Page 106 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
I rev the engine at him, and he gives me a look.
“Don’t do that.”
“My cunt is literally soaking your bike right now, Colton. What do you think about that?” I rev the engine again, and Sin exhales like he’s in pain. He grits his teeth and grabs my arm.
“Gidget, it’s sort of a big fucking deal for me to let someone else ride my bike. Do you know why I’m teaching you this?”
“Because you aren’t an ex-MMA fighter?” I query, wiggling my ring finger with Beast’s wedding band glinting in the late afternoon light. It’s a sickly color today, a strange vibrant orange caused by excessive smoke in the air. There are so many wildfires burning here and in California that the sky is bathed in a gray glare, and the sun, when it does peek through, seems like a stranger.
“Because the others weren’t sure about you riding their bikes.” Sin nods his chin in the direction of the road. “Do you think you can handle taking this down and back for me?”
“They didn’t want me to ride their bikes?” I bite out, but then I remember that I crashed Crown’s the last time I was on it. A motorcycle is sacred to these men. They’ve killed people for touching theirs at rallies. Not even kidding you. Cat literally stabbed a guy for taking a baseball bat to his bike; the man’s buried near the oak tree in the front yard.
It’s one of Gaz’s favorite stories.
“Down and back,” Sin repeats, and I sigh, yanking down the visor and hitting the kickstand.
I almost back out. Seriously. For the span of a single breath, I consider putting the kickstand back down, turning the bike off, and walking away. It’s there, that cold shove of fear, that whisper of remembered pain.
There are other things, too, pieces of a life I always wanted but never believed I could have.
Yes, the sky is filled with smoke, and bits of ash catch on my lips when the wind blows right, but the world isn’t as bleak as that sickly orange sun in the sky. It isn’t black or white; it’s gray. My sisters are dead, but I have these men. I have this moment, the sun shining on the chrome of the bike, catching my eye and sparkling. There’s Sin, standing beside me, letting me do something that’s doubly sacrilegious in our culture.
He is a dirty heretic in this moment.
But even among heretics, I stand out.
I take off on the bike, the wind a powerful force against my body as I fly down the pavement. The trees create a tunnel of shadow that I dive into, winding into the darker parts of the compound, the distant woods that are peppered with guards. The watchful eyes of the club are everywhere. Will one of them see me? Will they report this?
I can only assume the men organized this so that there wouldn’t be anyone here.
I have the woods to myself.
My heart expands, snapping some of those weights tying me down. For a few minutes there, I really feel like I could spread wings and take off, that I could, even as a sinner, somehow become an angel.
The road continues up toward the old cemetery, the one with actual gravestones, that’s been on this property since forever ago. Seems fitting, right, that the club would create a new cemetery where there once was just a house, and then buy the adjoining plot of land that already had a cemetery on it?
Life is weird.
I go all the way up to the top, where the road turns into a cul-de-sac with nothing but trees around it. There are old signs on two of the plots, dirt squares with much smaller trees. The developers were going to build houses here before Cat’s predecessor got ahold of this property—thanks to Cat’s guidance. Guess even when he was partying, he was a valuable member of DBD.
I park right there in the center of all that cement and climb off, tearing my helmet over my head and tossing it onto the pavement. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back, and I listen to the naughty fingers of the wind in the trees. It’s pretty, even if I know all it’s doing is stirring up more fire.
“You’ve got this, Gidget,” I tell myself, sliding both of my gloved palms over my face. “You can do this.”
I’m not sure what it is, exactly, that I’m promising myself I can do. Rescue Reba? Marry Beast? Win the war? Take over the club? Destroy the mafia?
Get four officers as my paramours.
Who knows? Does it matter?
Whatever it is, I’ll conquer it. I’ll climb it.
I drop my chin and open my eyes, shaking out my hands before heading back to my helmet. I carry it back to the bike and climb on, enjoying the peace and solitude for a moment before putting it back on.
