I Am Dressed in Sin: A Reverse Harem Age Gap Romance (Death By Daybreak Motorcycle Club Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

Or rather, when I told him to run, and he climbed into a pipe organ and disappeared.

  “I’m fine,” I say, letting my eyes search the room. It’s a disgusting room to begin with—a bit of mildew on the ceiling, brightly colored coverlets left over from the eighties, and stained carpets that have certainly seen better days. As for Grey’s personal effects or impact on the room, he could very well be a ghost.

  The beds are made, the wastebasket empty, the curtains closed.

  The only sign of life is a pair of food containers stacked atop one another on the nightstand.

  “She’s fine, but you might not be for long,” Grainger continues as Beast moves over to the bathroom door and reaches for the handle.

  “Don’t,” Grey warns, but not in a surprised or anxious voice. It sounds like … a command? One that Beast doesn’t heed as he tests the door and then, with a single kick of his boot, dislodges it from the frame.

  A woman screams from inside, and the hair on my arms stands on end.

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  I’m tearing across the floor so quickly that my boots slip on the hideous rose-pink shag. My arm knocks Beast’s gun aside as I push past him and find Reba pressed to the wall of the shower, the curtain pulled across her nakedness.

  My heart swells with pride, breaks, reforms itself, does the same song and dance all over again.

  That’s my girl, prudish enough to think of covering her body when the door is kicked in and a gun is pointed at her. I once described the pair of us as sin and salvation. Looking at her now, I don’t wonder if she isn’t the incarnation of good, the virgin Mary perhaps. If so, then perhaps I’m not just the devil’s daughter, but something else, a Lilith, a she-demon.

  “Jesus Mary motherfucking Christ,” I choke out, and somehow, I end up on my knees in front of her, like I’m praying.

  “D-don’t take those names in vain,” Reba manages to whisper back at me as Beast crosses his arms in front of him and lowers his gaze. He does not, however, turn away because he’s that good. He’s that worried about me. About being here.

  My friend scrambles to get her towel from the towel bar, covering herself with it and scrambling out of the tub to kneel beside me. The water is still running, the heat of it fogging up the mirror and warming the room. Neither of us gives a shit.

  We’re alternately crying and laughing, but I’m not sure who’s doing which exactly. There are tears either way.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive,” I whisper, swallowing hard and stroking some of her bloodred hair back from her pale face. This is, was, and will forever remain one of my favorite moments in life. It trumps most things I’ve experienced and then ties the rest.

  Some of her hair comes loose again as she laughs, swinging in front of her pale throat, reminding me of her mother’s second smile.

  Shit.

  “To tell you the truth, darlin’, I didn’t see myself making it out alive either.” She lifts her head up and spots Beast still standing there. A very sharp, very clear frown takes over her face. “You, sir, are a brute. There is a naked lady in here. Didn’t your mama raise you better than that? Close the dang door.”

  Even with his head bowed, I feel like I can see a bit of a smile on Beast’s face.

  Both he and Reba were born and raised in Tennessee. One from Nashville, the other from Chattanooga. They have similar accents, but very different personalities.

  “My mama raised me to find the right woman and treat her right, Miss Keller. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He taps the barrel of the gun against his thigh, like a reminder of the current situation we’re in.

  Right.

  Grey.

  Gaz.

  The mafia.

  I rise to my feet, taking Reba’s face between my hands as she frowns up at me.

  “What happened to you anyway?” she asks, more concerned for my well-being than her own. As always. Forever. A real and true friend. How someone as wicked and horrible as me ever managed to snag one of those, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. I guess it emphasizes what Beast said, about the world being more gray than it is black and white.

  This, me being Reba’s friend when she’s a vastly superior human, is like the color of fog, silvery and wispy and oh so many shades of gray.

  “What happened to me?” I sputter, releasing her face and then grabbing her hand. I pull her up and drag her toward the door, but she digs her heels in and gives me one of her famous looks.

