Kept In Crimson (Crimson Covenant MC #1)

Chapter One – Evelynn

CHAPTER ONE

EVELYNN

The smell of sweat, sex, and stale cigarettes should have been my first warning to leave.

But, as usual, I ignored my instincts and listened to my friend Suzie—a girl who’d gotten me into more trouble over the years than I cared to remember.

Yet every single time, I give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Will you relax? You’re making it obvious we don’t belong,” she hisses at me through her teeth.

“Don’t belong? This is a gang. A dangerous gang at that. Plus, I’m pretty sure the guy in the corner has a glass eyeball. I swear he’s glaring at me,” I whisper back, shifting uncomfortably. I can feel their eyes on us. Women walk around in tiny thongs, with their tits out for everyone to see.

“You girls want a drink?” one of the women asks, holding out a tray like we’re in a cocktail bar. The only difference is, I swear her nipple just dipped into one of the margaritas.

“Would it be weird to request a slippery nipple?” I joke.

She doesn’t laugh. Awkwardly, I clear my throat, grab one of the shots, and knock it back before setting the glass on the tray.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Thanks,” I wheeze as the alcohol burns my throat.

I don’t even know what it was—just that it was strong and necessary.

Suzie takes a cocktail and smiles her thanks.

“So, what’s this guy’s name who invited you?” I ask, glancing around the dark, smoke-thick space.

“He didn’t give me his name, exactly. He just said to call him T.” Suzie shrugs.

“Hold up, you agreed to come to a party in a random warehouse, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, for a guy who just gave you a letter for his name?” I ask in disbelief. “I thought you said you two had talked for hours and had a connection?”

She gives me an apologetic smile. “Well, it was more like twenty minutes, but there was a connection. A strong connection.”

“Oh my god, Suzie! Seriously.” I groan.

“There was something there, okay? His eyes.” She swoons. “I swear, he saw right into my soul.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Bundy’s victims said the same thing,” I mutter, rolling my eyes while checking my phone for a nearby cab.

“These aren’t bad-bad guys,” Suzie defends.

I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “That’s the Crawley brothers, and the only reason I know is because one of them is sitting right over there. I recognize him from the police appeals,” I seethe, nodding toward the large, tattooed guy with a buzz cut with two women on his lap in the corner.

Suzie gives me a sheepish grin. “They aren’t that bad. It’s just bad press,” she tries to excuse.

“Bad press? Bad press. They cut a guy’s hand off for flipping off one of their members,” I state.

She swallows. “Well, I mean, you need to show respect for people like this. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to piss them off,” she says nervously.

“No, but stupid enough to try and date one,” I quip.

“Fuck off,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Oh, wait. there he is,” she says excitedly. I look over and spot a blond-haired, muscled guy in a tight black T-shirt and jeans. His whole vibe screams ‘bad boy’—just Suzie’s type. He grins at us. Here we fucking go.

He strides over, drinking in Suzie in her tight, revealing—and honestly, slutty—red top and low-slung hipster jeans hugging her ass.

I’m dressed a bit provocatively too: a black lace deep V-neck bodysuit with black jeans hugging every curve.

Normal attire for a bar or party. If I’d known we were coming here, I’d have worn sweats and a hoodie.

Scratch that. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come at all.

“Hey, babe, you made it,” he greets, instantly pulling her in for a kiss—nothing but tongue and saliva. The sounds make me want to gag.

“God, give me a damn break,” I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. He breaks the kiss and looks me over like I’m some prized piece of meat. I curl my lip in disgust.

“You brought a friend,” he grins.

Suzie catches her breath. “Yeah, this is my girl Evelynn,” she grins.

“Evelynn,” he breathes, and my skin crawls at how my name sounds on his lips.

“Yeah, good to meet you. Well, can’t stay. Got a family emergency,” I say, forcing a disappointed smile on my face.

“Oh, come on now, the party’s just starting. I’m sure you can stay a few minutes longer,” he says, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders and leading me further into the party.

Well, fuck.

