Page 62 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

Whiskey eyes lingered on mine, his hand gripping my elbow loosening slightly, a gentle fingertip tracing circles on my skin. “You look just like her.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You’re just as beautiful as she was.”

I jerked my arm from his grasp, ice smothering the blood in my veins. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because it’s true.” He smiled. “I dreamt of her the other night, and when I woke up, I realized you look just like her.”

“Stop.” Unease crawled all over my skin. I didn’t like the look in his eyes while he talked about her, comparing me to her.

Slither pulled a palm over his tattooed head and took a breath like he had to take a second to pull his shit together. “You better not fuck this up. If you ever had to impress anyone, this guy is it. You need to pull out all the stops tonight, do you understand? Don’t disappoint me.”

I nodded, trying my best not to show how conflicted I was. The last thing I needed was for Slither to think I was doubting my own loyalty to him. Especially after what the Kings claimed my brother did to Neon—the woman whose screams shook the early hours of this morning. The things Onyx said they did to her, I couldn’t believe it was my brother. Not Glenn.

But maybe Slither?

I knew there was a darkness in him. I carried that same darkness. But I was sure we were both strong enough not to let it consume us, and that we could control it enough for it to numb the pain of the past and make sure nothing hurt us ever again.

I shifted from one leg to the other, the summer breeze caressing my legs with its warm fingers. “At least tell me why this Crow guy is so important to you.”

“To us,” he corrected. “Important to us. The Sixes have more money than you can imagine. Their connections go straight into the motherfucking White House. If we want someone on our side, we want the Sixes.”

“What business do we have with them?”

Slithertsk’d. “Dear sister, you know better than to ask me that.”

Yeah. I did know better. He never discussed club business with me, only giving me information I needed, like the profile he gave me of Crow.

Cassian “Crow” Blackwood. President of the Sixes for the last eleven years.

Killing was as easy as breathing for this man, running his empire with an iron fist. As far as bad guys went, this man was the worst.

Sexual tastes? Hardcore.

Hard limits? He was the fucking hard limit.

A simple blowjob or quick fuck wasn’t going to cut it with this guy. If I wanted to impress him the way Slither wanted me to, I had to bring my A-game and show no fear. Only confidence. Complete submission.

“Here they come.” Slither turned, and I heard the roaring engines of their Ducatis in the distance. Unlike other crews around here the Sixes were all about speed and burning rubber. To be part of their crew your ride had to be a black Ducati, and nothing else. Whenever they went on a run, they looked like a sea of black, speeding past in a blur of velocity. With sweaty palms and a racing heart, I watched as they rode toward us.

“Shut it off,” Slither started, glancing my way, “just like I taught you.”

I nodded. “Just like you taught me.”

Blood stainedthe white sheets draped over my bed. My dress was torn and smeared with red too. I had woken up on the filthy bedding, my head aching along with the rest of my body. I felt groggy, weak, like I had eaten spoiled food again. But the blood? I wasn’t sure where it came from. Why did it hurt down there?

I couldn’t sit up, so I remained on my side, tears streaming down my face turning the white sheets a light shade of gray with every drop. It was too sore to move, and I tried to call someone, but the words wouldn’t form inside my head. It wouldn’t come out.

I had no idea how I ended up in my room. The last thing I remembered was being in the dining room, staring at my second slice of cake. But I didn’t eat it…because he was there. Daddy’s friend. The man who killed the butterflies.

A sharp pain jabbed between my thighs, shooting up my tummy. It burned everywhere, like the night Mommy’s cigarette burned the top of my hand. Only this was a thousand times worse. Like a thousand of Mommy’s cigarettes were burning all over my body, all at once.

I clutched my tummy and cried into the pillow. I didn’t know what happened to me, why I was so sore, but I knew it was something wrong. This wasn’t how a big girl was supposed to feel. I wasn’t supposed to bleed there.

I had no memories of what happened, but the longer I lay there, the more images started to flash before my eyes.

His face.

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