  “I am not walking into that room with a bunch of grown men when I have no clothes on—especially not if that man is out there.” We both know who she’s talking about, and I hate to admit it, but it’s true.

  “It’s motherfucking Grainger,” I agree as Beast withdraws into the room to stay by my side, and Reba closes the bathroom door with a very ladylike snick. I turn back to Grey. My most irritating lover still has his gun trained on the guy. “Can you please put that gun down?” I ask, but Cade ignores me. I curl my lip at him but arguing with Grainger is a pointless exercise.

  I refocus on Grey instead.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve found your place in the club,” he tells me, which is about as shady and underhanded as one can get. It reminds me of the way he used to murmur Italian things to me every morning, just to annoy me with that crisp accent of us.

  “The last I saw you, you had a gun to my best friend’s forehead.” I don’t mention the dead parents just yet. There’ll be time for that later. “What the hell happened, Grey?”

  He wets his lips, eyes flicking to Grainger. Their gazes meet, and the latter’s finger tenses on the trigger of the Ruger.

  “Don’t you dare,” I hiss at him, my voice darkly serious. “If you hurt him, I will never forgive you. My love will die on the vine, Grainge.”

  “Your love?” he chokes out, his eyes flying to mine. “Jesus Christ, girl. Are you nuts?” He withdraws the gun finally, resting the butt of it on his shoulder, the barrel pointed at the ceiling. “Don’t even go there. Nobody ever said anything about love.”

  “If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have lied, you dumbass,” I snort, shaking my head and shoving my dark hair back from my face. Grainger straight up growls at me, but I’m not listening to him right now. “Well?” I press, trying not to get too weird about how long Reba’s been in the bathroom.

  There are no windows in there; I’m being paranoid.

  “My father has never wanted to kill anyone more than he wants to kill you,” Grey tells me with all due seriousness. “He thought he had you pegged, but now he thinks you intentionally crashed into our roadblock with the sole purpose of finding our compound.”

  A strange, neurotic sounding sort of laugh escapes me.

  Am I really still a high school senior? Really? Getting my GED at a later date is a much more likely option than ever getting my diploma. That is, if I live that long. Might be dead before graduation at this rate.

  “That’s … a unique perspective,” I say as Grainger taps the butt of the gun against his muscular shoulder, his lips pursed, eyes half-lidded as he stares Grey down. I certainly wouldn’t want to piss him off right now. That is, if I weren’t his favorite person. Because, as weird as it sounds, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I am. Cade Grainger’s favorite human. His … woman. Gag. “Provided I were that legendary, I can see why he went after Reba.”

  My jaw clenches tight against the pain. I got her parents killed. Me. Exactly me.

  The bathroom door finally opens, and Reba emerges. When I first see Grey look at her, I feel this shock of alarm. Because the way he’s studying her, it feels like he very well could be in love. But then I realize that he’s looking at her the same way he looks at me: like a friend.

  When did that happen?

  Sometime in the last few weeks apparently.

  “Grey treat you okay?” I ask, even though I know he’ll have done the best he could, given the circumstances. And those circumstances? They most certainly were not ideal.


  “He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Reba says, lifting her scooped button nose. There’s something else though, a tightening in her throat, a quiver in her mouth, that says maybe she isn’t telling the full truth.

  Also, Reba is far too pale to hide the numerous bruises splashed across her arms and legs, her chest and belly, basically every part of her that I saw in the shower as well as all of her currently exposed skin.

  “How is she …?” The words die on my lips. How is she … still alive? How is she relatively unharmed? How is she not sold into a sex dungeon?

  “My father gave her to me when I asked,” Grey tells me, but then he frowns and reaches up to push his sandy blond hair back. He looks so young, but so resolved, too, like he’s entering this world against his will but with full fervor. Just like me. “Just the act of doing that pissed him the fuck off. He doesn’t trust me, but I really need him to.”

  “How exactly are you planning on managing that?” I ask, just as Beast moves over to the window and peels the curtain back to peer out.

  “Gaz is on his way up here,” Beast tells me as I give Grey a sharp look.

