Sin

by Torrie Robles

  “Yeah, Savannah Ray from Fort Worth. We already know this, baby.” This comes from a mountain of a man. There isn’t a trace of any hair on his head. From where I stand, he looks intimidating and somewhat pissed off with a deep scowl on his face. His muscles are trapped in the tightness of the cotton of his t-shirt. His sleeves are rolled up over the bulging fullness of his biceps. One thing that stands out from him compared to the other guys, is that he is completely ink free. His skin is clean and untouched.

  “Fuck off, Lick.”

  “I’d like to lick her, whatcha say, Sin, brother?”

  I ignore him. I'm not about to play into intimidation tactics. I know Sin won’t allow him to hurt me. The fact that he is still holding my hand, squeezing it, tells me that he's going to protect me. I glance to the head of the table, addressing the man who Sin called Cut.

  “Why did you ask, if you already know?”

  “I know everything about any piece of ass that comes into my club. It’s not very hard when you’re hooked up with a wannabe oil tycoon, Did Tyson do that shit to your face?”

  “Why ask if you already know the answer?” I repeat.

  “Boy, the bitch has got a mouth on her. I can see why Tyson smacked her around.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Lick.” Sin seethes beside me.

  “I wanna know, Savannah, what you think my club is gonna do for you? We aint no hotel, and from what I know, this aint the kind of place you’re used to. So my question is, when do you plan on moving on?”

  I scan around the table and notice I have several sets of eyes looking at me. I lock eyes with Sin, not knowing what to say.

  “She’s staying.” Sin announces.

  “Like fuck she is.”

  “She’s staying.” Sin insists.

  “Look at her, Cut. There’s no way she’s gonna make it around here.” Another guy comments.

  “That’s not your call.” Sin addresses the guy who seems to be Cut’s age. He’s huge, brown hair shaved close to the scalp, full goatee. I can see tattoos that start at his jawline, run down his neck, sinking into the color of his white t-shirt. Both ears were pierced. “Bubba, I mean no disrespect here.”

  “You’re right, brother.” Cut says. “It’s my call. It’s my call when the club’s safety and what we do here is on the line. I don’t need that fuck-face coming here making problems for us, for you because we’ve got something that he wants.”

  “That’s not gonna happen.”

  “Listen, Sin, you don’t know that. You don’t know what kind of shit is going through that asshole’s mind right now. You fucking kidnapped his fiancée.”

  “He didn’t kidnap me!” I say loudly.

  “Did you leave on your own volition?”

  “Well, I left my house on my own. Sin just kinda helped me out.”

  “You left your house on your own, all fucked up?”

  “Yes, if you must know. Tyson beat the crap out of me.” I feel Sin tense. His head snaps to Cut who is looking him directly in the eye. No emotion, nothing. Just staring. “He's been putting his hands on me for years. I had enough. I guess the last time he threw me against the wall finally knocked some sense into me. I left as soon as he backed out of the driveway. I’m done being a punching bag.”

  “Savannah, stop.”

  “No.” I step forward to address the room. “He’s been hitting, smacking, punching and kicking me around for years and Sunday, I finally left. Saturday was the first time that he punched me in the face; he’s never left proof of the abuse before. He’s escalating; I couldn’t afford to stick around anymore. A girl can only take so much, and I finally reached my point. I grabbed my purse and left. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done, so I left. But my eyes, my head, my body, they were all killing me, so I drove as far as I could. I parked the car to take a nap. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. That’s when Sin found me. I had already left, so there was no kidnapping.”

  “Is that how your fiancée is going to see it?” Cut stands up. “Especially when he finds out some biker took you back to his compound? I don’t fucking think so. He’s gonna call the cops, the fucking FBI and all hell is gonna come raining down on my club and that is something that I’m not gonna allow. So get done licking your wounds and get the fuck on.” He slaps his hand on the table, making me jump.

  “She’s not leaving, Cut. I’m sorry, but I can’t let that happen.”

  “She isn’t Sienna.”

