“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.
Oddly, the regret is both for being gone and also for coming back. It’s okay to feel opposing feelings sometimes, isn’t it?
“I also got pretty close with Grey,” she says softly, and my eyes widen.
“Did you fuck him?” I blurt, and Reba throws me this look of sheer horror. It occurs to me then that she might’ve been … Shit. I’m such an idiot.
“You’re a hot mess is what you are,” Reba murmurs, stroking Fem’s triangular ears before rising to her feet. “And of course I did not”—here she stumbles a bit—“make love to that man. That might be how your mind works, but it isn’t how mine does.” She puts her hands on her hips and looks me over.
“I’m sorry, Reba,” I say, my voice softening as I feel my usual anger fade under her emerald gaze. “I shouldn’t be asking things like that. I don’t know what you’ve been through …” I trail off, because it occurs to me then that I sound exactly like Cat.
“Because of Grey, I stand here whole and hale,” she says, nodding her chin to punctuate the phrase.
Because of Grey … well, in spite of Grey maybe. In spite of me.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Reba chokes out, turning away suddenly and closing her eyes against the memories. She saw her parents slaughtered in front of her. That’s not an easy thing to get over. Actually, it’s not something you ever get over, just a limp, a constantly bleeding wound, a missing eye that you learn to get along without. “Are you dating that man again?” she asks, though we both know I never actually dated him before.
“I’m …” The words fail me as I lift my hands up and then let them fall by my sides. I’m just so happy to see her, and so sorry for everything that’s gone down. “Engaged to Beast.”
That gives Reba serious pause. She actually turns her head like a heroine in a horror movie, too slow to be real, too disturbed.
“You’re engaged to one of them?” she asks, eyes wide. “I mean, if I had to pick one, at least he has manners. But dear god, Gidget. You’re eighteen. He’s thirty-three years old.”
That makes me smile. That’s the part of the equation she’s most worried about? The age gap bit?
“I’m embroiled in a war between two gangs, Reba,” I explain patiently. She won’t truly understand what it means that they lied for me, laid their lives and their loyalty on the line for my heroic whim. “Also, have you seen him? He could go viral on any social media platform he wanted; he’s that hot.”
She just keeps staring, and then moves over to put her arms around me. We hug each other tight in the dark, enjoying the safety and comfort of friendship. A love with no expectations and no caveats. As much as I enjoy those four men, there’s … I mean, there’s a lot to unpack. It’s far from uncomplicated.
“I’m just glad it isn’t Grainger,” she murmurs, and I decide that she’s been through enough. I’ll explain my arrangement with Beast in the morning.
Nellie fusses over Reba, but the guys aren’t particularly happy to have her here.
“She’s a liability is what she is,” Crown murmurs, standing outside and watching Reba through the kitchen window. “Another loose cannon. Another flapping tongue.”
“She’s anything but a flapping tongue,” I growl at him, and he gives me a look. “You’re just mad because her presence keeps you from getting sex.” He throws me a look that says I’m not entirely off-base with that idea.
“More like, she’s a tool that can very clearly be wielded against you. She’s a person that Gaz is interested in, that knows about Gaz. She also can’t just live on the compound with you for companionship. That isn’t how things work here, Gidge.”
I put my hand on his big arm, and he heaves a sigh. He’s very clearly a sucker for me, something that I’m surprised my all-knowing sixteen-year-old self couldn’t figure out. These guys might have zero problem mowing down a crowd of mafia wedding guests, but they certainly have a difficult time resisting little old me.
“Then take me off the compound. You all must have houses, don’t you?” I ask dryly, and Crown closes his eyes for a moment, like I’ve upset him somehow. “Cat clearly doesn’t want me at our place because, well, security reasons. But what about you? Where do you live?”
“He owns a pretty little country house, set aside for his future wife,” Grainger says, his tone mocking. Sin is gone, dealing with the mind-numbing logistics of several hundred extra bikers living on the compound. Same with Beast. But more like, he’s out hunting people. This is what I now get to deal with: Calder and Cade, at war. “There aren’t many people involved with the club who think he bought it for anyone other than you.”
“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth and go deal with the traitor that’s waltzing around the compound like he owns the place? Isn’t that your job, Cade, as the sergeant-at-arms? It’d be nice for me to see you earn your salary for once.” Crown shoots from the hip, but it’s very obviously a defense mechanism.
“One of these days, your big mouth is going to get you into trouble, and I won’t be around to watch your back,” Grainge hisses before he passes by me, pausing just long enough to get a handful of my ass and squeezing. I throw him a warning look that he ignores before heading into the kitchen to talk to Nellie.
“You didn’t really buy me a house, did you?” I ask, moving up close to Crown and watching as his moss green eyes slide my way. “It’s simultaneously romantic, and also creepy.”
