Sin: A Dark & Dirty MC Romance (Satan's Sinners Book 3) Page 8

  “Everything,” I whispered.

  A rumble escaped him. “I can feel that. I’m sorry he did that, Tiff.”

  “Me too.” I gulped. “I’ll tell you the details, I promise, just not tonight.”

  “No, I know you will.” That was him telling me I wouldn’t be able to keep stuff from him, and again, it was merited. “But what else has you nervous?”

  “Mom can’t deal with being poor, and Lily said she’ll support us—I shouldn’t let her, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t keep Mom like she’s used to being kept, and Lily said it herself. It’s terrible, but it’s true—if Mom can’t buy the random crap she wants, she’ll do what Dad did.”

  “She’s not a child, Tiff.”

  “She is!” I argued mournfully. “Daddy kept her that way. He kept her like a butterfly, always hopping around for the next flower. He wanted her like that. I don’t know why he did, maybe it made him feel needed, but she’s not going to be able to change.”

  He hummed. “She has to know what’s going on.”

  “She does. She’s having to go bankrupt too.”

  “Jesus.”

  I gulped. “Lily said that if I got a job in a diner, it would be taking money from someone who truly needed it, and I don’t because I have her. She’s right. It would, and I really don’t want to work in a diner. I know it’s bad for me to admit that, but I really don’t—”

  Sin snorted out a laugh. “You can say all the bad stuff to me, angel. You know I won’t judge you.”

  His words made me feel both relieved and kind of young, and because I appreciated neither, I muttered, “You think I’m spoiled.”

  “No, I don’t think it, I know it, but you’re not as bad as your mom, which I’m grateful for.”

  I grumbled, “I’m definitely not that bad. Anyway, Lily suggested I do some work for the Sinners.”

  “Like what?” he asked warily.

  “Lily suggested it, Sin,” I replied dryly. “That means she doesn’t see me sucking dick for my dinner.”

  “Not unless it’s mine,” he growled, and the rumble made my belly do somersaults.

  Because I didn’t want to encourage him or that line of conversation—I wasn’t averse to phone sex, but I didn’t need things to devolve just yet—I murmured, “She says the hostages her brother and father kept need a therapist.”

  “Huh,” he replied. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

  My eyes flared at his response. “You think I could do it?”

  “I know you could.” He sighed. “Gotta admit, Tiff, I like the idea of you getting intertwined with the Sinners. They’re my family.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d like them to become yours.”

  Clenching my eyes closed, I whispered, “I might be bad at it.” I knew how important the MC was to him—what if I fucked things up?

  “You’re good at everything you put your mind to. Apart from serving dishes, of course.” He snickered, and I blew a raspberry at the ceiling as he stated, “You’re not doing that menial stuff anyway. I like those hands as soft as they are—”

  “Don’t think with your penis, Padraig!”

  He huffed. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you my name.”

  My smile was smug. “I have ways of making you talk.”

  “Apparently, I need to work on mine so you don’t keep this shit bottled up in the future.” He grunted. “That wasn’t cool, Tiff.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I agreed softly. “I’m sorry, Sin.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It isn’t,” I countered, “but I was just feeling overwhelmed.”

  “I should be there,” he ground out, “and I will be. I’m working on it.”

  I sat up excitedly. “You are?”

  “You didn’t think I was just going to stick my thumb up my ass and sit around, waiting for Nyx to forgive me, did you?”

  My brow puckered. “Well, not when you put it like that.”

  He laughed. “Nope. I’ve been busy. I’ll be home soon.”

  Throat tight, I whispered, “That a promise?”

  “Yeah, angel,” he said softly. “That’s a promise.”

  A shaky sigh slipped between my lips at his words, and I whispered, “Padraig?”

  “Yeah?”

  I couldn’t blame him for sounding wary, but I just couldn’t tell him he was about to be a father by calling him Sin. Sure, it was his road name, but this was a special moment.

  At least, I hoped it was.

  From this conversation alone, I knew that any insecurities were in my head and I was projecting them onto him, which gave me the courage to admit, “I’m pregnant.”

  Ghost

  I saw Tatána eying the cutlery in my hand, and it instantly made me feel guilty.

  I understood why Giulia refused to let her have knives and forks anymore, but it felt weird eating with plastic spoons all the time, and she still eyed them like they had potential.

  I understood that she wanted to die

  There’d been times in that pit where I’d wanted to die too. Where I’d felt like death would be a welcome respite from the nightmare I was living, and while the physical reminders were growing faint, mentally?

  We were messed up.

  Tatána more than most.

  I wasn’t sure why.

  I mean, there wasn’t a measure on whom the Lancaster men had hurt more. It wasn’t a competition. But we’d all gone through the same war, and to be honest, I’d been in that damn hole longer than she had.

  She was fragile though.

  Fragile enough to end it all, and she’d tried several times since we’d been saved.

  I was almost annoyed at her. Sure, things weren’t ideal, but they were brighter than they’d been before, and considering that had been hell on earth? I figured she was being greedy asking for more.

  Our captors were either dead or on the run. I was getting justice for us, we had a brotherhood of men who were willing to fight on our behalf—

  Of course, things were different for me.

