of what happened were anything like Dusty’s, no judge or jury would consider them credible.
Maybe she should have shot him.
Once she was calm, she nodded, and Eliot released her, though he remained wary.
“What are you doing here, anyway.” She asked.
Eliot shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. Could have something to do with my place getting raided a few days ago.”
Dusty groaned. She’d forgotten.
“Speaking of,” Eliot continued. “You still owe me.”
“I’m not paying you shit,” she snapped. After Rudy, she wouldn’t even have enough gold in the coffers to keep her men fed, let alone pay off such a massive sum. “That fight was rigged, and you know it.” She ignored the fact that she was the one who’d tried to rig it.
Semantics
“Who said I wanted money?” Eliot asked gruffly, pulling another cigarette from the pack in his front pocket. “Don’t worry. As soon as the cops stop riding your dick, I’m coming to collect.”
Dusty flushed - and shocked - Eliot laughed. “You’ve changed,” he said with a tsk.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re softer than you used to be,” he replied. “Makes me wonder what you were like before Desi.” Leaning against the wall beside the door, he glanced down at his feet, and his Adam’s apple worked. “I wish I could have seen you smile more back then,” he admitted. “Before all of this took over and ruined anything good in either of us.”
How did she tell him she didn’t remember that part of herself? That the Adele before the woods was like some fever dream? Even before Desi, there had been something broken within her. Wrong. Dying had breathed life into it; made it strong. There had never been anything good in her. Not really. Once upon a time, she might have agreed with Poppy about not having any emotions, but it didn’t ring true anymore. If anything, ever since meeting Edward, Dusty found herself feeling too much.
What did you call it when the people who claimed to know you best proved they’d never known you at all? Dusty muttered something about taking a shower and got to her feet. This conversation was the last thing she needed right now. Poppy would be pissed when she found out that Dusty had removed her IV again, but all she could think about was getting the hell out of the room and away from Eliot. Poppy was confusing enough. Adding Eliot to the mix was unconstitutional.
Dusty slipped out of the room without a word from Eliot. For which she was relieved. So much for being on guard duty.
It wasn’t until she was in the hall, her arms laden with supplies, that she was able to breathe again. Over the years, the space where all the shoes were kept had been converted into a functioning bathroom. It wasn’t up to code, and Dusty was sure it violated several health and safety regulations, but otherwise, it was a marvel of modern ingenuity. The combined effort of dozens of people with different skills, all with the same goal. Which made it Dusty’s favorite room in this dump – though the food court was a very close second.
Inside, Dusty set her clean clothes out of the way and turned on the shower, wincing at the way the pipes groaned and shook before freezing water shot out and caught her arm. She was eager to get out of the shit she’d been wearing for the last several days. As soon as she stripped down, she checked the water temperature, cautious lest the pressure peel off a layer of skin. Once it was hot enough to boil a lobster, she stepped under the spray, moaning as dirt and blood sluiced off her aching body. Once under the water she was able to take full stock of the damage that had been done. The deep, purpling bruises that decorated her torso, as if Conners had kicked her around some before dosing her. There was a myriad of cuts decorating her arms and legs, and as she leaned forward to wash her braids, more blood from the blow to her head bathed her face in red and left the shower awash in pink splatter. Her lashes were spiky with blood, and her tongue ripe with the taste of metal. Her fingers traced a path on her tattooed arm, but she didn’t turn to examine it. Something urged her not to, and she was compelled to listen.
What had Eliot called her all those years ago?
A horror.
She was one now more than ever before.
How many times had she done this? How many more times would she have to before she could stop?
As long as it takes. As many times as it takes.
Dusty ran her palm across her cheeks, fingers brushing along first her bottom lip and then the top. She traced each feature with bloodstained fingers until the water ran clean. Then she grabbed the soap Poppy had brought and began all over again.
Homesickness reared its head, and she wished she were back with Gran. Her grandmother would fill the porcelain tub in the backyard with water and herbs, and Dusty would sit there amongst the honeysuckle and apple blossoms and let her ancestors and her grandma’s magic cleanse her bruised soul. A pipedream, of course, nothing more, but she ached for it just the same.
Dusty didn’t know what made her turn. She didn’t hear the door open so much as feel the air shift. Didn’t hear the aging floor creak, as catch the shift of his breathing. Braids slicked back from her face, Dusty blinked the water out of her eyes to find Edward standing just a few feet away. The air crackled around him and he took in the sight of her like a man starved.
“I’m sorry,” he managed with a shake of his head. “Poppy sent me… She didn’t say you would be…”
“Close the door,” Dusty ordered, and the desire transforming his expression was so sharp it hurt to see.
