HOPE TRILOGY BOX SET: Sacred Sinners MC- Texas Chapter

by Bink Cummings

  Disappointed by Vanessa’s reaction, or lack thereof, I keep on. “Well, I have. First, my mother when I was a child. Second, my dad when I was fourteen. Third … well, that doesn’t matter anymore. The point is: I’m not here to fuck with anyone’s life. I’m here to find some of the shattered parts of mine. As hopeless as that sounds, that’s all I’ve ever wanted; to feel whole again. And if you’ve ever been so broken that you didn’t know what jagged edge fits where, then you’d get what I’m sayin’. If not, consider yourself blessed for not havin’ to go through some of the shit that me and plenty others have.” Having calmly said my peace, I retake my seat and look to Bear to make sure he’s not pissed at me for creating an even bigger scene.

  Inclining his head in my direction, he smirks. “Fuck tradition. Like Kat said, our food’s gettin’ cold. I think I can speak for everybody when I say we’re thankful for our families.” Bear raises his cup, and I lift mine that’s filled with ice water. “Here, here,” we cheer and dig in.

  Stuffing our faces serves as the perfect distraction. The turkey is juicy, the mac-n-cheese extra cheesy with that perfect crust on the top, the green bean casserole is by far the best I’ve tasted, and these chocolate chip cookies are to die for. For once, I’m thrilled to see the cranberry sauce didn’t make it onto my plate. I haven’t been able to eat that stuff since Brent disappeared, and that has everything to do with a little Thanksgiving fuck session we had when I was pregnant with Roxie. Unfortunately, that’s a memory I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain. Trust me, I’ve tried.

  Kade carts my empty plate to the trash and refills my water. As the sun dips below the horizon, the men and women get up from the table to consume mass quantities of alcohol and socialize. The sunset showcasing an array of bright oranges and the tiniest kiss of blood red is gorgeous.

  Standing behind my chair, Kade drops his palms to my shoulders, kneading them with the perfect pressure. Groaning in pleasure, I let my eyes drift closed. Damn. That feels amazing.

  “Good?” There’s a tickled inflection in Kade’s voice.

  “Soooo good,” I purr.

  He chuckles. “You’re doin’ real good, Kat.”

  “So are you with those magical fingers.” I roll my shoulders, and he digs in deeper, eliciting a carnivorous moan from my belly.

  His digits halt mid-squeeze, and Kade roughly clears his throat. Why’s he stopping? Did I say something wrong? “Erm … D-do ya care to head over to the bonfire? We’ve got chairs set up over there. Or we can go back to my room if you’re done for the night. Whatever ya want.” The massage resumes, more tentative than before, as if he’s not sure if he should be touching me any longer.

  To decompress the sudden change in mood, I ask, “Are Ryker or Vanessa over there?” They left their seat seconds after they finished shoveling food into their pie holes. I tried not to notice Vanessa grabbing Ryker’s forearm and steering him to wherever she wanted. It seemed a little bitchy to me. But that’s not any of my concern.

  “No. The coast is clear. I’m pretty sure my dear sister-in-law is kickin’ his ass by now.”

  The prickle of annoyance stiffens my frame, and I frown. I don’t know why that bugs me as much as it does. It shouldn’t. I hate Ryker.

  Checking my stupid emotions, I change the subject. “So tell me more about yourself, Kade.”

  I sense him shrug. “Not much to tell.”

  “Now that can’t be true.”

  “It is.”

  “No kids? Wife? Girlfriend? Job?”

  Skilled thumbs work gingerly into the base of my neck. It’s utterly divine. “Not yet, nope, nope, and I was what you’d call an E.R. nurse before I started workin’ full time for the club.”

  “Doin’ what exactly?” That’s pretty crappy that he’s no longer a nurse. However, it makes sense as to why he’s so good at the medical stuff. Something tells me he takes pride in caring for people. Me being case and point.

  “Can’t say.” He taps my shoulder, and I pry my eyes open. “Hey. Look over there.” Pointing toward the edge of the property, next to a large tree, is a group of scantily-clad women gossiping amongst themselves. I didn’t see them at dinner. “Those are what we call club whores. You probably saw some of ‘em here last night.”

