I Will Revel in Glory

by Stunich, C. M.

  “What if,” Grainger starts, grabbing my wrists and pushing me back until I hit the wall. He presses me against it with his body weight. “I tied you to my bed and left you here. Then what?”

  His eyes search my face, and I see that he’s completely and utterly serious right now.

  “Then I’d start to look at you the way I look at my father,” I tell him with all due seriousness. Our eyes meet, and I feel that kick inside of me, that jolt, the electrifying crash of Cade’s energy butting up against mine. It makes my heart race, looking at him like this, bathed in the shadows of the hallway. I almost lost him, and I will never forget that feeling for as long as I live. The helplessness. The despair. The million and one things I wished I’d said to the asshole before he died. “I love you. Don’t turn that love into resentment the way Cat has done.”

  Grainger releases me like he’s got whiplash, turning away with a pained expression on his face.

  “Fuck.” That’s the response I get before he heads back into his room and starts tearing clothes from his duffel bag. The remainder of his clothes lie strewn across the floor. He’s managed to open one dresser drawer, and there are clothes in there, too, but I can’t tell if they’re clean or dirty. They drape over the side and spill out across the furniture’s glossy wood top.

  Not only do Grainger and I like our coffee the same way; we also keep a similarly tidied bedroom.

  Crown is going to hate us both soon enough for it.

  Satisfied that Grainger’s getting himself ready, I pull up Beast’s number on my phone and give it a call.

  “Tell me you’re safe,” is how he answers it, his voice gruff with trepidation.

  “I’m safe, but the hit on Cat is planned for tonight. Where are you?”

  There’s a bit of a pause there, as if Beast is considering my words carefully. When he replies, terror lances through me, sharp and hot, and I know that we need to move quick or this whole night is going to end in tragedy.

  “I’m with Cat,” he replies, “inside the police station.”

  Not a single one of my men is happy to see me head into the field, dressed in Beast’s leather jacket, my wedding ring, a pair of dark jeans, motorcycle boots, and a high ponytail. I’ve got my Magnum, the very same one I dug out of the rice bag the day Queenie died, as well as the knife she gave me, and a spare pistol provided by Crown.

  Since Beast isn’t present, there’s a bit of hesitation on my part when we head outside, and the three men approach their bikes without a second thought. It’s in that moment that I feel it. I want my own ride so goddamn bad. I bite my lower lip as I push back the urge.

  I’ve made a lot of strides since I returned from the mafia’s stronghold.

  Things have changed—and they’ve changed quickly. I don’t want to push my luck any further at the moment.

  “Ride with me,” Crown commands, as easily as he breathes. He was born to tell people what to do. I narrow my eyes on him, but I do as he said. Out here, he isn’t my lover: he’s my boss. I can deal with that. Also, Sin and Grainger are both still recovering; they don’t need me clinging to their healing bodies while they ride.

  I slide onto the seat behind Crown, wrapping him up in my arms and smelling suede and violets and leather. He kickstarts the engine, and his chrome stallion roars to life, the voice of a demon in the night.

  Hell, what am I even saying? We’re all demons, just a dark cloud of gray morals and gray ideals, the fiery eyes of the bikes cutting through the shadows of the woods. We head to the front gate and then pause, taking off our helmets so that the night guards can get a good look at our faces.

  Yeah, sending Grey off the way we did was smart. I owe Grainger a reluctant ‘you were right’, don’t I?

  There’s a cadre of men already waiting outside for us. Crown’s called in reinforcements. Somehow, I expected this to be like, a private mission for us, something to prove our worth to Cat.

  Then again, I should’ve known better: the club is a hydra with many heads.

  And Cat? Well, he’s the neck. He can turn all those heads in any way he wants. Which, apparently, is exactly what he’s done.

  We ride past the group of men, but they don’t join us.

  Crown pauses at the stop sign down the road. Coincidentally, it’s the same stop sign I paused at and had a brief conversation with Grey about what I was planning on doing with him. In the end, I agreed to take him with me to the airport, give him some money, and leave him there.