“Your friend has to go,” he tells me, reverting back to his VP voice. I prefer the one he uses in the dark, the quiet groans and moans, the undeniable male sounds of pleasure and satisfaction. That�
�s what I want to hear. I want him broken open and vulnerable to me, giving me everything he has without reserve.
It’s just … I have a wedding to another man in six days, and I don’t know how to wrap my head around any of it.
“Where’s your house? Is it close by? Could I stay there with Reba?” I’m asking the questions, but Crown has already checked out, trying to move away from me toward the back door. I grab his arm and he turns suddenly to look at me, eyes darkening, his full mouth pressed into a thin line. “Crown, we’re past this sort of thing. We have to be past it or none of this will work out.”
He watches me for a moment, but his expression remains guarded.
“My house is technically inside the walls of the compound, but that doesn’t mean anything. Nowhere is safer than this, especially not when you’re a primary target.” He looks me over and I’m not sure, exactly, what it is that he sees, but he takes a step closer and ends up with his huge hand sliding along the side of my face, fingers tangling in my hair. “If I did buy you a house, I was waiting until you were a little older to give it to you.” My brow goes up, and he returns my stare with one of his own. “I didn’t want to fall in love with you, Gidge. In fact, I tried everything in my power to stop it.”
My throat gets tight. How the fuck do I process what he’s just said?
“In love with me?” I query back, because although it seems to be an unspoken thing, based on actions, it’s also nice to hear confirmation via words. They’re secondary, of course, but nobody begrudges being reminded that they’re loved. “How long were you planning on waiting?”
He frowns and looks away toward the house again, toward Reba and Nellie and Grainger just behind the glass, before glancing back at me.
“I figured you’d turn eighteen, run off somewhere, meet a guy.” Here he clenches his jaw slightly. “Break up with that guy. Maybe then I’d find you and ask you to have a drink with me, and you’d say yes. I have no fucking clue. It was a play by ear sort of a thing.” He tightens his grip in my hair, and my breath comes out in a rush. I sound excited. Anticipatory. Aroused. All of those things are true. “I did not expect the tour de force you’d become at sixteen. Jesus, this is fucked-up.” Crown says the words, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he encourages me to move closer to him, and my palms end up pressed against his chest.
“You can stop hating yourself for it, you know,” I explain, running my palms up and over his shoulders, letting my hands rest on the leather of his cut, the very same cut I wore when he rode me into the sofa. “But if you want to keep placating me to make up for it, I’ll take it.”
“Gidge,” he warns, just before my lips press against the side of his neck. Now that I’ve gotten Reba back, the world is painted in different colors. War, I can handle. War, I will deal with. Just so long as I have my people around me. “You’ve got a guest, and if you keep touching me like that, I’ll forget all my manners.”
“Maybe that’s what you need?” I offer suggestively, lifting my eyes up to look at him through thick lashes. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what he sees when he looks down at me. A young woman dressed head to toe in leather, her dark hair straightened into a glossy wave, red-brown eyes and long lashes, strong brows, and a pouty but very sharp mouth. “To forget?”
“Forget that you’re less than a week away from marrying another man?” Crown deadpans, and then he steps away from me. “Not likely, Gidge.” He sighs heavily and pushes some of that wavy hair back from his forehead. “You can announce to the girls that we’re yours; you can even believe it yourself. Doesn’t mean that this will work out in the end.” He looks away from me, toward the smoky sky and the ugly sun hidden in its sinister folds. “This right here”—Crown gestures between me and him—“it was never going to end like a fairy tale.”
He turns away and takes off, heading into the shadows of the garden.
He’s upset, I think. His dream was to present that ruby ring to a woman—to me, specifically—and claim his partner, his future, his chance at a family.
In a sense, no matter what happens, Crown’s dreams are dashed. Destroyed. Crushed to dust. The careful game he was playing with me has failed him.
He says we can’t end this story with a happily ever after. Who says we have to? My life will never be a fairy tale, regardless of how the rest of it turns out. My sisters are dead. My father is a monster. My brother is a creature from a nightmare. Even the men I love have hands drenched with blood, hearts of smoke and shadows, pasts dipped in pain and loss. They are not whole. Neither am I.
But I don’t need that.
I need someone with jagged edges, someone who can handle all my sharp points, my biting acidity, my nihilistic tendencies. Multiple someones, preferably. There is no telling what will happen tomorrow, if I’ll even live long enough to see much more of a life than I’ve got now. Same with the guys. Their jobs are dangerous; their lives are always hanging by a thin thread from the cruel, skeletal hand of fate.
