The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (59 page)

Dawn looked over her shoulder at the prospect, standing guard behind her while Arianne plucked petals off a begonia in Shelly-Ann's flower box. Damned if he wasn't the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on, aside from Cade. With that thick dark hair, lean frame, and chiseled jaw, he could have graced any runway. Instead he'd chosen the outlaw life, and from the uneasy way he wore his cut, he was still growing into it.

“You got a name, prospect?” She'd waved to him from the back of Arianne's bike before they headed out to Cindy's Florals where her boss had kindly given her an advance on her salary, but she hadn't had a chance to talk to him until now.

“Nick. But I haven't earned a road name yet, and Jagger doesn't trust me so everyone calls me Prospect.”

“Nice to meet you, Nick. Could you please open the door?” She glanced over at Arianne, still unsure about how far she could push the prospect around. After all, she was still a civilian.

“Old ladies don't say please,” Arianne whispered.

“I'm not an old lady,” Dawn whispered back.

“Prospect,” Arianne barked. “Open the damn door.”

Nick ran forward, bent at the waist, and hit the door with his shoulder. He staggered back from the impact, and tried kicking at it instead, a totally ineffectual move that brought a smile to Dawn's lips. Prospects. They were all the same.

Arianne pulled the last petal off the begonia, then pulled out her weapon and screwed a silencer onto the barrel. “Men.” She sighed and motioned Nick back, then fired at the lock until the wood cracked. “They always have to do things the hard way.”

“She scares me,” Nick said quietly as he followed Dawn into Shelly-Ann's house. “Never met a woman like her. Not even sure she is a woman.”

“I hope you're saying nice things about me,” Arianne called out. “I'm in a good mood right now, but I promise you wouldn't want to see me riled.”

Dawn walked down the polished, dark wood hallway; past gilt mirrors and painted alcoves containing vases of silk flowers; and into the expansive living room, decorated in dark brown and cream, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Trecher Valley. Two men in suits were loading Baggies containing white powder into a suitcase from a box on the coffee table, while Shelly-Ann lounged on the couch watching them. Sunlight glinted off the sparkly purple heart stickers decorating each bag—a common indicator of low to mid-end product—and Dawn blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“My next clients are here, boys. Hurry it up please.”

“You're selling drugs with my children in your house?” Dawn's voice rose in pitch, and one of the men frowned.

“Thought you said they were clients.”

“Thought you said you didn't want anyone to know which senator you work for,” Shelly-Ann shot back. “Take your quarters and go.”

The two men shared a glance, and the one who had spoken snapped the suitcase closed. Dawn waited until they left the room before she spoke again.

“Where are Maia and Tia?”

“Not here. I hired a babysitter to look after them for the day. Didn't want them to get the wrong idea when they saw the stickers.” Shelly-Ann leaned back on the white leather couch and rolled her eyes. “So what is this? You got some new friends? We gonna have a party? Or did you come for your weekly fix?” She gestured to the box on the table and bile rose in Dawn's throat.

“You know I don't do drugs.”

Shelly-Ann fixed her gaze on Arianne and Nick. “Did she tell you she's a little crack whore? She was a crack whore when she was with Jimmy, and she just couldn't shake the habit after she left. She got caught buying drugs behind the school and made up a story about Jimmy setting her up. Of course no one bought it. That's how she lost her kids.”

Dawn's body trembled and she fisted her hands by her sides. Jimmy had tried to get her addicted to crack when she first moved in with him, but she'd resisted, terrified that if she didn't keep her wits about her, he'd beat her to death. “That's a lie and you know it.”

“Is it? Tall, dark, and handsome isn't too sure.”

Dawn looked back at Nick, her heart sinking when he averted his gaze. “It's not true.”

“We know that,” Arianne said. “She's just trying to wind you up. Don't play her game.”

“So you got my money?” Shelly-Ann stood and held out her hand. “No money means no kids. No money means I call the cops and report a break-in and a breach of the custody order. No money means Jimmy hears about your visit.”