  I had Maverick.

  Even if I didn’t really.

  Shyly, I eyed him as he spooned up some of the soup Giulia had brought us to eat.

  All of us were mobile by now, and our physical wounds, while not exactly pretty, were mostly healed. That meant we had more freedom and motility, and Tatána was using her new liberation to try to end it all. But our better health was why we were sitting at the table where, before, we’d eaten in bed. I was glad, though, because it meant Mav got to sit with us.

  He ate with a grace that surprised me. He picked up his napkin after each bite and wiped at the corners of his mouth. His shoulders didn’t hunch over his bowl like some of the guys I’d seen around here. If anything, he sat up straight in his wheelchair, even though it was awkward with the armrests getting in the way of the table.

  He was beautiful.

  And, mad though it was, he was my husband.

  I still had to pinch myself when I thought about that.

  I was a wife now.

  I mean, I was a shitty one.

  I hadn’t shared more than a peck on the cheek with him, and I knew he’d proposed only to provide me with some security in the upcoming days.

  It was likely I’d be deported back to Ukraine, but that was okay. That was…well, it wasn’t okay. That was a lie. I was here for a reason, here to find my sister, Katina, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure if I’d be good for her anymore.

  She’d lost all her family and was stuck in the welfare system, but was that better than being with a woman who’d been…

  I blew out a breath.

  What they’d done to me didn’t define me, I knew that. I did. But sometimes, it was hard to remember that.

  Hard to see myself as anything other than their victim.

  Their fuck pig.

  Cum slut.

  A piece of shit for them to use as a human toilet.

  My stomach churned at t
he remembered insults the Lancasters had hurled at me as they tortured me in all the ways a woman could be tortured.

  A hand covered mine, surprising me with the contact.

  I jolted back, but then I saw it was Maverick, saw his scarred fingers blanketing mine. He was squeezing me gently, his gaze on our joined hands like mine was.

  Feeling even shyer now, I peered at him from under my lashes, and whispered, “Sorry.”

  “You were back there, weren’t you?”

  How could I lie to him?

  I knew he understood.

  Maybe not in the same way, but I knew something had happened to him, something back when he was a soldier. There was a reason he had so many scars, why his eyes were haunted with shadows that matched my own. He was in a wheelchair for a reason, and from what Giulia had told me, he never left the compound.

  Ever.

  But he had for me.

  And I’d seen him that day when we’d gone to the town hall first, and then off to the police station second. He’d been white, shaking, but he’d held up.

  For me.

  A man didn’t do that for no reason, did he?

  He didn’t see me as just a victim, because if he did, then he wouldn’t have faced his fears to help me beat mine.

  I twisted my hand around in his grasp, and when he pulled back, I grabbed hold of him quickly, spearing my fingers through his, bridging the gap, and holding him close.

  Tatána made a disgusted noise, and I knew it was at my response to Mav, before she surged to her feet and shuffled back to her bed. Amara shot me a look, her eyes loaded with shadows as she cast a smile my way before she returned her attention to the soup we were eating.

  “It’s like a mausoleum in here,” Giulia grumbled from the doorway as she strolled in.

  She was a little harsh, a lot ballsy, and very outspoken, but I liked her.

  Maverick did too.

  Although, I got the feeling he liked what she did to his brother, and if a man like Nyx could be tamed, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know that particular side of Giulia, which was capable of making a man like the MC’s Enforcer happy.

  She was unfailingly kind to us, though, and went out of her way to make us foods she thought would increase our appetite.

  Even if Tatána was a bitch in return, she tried.

  “Don’t have much to say,” Amara said with a shrug as she returned her attention to her soup.

  Giulia rolled her eyes at me, and I had to smile. She treated me differently. I didn’t know why. Because I belonged to Maverick now? Because I was grateful where Amara and Tatána were the opposite?

  I had no idea, but I had the feeling we could be friends, and I hoped so. I hoped that was possible before I was sent back to my country.

  Maybe we were already friends, and I just didn’t know it. I kind of hoped so.

  Giulia was new to the clubhouse too. Or, that’s to say, she’d been raised here so she knew everyone, but she didn’t know them now.

  “The soup is delicious,” I told her with a warm smile. “Thank you, Giulia.”

  “My grandmother’s was better.”

  Amara’s comment had me frowning at her. “Your grandmother isn’t here, as far as I can tell,” I snarled at her in Ukrainian, pissed at her rudeness.

  Amara scowled at me, but she ducked her head and focused on the soup her grandmother made better.

  Giulia snorted, though, and murmured, “Thanks, Ghost.”

  I shrugged, annoyed at the other women’s consistently ungrateful attitudes.

  “It is very delicious. Makes me think of home.”

  Maverick’s hand tightened around mine. “This is your home now.”

  I shot him a wary look. “We both know that’s not for sure.”

  “It fucking is,” he grumbled, and Giulia slapped her hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t swear in front of them.”

  I laughed, unable to stop myself. “I’m afraid that ship has already sailed, Giulia.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The fuckers are pigs.”

  I snickered at her cursing. “I swear too.”