  “So that’s who slobs on your knob?” I snicker, witnessing a chick adjust her heaving bosom. If the curvy brunette pushes them any higher, she’s gonna suffocate herself. And here I thought my jugs were bigger than Annette’s. Not that that’s her name.

  Kade rewards me with one of his deep, belly laughs. It’s the kind that you know he feels throughout his entire body. “Wh-who in the fuck says that kinda shit?” His amusement slowly tapers off, still holding its edge.

  “I do?” What can I say? After spending a day with the man, I’m already at ease around him. What’s not to like?

  “You’re nuts,” he chortles. “But yeah, they’re who I fuck whenever I need to get my dick wet.”

  “Which one’s Janet?” I nod in their direction, remembering Creeper had mentioned her name.

  Kade’s deft fingers slip into the base of my scalp, and it feels so damn good, he could just about lull me to sleep. My eyes flutter shut of their own accord. Sweet Jesus. He’s a magician. Hopefully, he’s in the market for a new best friend. I’d like to apply for the job if that means I get moan worthy massages out of it.

  “She’s the blonde.”

  I peek for a second, noticing a curvy towhead with thick thighs and tattoos cascading down both arms, staring in our direction. “Looks like someone wants a piece of that dick now.”

  “I’m busy. She can wait.” He’s fierce.

  “You sure? ‘Cause I should probably mingle a bit. I’m sure your dad wants to have a few words. And I am leaving tomorrow.”

  “You do what ya want. They can all wait until you’re ready. They’re the assholes who started this shit. You don’t have to work on anybody’s time other than your own.”

  That’s another thing I’m coming to adore about Kade. He’s not only blunt, but he also cares about my feelings. More so than anyone else.

  “Thanks. But I think you need to, as you say, get your dick wet.” Reluctantly moving away from his masterful hands, I use the edge of the table to help me push up from the chair. Turning to face him, I reach out to pat him on his hard-as-a-rock pec, smiling graciously. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Laying his hand over mine, flattening my palm to his chest, his heart pulses strong and steady, just like the man it belongs to. Tilting my head back so that I can see his face, our gazes lock. “You’re my family, Kat. I’m gonna worry about you. And I’m not about to go fuck some hole and leave ya to fend for yourself.”

  “How about a quick blow job, then?” I grin cheekily.

  “If you insist.” There’s a twinkle of mirth in his eye as he bends down to place a single kiss upon my upturned forehead. The warmth of his surprisingly soft lips seeps into my veins, filling me with a sense of peace I didn’t know I was missing.

  “I do. Very much,” I whisper, not wanting to ruin the oddly tender moment. “It’s the least you deserve for taking care of me.”

  Nodding, a small smile gracing his lips, Kade tucks my arm through his and escorts me to the bonfire. The cooling grass squishes through my toes, sending shivers up my legs. He deposits me into a folding chair, kissing my forehead once more. “See ya later, beautiful. I won’t be far. Just over there,” he says, indicating where that blonde woman is waiting for him, her feet shifting excitedly. Somebody is quite smitten with the handsome Kade. Not that I blame her. He seems like quite the catch. Too bad I’d fallen in love with the wrong brother. Gah.

  Teasingly, I pinch his side, finding a thin layer of skin stretched over muscle, which takes away half of the pinching fun. “Go get your jiggy on,” I sing-song, and he winks at me before sauntering over to the foxy lady who’s about to rock his world. Judging by the wild and crazy tongue action they jump straight into, I’m certain he’s g
onna have a blast. His hand is already gripping a juicy portion of ass.

  I miss being groped like that.

  Disregarding the longing ache in my chest, I turn my sights toward the blazing fire. The ache’s not there because Janet is getting some hot Kade action. No. As much as I find him attractive, it’s not in a sexual, I-wanna-jump-his-bones way. Mostly, I’m green with envy because of the attention. I remember that feeling of overwhelming lust that steals all logic and turns you into a horny ball of need every time that special person breathes in your direction. Hell. If they even breathe within the same ten square miles. I used to feel that way once upon a time when young love was a thing. That was before I understood what heartbreak and bitterness felt like. Now I’ve got that in spades. That shit is like super glue. It just won’t let go, no matter how many times you visit the psychologist or try to drown your sorrows in the bottom of a wine bottle.