  “This has nothing to do with fucking Sienna!” Sin yells at the top of his lungs.

  “Matthew Sinclair!” An older woman bursts into the room. “Espero que en todo lo que es Santo no estabas gritando obscenidades junto con el nombre de su hermana! How dare you use your sister’s name with such profanity!"

  Sin hangs his head and mutters, ‘shit’ under his breath. “Mom.” He turns to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  “We’re in the middle of Jury, you need to leave.” Cut glares at his mother.

  “And you need to recuerda mijo, remember that I am tu madre, that you are both my sons before you are members of this club and I will be damned if I see you two go at each other’s throats.”

  “She needs to leave the compound, Sin. You know this.”

  “If she goes, then so do I.” I suck in my breath as a collective groan echoes throughout the room.

  “Jesus, Sin. You need to stop this savior complex you’ve got going on.”

  “It’s not about me thinking that I need to save her from anything. I just need her here.”

  “It’s the same fucking thing. You think because you weren’t able to save our sister then you need to save anything that looks injured.” Sin’s jaw ticks as he tries to control his anger. “You’re gonna walk?” Cut continues to lay into him. “Away from your family, from the club for some ass that you don’t even know? Are you that stupid?”

  I can feel the anger radiating from Cut. The vein in his neck is throbbing with every beat of his heart and his hands are shaking. He isn't happy with the standoff Sin is having with him. Cut is big, but his size doesn’t seem to faze Sin. Of course, Sin has grown up with it, I’m sure. Cut’s hair is dark, and shaggy, hanging over the collar of his leather vest. Unlike Sin, who has the softest blue eyes I have ever seen, Cut’s eyes are a deep green. I've noticed his mothers are the same coloring.

  “It’s not about being stupid, man. It’s about going with my gut and this is what I need to do.”

  I watch the room. The additional members of the club go back and forth between the two brothers, expect for Lick. He’s looking directly at me. His dark eyes hold something sinister. Something that makes my skin crawl. “She can stay with me.” Their mother speaks up.

  “No.” Cut’s answer is instant.

  “Mijo, that was not a question. La mujar can stay with me.”

  “The girl can’t stay with you.” Cut drops his head and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Mom, this doesn’t concern you. Please leave so we can figure this shit out.”

  “No hay nada que entender.” She walks towards me and stands at my side. “There is nothing to figure out.” Her hand squeezes my free one in a show of support.

  “I said no. Your house is still on Fury property. Taking her there is still risking the club, not to mention your own life. I will not have that. I will not have you putting your life in danger for someone who means nothing to you or this club. I'm not saying it again.” She faces her son with anger in her eyes.

  “Te olvidas de que estás hablando con. I am your mother, tu Madre. Above all this,” she flings her arms around. “I am still your mother. You will not disrespect me, ever. I gave you life, I made you the man you are today. Do not ever insult me or the respect I have instilled in you. ¿Comprende?”

  The room is silent. “I can go,” I say quietly, but both Sin and his mother say ‘no’ at the same time.

  “Devin?” Her voice is firm in the question. I raise my eyes from the floor, where I’ve had them glued through th
e entire exchange. As soon as I do, I see Cut glaring at me.

  “Si, mama.”

  “Bien.” She leads me away from the room, the club, and Sin.

  The lock on the door clicks behind my mother and Savannah. I have such a strong desire to follow them, but I know I need to stay and make this right. “What do you think you’re doing?” My head snaps to Lick.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Lick.”

  “The fuck it doesn’t.”

  “This isn’t club business.”

  “You’re wrong, Sin.” Cut argues. “This has club business written all over it because you are the club, these men, the men who have had your back for years, have every right to have an input on who you decide to keep.”

  “I’m not keeping shit.”

  “No? Then let the bitch go.” His gaze is hard and challenging. He wants me to give in. But it’s not gonna happen.