Edward kicked the door shut, dropping his shower supplies on the ground as he strode to her. There was no talking this time. No push and pull. No hesitation as he drove his fingers into the labyrinth of her hair and lay claim to her mouth. Like the first time, kissing him was like breathing. Better, because there was no wrong way to do it. Edward’s teeth nipped her bottom lip, and she lay a gasp on his tongue even as he drove her back against the wall. The spray from the shower soaked them both, but Edward didn’t seem to care.
“Two days,” he growled, lifting a hand to grip her by the chin and hold her still. He glared down at her, tortured with memory. “I’ve been without you for two fucking days.” His voice broke on the last.
Dusty ran her fingers through his blond curls. “You make me sound like a drug.”
He met her eyes, his own lost. “Aren’t you?” Before she could respond, Edward leaned in, teasing her wet mouth with his own until heat permeated every inch of her. “Shut up,” he breathed. “You can tell me how dumb I am after I’ve had my fix.”
Then he was working his way down her body, tongue marking her breasts only briefly, a sweet pain that unraveled her, left her in pieces in his arms. A gentle kiss against her stomach was more of a benediction, a prayer, than a seduction, and Dusty blinked back a sudden rush of tears. The tenderness was unexpected. Unwelcome. Her hand still in Edward’s hair, she jerked his head back and stared down at him on his knees. His shirt was plastered to his skin, outlining every ridge along his arms and chest. She said nothing, didn’t have to. Still holding her gaze, he gripped her waist and lifted her higher, higher still, until she had no choice but to hook her legs over his shoulders, her back against the shower wall for balance. The sheer size of him held her spread wide, and he wasn’t shy about looking his fill.
Dusty wouldn’t call herself shy, but no one had ever looked at her like Edward. No one had ever spread the lower lips of her pussy with two gentle fingers and licked - long and slow - across her opening, tongue swirling as if savoring the very taste of her. She cried out, already trembling.
Come on, Adele, she thought in disgust. Stop acting like a lil’ bitch. You’ve had your pussy eaten before. Keep it together.
But Edward made keeping it together impossible. In fact, he delighted in leaving her an unraveled mess. He delved in and out of her with just tongue alone, until her thighs were slick with excitement. Then she urged him closer, squeezing with her thighs as his teeth nipped her delicate folds. A surge of excitement as she curled over him, her hips rolling in time with his tongue until he held the entirety of her weight in his arms. Dusty rocked back against the wall; body a rolling wave of desire that brought her nipples, tight and swollen, directly beneath the pounding water as she fucked Edward’s waiting mouth.
There was something dark and ravenous about the way he devoured her. Something in those amber eyes that was possessive and eternal. She should have bolted. But she couldn’t make herself push him away again, not so soon after the last time. Not when being forced to watch him leave for good was a question of when and not if.
Edward came to his feet, rising through the spray from between her legs like some golden-haired God. Hair a messy halo, he hooked her legs over his forearms, bending her almost double so he could position the head of his cock against her throbbing entrance. She had no idea when he’d undone his pants, but there they were, bare flesh against bare flesh. Heat against heat. His hips rocked forward, thrusting his length into her, the motion slamming her back. Dusty reached out, gripping his shirt by the collar and ripping it down the middle until his bronzed chest was on full display as he worked, fucking her so hard and fast she could feel him against that sweet spot deep, deep inside where any secrets worth keeping lay hidden.
Edward placed his forehead against hers, watching as he slid out of her entrance before slamming back to the hilt. Over and over again. When she would have turned away, he gripped her throat and forced her to meet his eyes. While his touch was feather-light, there was no denying what those eyes were telling her. No escaping the message his body was so intent on drilling into hers. He was a man at the altar, on the battlefield, laying prostrate before the last real thing he believed in. The pleasure he gave was an offering, one speaking more loudly than any words.
I am your disciple. Your acolyte. Your past and your future both. I am your everything…and you?
You are mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Dusty dug her teeth into his neck, only dimly aware of the healing wound on his forearm. Something was coming to life within her, and every hoarse cry she made, every sobbed plea spoken against his skin, heralded the birth of some great, growling beast. Live wire across every nerve ending. The reality of Edward being the one there, between her legs, dragging her orgasm from her as if it owed him money, tore at her. It was Edward taking ownership of her body. Edward’s teeth on her nipple, tongue laving across the sensitive peak. Dusty’s eyes rolled, and her body went stiff as the beast clawed, searching for release. It was too much. The pleasure was too big for her skin, too much for her soul, too much for her heart. Her head went blank, her vision dark. Stars exploded as bliss rolled through her, emptying her of all else until ecstasy was all she had left. She seized in his arms, legs jerking as she fell over the edge with a broken, “Fuck!”