  “Hey.” The distinct voice of my father rips me from my dark musings, and I glance over my shoulder as he sets a paper plate piled with whipped cream into my lap. A plastic fork is tucked into the side, keeping the handle from getting messy. “I snagged ya some pecan pie,” he explains, dropping a napkin on the arm of my chair before taking the seat to my right, and scooting it closer.

  Ogling the creamy mountain in mouthwatering awe, I lick my lips nice and slow. “I—I can’t believe you remembered.” Emotions clog my throat.

  “I remember everythin’ about ya, Peanut.” There’s a raw benevolence in his voice that plucks at my frozen heartstrings. The thick ice cracks into a spider web pattern but doesn’t break. Shoo. That was a close one.

  Peanut. It’s been so long since anyone has used that nickname. And God knows, I’ve had many nicknames in my life; Kat being the most prevalent.

  Swallowing nervously, I bite the corner of my lip, uncertain of what I’m supposed to say. What do you say? Many times I dreamed of what I could tell him. Now here I am, tongue-tied, on the verge of an internal meltdown as my heart uses my ribs as a punching bag. Hot damn, this is so fucking surreal. He’s really here. Right next to me. Giving me pecan pie. Observing my every move. We’d eaten dinner feet apart, but nothing felt more real than this does right this second, where I can reach out and touch him. Touch. My. Dad! I … fuck … I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take this.

  Moisture gathers at the corners of my eyes.

  “Don’t sweat it, Peanut. Just eat your pie, then we’ll talk whenever you’re ready.”

  Numbly, I nod my compliance and dig into the sugary bliss. Minutes slip by as I swirl my fork in the whipped cream and carve out bite after bite of the homemade pie. It’s more delicious than I remember. The noise of people conversing, faint moans, and the fire crackling are drowned out by the thumping in my ears as blood surges through my veins. My hand shakes when I take another taste and slowly churn the yumminess in my mouth to bide some time. I still can’t believe he’s here.

  Finished way too soon, I rest the plate on my lap, attention focused on the glowing embers at the bottom of the pit. The heat wafting off kisses my cheeks in a pleasant way. Where are the marshmallows when ya need them? Or do bikers not roast marshmallows? My daughters’ sure love charring them over the small fire pit in our backyard. Shit, I’ve got to stop wasting time. It’s now or never. Tomorrow is going to come way too soon.

  A knot lodges in my throat as I open my mouth to speak. “I … I saw you have Roxie and Scarlett’s names tattooed on your forearm.” That’s as good of an opening remark as he’s going to get. Why is this so damn hard? He’s my dad. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Should it?

  “We’ve all got ‘em.”

  Now that captures my attention enough that I angle myself so I can see him head on. “What does that mean?”

  Dad traces the girls’ names on his arm with his fingertip. The letter S is tattooed on his knuckle, and on the one beside it is a fancy O. I wonder what it spells out. “Bear and I went and got their names tattooed on us ‘bout five years ago.”

  “Why in the hell would you do that?” My voice jumps a few octaves, reminding me too much of my mother. I shiver at the thought.

  Daddy shrugs, and pushes his tattooed fingers through his hair, discharging a pent-up sigh. “I dunno, Peanut. Why do ya think? You’re my daughter, and they’re my grandbabies. Whether or not you think so, Bear and I do care about you and the girls. His tat’s on his back so Kade couldn’t see it. But it’s got your name there, too, inside this heart with roses surroundin’ it.”

  “Like the roses in the Sacred Sinners emblem?”

  “Yup.”

  This is so fucking strange. My insides concur as this bizarre sensation bangs around in my chest like a damn game of pinball. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Bear standing by himself a few yards away, gazing impassively in our direction, a beer clutched in his big paw. If the shifter stories I read were nonfiction, he’d be an alpha werebear with silver fur, tender blue eyes, and a jowl that’d make the biggest brawlers run for cover. Jeez, that’s just ridiculous. My brain needs to shut the hell up. Shaking my head to rid it of outrageous thoughts, I then lift my hand to wave him over. For a second, a flash of hesitation washes over his features before he nods once, grabs a nearby chair, sets it next to my dad, and drops into it, expelling a leaded groan.