  “What the fuck?” Crown asks after slipping his helmet off. He holds it under one arm and pulls his phone out with the other. He makes a quick call as the other two boys pause behind us and shut off their engines. There’s nobody out here to be bothered by us blocking the empty T-intersection. Just woods, woods, and more woods. There are a few houses nearby, but each one has its own twenty-plus acres to go with it. Eventually, they’ll probably all be absorbed into the club’s compound the way Crown’s farmhouse and its land was. “Why are you not following orders?” Crown snaps, and his voice sends chills down my spine for two different reasons.

  Firstly, if I were the man on the other end of that phone call, I’d be scared shitless.

  Second, all I can think right now is yes, sir, I’ll be a good girl. Ugh. I guess Crown was right: when it comes to bedroom games, I do like being bossed around by him.

  “I see,” Crown says, pausing for a moment. He hangs up the phone and slips it into his pocket.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, taking my own helmet off so we can talk more easily. Crown hazards a glance over his shoulder at me as he slips his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, resting his hands on the grips of his handlebars.

  “Cat’s overridden my orders; he says he doesn’t need an escort for simple business.” Crown grits his teeth so tight that I can see a muscle in his jaw tick. “Fuck.”

  “You told him about the hit?” I ask, because I just assumed that Crown would call my father to tell him …

  “How?” he asks, splaying his left hand open in suggestion. “Without revealing where that information came from, my hands are tied.”

  “So what do we do now?” I ask, panic tightening my chest. If Cat wants to get himself killed, well, shit, I can’t stop him. But I sure as fuck am not leaving Beast out there to be mowed down alongside my idiot father.

  Sin and Grainger appear on either side of us, sans helmets.

  “What the fuck is happening?” Cade asks, putting his hands on his hips. The moonlight catches on the row of silver hoops in Sin’s ears, making them glow.

  “Cat doesn’t want an escort,” Crown reiterates dryly, swiping his hand over his face.

  I think about that for a moment as Cade curses and Sin gives a sharp frown.

  “Did he expressly say that we couldn’t head over there?” I ask quietly, knowing that if he did, we won’t be going. Like I said before, I get the idea that disobeying Cat is something that these men will do only if it pertains to me and my safety. That’s it. This isn’t a habit. Their loyalty to that man, and their commitment to the order of the club is ingrained in them, like they’re in the military or something. An order comes from your commanding officer and you fucking damn well better follow it.

  “He hasn’t contacted me at all,” Crown says, and there’s a heavy sadness in his words that I want to kick myself for not noticing before. We’re all suffering losses here. I didn’t understand it at first, the full magnitude of what these men have lost. Now that Cat knows they covered up my mistake, he may never trust them again.

  Even if Grey gets what he wants, even if he takes over the mafia, even if he agrees to work only with me … it won’t matter.

  Cat has to go.

  He cannot remain as president of Death by Daybreak or none of that will happen.

  Maybe I should call Beast, beg him to get the fuck out of there, and let Cat die? That would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? But I learned my lesson with Gaz. Once someone is gone, they’re gone forever.
The possibility of everything that might’ve been is erased from existence, leaving a stain behind in its wake.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  “Then if he hasn’t contacted you, he never said we couldn’t go.”

  “It’s implied, Gidge,” Crown retorts, his voice frosty and splintered like old bone.

  “Really?” I ask, standing up and then climbing off his bike so that I can move around to the front and stare at him. He looks right back at me, expression resolute. “Is that how the club works now? Implications? If it isn’t a direct order, then it doesn’t matter.” I look him right in the face, and I dare him to defy me.

  “There are politics at work here, Gidge,” Sin adds, crossing his arms. I love the way his muscles bulge with the movement. All three of them, actually, are distracting as fuck in their leather cuts with their bare arms and their muscles and their ink, their worn denim that cups their asses and strong thighs like it was made for them. Even better because I know these aren’t expensive, tailored jeans. This is real shit, real denim, and it only looks that good because it’s been broken in and worn so often that the fabric’s conformed to their shapes.

