The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3

by Sarah Castille

  “Good to know.” His mouth quirked at the corners, and then he stilled.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s behind us.”

  He leaned down and kissed her slowly, reverently, lingering, as if they were alone, while he reached between them and drew his gun from its holster.

  “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispered. And then in one smooth move Cade spun around, pushed her behind his back, and fired.

  SEVEN

  What’s mine is mine and I shall strive to protect it to the best of my ability.

  SINNER’S TRIBE CREED

  “I can’t fucking believe you got into a high-speed chase only three blocks from the police station. Or that you fucking shot at the Brethren on the highway.” Jagger glared at Cade as they stretched out on the rocky outcropping just above the valley where Rizzoli’s truck full of weapons was due to cross at any moment. “Or that I had to hear about it on the fucking news.”

  “I was just trying to run them outta town. Dawn grabbed my gun and started shooting. Nothing I could do about it. I was going so fast it woulda been dangerous to let go.” He looked over at Jagger and grinned. “Safety first. And there was nothing stopping her from taking Mad Dog out except for the fact she can’t shoot for shit.”

  “Jesus Christ. Someone put a bullet in his head.” Jagger turned to face him. “You think I’m stupid?”

  “Calm the fuck down,” Zane muttered from behind them. “Sound echoes in this valley. We don’t want to tip them off. The point of an ambush is to stay hidden until the last moment.”

  “You would know, since you live in the fucking shadows.” Cade snorted when Zane scowled. Nothing he liked better than riling Zane up. The guy was wound up too damn tight. Just once he wanted to make the VP laugh.

  Cade’s dad hadn’t had much of a sense of humor, either. But on the good days, when he was kind to Cade’s mom, Cade would try to make him laugh with practical jokes he bought from the corner store with the money he saved from his paper route. He’d felt an incredible sense of achievement when he made his dad smile or, even better, ruffle his hair and toss him a compliment the way he tossed their dog, Selma, a bone.

  “At least I do something useful in the darkness,” Zane shot back. “I’m not holed up in bed banging Arianne’s friend. You do to her what you do to your other women, and Arianne’s gonna give you a belly full of lead.”

  “How about a little respect?” Cade snapped. “She’s my girl.”

  “Your girl?” Jagger’s voice cracked through the stillness.

  “Yeah.” Cade checked his weapon, an M107 .50—caliber long-range sniper rifle, in the stunned silence, unwilling to share his rationale for his split—second decision to involve Dawn in the chase and his even more uncharacteristic decision to claim her in the parking lot. He barely understood it himself. But after listening to her story in the police station, and then looking down at her beautiful, bruised face in the alley while her attacker hovered nearby, he’d been seized with an utterly overwhelming need to protect and avenge her. And that meant keeping her close, taking her with him, and then claiming her in the most primitive way.

  Mine.

  “You have a girl? What does that mean in Cade-speak?” Zane’s incredulous voice grated on him even more than Jagger’s curious stare. “Just one?”

  “Lotsa brothers got just one girl. Why not me?”

  “’Cause you’re you,” Gunner said. “Voted ‘Least Likely Ever to Settle Down’ five years in a row. Winner of the ‘Most Sweet Butts in the Bed at One Time’ prize. ‘Biker Manwhore of the Year.’ Author of ‘How to Get Laid in Less than Thirty Seconds and Leave Your Friend Drinking Alone at the Bar.’ The man who researched beds big enough for six. The list goes on.”

  “And I’ll be taking those prizes home again this year.” Cade bristled. “It’s not like I’m making her an old lady. Not interested in that level of commitment, or becoming an old man. Hell, I almost got her killed when we stopped at Big Bill’s bike shop and Big Bill came around the corner with a shotgun.”

  “I can fucking imagine what you were doing at Big Bill’s at that time of night.” Gunner snorted a laugh. “How much did you have to pay him off?”

  “Five hundred.”

  And it had been worth every penny.

  Laughter echoed around him, dying quickly when Shaggy whistled to let them know the convoy had entered the valley.

  “You’re fucking obsessed with this chick.” Zane called it straight as he always did. “She dumped you a year ago, and still you still warned the brothers away. You meet her again and suddenly she’s your girl? Just get over her, and be glad she didn’t rip out your fucking heart, rub it in salt, and stomp it into the ground while she fucked every other damn guy on the planet.”

  “Christ. He’s at it again.” Gunner sighed. “Sometimes I want to hunt down the bitch who hurt Zane so bad just to put him out of his misery.”

  Cade rolled to his side and drew his pistol, aiming it at Zane’s chest, fighting back an unexpected burst of anger. “I’ll put him out of his misery now.”

  Zane drew his own weapon, and adrenaline surged through Cade’s veins. This wasn’t about sex. He didn’t just want Dawn in his bed; he wanted more. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to hold her and keep her safe. His want was a craving, an addiction that had only grown worse since he’d met her again.

  “Stand down, brothers.” Jagger barked. “Save it for the Jacks.”

  Cade lowered his weapon and Zane did the same.

  “Fucking bastard,” Zane muttered.

  “Come here and say that.” Cade gestured Zane forward, but as he did, he caught the flash of headlights on the road below. “They’re here.”

  All their differences vanished in a heartbeat, and they took up their positions. Cade, Zane, and Jagger were on point. Shaggy, T-Rex, Tank, and Gunner had their backs. They’d ambushed protection runs before and everyone knew what to do.

  The first Jack went down under Zane’s gun, but before Cade could get a clear shot at the Jack in the lead, a bullet pinged off the rock near Jagger’s head.

  “Fuck. They’ve seen us.”

