Page 62 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Sin fixes his pants as I rise to my feet, but neither of us gets a chance to speak because suddenly Crown is just there, and I’m praying to whatever dark and decrepit gods will listen that he didn’t see anything. Based on his expression, I don’t think so. He’d be a lot more pissed off if he had.
“We’ve got orders from Cat,” he says, looking from me to Sin. “Full escort for Gidget back to the house.”
“Too little, too late,” I murmur, feeling my heart crash to my stomach like a block of ice, frigid splinters cutting me to pieces. The last thing I want to do is leave the wild energy of the clubhouse and all its vices, so I can head home to the place my sisters took their last breaths.
“Who else?” Sin asks, but he doesn’t have to wait for an answer because I see Grainger and Beast making their way toward us.
The full cavalry, all of my father’s officers.
If he’s sending me home with four bodyguards, there must be trouble brewing around town.
I almost hope it kills me this time.That Same Night …My head is swimming, and it takes every bit of focus I have to keep my arms around Sin’s waist on the ride home. A princess surrounded by her honor-guard, I think as the bikes keep a tight formation down the length of our suburban street. The thought makes me chuckle, and Sin stiffens up a bit. Maybe he’s remembering what an amazing, fucking BJ I just gave him? Or maybe he’s remembering that he promised to fuck me if I did it.
Though how we’re going to get a moment alone with Beast, Crown, and Grainger here is beyond me.
I groan as we pull into the driveway, and I see Nellie’s new Cadillac Escalade sitting there. Damn it. I hadn’t seen her at the clubhouse party, but I was hoping she’d be there, so I could avoid her unnerving stares, uncomfortable touches, and tangible desperation. Maybe you should’ve been a better mom when all your kids were alive, huh? It’s too little, too late with Nellie. And really, it’s just wrong, selling her two-seater convertible and getting an SUV, like she still has three daughters to drive around instead of just one.
“Hey,” Sin says after we come to a stop, pulling his helmet off and turning to look at me over his shoulder. “We should keep what happened at the clubhouse between us.”
My brows go up.
“Really? You don’t want me telling my mom and dad that I sucked your dick tonight? Shocking.” With a dramatic eyeroll, I climb off and toss Sin my helmet, heading for the front door with Crown on my heels.
“Beast, check the property. Grainger, secure the doors and windows.” Crown is barking orders, nothing unusual about that. I find the front door unlocked and roll my eyes. Nellie is such an idiot. The mafia that killed her daughters is in town, and the bitch couldn’t bother to lock the damn door? Not that it matters. My sisters and I had all the doors and windows locked, the security system on, a whole host of guns at our fingertips. Didn’t matter.
Queenie still bled out on that floor; Posey still died from three gunshots to the chest and abdomen.
“Sin, take Gidget to her room.” I turn around and walk backwards toward the kitchen, giving Sin a look that he returns with a glare. He’s not enjoying himself, and it’s pissing me off. A frown creases my mouth as I spin and head for the fridge, pulling out a six-pack of beer before making for the stairs.
“Yes, sir,” Sin says, and I swear there’s a bit of sarcasm in that. Crown chooses not to acknowledge it, waiting for the two of us to ascend the steps. Sin closes and locks the door behind us, putting his back to the wood and closing his eyes as he exhales sharply. When he opens those beautiful gray eyes of his, I offer up a beer. There’s a slight hesitation on his part before he takes it. “What are you doing, Gidget?”
“Taking the party home with me,” I tell him, turning Eminem’s Kamikaze album on full-blast. It’s just angry enough to soothe the writhing demons in my soul. That edginess, that itch I felt earlier is still there with melancholy crouching on the balcony, waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness. No, I want to stay angry. There’s no way in hell I’m dropping into that dark hole of pain again. “Besides, you owe me.”
“Owe you?” Sin asks, scoffing as he sips some of his beer. He’s always so angry with me, but not like Grainger; it’s a deeper, more personal anger with Sin. Why? What the fuck did I ever do? “I don’t owe you shit, Gidge.”
