Instead of surrendering to Crown, he’s surrendering to me.
As dominant as he is, with as many control issues as he has, this is …
It’s magical.
A dark magic. Black magic. A curse, maybe. But magic, nonetheless.
He ends up pushing me down onto the bed and kissing me like he can’t breathe if our mouths aren’t pressed tight, if his tongue isn’t working against mine. Crown grinds the hardness of his erection into me, and I make a low, desperate sort of sound.
Wow.
The way Sin and I kissed at the hospital, that was new.
So is this.
He’s giving into me; Crown is letting me have him.
“I could have you,” I once whispered.
“Could have me, huh?” he’d replied, ever the cocky, arrogant alpha prick.
Then he made love to me. Then he treated me like a terrible secret, a mistake.
I wrap my legs around him, drawing him as close as I can without violating Beast’s wishes. If this is going to work, there have to be some rules. And they have to be followed.
Crown breaks away from me with a gasp, turning his head to one side. When I fist my fingers in his hair, he clenches his teeth.
“Get up,” he breathes out, pulling away from me suddenly and shaking himself out. With a contorted facial expression, he undoes his belt and jeans, reaching in to adjust his junk with a curse. “You might want to change clothes.” He slides his phone from his pocket to check the time. “Cat should be on his way over here by now.”
My blood goes cold, and I sit up, shivering as all of that vibrant heat dissipates in a rush.
“What does he want?” I ask, my voice darkening as the reality of our situation hits me in the chest like a punch.
Did … did Crown really just tell me that I’m pregnant?
Did Cat really shoot Gaz?
Shit.
Reality sucks.
“I don’t know, but be prepared,” Crown tells me, fixing his pants and then sliding open the center drawer of his dresser. He removes a revolver, checks the cylinder, slips it into the waistband of his jeans and tucks it beneath his cut. “If we have to go, we’ll be leaving quick. If there are any material items that you absolutely need, I’d prepare a bug-out bag.” He looks at his phone again and gives a quick shake of his head. “Later though. We don’t have time right now.”
I slide off the edge of the bed, digging through my duffel bag until I find something that makes me feel more like myself: tight leather pants, a loose tank with a coffin on the front, and some huge silver hoop earrings that I have about a million memories of seeing on Posey’s ears.
“What will we do with Grey?” I ask, but Crown just passes me a look, and I nod. “Right. The chimney.”
I slip my feet into boots just as we hear the sound of an approaching motorcycle.
A very familiar motorcycle, the one that’s both lullaby as well as nightmare.
Yep, Daddy’s here—and I just hope he hasn’t brought an army along with him.
With Grey safely tucked away in the attic and Reba upstairs in a guest room, it’s just me and Crown in the living room when Cat walks in. The former stays standing in the arch between the entryway and the living room itself, his back to the wall. He has his eyes on Cat as soon as the door opens.
My father doesn’t knock, and Crown very purposefully left the door unlocked for him. This whole interaction smacks of a dominance display.
Cat strides confidently into the house—alone.
I stand up from the sofa, suddenly desperate to maintain a defensive position. The man radiates violence as he moves over to stand on the other side of the coffee table, turning to face me.
We look at each other, matching gaze to matching gaze.
In an instant, there’s a gun in my face.
“Remind me again why I shouldn’t blow your fucking brains out?” he asks, but then there’s Crown stepping forward. The barrel of his own weapon presses into the side of his president’s skull, and he pulls the hammer back.
“No,” he says calmly, just like that. “I won’t allow you to hurt her.”
Cat maintains his position, his face an unreadable mask, his pain hidden beneath all those pesky layers of his, the shields he puts up to protect himself from the dark nature of the life he lives.
With a dry, caustic laugh, Cat lowers the weapon, engages the safety, and slips it back into his holster.
“I should’ve fucking known,” he growls out, stroking his hand over his beard as Crown drops his own weapon. He doesn’t put it away, however, just points it at the floor. “I suspected as much, but I thought you had more brains than that.” Cat adjusts his stare over to his vice president. “Never pegged you as the sort of man who’d let pussy get ahold of his balls.”
