Page 30 of Spinner’s Luck (The Devil’s House MC: South Carolina #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

DEVIL HAD CALLED church, and I was heading that way, but my mind was still tangled in knots from last night’s talk with Lucy. I’d never opened up to anyone about my dad, but with her, it just spilled out like it had been waiting for the right moment. Somehow, she felt like a part of me, stitched into the cracks I thought would never heal.

I walked into the room and took my seat, catching the last bit of what was being said.

“...found it hangin’ on my bike,” Gearhead was saying, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Didn’t see who left it.”

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked, my gaze scanning the table.

Gearhead glanced at Devil, who gave a short nod. Without a word, he reached behind him and tossed something onto the table.

A small black leather jacket.

My stomach dropped the second I saw it.

The jacket was unmistakably for a woman, the kind of thing Lucy might wear, and stitched into the back was a fiery red dragon. On the front, her name was embroidered in bold letters.

Lucy.

“Where’d you find it?” I asked, my voice even, trying to ignore the icy twist in my gut.

“On my handlebars,” Gearhead said, his arms crossed tight against his chest. “Just hangin’ there when I came out of the garage.”

I reached out, picking it up. The leather was cool against my fingers—smooth and well-worn. The emblem on the back wasn’t just any design; it was Dragon Fire’s colors, with Property of Fang on the rockers.

“And what the hell’s this supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice biting, though I already had a sickening feeling I knew the answer.

“Check the pocket,” Devil said, his tone calm but razor-sharp.

Reaching into the jacket, I pulled out a folded piece of paper. The handwriting was jagged, scrawled like the writer didn’t give a damn about how it looked.

You think you know her, but you don’t. She’s my property.

The words hit like a gut punch. My fist clenched around the note, crumpling it as my jaw tightened.

“Looks like Fang’s tryin’ to play games,” Chain said, his usual smirk nowhere in sight.

“It’s bullshit,” I said, tossing the note onto the table. “He’s just tryin’ to mess with us.”

“And it’s working,” Devil said, his gaze locking onto mine. “We’ve got men watching the property day and night, and he’s still managing to move around our territory. That’s a problem.”

I nodded, my thoughts racing. “He’s baitin’ us. Tryin’ to rattle us.”

“Or sendin’ a message,” Bolt said, his tone heavy. “And it’s not just for us.”

My eyes snapped to Bolt, my chest tightening. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Bolt hesitated, exchanging a glance with Devil before meeting my gaze. His look said someone has to say it. “You sure she ain’t feedin’ you bullshit ‘bout why she was in their clubhouse, Spinner?”

The words smacked me like a backhand. My blood lit up, boiling hot. “You fuckin’ serious right now?” I snapped, fingers twitching for my spinner, needing something to keep me from blowing a fuse.

“We’re just covering our asses,” Devil said, voice cool as ice. “Fang’s not dumb. If dragging her name through the dirt splits us, he’ll pull that shit. We gotta be damn sure this isn’t some setup.”

“She wasn’t nothin’ to Fang,” I shot back, my tone like steel on steel.

Thunder leaned forward, eyes hard enough to cut glass. “And you’re ready to stake the club on that?”

The walls felt like they were closing in, pressure weighing heavy on my chest. Every set of eyes pinned me down, their doubt hitting like a punch to the gut. I wanted to bark back, tear them apart for even thinking it, but their stares had me cornered.

“I know her,” I finally ground out, voice low but dead sure. “She’s not spyin’ for that bastard.”

Devil didn’t flinch. “You better be right,” he said, words like a final nail in the coffin. “ because if you’re not, it’s not just your ass on the line, it’s all of us. So you damn well better be sure.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the unspoken doubts hanging heavy in the air. I grabbed the jacket and the crumpled note, shoving it into my pocket before heading for the door.

“I’ll handle it,” I said over my shoulder, my voice filled with determination.

Out in the fresh air, I stopped near the bikes, trying to steady my breathing. The weight of the jacket and the note felt like a stone pressing against me, a reminder of how quickly things could unravel.

As I shifted the jacket in my hands, something slipped out and fell to the ground. I crouched to pick it up, and my heart stopped.

It was a photo.

Lucy and Fang.

She wasn’t struggling. Wasn’t pushing him away.

She was standing beside him.

And she didn’t look like she fucking hated him.

