Shit, shit, shit.
I try to surge up to my feet, but Beast holds me where I am, forcing me to meet his gaze yet again.
“You need to take it easy; your face is swollen, and your body is purple, darlin’. You shouldn’t rightfully be up at all. Honestly, a hospital visit for you wouldn’t be entirely out of order.” I finally succeed in shoving his hands off of my shoulders, but only because he lets me.
Then I’m up and unlocking the door, surprised to find both Grey and Reba waiting for me on the other side, my dog wagging his tail at me from down the hall. Fem doesn’t approach though, keeping his distance from both Grey and Beast probably. He hates men.
Reba’s face breaks into pieces at whatever she sees on mine.
“Oh goodness, sugar, what did he do to you?” She touches her fingers to my cheeks on either side but even her featherlight touch is too much, and I cringe. I can only imagine what I look like now that the swelling’s set in. “Gidge …”
“I need you to stay here while we’re gone,” I say, letting my gaze trail past Reba and over to Grey. As soon as Beast steps up beside me and sees that the mafia brat is standing in his hallway, he goes all cold and scary the way he did when he beat the crap out of Gaz. More specifically, when I begged him not to kill Gaz. Not for my brother’s sake, obviously, but for his own. “Wait.” I hold my right arm out, blocking the doorway. Could I ever physically stop Beast? Even if I were to drop all other hopes and dreams and throw myself into a fitness career? Nah. I’m woman enough to admit that: I will never be able to beat Catcher Coffey when it comes to sheer, brute strength alone.
But luckily, I don’t have any need to do that.
Because Beast has gifted me his leash; it’s attached directly to his heart. And, if we’re being honest, probably his cock, too, right? I want to laugh hysterically because, like, this is exactly the sort of wedding day someone like me would have.
I got one, hot quickie with my new hubby and then bam, my entire life is ruined, and nothing in the universe makes sense. How could Cat shoot Gaz over me? How? I don’t understand, and, like with most humans, I am terrified of the things I understand the least.
“Grey,” I say again, and he sighs dramatically, reaching out a finger to brush some of my hair back. It seems to be, uh, stuck to my forehead with sweat. Fantastic. Beast snatches Grey’s wrist before I can stop him, and the latter gives an angry cringe at the awful sort of cracking sound that ensues.
“You can be friends, but don’t fuckin’ touch,” Beast says, very calmly, very evenly. He releases Grey’s hand as the boy rubs at his wrist like it hurts. Must not be broken though or he wouldn’t be rubbing at it like that. Thank fuck.
“You look as terrible on your wedding day to Beast as you did on your one to me,” Grey offers up, rather dryly I might add. Ballsy, considering he’s on enemy territory once again.
“Have you learned anything since you were last kidnapped and held prisoner by the club? Don’t be a salty idiot, Grey,” I warn him, even as I feel Beast tensing further behind me. I have no doubt that without me standing between them—metaphorically more so than physically—that Beast would not hesitate to kill Grey Wolfe. “You’re in big trouble here; there’s no time or resources to get you off the compound for a while.”
“Wouldn’t be possible right now anyway,” Beast amends again, as if he feels it’s important for Grey to hear that. Why, I’m not sure. Warning him to stay away so he doesn’t die for my benefit? Mm. Probably not. More like, he wants to know what, exactly, Grey knows before he releases him.
Because if Grey is caught and tortured again, what will he tell the club about us? Might be a moot point since whatever Gaz showed my father on his phone was presented like indisputable evidence. Still, it never hurts to be cautious.
Cat might still come for me.
No part of me believes that I’m out of the woods just yet.
“I wouldn’t go to the hospital if I were you, not right now,” Grey tells me with a sigh. He points right at my forehead and closes one eye. “There are snipers all over waiting to shoot you in the face.”
“I survived the motorcade,” I say, my palms itching as I think about Grainger, about Sin. If Beast is actually willing to risk taking me to the hospital, then things must be bad. They must be really, really bad. “What makes this any different?”
“You survived the motorcade because I helped you out. I had Reba slip me information about anything she could come up with, much of it relevant and factual. When I gave my father the incorrect start time for the motorcade, he believed me.”
I give Reba a harsh look, and she cringes.
Like … is her loyalty to Grey now? For fuck’s sake.
“It was the only way. I couldn’t see you get hurt,” she whispers, and I grit my teeth, make my head explode with fireworks of pain, and then remind myself to never, ever do that again. Maybe Beast is right? Maybe I do need a doctor?
“Snipers, huh?” Beast asks, musing about that for a minute. “Not unexpected. I can still get her there alright.”
“Your call,” Grey agrees politely, glancing back at me with his dirty blond hair falling over his heather gray eyes. Looking at him now, I’m actually relieved that we didn’t fall in love. It wouldn’t have worked out. He looks as much an outcast here as I did back at the mafia palace. We might be the same person, but we’re dressed in different sins.
Mine are rough and gritty, and sure, a little ratchet; Grey’s are crafted of cobra venom and silk soaked in embalming fluid. Both things will kill you, but it hurts a little different.
He wouldn’t have been able to fit in here, especially not with my men.
Not in a million years.
And since choosing between Grey and the others is a relatively simple choice, I know that I made the right decision that day, when I stayed in the cathedral and wielded an Uzi on the guests of my own wedding.
“All I’m saying is: be careful,” he warns me again, giving me an assessing once-over that ends with a sharp shake of his head. “Go. I’ll stay hidden.”
“If anyone shows up while we’re gone, get in the chimney,” Beast commands, giving Reba a different sort of look. “You sit nice and pretty on the couch. Maybe offer ‘em up some sweet tea or somethin’.”
“Are you being serious right now?” Reba asks, frowning at him as Beast draws me back into the room and closes the door. He moves over to a dresser and extracts a long-sleeved pullover sweatshirt. It’s big enough to be a dress on me, but I think that’s the point.
“You’re going to draw a lot of attention at the hospital,” he tells me, looking me over and sliding a hand down his face. “Young and pretty and …” Beast trails off with a sigh as I cock a brow at him. “All beat-up like that.”
That’s not what he originally intended to say, and we both know it.
“Young and pretty and … what?” I ask, feeling my entire body go ice-cold.
No.
Not today. Please don’t dump this on me today.
Beast realizes his mistake quickly and tosses me the sweater.
“I really hate to ask this on the first day of our marriage,” he starts, his jaw tense as he reaches up and rubs a thumb across the swollen seam of my lips. “But how well can you put on makeup?”