Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,42

the next morning I still had to dose myself up with Ibuprofen because my back was hurting like a bastard.

The massage had been nice.

And Google had already told me which song he’d been humming—that Cruz was a closet dance fan came as a surprise. I figured I could hold that against him if he decided to ever share a nude pic of me. If the Sinners knew he liked the DJ, Martin Solveig, I figured that would be my payback.

The thought had me smiling though because I knew Cruz would never do that. He was too intrinsically private. Too shielded. Plus, like any decent killer, he kept trophies. I accepted that, mostly because I was surrounded by murderers.

Death was stock in trade for the careers my brothers had decided to take.

As for myself, death wasn't as terrifying for me as it was for many. I actually liked it, had ever since good old Uncle Kevin had perished at my brother’s hands, and it wasn’t as if I was an innocent. I had blood on my hands too. Blood shed in self-defense didn't stop it from staining.

“Do you know how creepy it is when you smile like that?”

I cut Giulia a glance. “Creepy? I’m touched.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so like your brother sometimes it’s nuts.”

“He’s nuts.”

“You are too.” She smirked at me from over the packet of information I’d had Frankie, my regular piercer, send me and which I’d printed off.

Frankie did me a favor by coming in once a week to take care of the appointments I had for piercings, but before they met, there’d be a shit ton of stuff for Giulia to learn before she could even think of starting an apprenticeship.

I grunted, then kicking my boots up onto the sofa as she spun around on the desk chair where David usually had his ass planted, asked, “I’m surprised Nyx isn’t in here, giving me shit about the piercing gig.”

Giulia snorted. “Indy, I know you haven’t seen your brother’s dick, and if I saw Hawk’s, I know I’d be just as squeamish, but babe, if anything, Nyx is grateful I’m gonna be piercing.”

My nose crinkled. “I’ve heard rumors that there ain’t enough space on there for a fucking pinhead, never mind anything else.”

A laugh escaped her, but her eyes gleamed with her true amusement. “Always room for one more.” She winked at me when I groaned. “Mostly I think he’s grateful. If anything, he’ll owe you one. He knew I was going to go stir crazy at the compound.”

“Imagine that… you not being so cock drunk that you weren’t happy just to eat, breathe, and shit the club,” I scoffed as I started flipping through the designs I had coming up the rest of the day.

“I know, right? I even talked to him about Quin.”

Her voice had softened at the mention of my baby bro’s name, and warmth filled me as I peered over the papers at her. “You did that for me?”

“Yeah. Course. I’ve been working on him for a while.” She sucked her lip between her teeth. “I know it might seem like family doesn’t mean much to me—”

I blinked at her. “Because you’re not unhappy your abusive father is dead and because your brother was a douche who ran off with his stepmom?”

“Don’t forget he’s potentially a dangerous douche who maybe killed my abusive father.” Her nose crinkled. “I mean, he didn’t technically abuse me.” She pulled a face. “I guess what I mean, he wasn’t like… you know, Kevin.”

Inside, I cringed, but outwardly, I just said, “Thank fuck for that.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t compare, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because we’re all about the technicalities in this world.”

She smirked at me. “You’re right. He hurt us all. My brothers were a lot more forgiving, though.”

“Idiots. Abuse is abuse, Giulia. There’s no measure or set of scales that defines how bad it was and if we deserve to be screwed up over it.”

“I guess so,” she murmured, her tone musing. “Nuts that I think that way, huh?”

“No. Every woman does it. It’s inbuilt in us. Hey, he only fingered me—that’s not rape, is it? Hey, he only forced me to suck his cock, I guess I’m lucky he didn’t penetrate me.” I clucked my tongue. “Messed. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Society sucks.”

“Sure does,” I agreed. “Dog was abusive to your mom, wasn’t he?”

“She was abusive right back.”

That had me grinning, even if, distantly, I could remember seeing Dog sporting bruises when I was younger.