The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (58 page)

If Banks hadn't knocked on the door, he would have taken her in the restroom. Over the sink. Her hair twisted around his hand, back arched, legs wide as he plunged his cock deep into her hot, wet pussy.

Only Dawn could push the demons away. He'd never felt a connection with anyone in his life, but during the two nights he'd spent with her, he'd felt no pain, suffered no flashbacks. He had wanted those nights to go on forever, and when she left him, he hadn't been able to shake the memories. He'd imprinted. Like a goddamn newborn chick.

He watched her work her way through the bar, the grace of her movements, the ring of her laughter, the brightness of her smile marred by the fading bruises on her face. He imagined his hands on her ass, his fingers in her hair, his mouth on her soft lips, his cock inside her slick, wet heat. He liked her compassion, her sass and directness. When she was annoyed, she let him know it, and damn she'd been pissed about Delilah.

Christ, he'd liked that little flare of jealousy. Her indignant sniff and the flush in her cheeks were the only things that told him he wasn't wasting his time. Everything about Dawn screamed sex, but there was something more that kept bringing him back. He'd never been so inexplicably drawn to a woman in his life.

Apparently the bunch of losers in the corner felt the same. They'd been harassing her all evening, but the bouncer kept them in line. Now, however, the bouncer was occupied with a belligerent drunk and one of the biker wannabes was trying to pull Dawn onto his lap.

Cade shoved back his chair and stalked across the bar, knocking tables and the odd person out of his way. Dawn struggled in her captor's grasp, then jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. The dude bent over and she spun around and clipped him a good one in the chin. Damn fine woman could look after herself, but the dude's friends didn't look so happy. Time to make sure they got the message the party was over.

But before he reached the table, a black blur shot in front of him and Deputy fucking Benson stole the show.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.” Benson put one protective arm around Dawn and pulled his fucking shiny sheriff badge from his pocket. The dude Cade had intended to pound into the floor paled.

“Didn't mean anything by it, Officer. Just joking around.”

“Good to hear.” Benson tucked away his badge., “But I suggest you move on. There are real bikers in this bar who might not take kindly to you playing dress-up.” He nodded to Cade, but Cade wasn't interested in playing the game. Not while Benson had his hands on Dawn.

“Let her go, Benson. Dawn had this fight.”

“She was in danger. Someone needed to step in and save her.”

“I deal with this all the time.” Dawn struggled to free herself from Benson's tight grip. “There's no need for them to leave. I can handle guys like this.” But Benson wasn't listening. His hand tightened around her shoulders and he glared at the miscreants.

“Go.”

The wannabe bikers threw some money on the table and raced out of the bar.

A sliver of annoyance slid through Cade's chest. Earlier this week, he'd thought Benson wasn't a threat, but now he saw him in a totally different light. He wanted what Cade wanted. He'd come to the bar to make his move while Cade had been getting drunk and squeezing tail at Peelers.

“She's fine, Benson. Get your paws off her. Last thing she needs is more of the same.”

“You okay, Dawn?” The soft murmur of Benson's voice grated on Cade's already taut nerves, but not as much as his fingers stroking her neck.

Cade's body reacted before his mind had processed what he was about to do. One minute he was standing beside Dawn, the next he had Benson up against the wall, his hand pressed against Benson's chest. The depth of his fury shocked even him. “Thought I told you to let her go.”

“Cade. Stop.” Dawn's voice barely registered through the pounding of blood in his ears. “You're doing exactly what you just told him not to do.” Dawn stepped between Cade and Benson, her head barely reaching Cade's outstretched arm.

Benson met his gaze, his direct stare raising Cade's hackles and loosening the last threads of his self-restraint.

“You don't want to do this, honey.”

“Outta the way, babe, or you're gonna get hurt.” Cade tried to maintain his resolve, but it was damn hard with the scent of her perfume surrounding him, the soft brush of her hair against his skin, and when she wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed him back, he couldn't hold on.

“Fuck. Dawn. Stop.”

But she didn't stop. And even though he could have easily pushed her aside, he let her back him up until five feet separated him and Benson.

