Page 88 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
“What does that mean?” I ask as Crown throws me a warning look and takes off. He just starts walking in the direction of the street and disappears down the block. I give Beast a raised brow in question, and he humors me with a sad, tight smile.
“He can mow down men in the field and grin about it.” Beast redirects his attention to Rhea’s body. “But things like this? They hit him hard.”
“He’s a pussy, you mean,” Grainger grinds out around a cigarette, but when I look back at him, I find that he’s staring at the stone wall on the opposite side of the creek and not at the girl. “More than likely he’s pissed off because way back when”—my nemesis, the bane of my existence, and yet somehow also the crux of my heart, steps up close to me—“Crown suspected your brother of being a traitor.”
With that little nugget of information tossed out of his imperious lips, Grainger moves away from the body and tosses his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. The edge of Sin’s lip is curled up in annoyance.
“Excuse me, what?” I choke out, wondering how goddamn deep the club’s secrets really go. “I can’t work with snippets of information. I need the whole story.” I throw a glare in Sin’s direction, but he surprises me by nodding.
“You’re in, aren’t ya, Gidge?” he asks, looking down at Rhea again. “Consequences be damned. This is happening.”
“It’s happening,” I agree, pausing as Sin’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out to answer.
“Yeah?” He glances my way briefly. “Yes, sir.”
“Something wrong?” I ask, but Sin’s shaking his head.
“Nope.” He looks up at Beast. “The Los Gatos and the Seattle chapters are on the way.” He tosses me a wary glance. “That means I have a lot of work to do. Think you can stay out of trouble for the time being?”
I stare back at him, but I don’t answer, and he ends up cursing.
We both know that’s an impossible task.
But if the club is sending men from other chapters, that means we’re in serious trouble.
It means we’re officially at war.
My mother makes dinner, and we end up eating in the living room with Cat. It’s awkward and weird, but I get the idea that the world has tilted on its axis again. After my sisters died, Cat and Nellie changed everything about the way we lived. They were home more—Nellie especially—and they started watching me like a hawk. Started trying to actually parent me. Well, sort of. I mean, if your idea of parenting is shooting your daughter’s dog and pretending to kill her.
Anyway, before that night, I essentially did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. But things changed. Things are changing again. Going missing for three months seems to have endeared me to Cat. Just barely. But it’s there.
“You can help the other wives set up for the party tomorrow,” Cat tells me as I stare at him, seated on the leather sofa across from him and Nellie. Thankfully, Gaz is absent tonight. I’m not sure I can look him in the face over dinner and pretend to be civil. He strangled a prostitute to death. And not because she’d done anything wrong, but to get rid of evidence.
He’s as wicked as they come.
“Should I dress up in an apron and heels while I do it?” I quip, and Cat gives Beast a look, pointing at me with his fork.
“Last chance to back out of this. You’re sure you want to deal with this brat?”
Beast inclines his head slowly. He may as well have screamed for the impact that it leaves in the room. His expression brooks absolutely zero argument from anyone, including Cat. My mind flashes to the possibility of a real wedding night with Beast. It wouldn’t be a game to him. It wouldn’t be just another fuck. It’ll mean something.
Am I ready for that?
I take another bite of my food, glad to see that Nellie’s back to experimenting again. Tonight is bangers and mash or some shit. Basically, sausages with watery potatoes, but at least she’s trying.
“I’ve decided that we’ll hold the wedding while the other chapters are in town,” my father continues conversationally, cleaning his plate and then holding it out to Nellie in a silent request for more. It bothers me, the way she takes it and hurriedly runs off to get his second helping, but having heard her side of the story, I try to be understanding.
Try, of course, being the key word.
That can be her life, but it will not be mine.
“Excuse me?” I repeat, glancing over at Beast. He meets my eyes with his blue ones, and the way they darken … the way he sweeps that powerful gaze over my body, leaves me with pebbled nipples and an impossible heat between my thighs that begs to be slaked; it demands satisfaction. My cunt is on her knees with wanting, and that pisses me off.