My fists clenched, anger and doubt clawing at my chest. I trusted her—at least, I thought I did. But now? Now I didn’t know. And with the club already watching her, waiting for her to slip, every step she took felt like treading a knife’s edge

I tucked the picture into my pocket, my jaw tightening. I’d confront Lucy first. I needed to hear it from her before I took it to Devil.

But if Fang’s plan was to make me doubt her, he was doing a damn good job of it.

I PROPPED MYSELF against the bar, beer in hand, though I wasn’t drinking it, just using it as something to hold while my mind twisted itself in knots. I needed to figure out how to approach Lucy, how to pull the truth from her without pushing too hard. Something about all this gnawed at me, digging under my skin and settling like a bad itch I couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t the warm beer making my stomach churn, it was the feeling that something wasn’t adding up.

“Hey, man.” Bolt’s voice cut through the noise, and I glanced up to see him leaning beside me, his expression unusually serious. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, taking a slow swig of his beer. “You’ve been quiet. Quieter than usual, and that’s sayin’ something.”

I forced a hollow chuckle, the sound barely making it past my chest. “Just thinkin’.”

“About her?” Bolt asked, his tone pointed.

My stomach knotted, but I kept my face neutral. “What about her?”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about,” he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping. “Lucy. None of this adds up, Spinner.”

My grip tightened around the bottle. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I ain’t sayin’ she’s dirty,” he started, voice edged with concern. “But that jacket? The note? Fang’s been throwin’ her name around for weeks, and now this? You gotta admit—it’s a lot.” He paused, then added, “And I don’t need to remind you about her showin’ up that night on the side of the road. It’s suspicious as fuck.”

“She’s not involved,” I snapped, the words harsh and immediate. But even as they left my mouth, they tasted bitter. The same thought had clawed its way into my head, her showing up that night... and those other nights at the bar. Was she playing me?

“Maybe not,” Bolt said, holding up his hands. “But don’t tell me you ain’t questionin’ it. I know you, Spinner—I can see it.”

I didn’t answer. Because the truth? I was questioning it. Fang’s message, the jacket, the photo—they lingered in my mind like a festering wound I couldn’t ignore.

“She could be holdin’ back,” Bolt continued after a long pause, his tone more cautious now. “And if she is, that makes her a risk. You know it does.”

I turned to him, my voice hard. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“No,” he said evenly. “But you ain’t so sure either, are you?”

The words hit like a punch I didn’t see coming, knocking me back more than I cared to admit. I watched as Bolt walked away, his parting words hanging heavy in the air.

My gaze shifted across the room, landing on Lucy. She was talking to Fiona, laughing at something, her smile bright and carefree. It should’ve eased the knot in my chest, but instead, it only tightened.

I needed answers. Now.

Standing, I made my way across the room. “Lucy.”

She looked up at me, her smile softening when our eyes met. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” I nodded toward the door.

Fiona gave us a curious glance, but Lucy didn’t hesitate, standing and following me.

I didn’t stop until we were far enough away from the clubhouse noise, the tension between us thickening with every step. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “You okay? You seem… off.”

I hesitated, my words catching in my throat. “Do you trust me?”

Her brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a sharp breath. “I need to know. Are you being completely honest with me?”

Her frown deepened, and she straightened. “Spinner, what’s going on?”

“It’s Fang,” I said, my voice tense. “He’s screwin’ with us, trying to turn us against each other.”

“And you think I’m part of that?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with an edge.

“Lucy, I know you’re not tellin’ me everything,” I began, pulling the picture out of my pocket. “Someone left a jacket on Gearhead’s bike today. A property cut. It had your name on it—and a note claimin’ you’re Fang’s ol’ lady.”

Her eyes widened as I handed her the photograph, her fingers trembling as she took it. She stared at it for a long moment before looking back at me, hurt and anger swirling in her eyes. “You don’t believe it, do you? Tell me you don’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to,” I admitted, my voice raw. “But I can’t ignore what’s happenin’, Lucy. The jacket, the note, this picture—it’s too much.”

Her arms fell to her sides, the photo slipping from her fingers and drifting to the ground. “You believe I was fucking Fang?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I said, my voice rising as frustration and doubt clawed at me. “Just tell me the damn truth, Lucy!”

She took a step back, her expression hardening. “Seems to me you’ve already made up your mind. You just want me to admit it.”

“Just tell me,” I pushed, my voice desperate now. “Stop hidin’ shit!”

Her laugh was cold and bitter. “Believe what you want,” she snapped, backing further away. “You’ve already decided, so my words mean nothing.”