“That’s my girl,” he praised, husky and unrelenting. He came with her name on his lips and her legs tight around his waist, urging him on. His arm around her - her anchor as he sank back to his knees with her still in his arms.
Dusty hugged him close as she came back to herself, noting how careful he was to make sure no part of her skin touched the ground. Grief and guilt and longing were a suffocating triad.
“I love you, Adele Burdot,” he said, so quiet she might have imagined it.
Shattered. At every opportunity, in every way possible, he left her shattered.
“I know,” she said. It’s all she had a right to say. “And I’m so, so sorry.”
***
She left Edward alone in the shower, the water still pouring down over his tattered shirt, his shoulders rounded in defeat. Thinking about him made her throat tight, so she wouldn’t do it anymore and would focus on getting drunk instead.
The food court held an assortment of supplies, brought in over the last two decades in addition to the original vending machines from when the bowling alley had been open. A lot of the practical stuff was expired—no bread, eggs, or milk—but there was plenty of booze to choose from, and Dusty figured if she divvied the supply up alphabetically, she should be unconscious by the time she got to H.
“We need to talk.”
Dusty jumped, spilling her beer. The brown liquid ran over the side of the counter and Dusty cursed herself for her frazzled nerves. “Damnit, Ape,” she spoke without heat, more interested in grabbing some napkins from the dispenser so she could dry her jeans.
She was wearing the new clothes Poppy had brought, a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a sleeveless, black, high-neck top. She didn’t have a band thick enough to hold her hair back and had to content herself with weaving the front into one larger braid to frame her face on one side.
Snatching the napkins from her hand, Ape tossed them on the floor behind the counter she was straddling.
“Rude,” she said, scowling.
“Shut it,” he lifted a backpack and slammed it on the counter between her legs.
Suspicious, she unzipped the bag. “ O Bondye, ” she gasped. “This real?”
“It ain’t no monopoly money,”Ape said with a grin.
“Whe—”
“Andrew,” he said simply.
Dusty’s excitement died. Oh. Right. “He saw the tape.”
Ape slammed a fist down on the counter, as excited as she’d ever seen him. “Damn right he did, just like you said. Was even kind enough to send us some goodwill money.”
Dusty’s mouth went dry. For now, her dad was safe. This knowledge soothed the aching places the alcohol hadn’t had the chance to touch yet. “How much goodwill are we talking?”
“Twice what we would have made off with from the bank, and then some,” Ape said, doing a little dance. “Diesel and I rode in to give you the good news in person and pick up the cash.”
Dusty shifted, swinging both legs around so she was facing Ape with the backpack at her side. “Did he pay you himself,” she asked, brain working a mile a minute.
Ape nodded. “Not a henchman in sight, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Dusty bit her lip. “Did he say anything else?”
Ape frowned. “Does ‘Thank you’ count?”
No way things had gone so smoothly. Something was up. Why be so cavalier about a man he’d tried to kill just a few days ago? If Ape and Diesel were followed, another attempt on Edward’s life would have been made by now. But so far, nothing.
“Is that why you kept me around?”
For a second time, Dusty jumped. Dressed in clean clothes, that fit for once, Edward was standing beside one of the bowling lanes several feet away. Half in shadow, his blond hair was still wet from his shower. Dusty couldn’t read his expression because his head was bowed. She hadn’t seen his eyes since she’d pulled away from him in the shower. He was fiddling with his fingers, and her heart twisted as if someone had plunged a knife into her chest.
“Edward…” Her words fell short. What was she supposed to say? He was right, after all. “I’m—” … sorry. The word died on her tongue. It didn’t feel right to say it again, now, so soon after the last. And was she sorry? Truly? No. If given the chance, she’d do it again if it meant keeping her dad alive for just a bit longer.
“Dusty!”
What now?
Joey was sprinting toward them, dark skin ashen with nerves.
Dusty eyed him. He’d been injured during the bank robbery but was healing well, though he clutched his abdomen as he hurried over to her side. He was sleeping in a converted broom closet until he was well enough to go back to his girl. Joey wasn’t homeless, but he would be if his girlfriend found out he was committing felonies again. Dusty wasn’t sure how he planned on explaining the gunshot wound, but Joey’s love life was none of her business. Still, she was calculating if the clubhouse had room for one more once Sheila kicked his ass to the curb, even as he slid to a stop next to Ape.
Pausing long enough to suck in a much-needed breath, Joey straightened. “We’ve got trouble.”
“When don’t we?” she asked sardonically.
