The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (60 page)

A blonde with short, curly hair immediately slid onto his lap. The other girl, a petite brunette, took the seat next to Zane. Usually Zane sent the girls away, but they were gifts from the host MC and asking them to leave was the ultimate in disrespect.

“Don't know much about that broker,” Matchstick said after they'd dispensed with the pleasantries and turned to business. “He usually kept to himself.”

“Hard to believe a major arms dealer was shot in your territory along with four of his men and you didn't know anything about it.” Zane toyed with his glass, his free hand under the table, no doubt within easy reach of his weapon.

“We're a support club, not a fucking babysitting service.”

Zane withdrew his weapon and placed it on the table. “Maybe you don't understand the role of a support club.”

“I'm sure he does.” Cade put a warning hand on Zane's arm. “I think it was just a poor choice of words. He knows what would happen if Jagger had to send up some of our brothers to remind him that we tolerate Demon Spawn's presence only as long as they remain loyal.”

“Yeah, that's right. Poor choice of words.” Matchstick ordered a bottle of whiskey on the house and then waved over his old lady, a statuesque blonde with fake tits and an orange tan.

“You want her for the night, Cade? I heard you appreciate a fine piece of pussy.”

Christ. His reputation preceded him, even up north. Usually, he would have laughed and made a joke, then accepted the offer, but tonight the reminder grated on his nerves. “Appreciated, but I got this little sweet butt in my lap to keep me busy … and a girl at home.” He squeezed the girl's ass and made her squeal, cutting off Zane's snort of disbelief.

Matchstick apologized again and excused himself to take a call. His VP, Skid Mark, a short, stocky man with a military buzz cut, took his seat and they segued into a conversation about the arms trade up north. But Cade felt a growing sense of unease. Whether it was the way some Demon Spawn brothers kept looking at them or the VP's slightly off manner, Cade's instincts were blasting a warning at full volume.

The blonde nuzzled his neck and Cade tensed. He'd almost forgotten about the sweet butt in his lap. Her hair wasn't soft or curly like Dawn's hair, and he was damn sure that color wasn't real. He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Jagger expressing his concerns about Demon Spawn, then flicked to Dawn's number. He liked seeing her name in his address book. What she was doing right now?

Zane and Skid Mark were deep in conversation, and the girls were talking to each other. A quick glance around the bar assured him nothing was obviously wrong. Why not send a quick text and find out what the hell was going on?

Hey

He couldn't think of any better way to start so he pressed
SEND
and drank his beer as he waited.

Hey yourself

Hmmm. No humor in her tone, but at least she'd texted back.

U working tonight?

Took the night off to spend with the girls. Just dropped them off. U back from Whitefish?

Still here

Nice place 2 be working

Not nice work 2 be doing. What r u doing on ur night off??

Fixing the sink

My kind of woman

Not so sure about that. You alone?

At a bar with a local MC

Another strip bar?

Fuck. Why hadn't he lied when she asked him about Peelers? He wanted her to forget he'd gone there. Ever. He wanted her to forget the rumors about him. He wanted her to trust him, but how could he expect trust from her when he couldn't even trust himself?

Just a bar

They give you a sweet butt?

Ah. Of course she would know what went on when bikers visited another club. He should lie this time. Zane wouldn't tell her what was going on, and the truth would just reinforce in her mind that he was exactly the kind of man she thought he was.

And she would be right.

“Hey brother.” Zane leaned across the table and tapped a spoon on Cade's glass. “Skid Mark asked you a question about passenger pegs. Wake the fuck up.”

The blonde looked down at the phone and laughed. “He's busy texting Dawn.”

“Jesus Christ.” Cade pushed her off his lap. “You don't look at a man's phone.”

“But you can text one woman while you've got another on your lap?” Zane refilled Skid Mark's glass from the pitcher on the table. “Cade's got a way with the ladies. A good way. No relationships. No complications. No women making promises they can't keep. No shattered dreams or promises. No betrayals or jumping into bed with the first bastard who knocks on the door. He's got it right. Women can't be trusted. Not to keep the faith. Not to hold true. Not to respect a man's soul.” He thudded his fist on the table and the woman beside him beat a hasty retreat, pulling the blonde with her.

