Page 152 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
Fire Love by Yacht Money and Gabrielle Mooney.
Considering it’s a song that mentions Tennessee, whiskey, and sex all within the first verse, we’re off to a good start.
Beast surprises me by grabbing my hands and pulling me into the center of the room. People cheer and move to the side, watching us as he places strong, confident hands on my hips. Our audience begins to clap and stomp their feet in time to the beat, adding real-life energy to the music. This, I begrudgingly admit, is part of the club’s appeal. I can feel the horde of them at my back, a surging force that could burn entire towns to the ground with their might.
“Dance with me, wife,” Beast says, and even though I wouldn’t exactly call myself a dancer, how can I resist a request as tempting as that? Laughter bubbles up past my lips as Beast guides me around the dance floor.
He moves with total confidence, like he expects the world to make space for him and not the other way around. It’s that aspect of his personality that I find most attractive; I do my best to emulate it, letting my worry and my anger go for the span of that one song, allowing myself to melt into Beast’s arms.
As much as I was dreading the idea of this, of being married to someone in the club, I find that it doesn’t matter like I thought it would. Because I don’t care if Catcher Coffey is a part of DBD or anything else. No matter where he goes or what organization he’s a part of, he’s mine. I’m his.
This is it for us.
Husband and wife.
It isn’t quite the lamentable knell that I always feared it to be.
“I hope you’re okay with me taking you home to Tennessee and showing you off,” he whispers, and my eyes go wide as he pulls me close. It never really occurred to me that any of my men might have family out there. I know it sounds stupid, but once you’re in the club, you’re in. This is your family. Most of the men are like Sin, broken links searching for a new chain.
Beast has family left in Tennessee, family that he wants to introduce me to? That’s news to me.
“More than okay,” I promise, thinking about the possibility of travel, of a life beyond the walls of this compound. Using the club as an anchor instead of a steel trap. It’s an exciting thought. The armor thing, it’s working.
We finish our dance to soft, murmured approval which I find odd. What happened to the clapping and the stomping? I notice that the overall energy of the crowd has dimmed slightly. There are even a few people slumped over tables or curled up in corners. Not unusual for a club party, but it’s a little early. That, and there seem to be quite a few of them.
Beast frowns hard, looking up and over my shoulder and then gesturing with two fingers. I glance back to see Sin and Grainger waiting at the edge of the dance floor, watching us. At Beast’s behest, they move through the languorous, sleepy crowd to stand beside us again.
“Do you see this?” Sin asks, nodding his chin at the drunk swaying of the other dancers. It’s really fucking bothering me that I haven’t seen Crown since the procession. Something about that isn’t sitting right with me. “It’s a little early for so many people to be this fucked-up, don’t you think?”
“I see it,” Beast agrees, moving over to one of the people on the ground. The man is breathing, obviously, but he doesn’t react at all when Beast tries to wake him up. It’s like he’s drunk. Or drugged.
A chill traces over my skin as I take in the overall state of the room. If it were two in the morning, sure. There’d be a lot of drunk, high, and just generally exhausted partygoers, but we’ve barely been here an hour.
I remember that first dinner with the Don and his wife, when I carefully tasted each item, worried about poison. There’s plenty of food here, but most people aren’t eating. Mostly, they’re drinking and smoking and …
Snorting.
I look at the tables with the lines of coke, and I wonder.
“Where did this cocaine come from?” I ask, and all three men cast me dark looks.
“Jesus,” Grainger grinds out, moving over to the table closest to the towering stack of wedding gifts in the corner; the rest of us follow. He rubs some of the powder between his fingers but shakes his head. “There’s no way to tell just by looking at it; I’ve had my own guys watching the supply since it came in. Gaz was never allowed near the stuff.”
“You’re thinking this could be the mafia’s coke, Gidge?” Beast asks, his voice almost disturbingly calm. He’s coiled right now, like a snake ready to strike.