  “What else was I going to give him, Gidget? You just have to make sure you get your asses out of here.”

  There it is. Grey is standing here and admitting that he’s just sold me out.

  That is, and likely will always be, the future of our relationship. We are still at war. It’s just that he and I play a different sort of game.

  “How long do we have?” I ask, stepping between Grey and Cade before things get violent. “We’ll talk about this later, but I need you to trust me, Grainge. Give me that, okay? As good as your lies, I want your trust.”

  He curses at me, but he lowers his weapon yet again as Beast slips out the door and closes it behind him.

  “About … twenty seconds,” Grey tells me after glancing down at his phone. He looks up as I turn to Grainger, grabbing Reba’s hand in my right one.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I hear Gaz ask. He’s just outside the door, but we don’t have the time to wait for him to leave. Unfortunately, that means that he’ll see us here, that he’ll have confirmation of what he already suspected.

  Shit.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Grey continues, giving me an almost apologetic grimace along with the warning.

  With yet another colorful curse, Grainger wrenches the door open and the three of us step out. Just before we go, I turn and punch Grey as hard as I can in the face. He stumbles back bleeding, smiling through the red.

  I’m not being an ass here, but he needs some explanation as to why Reba is now missing. Why he didn’t deliver me as promised. The only sketchy part of the situation is going to be the fact that he’s still alive. I should rightfully kill him.

  Maybe he can spin his story the way I’m trying to spin mine? Grey loves me, even if I don’t love him. That’s why he wants to deal with me and only me.

  He can tell his family the opposite, that I love him, even though he doesn’t love me back.

  The lie still works because it’s at least partially true. We do love each other; we’re just not in love.

  “Make it look real,” he whispers, and even though it makes my skin crawl, I take my Magnum, and I pistol-whip him. Hard.

  Grey crumples to the floor, but he’s still moving so that’s a good sign.

  This whole thing is insane.

  It’s absolutely insane.

  “Get the girl and let’s go,” a voice calls out from the parking lot. It sounds vaguely familiar, and when I hazard a look over the railing, I notice another man in a DBD cut looking up at us. He’s new, last I remember he was a prospect, but he must’ve patched in since. What was his name? Something food-related. Caper, I think. The guy who dumped my bloody dog in my lap.

  I think … Gaz was his sponsor.

  “Gidget?” the guy asks, seemingly surprised to see me here. I barely know him, but he’ll know me. They all do. As best they should. I’m about to ruin their lives. “Why is your fucking sister here?”

  “There’s more than one of you, eh?” Grainger asks Gaz. He’s just a few steps away from us, staring at me, flicking his eyes to Reba. I wish I could describe the triumphant rage in his face, but then I’d probably vomit. My brother is just that repulsive. “That makes sense.” The two men stare at each other, and then it clicks in Gaz’s thick skull. There’s more than one of you. There’s also more than one of us.

  Two different sets of traitors; two completely different motives.

  Gaz’s eyes move past me, and I can see in them both a certain sense of desperation and also a sprinkling of fear. He knows he’s been caught, but also, he’s caught us. What a clusterfuck.

  Beast steps forward, encouraging Gaz to move back against the railing.

  “You’re in big trouble, little sister,” he sneers as Grainger, Reba, and I slip past, and Beast watches our back. There’s nothing more to be said, and we’re running out of time.

  We aren’t halfway down the alley, Beast trailing behind us, before the sound of gunfire echoes in the warm night air.

  “Here it goes,” Beast murmurs, shaking his head.

  “For every day that you delay, we destroy something. Every day, we add another person to the tally.”

  At least now, we have Reba back.

  In the nick of time. Seconds to spare.

  Wow, Grey. Just … wow.

  “He let me find him here, by the way,” Beast adds as he pulls out his phone and dials up Cat. Just like I did the day my sisters died, when I had to choose between 911 and my father. It’s always daddy, every fucking time. “That Grey kid. He’s dangerous as hell.”