  “I don’t see the problem.” Hawk states. “I know you’re worried about the club, Cut. As you should be. There’s more to us then what people know and you should protect it. We all should. It’s our livelihood. But I think you’re worried about things that aren’t going to happen.” He looks up at me. “This prick is loaded, man. He can have whatever piece of ass he wants. Why would he waste the time to come and find her? If that shiny little sports car is his then I’ll deliver the damn thing back to him myself.”

  “We don’t know anything about him and what motivates him, Hawk.” Cut says.

  “Then let’s find out.” Dyke suggests.

  “This is a waste of fucking time. No pussy should take up this much time if you aint fucking it.”

  “You need to shut the fuck up, Lick.” I’ve had just about enough from him and his mouth.

  “It won’t take long for me to dig into what Tyson Redding is all about. I can do it, no problem.”

  “I don’t need the club popping up, Dyke.” Cut tells him. “I don’t need our name associated with anything about this chick and this Tyson punk. I don’t need our contacts getting wind that we’re looking for problems. We remain under the radar.”

  “That won’t be a problem for me. I can do discreet.” Dyke responds. “We need to see what he intends to do knowing that his fiancée who he seems to push around is no longer under his control.”

  “Fuckers like this can go two ways, he can walk away from her or he can make a whole lot of trouble for us. Option two isn’t going to happen.” Cut's gaze bores into mine. “I’m telling you straight, Sin. I don’t like this. I don’t like that she’s at our mother’s house. You’re getting our mother involved in shit she doesn’t need to be involved with. Mama has already experienced more loss in her life than she’s meant to experience. I don’t need her getting attached when we don’t know what’s going to happen with this situation. I especially don’t like that I’m risking our club and what we do to find out shit on this bitch and her man.”

  “I get it, Cut. I appreciate it.”

  He put his hand up, signaling me to stop stalking. “I especially don’t like doing all this when I know there's no money to profit from it.”

  “Who says there isn’t any money profit?” Lick comments, standing up. “We still don’t know the story or what this Redding bitch is all about. We may be able to make some money, after all.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I stare at him, completely confused.

  “Maybe Savannah is worth more to Tyson than we know. Maybe he’ll pay us a hefty finder’s fee, if you know what I mean.”

  My vision blurs and before I know it, I'm flying at Lick. My fist connects with his face and I welcome the pain as my bones dig into his flesh. I swing my left fist and feel it splits the skin at his lip. I continue to throw punches, again, and again. His arms wave and his face moves from side to side, as he tries to catch the fists that keep raining down on his face.

  Hands grab at me, pulling at my own skin trying to get me off him. It’s no use, I'm a machine and nothing is going to stop me until I make sure Lick knows his place, and that’s to stay the fuck away from Savannah. I keep pounding on him until I feel a sharp stab and burn in my right side where my kidney used to be. The same place where the shrapnel ripped through my body, ending my military career. It’s that pain that makes my world go black.

  “I have to say, mija, I’m surprised you stood up to my son the way you did. Devin can be intimidating at times.”

  I follow Sin’s mother back to her house. Cut is right, her house seems to be on the compound grounds, but it’s located down the way a bit, a short walk from the clubhouse and not behind the cinderblock fence, like the club is.

  “I agree. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how does a woman who has been beaten up the way you have, still have a backbone to stand up to a room full of angry bikers?”

  “I’m not some beat down broken thing.”

  “You aren’t?”

  “No. I have a mind of my own. Feelings and beliefs. I’ve just lived a life where I’ve had to suppress them, I suppose. I don’t know. I didn’t feel afraid in there. Isn’t it funny though, I’ve lived my life for the past four years in fear of one man? Then today, I’m faced with a room full of huge men and I never once felt scared.”

  “Jury is the one place where outsiders should feel fear. In my husband’s day many men left the room unable to walk, some even unable to talk and there you were. No fear present at all. You surprise me, mija.”

  “Savannah.”

  “Si, Savannah, the one who’s caught my Matthew’s eye, I’m Bianca Sinclair. Welcome to my home.”

