Monster: A Seven Sinners Novel

by A G Henderson

  I hummed a tune beneath my breath while I flipped him the bird and sauntered away. The lights started turning off and were replaced by strobing globes of colors. Soon enough, music was pounding on the inside of my skull hard enough to send my stomach turning.

  Then I was out the door, heading on my merry way. I had some time to kill before the nursing home would be open, and while I walked into the forest, carefully checking to make sure no one was following the girl carrying a wad of money, I let Nikolai’s last worries bounce off me and fall to the ground.

  The Seven Sinners were monsters, that was the truth. But they weren’t gods. They couldn’t be everywhere at once. After some recent developments with mobsters from New York, their core members were busy or otherwise occupied. They didn’t have the manpower to scour the entire town. As long as we kept our heads down, we were safe.

  I was safe.

  My income was safe.

  This life I had sacrificed blood, sweat, and broken bones for was safe.

  And as long as those things remained true, I could continue on.

  It didn’t matter how much it hurt at the end of the day when the pain set in.

  Mom was worth it. She always would be.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Monster

  There was a permanent itch beneath my skin, and the indecisive toad hogging my time was making it worse.

  “I’m just not sure,” she moaned, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “What if it’s not big enough? I want to have room for my grandchildren to come visit whenever they want. Do you have any children, Mr. Haynes? They can take up so much space so quickly.”

  “No,” I bit out, adjusting the tie around my neck with movements that were becoming more aggravated as time went on.

  Honestly, I was a few minutes away from simply ripping the thing off, freeing myself from my suit jacket, grabbing this woman by the scruff of her neck, and tossing her.

  But the customers came first. At least, that was what my business partner and best friend, Liam, always went on about. I wasn’t sure I remembered the motto correctly. It was hard to hang onto pretty sentiments when people were giving me a goddamn eye tic serious enough to turn a man into a cyclops.

  “Hmm…” Mrs. Hildebrand pouted at me, overly made-up face looking like a caricature of a real person. Whoever told her an abundance of beauty products could fix having skin like a crocodile had lied; shame on them.

  Although after spending time with the woman, I had to admit there was a chance they just wanted to get her out of their faces as fast as possible and at any cost.

  “That’s too bad,” she said, looking at me instead of the two-story brownstone she was supposed to be viewing. Except we hadn’t even made it upstairs yet because she never stopped talking. “You should keep in mind that you won’t stay young forever. Trust me when I tell you that you’ll want to have those teething years over with before you get into your late thirties. Goodness me, I couldn’t get any sleep for a time there.”

  “Ma’am.” I tried for patience and found the well nearly empty. “I don’t have children and I don’t plan on having them for some time.” Ever. “Would you like to check out the upstairs and see if there’s enough room on the second level for you?”

  She pursed her lips, glancing towards the staircase. Again, I wanted to lift my polished shoe and give her a shove in that direction to get the ball moving again. I didn’t understand what was so hard about this process.

  Why did people act like buying a house was a life or death situation?

  I didn’t even have a goddamn house for the longest time, and I made it to where I am now just fine. So what if the violent itch that had gotten me through some tough years never went away?

  So what if my skin was almost burning even now with the need to drop this stupid facade and go work out or hit something?

  Like they said in the system, I was rehabilitated. A functioning member of society. And for fuck’s sake, this was the fifth house I had shown her today. I deserved a goddamn medal for my efforts.

  Did she think I had nothing better to do with my time than run around town with her? To top off the shit sundae she was serving up, it was like her compass for where she wanted to live had suffered a stroke.

  One minute we were on the North end. Then South. East. West.

  Noticing a pattern?

  I was going to have to fill my truck up twice before the day was over.

  Mrs. Hildebrand sighed and started towards the stairs, the percussion of her heels clicking across the tile floor an announcement of sweet fucking progress.

  Finally.

  “I suppose I should check just in case,” she said. “We did come all this way, after all. I’m getting too old to be doing so much back and forth across town. Maybe this one will wow me and speak to my soul.”

  This was what I’d had to deal with all goddamn day.

  And as if fate was aware of my impatience and wanted to have a good laugh, the moment her foot hit the first step, she paused. Turned towards me with a twinkle in her eye. Opened her mouth for what I was sure was going to be another deluge to wash away the daylight in an endless flood.

  Where’s a meteor when you need one? I don’t even care where I end up at this point.

  She clapped her hands together. “Now I remember what I was going to ask earlier. Were you ever able to find any homes with vaulted ceilings and chandeliers?” She waved at the enclosed lighting above us. “I’ve never been a big fan of these new-fangled decorations. I feel like they miss out on the quaintness of how things used to be, you know? I’m looking for a more rustic feel.”

  A slight chuckle slipped out before I could catch it. That was actually funny. Especially seeing as how when she initially contacted the real estate agency, she’d been very specific about wanting something modern and chic which, to me, simply read as her wanting something fancy to lord over the people she knew.

  Look at me with my big fancy house and designer purses and covered pool and stupid fucking noisy shoes.