  I cross my own arms in defiance.

  “Yes, there are. And we can’t do this with Cat being suspicious of our every move. We have to give him something. If protecting his life and delivering the heads of these men is what we need to do, let’s make it happen.”

  Crown stands up before either of the other men can add their input to the conversation. And holy shit, he is terrifying.

  “I am not taking you down there to die. It was one thing when we had backup, but it’s a whole other animal without it. These men are professionals, Gidget, and this isn’t a game.” He gestures with his head in the direction of Sin’s bike. “Sin, take her home. Grainger and I will head down to the police station and see what we can’t do to change Cat’s mind—if it’s not too late, that is.” Crown throws me a dirty look. “Or if this whole thing isn’t a fucking trap.”

  I put my hands on the bars of his bike and lean in, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “No.”

  “No?” Crown queries back, and then he laughs.

  “Oh shit,” Sin murmurs, as if he can sense the direction this is going. “Don’t provoke him, Gidge.”

  “No,” I repeat, my soul lit up with conviction. Like father, like daughter. I know what I’m doing here. I fucking know it. I was born and raised in this shit. Born in ruin. Dressed in sin. How dare these men try to get in my way?! “We are going to town, to that goddamn police station, and we’re going to save Cat’s ass whether he likes it or not.”

  “When I get home later tonight, God help you. You best hope that Beast doesn’t die tonight because he’s the only thing that’s going to come between me and spanking that bratty little ass of yours.” Crown looks up at Sin and gestures with his chin. “Get her out of my way and take her home.”

  “If you do this to me,” I breathe, squeezing the handlebars even tighter. “Then I will leave you, Crown. I meant it when I said it. I won’t stay here with you. I cannot be with someone who tries to control me.” I pause and then, even though I don’t intend it, my voice comes out this husky, breathy bedroom purr. “Outside of the bedroom anyway.”

  “Fuck my life,” Grainger growls out, raking his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t a game, Gidge. Believe it or not, sweetheart, we might know better than you on some things.”

  I look over at Sin, even though I know for a fact that, as nice as he can be sometimes, he is not my ally. Actually, among the four men, he’s probably the most likely to lock me in a tower. We stare at each other, and I think about that moment in the basement when he tied me up with his belt and then fucked me. If it’s his baby, then that’d be when I got pregnant. Can you even imagine? I snort and shake my head, even though it’s out of context.

  “I have waited for this moment for years.” I keep my gaze focused on Sin’s silver one, his eyes reminiscent of the moon when it isn’t tainted by smoke. It is tonight, as strange and orange-yellow as it was the other day. It doesn’t even look real right now, like the four of us are standing in a movie set with a fat, pregnant butter moon watching over us. “You weren’t there in that pantry when Queenie died. You didn’t watch your pregnant sister get shot in the face. You didn’t see blood leak underneath the door while you hunkered inside like a fucking coward.” I slam my hands against the bars and stand up straight. “I would give my life to kill these men; it’s worth it to me.”

  “Well, it isn’t worth it to me,” Crown grinds out, clearly frustrated with me. But I’ve backed him into a corner; I know I have.

  “Take me home then,” I tell Sin, letting my gaze swing to Grainger before I look back at the road captain. “I won’t hold this against you since you have no choice but to follow orders. But Crown? Maybe I don’t want the farmhouse or the ring.”

  “Goddamn it, Gidget!” he shouts, shoving up to his feet and coming around the front of the bike to snatch me by the shoulders. “Why are you doing this to me? When is enough, enough?”

  “Let’s take her,” Grainger says, surprising the shit out of me. He’s staring down the dark country road and not at me and Crown. “If this is what she wants, let her have it.” Cade licks the edge of his mouth. “It’s our job to keep her safe. So let’s do that then.” He moves away from the rest of us as I stand there, openmouthed. Grainger pauses once to look back at me, his expression dark as fuck. Of all of them, I didn’t expect him to be the one to take a stand for me. “What? Are you surprised? I told you what it was that I liked about you.” He shakes his head with an awful laugh. It’s thick and shadowed and full of unspoken things. “Much as I’d prefer to tie you to my bed and deal with things on my own, I understand.” He looks me dead in the face, and I realize that I don’t know a goddamn thing about him other than how he takes his coffee, keeps his bedroom, or how he fucks.

