Page 91 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“The hope is I’ll push him so far he’ll finally end my misery,” I quip, yanking the Metallica shirt from the bed and heading for the bathroom. But then I remember that there’s no door, and chuck my jacket and tank top to the floor, exposing the purple lace bra underneath. Cat didn’t touch my underwear drawer, thank fuck for small blessings. When I hazard a glance at Crown, I see that he’s looked away, turned his back to give me some privacy. Shit, he’s the complete opposite of Grainger. Makes it a hell of a lot harder to hate him.
“You don’t mean that,” he tells me, but I think Crown underestimates the weight of my sorrow. I almost do. Except that if I’m going down, I’m going down with a bang. I’ve already decided to kidnap the mafia kid. And if that’s not a death sentence, I don’t know what is. Clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment. “If you stand down, let Cat win a few quips, you’ll be off the hook. He cares about you, you know.”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” I grumble as I shimmy out of the blue denim I wore to school and switch into a solid black pair of skinny jeans. Not my finest party outfit, but it’ll do. I’m not really about this party tonight, but if I go, at the very least I can get drunk. And maybe in a dark, dark corner, when I’m sure nobody’s watching, I can find Reba and explain things to her and … I flick a quick glance over to Fem, curled up on his pink pillow. Going on the lam with a dog won’t be easy. Besides, if I get caught, I’ll be putting Feminist in Cat’s scope along with me. It’d be better if I left him with my best friend.
“Your classmates asked for blow, right? Just give it to them tonight and save us both some trouble. You’ll tell them all you’re pissed at your dad, so you bought it off some guy on Washington Street.” I yank my pants up and button them, staring at Crown as he turns around and narrows his eyes on me. “Gidge, this is a direct order from Cat. Pass the blow out at the party, but don’t take any.”
“How many kids are gonna die if I pass that shit out?” I ask, but Crown just stares back at me with that placid mask of his. It’s infuriating. Storming over to the bathroom mirror, I unzip my last remaining makeup bag and give myself a quick refresher.
Crown moves over to the doorway, filling the entire space with his wide body and putting his forearms up against the doorjamb. He leans into the small room, filling it with that intoxicating scent of his.
“You know I wouldn’t let a bunch of kids die off some bad blow, Gidge. Give me more credit than that.” My brows go up which makes me curse because I’m only half-done filling them in with some brow powder.
“Credit? How many people have you killed since you joined the club, Crown? Don’t put the good boy act on for me. You may have been a cop once upon a time, but you’re in a gang now. Get over yourself.” Crown’s face shutters, and he sighs, like I’m a troublesome child. It’s annoying as fuck.
“Don’t call the club a gang, Gidge,” he says, his voice darkening. “And if you think I did more good things as a cop than I’ve done as a Daybreaker, you’ve got a very pretty view of the world. Here or there, in a blue uniform or a black vest, it doesn’t matter. The whole world is about taking strength where you can get it, and using it to defend what you want.”
I pause, looking at his face in the mirror. There’s a darkness in his features that I don’t understand, a past that makes this man that I’ll never know. Part of me is glad—the last thing I need is the story of someone else’s tragedy. And yet, a further part of me, something deeper and more twisted, is desperate to understand how Crown became who he is now.
“And what is it that you want?” I ask, my voice far too husky for the enclosed space. I’m not even sure what I’m doing, flirting with this man who let my father shoot my dog and put a gun to my head. I’ve made up my mind to run, and to take Grey Wolfe with me. What more is there?
“An old lady,” Crown starts, tilting his head slightly to one side. My nostrils flare, and I look away from the mirror and back down to the makeup bag on the edge of the sink. “More than that,” he continues, moving into the bathroom and towering over me from behind. Six foot five, and muscular as all fuck. I want those big hands all over my body, I think, feeling this hot flush spread from my chest and into my limbs, burning me up from the inside out. “A wife.” Crown doesn’t touch me, but he does reach up and finger the ends of my hair. “Someone to talk to, start a family with one day. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”