  Taking a deep breath, I offered her a half-grin. Maybe more of a grimace. Who was keeping track?

  “I’m sure I can find something that will suit your tastes better.” I wasn’t even going to try. “We can reschedule.” She would never hear from me again. “It’ll take a little bit of time to do some comparisons for the price range you’re looking for.”

  Try eternity before you ever see my face again you worrisome witch.

  She came back down the stairs, smiling wide enough for me to see the red lipstick staining her teeth. “Of course, darling. That’s completely fine. Do you know of any places with a covered deck? My husband likes to have somewhere to put his grill and pretend he’s going to use it. For the life of me, I’ve no idea why. I haven’t seen that man grill a thing in twenty years.”

  A vein throbbed in my forehead. I raked a hand through my hair, pushing dirty-blonde back from my face. The itch was impossible to ignore now—a living thing poking and prodding the insides of my veins.

  If I wasn’t careful, I was going to march through the door, climb on top of her fancy Beamer, and stomp the ever-living shit out of it right in front of her horrified, toad-like face.

  Since that would not only lose me a client but also potentially blow my fucking cover wide open, this needed to be over.

  And I mean like, yesterday.

  Mrs. Hildebrand started in on another monologue that required no feedback from me, and I gave her my back. Slipped my phone from my pocket. Texted my best buddy and pal who I wasn’t considering strangling for setting this shit up.

  Nope.

  I would never.

  Me: The old bat wants to reschedule and see some other places after wasting my total and complete fucking time.

  Jason: I was wondering how long you were going to make it. When you asked for the code for house number three, I was sure you were going to break something. What’s the criteria she wants this time?

  Me: I don’t give a dam
n. Once I get rid of her, I’m done with her ass. If she calls back, make sure she never ends up on my schedule again. Hell, I’ll pay for dinner if you recommend her to another company altogether. I’m. Done.

  Jason: Think happy thoughts, man. I’m reading you loud and clear. I’ll be expecting that dinner, though, just so you know I’m paying attention.

  Me: Good lookin’ out.

  Jason: Thanks for not throwing this one through a window.

  I shook my head. Lost my temper one time, and he was never going to let me live that down.

  Pocketing my phone and releasing a superheated breath, I tuned back into the older woman’s rambling.

  “...they always loved tire swings. At least until my youngest managed to fall off one at Thanksgiving. I tell you, that was a mess. Do you know how long it takes to get through the ER on a holiday? Golly. And then—”

  A loud bang cut her off.

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t my fist going through a wall.

  We both turned towards the front door in time to see it bounce back off the frame. But even the door stopped short before its revolution brought it into the path of the man that had thrown it open.

  Despite the chill in the winter air, he only wore blue jeans, boots, and a leather vest over a white tank top, leaving ink-stained arms to swing freely at his side while he marched inside. His gray eyes were alive with so much menace I could almost see the lightning storm of his anger swirling inside them.

  For the first time in several hours, the old woman was left speechless. No surprise there. Everyone recognized Creed, the President of the local motorcycle club.

  Having a reputation filled with enough atrocities to make a horror story come to life tended to spread far and wide.

  She squeaked when he stopped in front of us, and he gave her a look that sent her scurrying around him and out of the house without so much as a goodbye. At least she had some manners, because she slowly closed the door on the way out. And thank the fucking Lord she did, because I could finally stop pretending.

  I removed my glasses and dropped my stiff-backed stance, feeling the itch beneath my skin wane and fall into the background. Not quite gone. Never gone unless the beast I kept carefully locked away was about to come out to play. But far enough in the recesses of my mind that I could ignore it.

  Shifting to the balls of my feet, I loosened my tie for good and met the angry stare focused on me.

  “That was unnecessary,” I said, rolling my shoulders. Twisting my neck from side to side to let more of the white-collar bullshit fall away so the real me could stretch his legs. “People aren’t supposed to be aware that we know each other.”

  “People,” Creed hissed, “can go jump in a fire while fucking each other up the ass for all I care. And who the hell is she going to tell anyway? Her deaf bingo pals?”

  “Given the way she talked my ear off for the last few hours, I’m going to go out on a limb and say every single person she comes across.” I raised a brow when his glare intensified. “Hey, me being an unknown factor was your idea.”

  Creed narrowed his eyes, and tension mingled with a healthy dose of fear. Him having to look up at me didn’t make the man any less intimidating. For most of my life, I’d thought the monster that lived inside my skin was unique. At least until I crossed paths with him.

  After one encounter, I realized that not only was his monster bigger and meaner, but that size didn’t always come out on top. There was a scar going across my ribs thanks to him. One of the very few I had ever collected.

  I’d never made a habit of losing.

  He swiped his thumb across his jaw, drawing my attention to the angry, black tattoos crawling up his neck. They depicted war, death, and pain—his favored tricks of the trade. “The plan was for you to be on the outskirts as long as I needed you to be there. Time to look alive, I’m taking you off the bench.”