“This is about more than that,” Crown tells my father, completely stone-faced, completely serious. That’s the thing about him. He’s a romantic. He’s also a cold-blooded killer who knows exactly what being a Daybreaker means. He’s just willing to use violence and dominance to protect the romance. “If it were just about sex, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
My father sneers at his vice president before turning back to me. He slides Gaz’s phone from his pocket and bile rises in my throat. Cat selects a photo before tossing the phone onto the coffee table in front of me. I hesitate before picking it up.
My father watches me like he wants to kill me.
“Take a look at this and tell me why I shouldn’t have the club come over here so the five of you can hang from a tree? I’ll even string your pretty redheaded friend up to sway in the wind beside you.”
“If you’re asking why I think you haven’t told the rest of the club yet, all I can say is that it’s a brilliant political move,” Crown continues, taking up the tense silence as I lift the phone up and stare down at a picture of myself on Crown’s bike, Grey clinging to me.
The photo was taken from in front of us, just as I rounded that corner into a roadblock of mafia men. This is dashcam footage from one of the Grey Wolfe Cadillacs; Gaz is an idiot. He helped put a nail in his own coffin by choosing to show this to our father.
Even though the details are a little blurry, if you know what you’re looking for, you can see everything. The teal and white Chieftain Classic, the bloodied mafia boy … me in a short skirt with pretty legs.
I turn the screen off and lift my gaze to meet Cat’s.
My entire future hinges on this moment.
“We can’t handle infighting and accusations while still battling the mafia,” Crown adds, refusing to put his weapon away. Can’t quite believe he actually put that gun to his president’s head for me, but … I’ll take it. I can’t fight my father on my own. “That, and we lost a lot of people today. How many? Fifty-two?”
Holy shit. Fifty-two?!
It’s close enough to the forty-six people that the club slaughtered during my wedding to Grey to be considered a fair trade.
I’m terrified to find out if there are any familiar faces among the dead. You know, besides the sibling that my father shot.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” I ask him, my voice low and disconnected. Cat stares at me in a way that he never has before, and that terrifies me. He’s still looking at me as if that’s a possibility. “I saved Grey; I’m not ashamed of that. You wanted me to hand you the last of my humanity; you wanted to tie me to the club with blood.”
Cat laughs at that, and I’m suddenly thankful for the coffee table between us. If he has to, Crown should be able to shoot my father before he lays a finger on me. My own gun was recovered from the clubhouse wreckage; I have it hanging on my hip, but I doubt I could ever outdraw Leroy Kesselring.
“All the while you’re fucking my officers?” he asks me, tilting his head like he’s trying to take my measure. Like I’ve surprised him, maybe. “You tied yourself to this club, baby doll.”
“I was willing to marry Grey and take over the mafia if that’s what had to ha
ppen.” I lift my chin, and even though I’m sure I look like a mess, and I still hurt all over, I’ve never felt stronger on the inside. Never. “So long as all the right people were punished for Queenie’s and Posey’s deaths.” I narrow my eyes on my father, voicing aloud for the first time everything I’ve bitten my tongue against. “You didn’t have to kill Kian. That’s on you. That’s on Gaz.”
My father smiles at me, and the expression makes me cold in a way that no warmth will ever be able to reach. Not the warmth of these men. Not the strength I’m finding in myself. It’s a void, like the darkness of space. Impossible. Endless. Terrifying.
“You think I didn’t have my suspicions?” Cat asks me, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard. I feel like there’s more gray in it with each passing day, as if my father’s clock is finally running out. I squeeze my hands into fists and then force my fingers to release, splaying them at my sides and taking a deep breath. My pulse slows. Some of that cold recedes. My old, familiar anger sweeps up on me like a firestorm, but I push it back. I hold myself somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. “You think I didn’t know my son was up to no good? Kickin’ the shit out of prostitutes, shootin’ up. I have to wonder if he wasn’t beatin’ on my old lady on top of all that.”
