Page 83 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Too bad they're really only part of a gang, practically a cult in my opinion.
“You mean like, hand-to-hand combat or something?” I ask, because Beast knows damn well I can wield a gun or a knife like nobody's business. I can also throw a mean right hook, but it wouldn't hurt to learn from the best … or the Beast.
His mouth curves up in a smile. It's not wicked or sinful or naughty, just primal. Like, primal as fuck, like he could throw me against this wall and fuck me so good that I wouldn't even remember I was planning on running away. Oh, Gidget, naughty. What can I say? Fearing for my life makes me feel reckless.
“You want to learn?” he asks, and his voice is just dripping honey. Fuck, Beast's accent is so thick, it makes me want to start speaking in a Southern drawl. “I'll teach you, Gidget.” And the way he says teach … criminal.
“I might just take you up on that,” I tell him, biting my lower lip before I even realize I've started flirting. I turn away and move into the bathroom to get Fem's pills, missing Reba so hard it hurts. I want to gossip so bad. I want to hear her tell me I'm an idiot, have her invite me to church …
Well, she may never invite me to church again.
Last two times she did involved fucking and bloodshed.
As I'm dosing the dog's pills, I notice Beast moving over to look out my window. He glances down once and then turns his attention back to me.
“Your friends are here.”
That's all he says before I hear the obnoxious blaring of the horn, and the hooting of three distinct voices.
“Gidget!” Dena calls out, slamming the horn several times and then cranking up the music on her car stereo. “We've come to break you out of prison.” She's laughing, and she sounds drunk as hell, but it's just barely four o'clock, so maybe she's just crazy?
Oh.
Or maybe she’s here to hit me up for party drugs again?
“They want some blow,” I tell Beast, and he doesn't twitch or scowl or lecture. No, he just looks at me and listens. It's absurd what a good listener he is. I mean, the man is huge and covered in ink and scars from his MMA days, but when he looks at me, I almost feel like I could open up.
Almost.
“We don't sell to kids,” is the only explanation I get. Not that I care. I didn't plan on getting coke for the party or attending it. I won't ever touch cocaine again, not after that night. I shiver and close my eyes against the resurgence of the memory. I dreamed it last night, I think, because I woke up sweating and wanting. And yet, when I reached out and tried to take hold of it, the images broke up and flittered away like leaves on the wind.
“You might not, but somebody else will,” I say, the wheels in my mind tick-tocking away. I feel like there's a clock counting away the seconds of my life. I never thought my father would actually let my brother beat me up like that. I've always sensed his animosity toward me, but I never thought he'd carry it so far. Reaching up my hand, I touch the tender flesh near my right eye as rain starts to come down outside. Good thing they have the convertible top up, huh? Would’ve been funny to see them get soaked though. Dena would lose her shit.
Beast turns to look at me, his eyes sharp and keen, surveying me, taking stock. He reaches out with a thumb and smears my makeup, frowning.
“Gaz,” he says, and I nod.
There's this stillness then that overtakes Beast that I can't explain. It scares the shit out of me, like all of that violence coiled and waiting inside of him might just come undone, that I might get hit with the shards of his pain.
I take a step back.
“Why didn't you say anything?” he asks, and I realize this is probably the longest conversation we've ever had. We might have fucked one fateful stormy night, but we're worse than strangers. Beast's ice-blue eyes bore into mine, and I take another step back. He notices and moves away from me toward the door.
“I'm not a fucking snitch,” I snap reflexively, realizing that I'm falling right back into club mentality. Didn't I just have a thought about visiting the feds and outing my entire family? Ruining the four horse-fucks of the apocalypse? Standing here with Beast staring accusatorily at me, I realize that I could never do that. Hatred of authority, of police, loyalty for club and family, that's been drilled into me since childhood.
And the mafia?
They killed my sisters. They raped Posey.
I could never turn to them.