She looked up and glared, her beautiful face doing strange things to his stomach. For a moment he lost himself in her gaze, perversely pleased that she was here and not five feet away. She'd put her arms around him. Not Benson. She'd determined
he
was the bigger threat. Not Benson. And now she was looking up at him with those big liquid eyes and all he could think about was kissing her soft lips.

“You don't have to solve every problem with violence,” she said softly. “I can't go down that road again.”

“You don't have to.” He bent down to kiss her.

She turned her head so his lips brushed over her cheek. “I like that you let me handle this myself. I liked knowing you were there as backup. Don't ruin it by playing into Doug's hands. He wants to arrest you. Don't give him an excuse. I'm safe. Isn't that all that matters?”

Cade looked up and stared at Benson. The deputy was leaning against the wall, arms folded, the faintest smirk playing out on his lips. Cade needed to hit something. Benson's face being the most desirable target. Sensing Dawn might not be pleased, he smashed his fist into a table instead, his anger dissipating as the legs cracked and the table tipped sideways toward the floor.

“Tsk. Tsk. Destruction of property.” Benson's voice was laced with amusement. “Maybe you should cool your heels down at the station.”

“Doug.” Dawn looked over at Benson and scowled. “Don't make it worse.

“And you…” She poked Cade in the chest and lowered her voice so only he could hear. “I told you to let it go.”

“Dawn.”

She looked up when his voice cracked, and her face softened. Pressing herself against him, she wrapped her arms around his chest and gave him a hug.

“Must have been a really bad week.”

And it just had gotten worse. What the hell was he doing? Leaving his brothers at Peelers? Walking away from Delilah? Fighting over a woman? Women fought over him. And assaulting a police officer? No doubt Arianne had seen what he'd done and would report back to Jagger. Not that he was afraid of Jagger, but he structured his life so he was rarely in a situation where he could lose control.

He needed to get away from here. Clear his head. These confusing feelings he had weren't rational. This wasn't him. After growing up in a household where he could only sit by and watch his mom suffer, control was of the utmost importance to him, and right now it was slipping away. “I gotta go.” He pulled away and caught Benson studying them with interest. Their gazes met, locked, and then Benson dropped his eyes.

Primal satisfaction flared in Cade's chest.

Mine
.

And then he turned and walked away.

Not Benson.

*   *   *

“I hate her.” Dawn screamed and threw her phone across her living room. In an incredible show of agility, Arianne leaped over the coffee table and caught the phone before it hit the wall.

“What did she say?” Arianne stumbled to a stop and then fell heavily on the couch, her chest heaving.

“She won't bring the girls because I don't have the extra money. She says it's not worth her time. The court order gives me three hours with them every Sunday. I can call social services, but she'll just make something up about how she brought them here and I was high and she was afraid to leave the girls. She did it once before, and because of that damn court decision the people at social services believed her over me.”

“I can vouch for you.” Arianne thumped her boots on Dawn's coffee table. “I'll tell them she didn't even bother to show. I'll even put on civilian clothes so I look civilized.”

Dawn scrubbed her hands over her face. “Thanks, but by the time we jump through all the bureaucratic hoops, it'll be too late. I tried calling my lawyer last time and we didn't get an emergency court hearing until Monday morning. It was a waste of time and the legal fees almost broke me.”

“That's one of the things I like about the outlaw life,” Arianne said. “No hoops to jump through. You want something, you take it, and fuck everyone else.”

“The girls will be so upset.” Dawn sat on the couch beside Arianne. “I'm so worried about them. Especially Tia. She's withdrawn so much since they moved in with Shelly-Ann. She just watches and lets the world pass her by. Maia's more resilient. She gets hurt, and then she moves on. And they're both still wary of men, especially bikers. Well, except Cade. He made quite an impression. Tia called me every night last week to ask if he was going to be at the park again today. It breaks my heart that the one man she wants to see is the kind of man we don't need in our lives, and someone who doesn't want to get involved.”