  Dad sideways glances at Bear. “I was tellin’ her about our tattoos.”

  Casually, Bear sips on his beer. “Which one?”

  “The names,” Dad replies.

  A redness tinges Bear’s cheeks as he swings his attention to the fire.

  Knowing he’s uncomfortable with the topic, I move to something less blush-worthy. Although I gotta say, a big man with crimson cheeks is kinda adorable. I press my lips together to smother a grin. “I gotta be honest with ya. This is still weird for me. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to ask. Like … is it okay if I ask if I have any other brothers and sisters? Or if you’ve remarried? I mean, I know after Mom and you divorced, you didn’t date anyone … I … I dunno … I guess I wanna know everything? Or whatever you can tell me.”

  Dad’s tentative hand reaches across the space between us and hovers above my forearm that’s relaxing on the armrest. He waits there, suspended for what feels like hours until I give him a reassuring nod. He exhales gratefully, tension melting from his shoulders and face as his clammy palm rests atop my arm. Another crack in the foundation of my frozen heartstrings splinters outward.

  The bulk of Dad’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he audibly gulps. “I don’t have any other kids, and I’ve never remarried. But I do have a partner.” Dad’s other hand reaches out for Bear and pats him on the knee. Flinching at the touch, nostrils flaring, Bear fists and unfists his hands in his lap, once, twice, before he pats my dad’s hand in return.

  What … the? Wait … What? I … Uh … Seriously? He’s…

  There’s an exchange of something profound from Dad’s eyes to Bear’s when they lock gazes with one another. It’s a look that says Bear isn’t pleased. Though, by the tiny incline of his head and the dip in his eyes, he’s still yielding to whatever it is they’re communicating through unspoken words. Then, their touch is gone as fast as it came. Bear’s sight drops back to the fire, where he tucks his arms across his broad chest, slouching in his chair, beer cup nestled between those thick thighs.

  Dad clears his throat. “Bear and I are…” Tapering off, a silence stretches.

  “You’re what?” The twinge in my gut tells me all I need to know, but I have to hear it from him first.

  “We’re…” He hesitates.

  “We’re together,” Bear snarls under his breath.

  One second, Dad is seated, hand on my arm, shifting nervously. The next, he’s out of his chair and punching Bear straight in the chest. Bear’s chair snaps back from the mighty blow, taking him down with it. The noise echoes in the yard. Scrambling to his feet, he glares at Dad before charging him like a beast, knocking him to the ground and straddling his stomach. Da
d swings his fist, connecting solidly with his jaw. Bear’s head snaps to the side, blood spewing from his lips just like you’d see in a fighter movie.

  “I was supposed to tell her, you fuckin’ asshole!” Dad yells.

  A blood-stained grin that’s part demonic, part loving, is cast my father’s way at the same instant he strikes Bear again. Except, this time, he misses when Bear catches his fist, immediately pinning it above his head in the grass. The other soon joins it, rendering him helpless. Adrenaline flowing, I wait a second to be upset, or have this need to defend my family, but when it doesn’t come, I sit back, rub my belly, and watch the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day unfold.

  Boys will be boys.

  Chest heaving, eyes manic, Dad digs his boot heels into the turf and thrusts his hips off the ground, trying to dislodge the brute seated on top of him. Bear doesn’t budge and chuckles instead. A small crowd gathers, looking more amused than concerned. Kade slides up next to me, his hand relaxing on my shoulder in silent support. He seems to do that a lot.

  “We’ve been over this plenty of times, you feisty motherfucker.” Bear bends over far enough that he head-butts Dad. It’s not done in malice. It’s friendlier than that. Sweet, almost. If pinning your man to the ground, after he tried to kick your ass, is sweet. Maybe it is for them. “You’re not allowed to punch me unless we’re in the bedroom.” Bear growls like … well … a bear, the top of his thick beard brushing over Dad’s pursed lips, a deep crease formed between his brows.