Page 112 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
Cat looks over at Reba, blindfolded and sitting primly on the edge of one of Gram’s old sofas. The exact sofa, actually, that I got fucked on by four dudes in quick succession. Sort of. Beast gave me a taste but remains an elusive shadow.
Reba never needs to know about any of that. Well, she’ll probably hear about it because I have a big mouth, but she won’t ever know it’s that precise sofa.
I wait at the edge of the room, dressed in pj’s and exuding pure … well, I wouldn’t say innocence because Cat would never believe that. But something else. Ignorance, at least.
The story here is: I’ve been home all along, but the boys found Reba at the Palm Motel during their standoff with the mafia. I can’t help but wonder how many people died there tonight, how many people Crown killed, or Beast, or Sin. Unfortunately for me, I got to keep Grainger by my side all night long. He’s in a foul mood, too. He doesn’t like Grey, doesn’t like my relationship with him, really isn’t a fan of Reba’s presence.
“She’s been turning tricks in the motel for weeks,” Crown lies in a low voice, stepping in close to his president. The purple bruises on Reba’s body lend credence to the idea. “The room we found her in has been occupied for the same period of time; the tenant’s name was a bullshit pseudonym.” He exhales like he’s tired—which I’m pretty sure isn’t a ruse at all. “Like all the Palm’s clientele.”
My father studies Reba like a specimen under a microscope, analyzing her, dissecting her with his sharp gaze. If he thinks she’s in any way a threat to the club, he’ll take her to Uncle Benny’s cabin and torture information out of her.
I have to remember that he killed Kian when he didn’t have to.
Cat is ruthless.
He’s also watched Reba grow up alongside me. I hope like hell that he sees something in her, some spark of his dead daughters in this woman, some reason to grant her mercy. If he doesn’t, then we’re all in trouble. Because I will go to my grave trying to save Reba.
I believe in my heart that the guys, they’ll go to the grave defending me.
Cat, at the very least, must know that Reba doesn’t have any insider information about the club. The Grey Wolfe mafia could torture her to within an inch of her life and what could she possibly say? Nothing. Because she doesn’t know anything. I’ve never allowed that.
Still, it isn’t an easy role, to play best friend to a club princess.
“Someone brought her there, Cat,” Crown continues, gently pushing the idea of Gaz’s betrayal through subtle, roundabout ways. “I don’t know who or why, but I can only guess she was bait for Gidget. Otherwise, why leave her there during the attack? They’re looking for an emotional response from our side. They’re trying to prove they can function on our territory, right under our goddamn noses.”
My father rubs his beard, flicking his gaze over to me. My pulse is thundering, my palms are sweaty, and if I thought it would help, I would throw myself at Cat’s feet and beg for mercy. Regardless of any suspicions he might have toward me, he knows that I took an Uzi and mowed down the mafia crowd.
My actions must speak louder than words because I swear, I can see Cat’s expression shifting.
“Worst case scenario, she works for us,” Crown adds after a spell. I just hope Reba can’t hear that in the next room. I would never allow that. I would die before I would accept that. Crown knows it. This particular addition to the conversation is solely to please Cat. Crown wouldn’t go through with turning Reba into a hooker either.
“I’m not about murdering little nuns,” Cat growls out, hooking a thumb in my direction. “Send her upstairs with Gidget for now and I’ll figure out what to do with her later—she doesn’t leave the compound without my permission.”
He takes off and Crown moves forward, removing Reba’s blindfold and taking her by the forearm.
She swallows hard as she approaches me, green eyes watering.
We head upstairs and slip into the bedroom; I make sure to slam the door in Grainger’s face. I want some alone time with Reba. Also, pissing him off like that will make the sex better later.
“Gidge,” Reba murmurs, looking around the room like it’s an alien spaceship. “This isn’t good, any of this.”
“Which part?” I ask, wanting to inquire about her parents, but unsure how to go about bringing it up. I guess if she needs to talk, she’ll initiate something and I’ll listen. That seems fair.
“Everything.” Reba checks the balcony, and then gives a sob of relief when Fem lifts his head from the deck and then stands up, carefully stretching his one remaining front leg in front of him. “Oh, thank the Lord himself.” She squats low and gives the dog a hug at least as enthusiastic as mine if not more. “We got close while you were gone,” she admits, and I feel a small pang of regret.