  I'm not sure what I expect from the other woman. I have no room to judge her character, but I have to say, if I weren’t in this situation and I were to see Bianca on the streets I would have looked the other way. At her age, which I guess is about late forties, she is a well-kept, biker woman. Her dark hair mirrors that of her sons’. Her tan skin is flawless and doesn’t show her age at all. But the leather choker she wears around her neck, the leather cuffs that encompass her wrists and the thick leather belt that surround her hips scream biker. Along with the same biker logo that’s on the shirt I'm wearing and her knee-high black leather riding boots.

  Bianca’s home is quaint and welcoming. It feels like a home, like my parents’ home. Nothing like the mausoleum the Reddings live in. The furniture is nice, but well worn. Knickknacks are placed with care on shelves. The walls hold pictures of children and other families. Looking at three young children on the back of a big bike warm my heart. I rub my hand over my stomach and my gaze roams over the smiling faces.

  “That’s my Devin, Matthew and Sienna. They loved riding on their father’s bike. It was like flying to them.”

  Catching her eye, I notice she’s eyeing the movement of my hand, making me stop instantly. “Sienna? Is she your daughter?”

  “Yes,” is all she says.

  “I heard them talk about her back at the clubhouse. Is she here? Can I meet her?”

  “She is no more.” My stomach rolls with the news. She isn’t Sienna. This has nothing to do with fucking Sienna! The words that were said in the clubhouse replay in my mind. “Come, let me show you where you will be laying your head at night.”

  I follow her down the hall. “I’m sorry about your daughter.” I say sincerely, but there's no response from Bianca.

  “Here.”

  She opens the door to a soft lilac covered room. The bedding is white along with the drapes. There is a bookcase full of books and picture frames. The desk in the corner has a beautiful purple antique desk lamp. My eyes scan the room until they land on the name above the bed.

  Sienna

  I know whose room it is as soon as I stepped foot within the four walls. The soft colors and feminine feel would have told me that this is her room. But seeing her name beautifully scrolled along the wall makes it more real. I've seen that script before and it’s then I realize that it’s Sienna’s name scrolled along
Sin’s bicep.

  “No, Bianca. I can’t stay in here.” She’s standing just inside the room grasping at a beaded necklace.

  “You must.”

  “Bianca, please. I can’t sleep in your daughter’s room.”

  “Savannah, there needs to be life within these walls. There is nothing but death, and I am tired of all the death. I need–” Her words are interrupted by the banging of the front door.

  “Mama!” I hear Cut scream from the living room. “Mama!” He screams again.

  Bianca and I both run to see what all the fuss is about. Cut and Hawk are carrying Sin into the living room. His head bobs up and down, he’s unconscious. “He got into it with Lick. He wouldn’t stop. We tried to pull him off, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept hitting. Lick punched him in the side. It was the only way.” Cut explains the situation to his mother as he lays Sin on the couch.

  Cut steps back from the couch as Bianca kneels before Sin. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, his long bangs plastered to his forehead by moisture. “Why would Tylan do this?”

  “He wouldn’t stop, Momma B.” Hawk says.

  “Why?” She asks again. Both men look at me, without answering.

  “Me?” I question.

  “Yes you!” Cut snaps. “You’ve been here no time at all and you’re already causing a rift within this club. My brother is loyal to a fault and for some reason; he thinks he needs to be your saving grace. His loyalty is misplaced and because of that he’s put himself on the razor’s edge.”

  “Tylan had no right to hit Matthew like this. No right.” Bianca brushes his hair from his forehead then smooths his beard. She pulls his t-shirt up, revealing his toned, inked stomach. She runs her fingers along his right side where I see a pink scar running the length of his torso. It measured close to ten inches long. The skin around the scar has already started to turn shades of red and purple.

  “What happened to him?” I ask, running my hand over the puckered skin. The feel of his warm skin under my touch makes me calm. Like I’m touching my safe haven, my home. The intensity of my feelings causes me to draw my hand back. When I bring my eyes from Sin, I see everyone staring at me. Cut’s face is disapproving while Hawk and Bianca are both smiling.