“Whoa, brother.” Cade held up a hand. “Maybe you've had one too many. You wanna step outside for some fresh air?”

Zane nodded and they excused themselves from the table and walked out into the night.

“What the hell did that bitch do to you?” Cade asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

“Nothing I want to talk about.” Zane kicked at a stone and then leaned against a pillar, his arms folded. “It was a very long time ago, like when Jagger and I were kids long.”

“Well, you scared those girls pretty good, so it looks like neither of us is gonna have a good night. You wanna go back to the motel? Something felt off in that bar.”

“Thought it was just me,” Zane said. “Didn't like the way they were watching us. I'm thinking we should head back home tonight. Not keen on having my throat slit while I'm sleeping.”

After texting the prospect to meet them outside the hotel, they walked down the main street, and then turned up an alley. The air had cooled rapidly since the sun set, and Cade's skin prickled despite the hoodie he wore over his T-shirt.

Or maybe it wasn't the cold.

Too late he heeded the warning. Gravel crunched behind them, and two men stepped into the alley from the road ahead.

“Two behind us,” Zane murmured, half turning.

“Son of a bitch.” Cade drew his weapon as the two men in front walked toward them. “It's Mad Dog. What the fuck is he doing here? And with Matchstick?”

“Maybe he came to help us load the missing weapons.” Zane drew his weapon and positioned himself to cover Cade's back.

“Maybe he's tired of living and came here to find me 'cause I'll be happy to take care of that problem for him tonight.”

“Jagger gave his word. He's untouchable.”

Cade's lips pressed into a thin line, his body tense and thrumming with energy as the enemy approached. “I'm beginning to regret that decision. You shoulda seen what he did to Dawn's face.”

“I saw what he did to your tat.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cade. “Noted that you weren't enjoying Demon Spawn's hospitality.”

“Nope.”

“So … you and Dawn … there's more than just the usual one-night stand?”

Christ. Of all people to call him out, it had to be Zane. The dark horse. The man who'd been burned by a woman so bad, he kept all women at bay. But what the hell. Even if they made it out of this ambush alive, it wasn't like Zane was going to tell anyone. The dude had no close friends except Jagger and, except for tonight's outburst, he rarely talked to the brothers.

“Yeah. Maybe. I dunno. Never met a woman who's gone through so much shit and come out of it so soft and sweet. But she's a fighter. No matter what Mad Dog throws at her, she meets it head-on.”

A smile played about Zane's lips. A fucking smile. Cade had never seen Zane smile. He looked almost … normal.

“I might just be looking the other way if something happens to Mad Dog. Man's gotta protect what's his.”

He almost couldn't believe the words he'd just heard. Zane? On his side? And because he thought Cade and Dawn were tight?

“You looking the other way now?”

“I am indeed.”

*   *   *

Dawn felt like a human sacrifice. Summoned to the Sinner clubhouse to meet Cade when he returned from Whitefish, she had dressed in her favorite red, stretch knit dress, added a pair of killer heels and prepped like she was going out for a night on the town. Sexy and sophisticated, her dress had a fitted bodice with a deep V neckline, an open back with double straps, and a fitted midi-length skirt that hugged her curves. He wanted to see her; then he would see her. And after she told him just what she thought of his evenings full of blood, strippers, sex and sweet butts, she'd take the damn welcome out the door. He'd had one free pass. He didn't get another.

Yesterday had been a brutal reminder of the violence and misogyny inherent in the one-percenter lifestyle. And yet she couldn't reconcile the man who had allegedly killed Rusty and spent the night with a Demon Spawn sweet butt with the man who had pushed her children on the swings and done so much to protect her. So she'd come to the clubhouse to assure herself she wasn't making a mistake, to end it before she became emotionally entangled with the wrong kind of guy. But damned if she wouldn't give him something to remember her by.