He sits us down in the far corner, with two more men caging us in. I glare at Suzie. She ignores me, giggling and flirting with T. I swear, when we get out of here, I’m going to kick her ass.

“So, sweet cheeks, why don’t you come sit on my lap and get a little more comfortable?” says the guy with a huge beard and a nasty-looking cut under his eye, patting his knee. I curl my lip in disgust.

“No thanks, I’m good. Plus, that cut looks infected. I don’t want to be near it.”

His dirty fingers run over the cut, and he winces. “You know about this shit?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m a nurse,” I answer, while requesting a cab again.

“Yo, Benny!” he calls. I look up from my phone. “We got one!” He points to me.

I frown, glancing back and forth to this Benny, whoever he is. “Got one what?” I ask.

The bearded guy grabs my elbow. “We need your assistance,” he orders, dragging me from my seat.

“Get your hands off me,” I snap.

He grips my arm tighter. “You will do as I say, girl, or you won’t be leaving here tonight,” he growls in my ear, his breath smelling like rotten meat.

“Ugh, Jesus. Floss much?” I retch.

“Tell your friend you are fine and will be back in a minute. Do as you’re told, and all will be okay,” he warns me.

“Okay, but if you try to rape me or kiss me with that breath, we’re going to have a problem,” I point out, leaning back and covering my nose.

“Just fucking move,” he orders.

“Where are you going, Evelynn?” Suzie asks, a worried look in her eyes.

“Just to get him a breath mint,” I joke.

Suzie laughs and rolls her eyes at me. I swear to God, I am never speaking to her again after this.

Ass-breath drags me through the back of the warehouse, down a narrow hall to a locked room. He unlocks it and shoves me inside. The stench of rotten flesh and vomit overwhelms me.

“Holy crap,” I heave, covering my nose and mouth. They switch the light on to reveal a guy with his chest bandaged, looking close to death.

“Fix him,” bad-bearded-breath orders.

Before I can ask any further questions, the guy slams the door, making me jump. The sound of the lock clicking into place makes my eyes go wide. Immediately, I storm over and pound my fists on it.

“Hey! Let me out of here!” I yell. “Assholes!”

The guy behind me groans. “Help me, please,” he rasps.

I pause, turning around to look at him. Pain is etched across his sweat-covered face, and God damn it, I walk over and slowly lift the bandage. Immediately, the smell of rotten flesh intensifies, and I flinch back, covering my face with my hand.

“You need a hospital. I can’t do anything for you here,” I mumble behind my hand, trying my best not to throw up.

“Please,” he begs again.

I look around the room for supplies. Finding one of their gang bandanas, I wrap it around my face to block out the smell.

I search further, opening cupboards and drawers.

Only more bandages and rubbing alcohol. I roll my eyes.

He needs IV antibiotics. I perch on the side of the bed next to him and brace myself, slowly peeling back the bandage.

I force myself not to react to the smell and focus on tending to the wound.

I frown, never having seen a wound like this before.

“How did you do this?” I ask.

“Fight,” he breathes.

My eyes trail over the marks. It looks like he’s been clawed, and the main wound almost looks like something bit a chunk out of him. The flesh around the edge of the wound is black; not dried blood, just black.

“How long ago did this happen?” I ask, pouring some alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“Yesterday,” he rasps.

My brows furrow. Yesterday, and his wound is already looking like this? “Was it a rabid animal? Have you had your tetanus?” I ask as I place the cotton on the wound. “This may hurt a little.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Alcohol on an open wound stings like a bitch. I’ve seen even the toughest people screech in pain when it comes to cleaning wounds.

“Not an animal,” he slurs.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask.

“Everywhere. My body is burning. On fire,” he rambles, his head dripping with sweat.

He’s delirious, burning up with fever. Clearly, he has an infection that’s spreading. He needs a hospital.

I jump up and bang on the door. “Hey, open up!” I yell, but no one comes.

I bang over and over again to get their attention, but still nothing.

I rest my head against the cold metal door.

“I’m going to kill Suzie. No, I’m going to cut off the head of her Harry Styles doll first, and then I’m going to kill her,” I seethe.