“You think I never saw you beat on that son yourself? Kick him to the streets when he was still a kid? You forget that Gaz wasn’t shaped overnight; you crafted a monster in your own making.”
My father says nothing to that. He doesn’t react at all. That’s what disturbs me most. He’s reacted with blinding white rage toward me for the entirety of my life. So, what is this?
“So why pick me over him?” I ask, because I can’t take it. I don’t understand. My father’s always taken his son’s side over mine. In fact, I’m pretty sure Cat’s hated me my entire life.
“Didn’t you hear me, girl?” Cat asks me, taking another step closer, until his shins are pressed against the opposite side of the coffee table. “I told you: you’re just like me.” His gaze rakes over me from head to toe, but not like I’m his daughter.
Like I’m his rival.
I get the chills but manage to maintain a neutral expression.
“Of all my children, the only one I ever saw much potential in,” he drawls, working his jaw. He looks over at Crown as I fight this bizarre rush of unwanted pleasure at his praise. I can’t shake it, can I? That disturbing need to please the president of Death by Daybreak. To please … my father. “Are you working with the mafia?” he asks point-blank, but not like he’s willing to believe whatever answer is going to come out of Crown’s mouth. “Really, what I’m asking here is: are you going to blow up my compound the way my son did?”
That’s when I hear it, the first bit of strain in his voice, this harsh clip that tells me that no matter how calm Cat seems right now, he’s breaking on the inside. He killed his only son, and that’s affecting him.
“I have only ever had your and the club’s best interests in mind,” Crown tells him, turning along with Cat as my father laughs and moves past him into the front hall. I follow so that I’m just a step and a half behind Crown’s broad back. “Hurting Gidget, killing Gidget, that was never in your best interest. That’s true. Now, I’m putting her first.”
“You let her marry Beast, and you still wanna die for her, eh?” Cat asks, turning back to look at the pair of us like he’s so disgusted he doesn’t even know where to go from here. “I haven’t decided what to do with you just yet. But believe me, you’re not going to like it when it comes at you.”
As Cat turns away, I’m so relieved to see him go that I almost collapse against the wall. By the grace of whatever dark and dirty gods might watch over someone like me, I’m safe. For now.
“Fuck,” Crown murmurs, swiping his hand over the lower half of his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He turns to look at the sound of creaking on the stairs, scowling violently when he sees that it’s Grey. Crown’s gun comes up to point at the boy, but I scramble up a few steps, turn, and take hold of it. Crown very quickly releases the trigger and drops the weapon. “Was all of this worth it?” he asks me again, looking past me at Grey.
I glance back and see that my friend—and the biggest pain in my ass that ever existed—isn’t smiling either.
“This is all because of you,” Crown murmurs, shaking his head as he finally puts his gun away. I hope he’s hidden the rest of the weapons around this house in better spots because, wherever they were before, Grey will find them. I don’t necessarily know if I want him to have a gun—even if I am a much better shot. “You got a way out of this?”
“We have to kill my father so that I can take over the mafia,” Grey says, as if it’s that simple.
“As if you can just kill him and step into his role as the don. I might not know much about that shit, but I do know this: that’s a pipe dream,” I choke out, my voice acidic and sharp. It’s been a long fucking two days. I can feel exhaustion tugging at me all over again.
I guess … I’m not just injured but pregnant.
Goddamn it.
I stray away from that thought for just a minute. I need time to think.
“You’re right. My plan is entirely unconventional, but I can assure you: I’ve been working on this project for a while now. Since I first woke up back at the cathedral after you rescued me. Months of planning, Gidget.”
“And then what?” Crown asks, addressing Grey directly. I can hear Fem barking and Reba frantically shushing him. I wonder if she’s listening in? Not that it matters. She can eavesdrop to her heart’s content. But I will be just a little more careful what I say around her in the future. I’ll just have to assume Grey knows every word of it.
I’m not even mad about that.