  That’s it.

  “This is not deferring to our authority in the field,” Sin warns me, his voice that sharp, authoritative thing that it becomes when he’s really and truly angry. Righteously angry. “What is it that you like about us? Because it isn’t all of that prim and proper that your buddy Grey possesses. Don’t neuter us, Gidge.”

  “Don’t neuter me,” I retort back, shoving my helmet back on my head. “If any one of you wanted a pretty, little club wife, you’d have picked a brainless groupie like Amber Clearwater and treated her like a kept pet. That isn’t me, and you all know it.”

  I climb back on the bike with Crown, even as he’s cursing my name.

  They all know that I’m not lying.

  I don’t want four husbands who behave like Cat, who keep me locked up for my own good.

  What I want, and how I feel, it has to matter or else I can’t stay here.

  Crown shoves his own helmet on as Sin grits his teeth and storms back to his own bike, and then, with the violent snarl of all three engines, we continue on into town and toward the five men who were instrumental in carving my already fragile heart to pieces.

  We don’t approach the police station directly, but I can see a row of bikes parked just outside of it. Beast, Cat, and whoever else is with them tonight must be inside the brick building already. The question now is: where the fuck are these guys? Men that even Grey seems wary of. Men that cannot still breathe if he wants to take up the Grey Wolfe throne.

  We park several blocks away and then use a nearby hotel to gain access to the roof. The employees were wary as fuck until Crown slapped down a credit card and rented a room. We stopped in there first, using the balcony for a better view before heading up an employee staircase to the roof.

  The night is darker than normal, the moon’s light diffused by ash and grit, but the city sparkles like it always does, a sea of flickering lights indicative of life and movement. I ignore it all, my gaze focused on the station.

  After texting Beast, it seems that we were right: they’re still inside the building.

  Pr
etty ballsy, right? For a one-percenter president to meet his FBI informant inside the police station?

  I wonder if this is where Crown used to work? If he misses it. What Grey meant by ‘undercover cop’. I’ll need a moment alone with the vice president in order to get that information. Might even have to let him spank my ass before he’ll give anything that private or intimate up.

  “Are we thinking that they’re going to snipe him from a rooftop or something?” I ask, but then I think about Queenie and Posey, how intimate their deaths were. Maybe not.

  “I don’t know,” Crown snaps at me, clearly displeased at being here at all. He’s angry with me, and I haven’t heard the end of it just yet. He turns those moss-colored eyes down to mine, a frown traced over his perfect mouth. “I haven’t had time to research any of this. All I’m working with here is an unreliable tip from an untrustworthy brat.”

  “Me or Grey?” I quip back, but Crown is not in the mood for my bullshit right now. He ignores the question.

  “We should canvass all of the surrounding buildings,” Grainger adds with a deep frown. Ashbury isn’t a big city, but it’s large enough that it would take hours to do what he’s suggesting. Even then, we can’t search every floor of every surrounding building.

  “Don’t you feel like a sniper is just too easy?” Sin asks, crossing his arms on the rooftop railing and looking down at the relatively small building where Cat and Beast are currently housed. The jail behind it is massive; it towers over fucking everything, and it’s hideous as shit.

  I remember people in town protesting when it was built.

  “Cat is always on the lookout for snipers,” Crown agrees as Grainger sighs.

  “Yeah, but we have men crawling all over this city.” He gestures with an annoyed hand in the direction of the police station. “Anything but a surprise isn’t going to end well for their side. Either we have a bloodbath here and now, or else this has to be covert.”

  I lean over the railing, letting the ashy wind tangle my ponytail up as I try to think my way through this. I’m not the only smart person in this group, obviously. The guys aren’t idiots, but they’re also stuck in their ways sometimes.