Page 131 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
“Don’t you get yourself hurt out there tonight,” she scolds, and then clears her throat. I can sense it, just like I can sense danger on the wind. She’s about to give me a Bible quote as some sort of warning from the heavens. “The righteous is a guide to his neighbor; But the way of the wicked causeth them to err.”
With that, she turns away and heads into the living room to join Feminist. As soon as she flops onto the couch, he abandons his chair to join her. Now that Grey is gone, Beast has grudgingly given Reba back the cord to the TV. He did not, however, restore the Wi-Fi, so she gets to watch what’s been downloaded already or what Crown has on Blu-ray.
She selects some old black and white Western which feels oddly apropos, as if we’re about to clash with bandits in a goldrush town or something.
“The way of the wicked causeth them to err,” I murmur and then shake my head. “Then let’s err the fuck out of this night, shall we?”
I grab the bag at the bottom of the stairs and slip into the bathroom, adding leather pants under my dress and Beast’s jacket over the top. As I said before: no way in fuck am I getting on a motorcycle with bare skin ever again. Even the sandals have to be traded out for boots, but I had to try this look on and test it on the guys before doing anything else.
I join them in the hallway with the duffel bag—it has a brush and some other items in it case I need to freshen up—and out the door we go. Beast puts it in one of his saddlebags as I grab my helmet. It threatens to mess up my hair, but what else can I do?
We ride motorcycles here; it’s a way of life.
Beast kickstarts the engine and I feel the first pump of adrenaline race through me.
“Come to heel, pet. Or I’ll break you like I break my horses.”
Okay, Giulia Wolfe. Let’s go. Let’s see which one of us breaks first.
It sure as hell isn’t going to be me.
Rodeo by Lil Nas X and Cardi B is playing when I step into the thick swarm of college students. The doors of the apartment building are wide open, and there’s a long hall that leads to the building’s shared outdoor common area.
That’s where Johnny R. is set up, taking a breather to flirt with girls while the current song plays. I notice right off the bat that there’s a good mix of Ashbury High students in this mess, and offer up a small, muttered curse.
I wonder if anyone will recognize me? To be fair, I hardly recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I’m a ghost tonight. Posey’s ghost, maybe. Or just some awful, vengeful spirit who can’t stop digging her coffin-tipped nails into the palm of her hand.
“Let’s make this quick,” Sin offers up, having briefly switched out his shirt and vest for a pullover sweater. He’s the only one of the guys who can even remotely pretend to be the right age for this party although I must say, some of these college boys still look like exactly that—like boys. Colton is very much a man. “Grab someone who looks like an asshole, just in case he dies.”
I snort and glance back at Sin as he cocks a brow in my direction.
“Let’s pick someone who looks like they identify as a men’s rights activist.” I point out a group of bros in the back corner. “See those fuckers right there? I bet you a hundred bucks one of them brought roofies to this party.”
Sin curls up the edge of his lip as he studies the boys and then shakes his head, holding up a hand to indicate the snorting, guffawing trust fund jocks.
“Take your pick and let’s get out of here.”
I swing my blond hair over my shoulder and then make my way through the crowd, hating that party every second that I’m standing in it. What sort of party is this anyway? It’s like … the junior version of what happens at the clubhouse. Bold enough to entertain plenty of ill-meaning assholes, but without that edge, that bite that makes club life satisfying in so many ways.
I approach the group of bros, reaching out to tap the nearest one on the shoulder.
Imagine my surprise when he turns around and I see Trevone Hundley standing in front of me.
Oh. Shit.
He smiles at me … at first, but then the expression shifts to one of confusion.
“Sorry, thought you were someone else,” I murmur, and then start to move away when he reaches out and grabs my wrist.
“Gidget?” he asks, blinking stupidly down at me. Fuck. Guess my disguise isn’t as good as I thought it was, eh? Or maybe I was just that memorable to Trevone. “What are you doing here?”
