Page 134 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
“Beast lives here, too?” I query, and Grainger scoffs.
“We all stay here, Gidge. Me, Beast, Sin.” He storms up beside me and then leans down, putting his mouth so close to my ear that I shiver. “I’ll get you a pregnancy test later.”
“I’d rather you ate a bag of dicks and died,” I hiss back at him, but he isn’t listening. He’s leaving through the front door, but he doesn't go very far. Instead, he pauses in the front yard and lights up a cigarette. He’s been wearing that bullet necklace of his lately, the one that had the cocaine in it that night. I have not, however, seen him use it. Not once.
Good for him. He might not be a cokehead anymore, but he’s still a dick.
“Fucking prick,” I grumble, rubbing at my face as I drop my hands by my sides. It makes sense, however, that the guys would live on the property. Their work never ends; it’s a twenty-four seven funhouse of death and violence over here. “Okay, so … we all move into your place?”
Crown shrugs his big shoulders. The movement is a farce, however. I can see how tense he is in the set of his shoulders, in the way his arms are locked tight over his chest. This is sort of a big deal for him.
“We’ll stay there,” he agrees with a nod, exchanging a look with Beast as my future husband enters the room.
“That’d be best, I think,” he says, reaching up to brush a hand over the well-groomed blond hair on his chin. “There are a lot of people on this compound, and the last thing they need to see is a pair of beautiful girls living in a graveyard.”
“Pretty words, Beast,” Nellie scoffs as she sweeps back into the room with her purse on her arm and Cat’s jacket on her shoulders. I’m surprised to see that as afraid as she is of Gaz, as much as she defers to Cat, she isn’t afraid of Beast. Because she knows he doesn’t hurt people without reason. He’s a reasonable man. That comforts me immensely somehow. “But it’s all fucking fluff.” She points at him. “You’re a bastard; you’re all bastards for what you did to my little girl.”
Christ. Of all the times Nellie could’ve started acting like a real mom. This is fan-flipping-tastic.
Beast cocks a brow but says nothing. Sin, however, affects a grimace as soon as he walks in the room and hears her say that. He, at least, appears to have a healthy level of shame still available.
Not sure any of the others do.
“We’re all heading over to the bridal shop with you,” Sin confirms, glancing over at Crown. “It’s what Cat wants.” His silver eyes find mine, and my breath hitches, before he drags his gaze back to the VP.
Crown very carefully, very slowly nods, his eyes still on me.
Because right now, the thing the mafia wants most is Gidget motherfucking Kesselring.
One good thing about the club is, no matter which chapters are present, no matter whose daughter or wife or whatever it is, they wouldn’t give her up. They won’t give anyone up, not even to save their own skins. When there’s danger, the club closes ranks and defends its own.
See, gray as hell. The club. The world. Everything.
I’m taking four lovers with me to the bridal shop. Four lovers, a future nun, and my estranged mother.
How exciting.
The bridal shop that Nellie drives us to in her Escalade is much fancier than I expected. When she insinuated that they, um, knew how to get things done quickly, I didn’t think we’d be hitting up a store downtown. This is the tourist area of Ashbury, and it’s all high-end bourgeois bullshit.
The men get quite a few looks when they park on either side of the Escalade with their bikes, wearing leather and looking like, well, outlaws. Reba hops out of the front seat while I scoot across the center bench toward the door, pausing when I notice a bit of blood crusted on the seat’s stitching.
Mm.
Must be mine.
I look at Sin as I climb out, wondering what it must’ve been like, driving me back home while I lay dying in the back seat. He meets my eyes, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the other night. I know I am. Not just the sex either. The stuff about his sister, the fact that he spilled his secrets into the smoke-kissed night.
“You belong to me.”
He said that, which is fine, but in reality, it’s the other way around. Colton belongs to me.
“Oh, Gidge,” Reba coos, dragging me toward the front doors of the shop, her eyes glittering. I think because she’s decided to become a nun but has also fantasized about getting married since she was in kindergarten, she’s living vicariously through me. She pauses just outside the doors and turns to glance back at Beast with a frown. “It isn’t proper for a man to see his wife in her wedding gown before the big day,” she tells him, and he raises a brow at her.