  “Do you?” She tipped her head to the side as she twisted Tatána’s chair around and straddled it like she was a boy.

  Her mannerisms were like that of a tomboy, but it made her easier to be around.

  Maybe because she wasn’t like the women I’d spent far too much time with in that pit, or like the Lancaster men who’d bought us like we were animals. No, Giulia was different. Most of the people at the clubhouse were. No one fit in the real world, but here? They’d found their niche. It comforted me to think that maybe I’d found mine too.

  Amara and Tatána could find theirs also if they just lowered their defenses some.

  Sure, we’d learned the hard way that people couldn’t be trusted, but I refused to live my life being a closed door to the world.

  Look what had happened to me because I’d tried…I was married.

  To an American.

  Who was willing to fight for my right to stay here.

  My mind boggled.

  “What would make it more like your grandmother’s soup?”

  That Giulia continued to try astonished me. Her patience wasn’t infinite, but she persisted, and I had to give her credit, because I wasn’t sure if I’d be as generous.

  “Less onion,” Amara muttered. “More salt. More sour cream.”

  “A squeeze of lemon juice,” I added softly, my lips curving as I thought about the last time I’d made borscht. “I’ll help you the next time you make it.”

  Maverick wrinkled his nose. “Can’t you make something that isn’t purple?”

  My smile grew bigger. “But the color is so pretty.”

  “Mav doesn’t like beets,” Giulia explained with a giggle.

  My brows lifted. “Then why do you eat it?”

  He cut the other women a look, and my heart melted.

  It literally melted.

  My fingers tightened on his to the point of what I knew had to be pain, but I didn’t care.

  He was trying to gentle them.

  Trying to get them used to men again.

  It was working as well. No other men could come into the room without them flinching or panicking, but slowly but surely, they were trying to reintegrate us. Nyx and Link popped in every now and then, and every day, someone dipped their head around the door to ask if we needed anything.

  Tatána tended to scream, and Amara huddled in her bed, but I always replied.

  The poor man, whoever he might be, didn’t deserve that welcome. It was enough to give someone a complex.

  “You can show me how to make something American,” I suggested to Giulia. “Something truly American, then Maverick will like what we eat.”

  He laughed. “Get her making Jell-O Salad. That’ll blow her mind, Giules.”

  My brows rose. “A salad? With jelly?”

  Giulia’s nose crinkled. “It’s just a dessert. I’ll show you meatloaf.” She nudged Mav in the side. “Mav loves that.”

  His smile turned bashful, and the hard lines of his face softened up some, making me wish I had the right to reach over and trace my fingers over them.

  I mean, I did, technically. But we weren’t man and wife in anything other than name.

  Was it crazy that I wanted to work toward a point where the ‘name only’ part wasn’t true anymore?

  Something about him… I felt safe with him. I hadn’t felt that way for a long time, not since my grandmother had died. Even then, there’d always been the fretting and worrying over what would happen with her inevitable passing. Of course, whatever I could have imagined was a thousand times less than what had happened, so the prospect of Maverick being my guardian?

  My protector?

  It was enough to keep the demons at bay, and there were many.

  Thousands of demons haunted me, terrorized me. Waited to grab me with their clawed fingers and drag me into hell once more.

  I tensed, an
d like he knew I was back there again, he gently pulsed his fingers around mine, reminding me he was there.

  My savior.

  He’d repel them. I knew he would. He kept his own held back, so why wouldn’t he be able to show me how to do it?

  “I’ve got news.”

  My eyes flared at Giulia’s tone, which came at a bad time, considering my mental diversion. But I was used to her throwing random pieces of information at us. We weren’t very good at conversation and, for the most part, she ended up in a one-sided chat, but her tone had changed some.

  “What is it?” I asked, anxiety starting to scratch at my reserves.

  Giulia was rarely serious. Never somber.

  “Nyx and I are going on a run tomorrow.”

  My brows lowered. “Oh, is that all? Where are you running to?”

  Maverick snorted. “She doesn’t mean that kind of run, Ghost. She means a long run.”

  “You mean like a marathon?” Amara queried with interest.

  Giulia laughed a little. “No, it means I’m going on the back of Nyx’s bike for a long ride.”

  I blinked. “Why don’t you call it that then?”

  “It’s just what it’s called.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I won’t be here for a few days.”

  The sudden tension in the room told me how we all felt about that.

  Amara and Tatána didn’t treat her as they should, but I knew that to them, Giulia represented safety.

  She’d been there when we’d been removed from that pit, when we were at death’s door. She’d stayed with us past the doctor’s treatments and visits, and she’d been here, helping us, feeding us, protecting us. Our mother hen.

  Though I had Maverick, even I felt panicked.

  Giulia knew things about us no one else did.

  “You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Tatána whispered, making Giulia twist around to face her.

  “Of course, I am.”

  Tatána looked like she’d seen a ghost, and it was clear she didn’t believe Giulia.

  “Would you even care if I didn’t come back?” she questioned, no bitterness to her tone, more surprise than anything else.

  “O-Of course we’d care!” Amara cried with more emotion than I’d heard from her in weeks. The last time she’d sounded like that…