“Smile. You look like you're at a funeral.” Arianne jabbed her in the side and Dawn shifted along the worn, brown couch.

“I am. My funeral.” She lowered her voice so only Arianne could hear. “How awkward is this going to be? I don't even know why he asked me to be here. Maybe he just wants to tell me it's over, which would save me from having to do it. Or maybe he just wants someone to warm his bed now that he's finished with his Demon Spawn sweet butt. He wasn't ashamed or even apologetic. He didn't even bother to answer my text last night until an hour later, and only then to ask what I was wearing. Like he'd done her and was ready for more. I believed him last time about Peelers, but this is too much.”

“What happens on the road…” Arianne turned up the volume of the crime show they'd been watching, sufficiently violent to keep T-Rex and Tank entertained, but not violent enough for Dax or Bandit who were throwing darts at the far side of the living room … at each other.

“Stays on the road,” Tank said with a grin. The heavily built junior patch could have been T-Rex's dark-haired twin. He had the same build and easygoing nature, although he didn't seem too bright.

Tanya, the house mama, looked over from her seat beside Dawn and scowled. “Stupid rule. If you ask me, it's just a license for men to sleep around.” She brushed back her sleek chestnut bob, and Dawn felt a stab of jealousy. Even her stylist, Kitty, couldn't fight Dawn's curls, and had suggested wigs as a preferable disguise for her secret before- and after-school visits.

“We all know you're hot for the new prospect, and you're wondering if he enjoyed some Demon Spawn hospitality up in Whitefish,” Tank said.

“If I was his old lady and he did, it would be…” Tanya drew her finger across her throat and Dawn laughed.

“I'm with you there, except I told Cade I would use a gun on certain delicate parts of his anatomy.”

“You can hurt a man worse by breaking his heart,” T-Rex said. “We're not made of stone. Take Zane, for example. He was hurt so bad, he can't even look at a woman.”

“He doesn't have a heart.” Tank snorted a laugh. “It was ripped out, rubbed in salt, stomped on…”

Laughter rang out around them as the brothers shared their impressions of Zane muttering about the inconstancy of women.

“We need to get him out to a strip bar,” Tank said. “He doesn't even go to Peelers and Cade's got a table—”

T-Rex cut him off with a sharp, indiscreet jab to the ribs, but Dawn forced a laugh.

“I know about Peelers. And was thinking I might get some of the ladies to join me over at Lucky Larry's on Thursday nights. They have free booze and male strippers, and for an extra twenty dollars we get a private dance.”

“I'm in.” Arianne licked her lips and grinned. “I wonder what Jagger will do.”

But her smile faded when Cade staggered into the room, his face bruised and bloody, and his shirt torn.

“What happened to you?” she said.

“Ambush. But we managed to take a prisoner. Zane's locking him up downstairs.” His gaze flicked to Dawn and his mouth tightened. Aside from the fact he'd been badly beaten, Dawn could tell right away he'd overheard the conversation, and he wasn't pleased. The cords in his neck were standing in sharp relief, and he looked like he wanted to punch someone.

She hoped it wasn't her.

“You're here.” His voice cracked and in that moment she knew this wasn't meant to be a good-bye. But knowing where he'd spent the night, she wasn't about to jump into his arms.

“You summoned me so nicely, I couldn't say no.”

Seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and then his face tightened. “No strippers.”

Dawn swallowed hard. Well versed in biker politics, she knew she couldn't challenge him in front of his brothers. Not even a lady could do that. But despite her lack of status, this was their first public interaction and everyone was watching. She couldn't disrespect him, but she didn't have to toe the line either, especially if this was their last time together. Arianne would never have tolerated Jagger sleeping with anyone else.

“I don't go to watch. I'm just there to drink and talk with the girls.” She threw his words back at him, then stood and closed the distance between them, working her dress like she just couldn't wait to get him into bed. “Watching all those sweaty, ripped guys, dancing and showing off their tackle, makes a girl all kinds of hot.” She breathed out the last word and ran her hands along her curves, then looked up at him through the thicket of her lashes. “We wouldn't want that, now, would we?”