“No money beyond what we originally agreed.” Dawn's voice wavered with emotion. “I'm tired of playing this game. I'm tired of having you use my children to blackmail me. I don't know why you need so much money, and frankly, I don't care. Now tell me where they are.”

“Or what?” Shelly-Ann's face twisted in anger. “You think I'm afraid of you? You think I'm gonna break 'cause you showed up with a damn prospect and a Sinner old lady? I don't think so. You don't have what it takes, or you woulda done something long ago.”

“I did do something.” Dawn dug her nails into her palms, wishing for the first time in her life that she was the kind of person who could solve problems with her fists. “I started a lawsuit, and I've just filed an assault complaint. I'll drag Jimmy through the courts until I get my girls back.”

“'Cause using the legal system worked out so well for you last time.” Shelly-Ann sneered. “Get the fuck outta here and stop wasting my time.”

“Here.” Dawn pulled a handful of cash from her purse. “I've got twelve hundred.”

Shelly-Ann crossed the room and snatched the money. “It's not enough.”

“Don't give her any more.” Arianne put a cautioning hand on Dawn's arm. “I know her type. It will never be enough. The blackmail will never end.”

Which was exactly what had happened last week, but what choice did she have? Sure it was nice to have Arianne and Nick here, but she wasn't about to ask them to beat up Shelly-Ann, or even threaten her, and she'd never hit anyone in her life. Shelly-Ann had effectively called her bluff, leaving her with no choice but to pay her off.

“How much?” Cade's growl reverberated through the room, so rough and harsh, even Dawn trembled. For the first time since Dawn arrived, fear flickered across Shelly-Ann's face.

“Where did you come from?” Dawn gave him a puzzled frown. “I thought you were on the road.”

“The prospect texted me just as we were leaving. He thought I might want to know you and Arianne were planning to bust your girls outta Shelly-Ann's jail. I figured you might need some help, and the door was open. Looks like Arianne's handiwork. No one can shoot up a lock like her.”

“Thank you.” Arianne gave a mock bow.

“Thor to the rescue.” Shelly-Ann snorted. “Where's your hammer? Oh. I forgot. You don't need one. You prefer to kill men with your bare hands.”

“What's she talking about?”

“How much?” Cade said to Shelly-Ann, pointedly ignoring Dawn's question.

“She owes me another eight hundred.”

Cade pulled out his wallet and counted eight hundred dollars into Dawn's hand. “Your choice, sweetheart. You can pay her, or you can walk out of here and leave her to me.”

“Hey.” Arianne gave an indignant sniff. “I was here first. If anyone gets to throw a few punches at Shelly-Ann it's me, and only if Dawn doesn't want to do it first.”

Dawn stared at Shelly-Ann, considering. But how could she inflict violence on someone after what she'd suffered at Jimmy's hands? She hated Shelly-Ann, but she couldn't physically hurt her, and she couldn't ask anyone else to do it. “I'll pay her.”

“Good call,” Shelly-Ann let out a breath. “Didn't think you were the type who could live with blood on her hands. Thor, on the other hand, probably went drinking with his brothers after killing Rusty the other night.” She scrawled the babysitter's address on a piece of paper and handed it to Dawn.

“You killed Rusty?” Dawn whirled around and stared at Cade aghast. She remembered Rusty from her time in the Brethren—a tall, thin, redhead with a scraggly goatee, and one of Jimmy's closest friends.

“Club business.”

“Club business is the same in every club,” Shelly-Ann said bitterly. “It's all about blood and pain. And bikers are the same wherever you go. Does your man beat you like Jimmy did? 'Cause from what I saw there's not much difference between them.”

Dawn's mouth opened and then closed again. Why was she so surprised? The Sinners were outlaw bikers. They would do anything for their club—even if it meant taking a life. Cade was the Sinner treasurer and one of Jagger's right-hand men, positions that had to be earned by proving yourself in the MC. Plus, Rusty had been part of the gang that had kidnapped and beaten Cade. He would have known justice was coming …

Still, she couldn't shake the niggle of doubt Shelly-Ann had planted in her mind. Cade was a violent man. Just like Jimmy. And what if that violence spilled over to her?

 

NINE

I will follow the creed before I follow my heart.

