Page 28 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
But that’s not why Cade Grainger is punishing him.
A strange, effervescent sort of feeling takes over me then. It’s tempered, of course, by the reality of my situation, but I’d be lying if I said I got no thrill in thinking that these four men, these four monsters … might actually care about me.
Might.
It’s possible that they have different motives in mind. No, not just possible, but likely.
I blame my delusions of romance and caring on blood loss and shock.
“Go on,” Cat encourages, reaching out to touch my knee. He gives me a fatherly pat, and I look at him like a crazy person. He laughs at me and then ruffles up my hair. “Girl, you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. Three months in the mafia, and you managed to marry their son?”
Crown stiffens up beside me.
“I have ovaries, actually,” I correct, and Cat laughs again. See what I mean? Just enough defiance. It’s a fine line, one that I long ago decided I’d cross over whenever I damn well felt like it. Thus, Fem’s leg. Thus, the moment when Cat put a gun in my hand and told me to kill a kid. Only problem here is that, even with the boys lying for me, I’m still in deep shit. I know things. Way too many things. Club shit. And I can’t know club shit and walk away. There’s only one good option for me right now, and I’ve gotten damn good at that, searching for the least shitty option in a steaming pile of turds. “But it wasn’t like that. For days and days, they tortured me.” Leaving me bloody and infected and hurting was akin to torture, so it’s not a total lie. “Grey told them we were in love to save his own ass, so they wouldn’t know he was a rat.”
I shove at my forehead with the heel of my hand. I’m so tired and disoriented. I really and truly never believed I’d come back here. That I’d never see Cat again unless it was at the end of a gun barrel. That I’d never see any of these men. Yet … my whole world is shifting and changing before my very eyes.
“Maybe that’s enough for today?” Crown suggests, and Cat gives him a look that very clearly says he doesn’t appreciate the insinuation. The VP of the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club curls his hands into fists, but keeps his mouth shut.
“The Don …” I start, giving a harsh laugh and a shake of my head. “He challenged me to get up and move into a different room. I crawled on my hands and knees. He warned the two of us that if we were lying, we’d both die. So guess what? We spent two months stuck in that room with cameras on our asses—even in the bathroom. Two months trapped in jail. They barely talked to us. I expected interrogation, but …”
“The mafia has their own tricks,” Cat says with another snort, and a sneer. “So, how’d you end up hitched?”
“Alvise told us that we were getting married. Period. End of sentence. It’s not like either of us had much choice in the matter. They kept testing me. They gave me a gun with a single bullet, just to see what I’d do. They made us sit at these fancy dinners and talk about nothing.” I swallow hard because this part, even though it hurts the most, is by far the most important piece. “When I asked why they’d kill their own grandchild, they told me Queenie was just a whore carrying a bastard kid. I …” I look up and meet my father’s eyes. “If I get my hands on Giulia Wolfe, I’ll tear her limb from limb.”
Cat nods his approval and makes to stand up, but I’m not done. I know he isn’t either, that we’ll be having this conversation a good dozen times before he’s satisfied that he’s absorbed every detail.
“Wait.” My breath catches, and my whole world tips upside down. I can hardly even believe that I’m about to say the words that are resting on the tip of my little devil tongue. “I know a lot, Cat. Too much. I …” I start and then bite my lip, flicking my eyes away and focusing on some loose stitching in the pillowcase. “Gaz won’t be happy. A lot of the old-timers, they—”
“Nobody’s going to punish you for this,” Cat tells me, resting his hand atop my head. Yet again, I’m struck by the gesture. I don’t understand it. I also don’t trust it. A man who shoots his daughter’s dog’s leg off doesn’t just flip a switch and become a kind and caring father over the span of twelve weeks.
He turns and starts to move away.
“Marry me off,” I blurt, before I lose my nerve. Fuck, that room … it’s so quiet, you could hear a body drop. Because, you know, the phrase a pin drop doesn’t really apply to one-percenters. Cat pauses then and looks back at me, cocking one gray furred brow.
