Page 72 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
That one time, that night two years ago, it wasn’t.
Sin isn’t the only one giving out second chances that he shouldn’t.
Beast has clothing waiting for me when we arrive at the back gate. He’s sitting on his bike, a black leather duffel bag on his lap. Without a word, he hands it over to me and I excuse myself behind a tree to get changed. While I’m doing so, I can see the men murmuring to one another. I can scarcely imagine what they’re talking about.
That’s sarcasm, by the way.
“I hope you were discussing how tight my pussy is and how lucky you are to have access to it,” I quip as I saunter back over, dressed in leather pants, a long-sleeved black shirt that says Eclipse Cycles on it (Dad’s only legitimate business), and riding boots—all of it secondhand from Posey.
She would absolutely love to see this, me engaged to an officer. Fucking three more of them under Cat’s nose. Hate to say it, but she would’ve been proud. Queenie likely would’ve been horrified.
“We were discussing a mafia bombing, Gidget,” Sin tells me, but he has this look about him that says that wasn’t the only thing they were discussing.
“Baby doll,” Beast drawls, slipping out of his jacket and offering it up to me.
I find myself suddenly rooted to the spot.
It’s … well, it’s a big fucking deal for a man to give his cut or his jacket to a woman. It’s better than a ring. It’s a promise of more. Protection. Care. Sex. Love. That’s what it’s supposed to be anyway. Do I dare take it, especially considering the arrangement we’ve come to?
Sin watches the interaction with an interest so sharp it can only be interpreted as one thing: jealousy.
Carefully, I curl my fingers around the leather and take it from Beast. The man has always—I kid you not—smelled like old books and bergamot nectar. That’s how his jacket smells, too, like a library full of yellowing pages and leather covers, of fresh ink and ancient words. I clutch it against my chest for a moment as our eyes meet.
Marrying Beast is a serious thing.
I look back at Sin.
“Just put it on so we can go,” Sin tells me as Beast starts up his bike, that violent purr of the engine making my heart pound.
A ripple of remembered agony rolls through me and I’m forced to close my eyes for a minute.
Turning the corner on Crown’s bike, pressing the brake, skidding, falling, bleeding, hurting, blackness.
I choke on the pain of that memory before opening my eyes to see Beast and Sin watching me carefully. There is no reality where my relationship with them works without motorcycles being involved; there is no reality where I remain a part of Death by Daybreak without motorcycles being involved.
Avoidance is a key symptom of PTSD.
I will not give into it; I cannot.
Reba needs me.
I slip my arms into the jacket—fully aware of what it means—yank my helmet on, and then slide onto the seat behind Beast. My arms wrap his muscular body, and I can’t help it, I press my cheek into the back of his t-shirt.
Oh, this feels good. Too good. Dangerously good.
We take off out the same gate that I escaped on with Crown’s bike.
It’s weird as fuck, like I’m seeing two versions of myself interposed on top of one another. At this point, the jury is still out on whether or not I would’ve been better off with the mafia over the club. Guess we’ll see how this goes.
The first few minutes of the drive are agonizing for me. I cannot stop thinking about that roadblock of mafia men, of waking up in a chair with Giulia smiling at me, of Grey and his espressos. That last part helps soothe me. That, and Beast’s comforting smell. Tea and books. Tea and books. Tea and motherfucking books.
The wind whips against us like a lash, stealing pieces of my dark hair from inside the helmet. I ignore it, my mind focused once again on Reba. On Fem. If I get there and find my dog dead … I stop that train of thought. Whatever happens, I have Sin and Beast with me; they’ll watch my six.
That’s what I tell myself as we make the drive toward town. On our left, the compound snakes along the road, surrounded by woods and guarded by gates. One of which is on fire. I assume the club has it under control or else Beast and Sin wouldn’t be here, doing this with me. They might’ve lied for me, but that doesn’t mean they don’t or won’t still uphold Cat’s orders.
As long as their orders don’t present conflict when it comes to me.
We arrive at Reba’s in fairly short order, and I wait with Sin near the road as Beast checks out the place and then texts to let us know it’s safe.