  Hearing Beast say that is scary. Interesting. The entire world would be different if I’d just killed Grey like I’d been told. For better or worse, we’ll have to see.

  I glance over at Reba to find her watching me. We aren’t in her element anymore—that is, school, church, normal life. Maybe we never were. Anyhow, we are most definitely, thoroughly, and irrevocably entrenched in mine.

  “I’m at the Palm,” Beast says, and then he’s walking, and I can’t hear anything else he’s saying.

  “He’s leaving, but you stay?” Reba asks, giving Grainger a harsh look. It’s a bit of bravado, I can tell. She’s scared shitless so she’s putting on a good show. Makes me like her more because I’m the same damn way. “How on earth did we come to that sort of arrangement?”

  Grainger studies her for a minute and then gives me a look, one that’s very clearly a warning.

  You can’t keep her, he says, with just a single expression.

  I should send Reba on a plane to … Paris? Does she have a passport? How about the Catskills in New York? I hear that’s nice. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but with me.

  “Don’t you dare,” she murmurs, grabbing onto my arm. “We are in this together.” Her eyes well with tears, and I realize it then. She knows about her parents. She might have even …

  I throw my arms around her and hold her close. Grainger doesn’t like it, but he lets me do it.

  “What the fuck are we going to tell Cat?” he asks, and not for the first—or nearly the last—time.

  “You brought this girl here?” Cat growls out, giving Crown such a dark look that it’s hard to remember he’s supposed to be his righthand man. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  “This is Gidget’s friend,” Crown tells him in a very, shall I say, Crown-like way. That is, I realize he’s telling Cat exactly what he would’ve said whether I was involved in this or not. Whether he cared about me or not. This is what he actually believes. “She has nowhere to go. Her parents are dead, and as long as the mafia is after Gidget, they’re after her friend.”

  Cat looks over at Reba, blindfolded and sitting primly on the edge of one of Gram’s old sofas. The exact sofa, actually, that I got fucked on by four dudes in quick succession. Sort of. Beast gave me a taste but remains an elusive shadow.

  Reba never needs to know
about any of that. Well, she’ll probably hear about it because I have a big mouth, but she won’t ever know it’s that precise sofa.

  I wait at the edge of the room, dressed in pj’s and exuding pure … well, I wouldn’t say innocence because Cat would never believe that. But something else. Ignorance, at least.

  The story here is: I’ve been home all along, but the boys found Reba at the Palm Motel during their standoff with the mafia. I can’t help but wonder how many people died there tonight, how many people Crown killed, or Beast, or Sin. Unfortunately for me, I got to keep Grainger by my side all night long. He’s in a foul mood, too. He doesn’t like Grey, doesn’t like my relationship with him, really isn’t a fan of Reba’s presence.

  “She’s been turning tricks in the motel for weeks,” Crown lies in a low voice, stepping in close to his president. The purple bruises on Reba’s body lend credence to the idea. “The room we found her in has been occupied for the same period of time; the tenant’s name was a bullshit pseudonym.” He exhales like he’s tired—which I’m pretty sure isn’t a ruse at all. “Like all the Palm’s clientele.”

  My father studies Reba like a specimen under a microscope, analyzing her, dissecting her with his sharp gaze. If he thinks she’s in any way a threat to the club, he’ll take her to Uncle Benny’s cabin and torture information out of her.

  I have to remember that he killed Kian when he didn’t have to.

  Cat is ruthless.

  He’s also watched Reba grow up alongside me. I hope like hell that he sees something in her, some spark of his dead daughters in this woman, some reason to grant her mercy. If he doesn’t, then we’re all in trouble. Because I will go to my grave trying to save Reba.

  I believe in my heart that the guys, they’ll go to the grave defending me.

  Cat, at the very least, must know that Reba doesn’t have any insider information about the club. The Grey Wolfe mafia could torture her to within an inch of her life and what could she possibly say? Nothing. Because she doesn’t know anything. I’ve never allowed that.

  Still, it isn’t an easy role, to play best friend to a club princess.