“I’ll work with Gidget,” Grey offers up, gesturing at me with his left hand. “She’ll be my liaison with the club; I won’t work with anyone else. That solves all of our problems: my father is scrubbed from my life like a bad stain.” He lifts up a single finger. “The war is stopped.” A second finger. “And Gidget becomes invaluable to Death by Daybreak. However you decide to handle your other problems with the president, that should serve either way.” Third finger.
Grey drops his left hand by his side, tucking his right into the sweatpants that he must’ve either stolen from someone’s drawer—I hope for his sake that isn’t true—or was more likely given to wear to get him out of a suit. Grey is recognizable but only close-up. From far away, in sweatpants like this, he could be a prospect or just a young guy one of the older members isn’t familiar with.
“It’s an interesting concept,” Crown agrees grudgingly, giving me a sharp look. “But that won’t fix the problem with Cat. Still, I’ll consider it.”
“Incredibly generous of you,” Grey agrees, and I give him a sharp look that he returns with a half-smile.
“You are on our compound, and we have ways of making people disappear,” I tell him, not entirely disingenuous with my words. “Remember that.”
“We’ll go visit the boys in the hospital tomorrow, see if the gate guards are still checking every passenger that’s outgoing. Then we’ll know if it’s safe to move you off the compound.” Crown gives Grey an awful sort of look, one that promises violence if he dare breathes in the wrong way. “Don’t underestimate me, Grey Wolfe. The club isn’t just made up of grunting barbarians. If I were you, I’d be very careful with my behavior while inside these walls.”
“On the contrary,” Grey says with a shrug, letting his half-smile get a little wider. “I laud you, Calder Reid. It takes guts to switch teams, doesn’t it? For an undercover cop to abandon his position. You’re a very impressive individual, no doubt about it.” Grey turns and heads back up the stairs, knocking lightly on Reba’s door. She lets him in, and Fem immediately tries to attack him; he hates all men apparently. Not without reason. Basically every man but my officers and Grey have kicked the shit out of him, choked him, shot him. Why should he like men?
I’ve decided I
’ll leave my husky as he is, no training required.
I look back at Crown, blinking hard as Grey’s words settle over me.
“Undercover cop?” I ask, but Crown doesn’t meet my gaze, moving over to the front door to bolt it and activate the alarm. It feels so much bleaker out here when it’s just us. If someone attacks in the night, it’ll be just me and Crown. I like it better when we have our little army. “What does that mean?”
“Get upstairs and get in bed,” Crown barks out, flicking off the lights. He comes to stand beside me in the dark. He stays to my right, his hand on the banister. I mimic his pose, just facing in the opposite direction.
“Don’t boss me around,” I warn him, and I can feel him smirking at me in the dark.
“Why?” he asks, almost innocently. “You like it.”
Crown continues up the stairs as I scowl after him, turning to look after his retreating back. But the temptation of his bed … it’s too much.
With a long sigh and a swipe of my hand over my face, I turn and follow after.
Cat thinks Crown lost his balls to me. Must’ve been a fair trade. Because I almost do like it. We’re trading our vulnerabilities as well as our strengths to each other.
I step into the room, only to hear the shower running in the bathroom. The door is half-cracked, leaving a small sliver of golden light to fall across the bed. I close the bedroom door, lock it, and then climb into the bed by myself.
If I go in that bathroom, and I see Crown naked, I’ll snap. And I can’t do that to Beast.
With a sigh, I curl on my side and thankfully, blissfully lose myself to exhaustion.
Thank fuck.
I can’t deal with my own thoughts just now; I need a fucking break.
I find myself terrified to face Cade Grainger.
“Fuck,” I grumble, swiping a thumb over my purple-painted lips. I really overdid it today with the dressing up. In an effort to feel more like myself, I donned a pair of cherry red leather pants, Beast’s jacket, and motorcycle boots. My makeup is heavy, like I’m off to a nightclub, and it’s got a decidedly gothic tint.
I Will Revel in Glory Page 7