“You don’t fuckin’ understand,” I said, my voice shaking as anger and helplessness warred inside me.

“No,” she interrupted, her tone icy. “I understand perfectly.”

“Why won’t you just be fuckin’ honest with me?” I shouted, the words tearing out of me. “I know you’re not tellin’ me everything!”

Her silence cut deeper than any argument could. Finally, she shook her head, her expression unreadable.

“And you’d believe me?” she asked, her voice like steel. “You’re already looking at me like I’m guilty. I thought you were different. I thought you trusted me. I was wrong.”

She turned and walked away, her words hitting me harder than any beating ever could. I stood there, watching her go, the finality of it settling over me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

I wanted to go after her, to demand answers, but I knew she wouldn’t give them. Not now.

She said she was wrong about me. Well, maybe I was wrong about her, too.

I shouldn’t have fucking trusted her.

I STORMED AWAY from Spinner, my shoes crunching against the ground as I tried to keep my hands from shaking. The humid night air hit me, hot and unforgiving, as I remembered the sting of his words, and the look in his eyes.

The words repeated in my head, over and over, until they blurred with the sound of my own heartbeat. He didn’t trust me. After everything, after all the times I’d let him in—let him see parts of me no one else had—he still didn’t trust me.

I stopped at the edge of the lot, my breath hitching as I leaned against one of the wooden posts that marked the property line. The darkness beyond the lights of the clubhouse seemed endless, stretching out like the hollow ache in my chest.

How could he think I’d ever be with scum like Fang? How could he look at me, really look at me, and think for even a second that I’d betray him?

I squeezed my eyes shut, dragging in a shaky breath. The photo. That damn photo. Fang had orchestrated this, laid the trap perfectly, and Spinner walked right into it without a second thought.

Maybe this is my fault.

The thought crept in before I could stop it, insidious and sharp. I’d kept secrets from him—ones I’d justified, ones I thought I could keep locked away without consequence. But now? Now they were cracking through the surface, and everything was falling apart because of it.

A part of me wanted to go back in there, grab him by the collar, and scream at him until he understood. Until he saw me the way I’d seen him, flawed, yes, but worth trusting. Worth fighting for.

But I knew it wouldn’t matter. Not now.

He’d already looked at me like I was guilty. Like I was the enemy.

Tears stung my eyes, but I swallowed them down, refusing to let them fall. Fang had wanted this. He wanted to plant doubt in Spinner’s head, to fracture the trust between us. And now? He’d done a damn good job of it.

I turned, glancing back at the clubhouse. The lights glowed warm and inviting, but all I could see was the cold accusation in Spinner’s eyes.

How could I go back in there now? How could I face him when I knew he didn’t believe me?

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, forcing my feet to move as I started walking. I didn’t know where I was going—maybe just far enough to clear my head. The clubhouse, the club, Spinner, it all felt suffocating now, like the walls were closing in on me no matter where I turned.

I needed to breathe.

But as I walked, anger began to simmer inside hot and heavy. He came at me with accusations and doubts, throwing Fang’s bullshit in my face without ever stopping to ask if it was true. Sure, he lied and said he wasn’t sure, but the truth was in his eyes.

After everything we’d been through, he owed me more than that.

I stopped in my tracks, the realization hitting me like a slap. Maybe this wasn’t just about the jacket or the note or the photo. Maybe this was about something deeper, something I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself.

Spinner had walls, thick ones, built brick by brick over years of pain. I thought I’d broken through them, that I’d earned his trust. And I’m sure he felt the same way about me.

And maybe—just maybe—we both weren’t ready for this relationship.

I turned, staring back at the clubhouse in the distance. Part of me wanted to walk back and hold on to him tight. To make him see me for who I really was, not Fang’s pawn, not someone with anything to hide, but Lucy .

But another part of me knew it wasn’t that simple. Trust wasn’t something you could force. It had to be earned, and right now, we were standing on opposite sides of a chasm that felt too wide to cross.

I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. If he couldn’t trust me—if he couldn’t believe in me—then maybe we were meant to be.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain slicing through my chest, but I straightened, setting my jaw.

Fucking Fang.

I knew why he was doing this, why he was so hellbent on wrecking my life. But I sure as hell didn’t ask for any of it.

With one last glance at the clubhouse, I turned and walked into the night, hoping a good long walk would clear my head.

The ache in my chest told me this wasn’t over. Not even close. But for now? I needed to protect myself. Because if I didn’t, no one else would.