SINNER'S TRIBE CREED

The Whitefish trip wasn't going as planned.

Although Cade had initially been glad to take off with Zane and the prospect right after the altercation with Shelly-Ann, he couldn't get Dawn's shocked expression out of his mind. Not during the spectacular three-hour drive through the mountains. Not when their new prospect had to keep pulling the cage off the road because every damn cop seemed to be on the lookout for black SUVs. And especially not when they arrived at the house of the Brethren's weapons broker and found him dead.

“Well, damn.”

From the state of the poor bastard's body, and the pungent smell of rotting flesh, the broker had been dead for a while, and from the fact his body was untouched, no one really cared.

“His guards are out here,” the prospect called. “They're dead, too. Looks like there was a gunfight.”

“Weapons are missing from the shed,” Zane called out. “I'll text Jagger and let him know. My guess is they were taken weeks ago.”

Could this day get any worse? Dawn had acted almost as if she were afraid of him outside Shelly-Ann's house, and yet he'd exercised almost unbelievable restraint when he'd let Shelly-Ann off with only a warning. And what did she expect? That he'd slap Rusty on the wrist and tell him not to do it again? Dawn had been part of this world. She knew how it operated. She knew he might have had to take a life. Or eight. But only to protect his brothers. And now they were short the weapons they needed to launch an offensive against the Jacks.

Cade did a walk around the small, isolated, villa-style house that had served as the broker's base. But other than the four dead guards, and two whining pups, he saw nothing that would give a clue as to who might have stolen the weapons.

He fed the dogs and filled their water bowls, then went in search of the prospect. Damn, he couldn't remember the dude's name. Of all the prospects they'd had over the years, the quiet, geeky, pretty boy with blazing green eyes and sharp features had to be the least likely prospect ever to want to be patched into the club. But he was a tech genius, and could fill a gap in the club's knowledge base that was getting larger by the day.

He found the prospect throwing up in the bathroom with Zane looking on in disgust.

“Why the hell did you bring him?”

“Prospects need to learn,” Cade said. “Plus there was no way I was driving the damn cage and I knew you wouldn't volunteer.” Brothers rarely drove in vehicles when they could ride their bikes, leaving the cage driving to old ladies, prospects, and junior patch.

“That prospect can't learn dick.” Zane turned and Cade followed him from the bathroom to the small patio out back.

“What did Jagger say?”

“He wants us to go see Demon Spawn. Hard to believe five men were shot on their turf and they didn't know anything about it.”

While Zane checked the rest of the house, Cade went to get the prospect, now pale and pasty after losing his lunch. “Ready to go?”

“We should take his tech.” The prospect pointed to a computer as they walked through the house. “Might be a clue in his computer or phone about who took him and his men out.”

“Take what you need,” Cade said. “And then put the dogs in the truck. We'll drop them at the shelter.”

“Christ. They're just dogs.” Zane gave an exasperated sigh. “They got the sense to run away.”

“They're pups and they didn't have the sense to run away from a house full of dead bodies.” Cade whistled for the dogs. “And why not help them find a home instead of letting them run loose on the streets?”

He had a soft spot for strays. Selma, the golden Lab, who had been his comfort and constant companion since he was four years old, had wandered into his yard one evening and never left. He had been shocked his dad allowed the dog to stay, but Selma was smart enough to understand his father's insecurities. Loyalty was the way to win his affection. Whenever Cade's father was home, Selma never left his side, but Cade always knew he had her heart.

After dropping off the pups, they arranged to meet up with Matchstick, president of Demon Spawn, and some of the club members at a bar in town. Demon Spawn had been forced into their role as a Sinner support club, which meant all meetings had to be public in case resentment got out of hand.

By the time they reached the bar, Cade was ready for some serious distraction. Smelling of JD and tobacco and made up to look like an old western saloon with some scratchy Bob Seger on the jukebox, the bar was the perfect place to relax. Matchstick, a Zane look-alike with dark skin, dark hair, and brooding looks, brought two sweet butts and a pitcher of beer to their booth, and Cade settled down for what promised to be a much better evening than he'd expected.