Arianne frowned. “You went on a high-speed chase with him down the highway and had sex in the parking lot. He hunted you down at Banks Bar and dragged you into the restroom for some more kinky loving. Sounds pretty involved to me.”

“Then he left. Walked out of the bar. No good-bye. No explanation. Nothing until morning when he sent a text saying he was in Whitefish on a job, and he'd sent the prospect to watch out for me while he was away.” She took her phone from Arianne and flicked to Cade's text. Brief. Abrupt. To the point. No hint of warmth or intimacy. “I don't know where I stand. Is this just sex or something more? If it is, I'm good with that, but then why send the prospect and why all the posturing around Doug?”

“What are you saying? You'd rather be with someone like Doug?”

Dawn's lips twisted to the side. Doug was honest, stable, and kind, although a little intense about his work. So why hadn't her knees gone weak or her heart pounded when he came into the bar? Why had her gaze locked on Cade when the biker wannabes started causing trouble?

“And there's our answer,” Arianne said into the silence. “The good girls always want the bad boys.”

“I'm not that good.” After running away from her abusive uncle only a year after her parents died, Dawn had done what it took to survive on the streets. She had never shared the details of those years with anyone. And she never would.

“You're better than me,” Arianne said. “Although I heard about your MMA TV marathons with Banks, and how you're the one shouting for blood. You don't like violence but you're attracted to violent men. No wonder you and Cade got together.”

Not that it mattered. Whatever had happened at the bar had put a stop to the runaway roller coaster she and Cade had been riding since they'd met again.

Which was a good thing.

So why did she feel so bad?

“So, what about a plan for seeing your girls?” Arianne stood and walked over to the window. Dawn could see the glint of the prospect's bike out front, an ancient Harley Classic that was far too big for him but screamed old-school biker.

“What can I do? Nothing. That's what.” She grabbed the bag of cheesy puffs she'd bought for the girls and ripped it open. No better balm for her sorrow than a kilo of cheese-covered corn snacks. And she had a tub of Crunchy Caramel Cookie ice cream in the freezer …

“Thought you were a fighter.”

“I am a fighter.” She offered Arianne the bag, but as always Arianne passed on the unhealthy treats. So irritating. Her bestie didn't drown her sorrows in junk food, preferring instead to go running, or cycling, or sprint up a mountain in her bare feet with one hand tied behind her back, which was why she wasn't packing any extra pounds. Maybe Dawn should do the same. Or maybe she should stick her hand in the garbage disposal, because the pain would be same.

“But this is one fight I don't think I can win. I'm doing everything I can to get the girls back, but every week she asks for more money. I talked to my lawyer and the social worker, even Doug, but without proof there is nothing they can do.”

“Dammit, Dawn. She's holding your girls for ransom.”

Ransom. The word echoed in her mind. Shelly-Ann was holding her girls for ransom. She couldn't just sit here and do nothing. Dawn tossed the cheesy puff bag on the table. “I'm going to call Doug.”

“Look around you.” Arianne unsheathed her weapon and placed it on the table. “You might be confused about what's going on between you and Cade, but he's not. The prospect wouldn't be out there if you didn't mean something to him. And although I'm your bestie, and I was coming over here anyway to see the girls and get a sparkly princess pink manicure so Jagger could laugh at me at the shooting range, Cade asked me to swing by, too. Take advantage. Pretend you're a Sinner. Dig deep and find the strength I know you have to take what you want. Then let's go get your girls.”

*   *   *

“Open this door, Shelly-Ann.” Dawn thudded her fist on the door to Shelly-Ann's brand-new, sprawling ranch home, tucked away at the back of Conundrum's Bow Creek Estates. She doubted Shelly-Ann's ritzy neighbors had ever seen an outlaw biker, but once she'd made the decision to confront Shelly-Ann, it was a matter of go big or go home, and why show up with one outlaw biker when she could show up with two?

“I know you're in there. I saw you through the window.”

“Get lost,” Shelly-Ann's voice crackled over the intercom. “The girls aren't here and I got company unless you're standing on my doorstep with two thousand dollars. Then I might come out and say hello.”