I decide to follow after Crown, finding him near the edge of the manicured garden area, staring out at the woods. He briefly glances my way before refocusing back on the trees, the repeating bars of their trunks, the filtered sunlight.
“I would choke on a fairy tale,” I tell him, and that’s the truth. “Too sweet, too cloying. I was born ruined, Crown.”
He doesn’t respond to that, remaining distant, contemplative.
“Just before your sisters died,” he begins, closing his eyes. It seems, at first, as if he might be in pain. But no, that’s not it at all. He isn’t in pain: he’s mad. Furious. When he opens his eyes again, I can see that fury etched like lightning in his moss-colored gaze. “We knew there was a traitor in the club.” He looks at me then, studying me, as if deciding how ready I am to hear this.
“And you never found him?” I ask, thinking about Gaz. Crown shakes his head.
“We thought we did.” He pauses again and turns back toward the woods. I wonder where his house is. I know that the club has been working on chipping away at the surrounding properties, bringing one after the other under its control. Crown’s house could be somewhere nearby, maybe even within walking distance. “Cat was convinced of it.”
“You … killed the wrong guy?” I query and Crown looks down at the dirt beneath his feet. Is this where that man is buried? Are we standing on his grave? It’s impossible to walk around this compound and not dance on the grave of an angry soul, long buried and rotting.
“No, not the wrong guy.” Crown exhales sharply, still looking at the dirt, lost in memories. “Just not the only guy, I think. I knew it then, that we had more than one rat on our hands. The fact that you saw Gaz and Caper together means I was right. It’s a fucking coup.”
Crown looks up again, eyes blazing.
“So, Gaz was in on it even then?” I wonder, letting my brain chew on the idea of that for a minute. I do not like my brother, don’t get me wrong. He deserves to die for all of the things that he’s done. Still, it’s hard to imagine that he might … that he could’ve had something to do with Queenie’s and Posey’s deaths.
“I thought so. I even told your father.” Crown laughs and lets his head fall back. He’s a glorious shadow against the setting sun, a landmark, something solid to hold onto. I want to touch him so damn bad right now, but I’m worried he might pull away. So I wait. I bide. I ponder. “I’ve waited years to be able to talk to you like this.” He drops his chin down and turns to look at me. “I keep chastising you, Gidge, but only because you’ve got potential. If you were a man—”
I grit my teeth. I am so fucking sick of hearing how amazing I might be if I didn’t have a pussy. I hear it every single time my father looks at me. He wishes I were a boy. He’d give anything for that to be true. Why? Why does it matter? Unless I’m climbing in the ring with Beast, it shouldn’t.
I can do anything these men can do. More. They have no idea how desperate I am to prove myself.
Desperation breeds ingenuity.
“If I were a man?” I query and Crown turns to look at me. The force of his stare is staggering. I meet it head-on.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he explains, holding out his palms in a placating gesture. “But it matters to the other men. It might always matter. You said you could see me as president someday. Maybe. Even then, I can’t change the entire culture of the club.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” I reply, getting choked up and swiping a hand down my face. If I’d been born a man, I might’ve turned into Gaz, might’ve been spoiled, might’ve rotted on the branch. Instead, the club treated me like I was nothing; I made myself become something. My heart is crafted of iron and my resolve is impenetrable and endless. “I don’t need that. I need the four of you to trust me, to treat me like a human being. Be my armor against the rest of the club. Let me thrive like a fern beneath the shadows of the trees.” I walk away from Crown, my boots sinking into the softness of the forest floor. “If it were sunny, the fern wouldn’t do well. Under the trees, it thrives. Its function in the world is different, but it’s no less important.” I point at a large, lush fern growing out of a nearby trunk, knowing that I’m going out on a limb here with a ridiculous metaphor. Still, I can’t help it. My life is bathed in metaphors and prose; it’s the only way it makes any sort of sense. “This is a resurrection fern. It grows out of the tree, but it doesn’t hurt it. They have a symbiotic relationship.”
Crown pauses beside the tree, reaching up to run his fingers along the green fronds. I’m not tall enough to reach it, but he has no problem.
“You spin pretty stories, Gidge. I just don’t know if they function in the confines of reality.” He looks back at me, releasing the fern’s frond.
“Which part, Crown? Me participating in actual club business? Or the relationship with the four of you? We’d all have to give up something to make it work. I’ll admit, you guys would be giving up more than I would.” I sigh and rub at my face. It never occurred to me until now that … maybe I’m not worth it to them? They couldn’t bear to see me suffer for my actions with Grey, but that doesn’t mean they’re willing to spend the rest of their lives with one-fourth of a heart. An infinite and endless heart of shadows it might be, but still.
I Am Dressed in Sin: A Reverse Harem Age Gap Romance (Death By Daybreak Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 29