Sliding off the counter, Dusty grabbed the backpack by its straps and handed it back to Ape. She didn’t look at Edward as she passed, but she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t have to wonder what he must be thinking of her—she could feel the disgust in the air. The hurt. She knew what this all must look like from his perspective. As far as Edward could tell, she’d sold him out for a chance at some easy cash. Which was fair, but she wanted so badly to tell him about Rat, about what was at stake. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and prayed this would be enough to make him hate her. There was no happily ever after for people like her. Edward was meant to be someone’s Prince Charming, just not hers. There was no reality in which he gave up his fortune and everything he’d worked for just for her and her felon of a father. “Only trust yourself.” It was a lesson she’d learned well and one she planned on teaching Edward, whether he liked it or not.
“Where?”
It was time to ditch this fantasy world she’d found herself in and get back to reality. And the reality was, everyone and their fucking mother wanted her dead. Dusty didn’t have time to coddle the feelings of some rich boy out of his depth. Ape’s familiar presence to her right helped remind her of who, and what, she was. Reminded her of just how much she had to lose if she failed or backed down.
Joey led her to one of the boarded-up windows at the front of the building. There was a crack in the wood near the side where you could see out without being noticed. A construction worker’s peephole.
Dusty peered through it, and her hands went clammy. The Brotherhood. In the light of day, she recognized the insignia on the shoulder of their leather jackets. There were hundreds of men and women outside, bikes rumbling like hounds sent straight from hell.
She pulled her gun from its holster and checked the chamber. “Joey,” she said.
“What’s up, D?” He was bouncing on the soles of his feet, eager to start some shit.
She grinned. Leave it to Joey to still be itching for a fight, even after getting shot. Typical Scorpio. “Go get the key to the weapons cache from Poppy.”
“Fuck yes,” he said, then flushed. “I mean…yes, ma’am.” He loped off, still careful of his middle but moving with more speed than before.
“Where do you need me?” Ape said.
“When Joey gets back, take Edward and get the fuck out of here,” she said, striving to keep her voice level.
Deadpan: “You want me to leave you here?” As if it was the dumbest thing ever to come out of her mouth. Hell, maybe it was.
“Just for a teeny bit,” she said, fingers squeezing compulsively around the gun’s handle as she indicated the amount of time with her free hand. An old excitement was stirring, and she was hungry for trouble. “Once you drop him off somewhere safe, get your ass back here and help me.”
“Where do you want me to take him? Sally should be good to keep an eye on him ’til we get this mess sorted out.”
Dusty went still, took a deep breath. “Take him back where he belongs.”
Ape stared at her, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out.
“You’re joking,” Diesel said, joining them. “You’re going to throw Rat under the bus over that pussy—”
Dusty’s gun came up, pressed hot and close against Diesel’s forehead. She angled the weapon sideways, squinted, imagined what it would be like to watch his brains explode all over the broken popcorn machine at his back.
A muscle jumped in Diesel’s jaw. “Come on Dusty,” he cajoled. “ Think . Be smart about this.”
When she said nothing, Ape shook his head, his scowl thunderous. “You dumbass.” he snarled, eyeing Diesel as if debating whether or not he was even worth saving. Dusty stared at the redhead for a bit longer - she really couldn’t afford to waste a bullet - and turned away. “Fine,” she looked back out the window. “You take him then.”
“What?”
In addition to the bikes, there were about half a dozen big black pick-up trucks. “You heard me,” she sneered. “You want me to be smart? Truth is, I need Ape a hell of a lot more than I need you. So, take Edward and go.”
Ape was already on the phone, calling in reinforcements, but there was no telling how long it would take them to get there.
“Poppy, too.”
People were pouring out of the trucks, armed to the teeth. There was no point in trying to figure out how they’d found her. It was common knowledge the bowling alley was used by the Legion, so it made sense they’d swing by. Even if they weren’t here for her, the Brotherhood knew damn well this was part of her territory. Like the bar, an attack here was a declaration of war, and Dusty was more than happy to respond in kind.
“Dusty—”
“Diesel-” She had another gun in the holster at her waist, along with her bowie knife and switchblade. Joey should be back soon with the key. “Hurry the fuck up.”
Silence, then Diesel turned on his heel and loped away.
She had to trust him to do as he was told because she wouldn’t be able to check up behind him. This was do or die. How much time did they have? People were beginning to whoop outside. She could hear their high-pitched cries as they hyped themselves up. Hootin’ and hollerin’ like fans on their way to a football game. They’d be inside soon if she didn’t do something.
“Ape,” Dusty tucked her second gun away. “Help me barricade these doors.”
Grim, he followed along behind her. They wouldn’t be able to hold this many off, but she could buy Edward enough time to get back home. It was all she could do, and she prayed that, for once, it would be enough.