  I paused, head cocked to the side as I repeated those words a few times. Making sure I wasn’t hearing things. Carefully analyzing each syllable in case Mrs. Hildebrand had driven me so crazy I was replacing words with whatever I wanted.

  But no.

  No matter how many times I played that back, it remained the same.

  A vicious smile split my lips, promising pain, death, and carnage.

  He had the bigger monster.

  But I never said we weren’t still incredibly similar.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” I grinned wider. “Finally?”

  “Don’t look so excited while you’re still dressed like a stiff,” Creed said. “Shit’s creepy as hell. But yes, really. Unless you turned pussy on me during this little vacation of yours and lost the taste for it.”

  “Tell me what you need.” I didn’t bother to keep the eagerness out of my voice. Why would I?

  This was what I’d waited on every day for years.

  I worked in an office full of people, yet none of them except Jason knew the real me.

  They didn’t know that violence was the only thing capable of making my blood sing and dance.

  They didn't know that satisfying that need to crush my opponents underfoot was the only thing that could ever take the itch away and allow me to experience a brief peace.

  My history with the Sinners started with a giant bloody stamp. Creed had been the one to find me standing over a scene that belonged in a trauma ward. He was the one who showed me how to put the worst of my impulses on a leash, and agreed to erase all the trouble heading my direction as long as I did what he told me.

  Maybe he was a violent, twisted, cruel bastard who reigned over a kingdom of outlaws.

  But he was also a man of his word.

  I only spent a year on the inside when I would’ve otherwise been shipped off to a supermax prison or a padded room. Instead of being stuck showering with other men and constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next motherfucker to take their chance, I was here.

  Alive and well.

  Rich beyond my wildest dreams.

  Established with a life I never thought I could have.

  The only thing he’d asked of me in return was that when the day came, I would be his weapon—the one no one knew about. It hadn’t been too difficult to accomplish.

  Who would expect a realtor to moonlight as a dangerous criminal?

  Yeah. No one.

  That’s why people like the old bat from before felt comfortable wandering around empty houses with me when I could snap her neck in the time it took her to draw air into her lungs.

  Not that I would, of course. Even monsters had rules they lived by. I didn’t kill women or children. But the rest?

  Fair. Fucking. Game.

  “Tell me,” I said again, watching his eyes flash with satisfaction.

  I knew how he felt. His gambit had paid off, and so had mine. Because with his might behind me? I could cut loose in whatever way I wanted. That was easily worth this tedious double life I maintained.

  “The Russian contingent I told you about.” He wandered deeper into the house and hopped up on the kitchen island. “They’re getting greedy. Out of control.”

  “Drugs?”

  He nodded, lip curling in a snarl. I wasn’t sure what issue the man had with narcotics, but his disdain for them ran deep and true. I’d done enough digging to find out the hell he’d visited on the Cartels who used to run this area years back.

  Safe to say they weren’t around to bother anyone anymore.

  Creed leaned forward on his knees, hands flexing. “My man on the inside is telling me that Nikolai is using the fight club as a front to distribute harder shit. I didn’t mind them collecting all the filth in one place. That just made them easier to watch. But poison always spreads once it’s introduced to the bloodstream. I won’t have whatever bunk shit they’re selling anywhere near my people.”

  Briefly, I wished I could broadcast that last bit. Creed wasn’t one for sentimentality. He was more of a do what I say or I’ll kick your ass no matter who you are ki
nd of guy. Except the truth was easy enough to see when you were able to look past the shield of endless anger he wore so well.

  Bastard or not. He cared about those he considered his. And I was talking about more than just the Sinners. To Creed, Oakdale was his kingdom and he would order any snake that tried to bear its fang and bite his subjects beheaded. I was more than a little envious of it.

  I had seen the leather-clad men around town. They weren’t exactly easy to miss. The bond they shared was something I could spot and understand, but nothing I had ever experienced. Jason was close enough to consider family, but he would never understand my darker impulses. Meanwhile, the Sinners had each other’s backs come hell or high water.

  No questions.

  No judgement.

  Shaking my head, I dismissed those useless thoughts. I didn’t need to be part of the club to be satisfied. Being able to embrace my true nature was enough. “Anything I need to be aware of?”

  Creed shrugged. “Nikolai and his crew are the ringleaders. Do whatever you need to get rid of them. Avoid innocents getting caught in the crossfire. There’s also my inside man, Micah. He’s been making a profit from this shit for a while, and he might not be willing to step away.” He paused for a moment, lips thinning. “If you can convince him the easy way then go for it.”

  I squeezed my hands into fists so tight my knuckles popped. “And if the easy way doesn’t work?”

  “Break him like the rest,” he said without hesitating. “And make it public. I want everyone who is there when you act to remember what it means to cross us, and just how far our reach goes. A reminder that out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind will do them well.”

  Knowing how few constraints I had to work with made this so much easier.

  Without waiting for Creed to dismiss me, I turned and headed out the door. The sight of the sun hanging fat and full in the sky annoyed me. I was ready to get started. But dark would come soon enough. When night did arrive, it would be time to claim the nickname Creed gave me long ago.