  “Scouts,” T-Rex shouted. “They’re off to the side. Two Jacks and a civilian.”

  Another bullet thudded into the dirt only two feet from where Jagger was now crouched and ready to run for cover.

  “They’re after Jagger.” Cade jumped to his feet and moved between Jagger and the shooter. “Zane. You and Gunner get him out of here. Tank, T-Rex, and I will cover.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jagger growled. “I’m not running away from the fucking Jacks. Bring them on.”

  “The Sinners need their president.” Cade kept low and followed Jagger behind the cover of a large rock at the edge of the outcropping. “Especially now. Without you…”

  “They’ll have you,” Jagger said, checking his clip. “You can lead them. I trust you.”

  Cade swallowed past the lump in his throat. Jagger’s faith had pulled him out of a nightmare and into a world of friendship, honor, loyalty, and brotherhood. He’d helped Cade bury the past and look to a new future where he had something to live for beyond the bottom of a bottle and a mountain of guilt. But he had no desire to replace a great leader and a true friend.

  “You’re making it damn hard to protect you. Go, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “When your men were falling around you in that desert, did you run away?” Jagger fired a shot around the side of the rock and someone screamed. “Were you the last man standing because you were right where you wanted to be—with your men—or because you were hiding and watching them die?”

  Cade gritted his teeth against a memory that had almost destroyed him. He’d lived through the ambush only because the slaughter had been so sudden and so violent that his men had fallen dead on top of him, ironically saving his life. Even now the guilt lingered. “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you back. Don’t expect me to be any less of a ma
n than you were. And don’t even consider fighting the Jacks without me by your side.” He lifted his hand and Cade did the same, their knuckles bumping as fists collided.

  “To the end,” Jagger said.

  “To the end and back.”

  Jagger ducked a bullet and then returned fire. “You planning to come back from the dead?”

  “I’m not planning to die until I’m an old man.”

  * * *

  It was a little after seven when Dawn arrived at Banks Bar. She’d stayed late at the florist shop, helping her boss get the bouquets ready for a weekend wedding, and then missed her bus when she stopped to grab a snack from a nearby deli. She stuffed the sandwich in her mouth and grabbed her apron from the hook in the stockroom, hoping Banks wouldn’t be around. She had never been late before and she didn’t want to blemish her perfect record.

  “That supposed to be your dinner?” Banks emerged from the parking lot with a crate of bottles in his hands.

  Damn. Dawn nodded, her mouth too full of chicken salad to speak.

  “Not very healthy, always eatin’ on the go. You need to sit down, relax, and enjoy your meals. Better for digestion.”

  “No time,” she muttered through a mouthful of bread. “Not really a sit-down-and-relax kinda girl. I think they call me an A-plus personality.”

  Banks pulled a bottle from the crate and placed it on the stock shelf. “You’re killing yourself to feed Shelly-Ann’s shopping habit. Those girls of yours should be livin’ in style with the amount of money you’re giving their aunt.”

  “One day,” she said. “I haven’t lost hope yet. I reported the assault to the police this time and Deputy Benson thinks there’s a good chance they’ll be able to put Jimmy behind bars. My lawyer says that kind of offense will likely be enough to convince an appeals judge to overturn the custody order.”

  “You want him outta the picture, you just say the word.” Banks shelved another bottle. “I got friends who can make him disappear.”

  So did she, but she wasn’t about to share. “Then you’ll have the Devil’s Brethren hunting you for the rest of your life.” Dawn handed him another bottle. “My fight, Banks, and I’ll deal with it my way. But I appreciate the offer. Always nice to know I have friends who are prepared to kill for me.”

  He gave her a rare Banks grin. “Anytime.”

  The bar was hopping by the time she hit the floor. She counted at least a dozen Sinners scattered throughout the room, most of whom she didn’t know. Arianne waved to her from behind the counter and Rob, the bouncer, nodded a greeting. Dawn picked up her tray and headed to a table of rowdy biker wannabes in the corner, looking utterly ridiculous in their TV biker show cuts.

  After one minute of putting up with their fake biker talk, she signaled to Rob to keep an eye on them. Invariably, they would get drunk and approach one of the real bikers in the bar. If they were lucky, they would get turfed out. If they picked the wrong bikers or really pissed someone off, they would be hauled outside and beaten half to death; their vehicles would be trashed, their money stolen, and she would be mopping up blood and calling for a bevy of ambulances to take them to the hospital.

  By the time she filled their drink orders, the place was full, every seat taken, and it was standing room only at the bar. Dawn worked as quickly as she could, hoping to pick up enough tips to keep Shelly-Ann quiet, at least for the rest of the week. The Pretty Reckless’s “Messed Up World” blasted through the speakers and she returned to the bar from an umpteenth trip across the floor only to find Deputy Benson sitting at the counter.

  “Hey, Doug. What are you doing in the wrong end of town?”

  His crisp dark-blue jeans, hand-tooled leather belt, cowboy boots, and button-down denim shirt made him look more like a country singer than a law enforcement officer, but he greeted her with his usual firm handshake.

  “I pulled the CCTV tapes from the night Jimmy attacked you and stopped by to check the positioning of the cameras at the bus stop. Thirsty work staring at hidden cameras, so I thought I’d come in for a quick drink before I went home.”

  Arianne pulled his beer and Dawn chatted with him every time she hit the bar with a new order. He seemed in no hurry to get home and was content to talk in abruptly interrupted snippets, with Arianne pulling up the slack when Dawn was serving tables.

  “He seems quite decent for a cop,” Arianne whispered as she loaded Dawn’s tray. “A bit straitlaced for me, but nice.”

  “He is nice.” Dawn shuffled the glasses around to balance them out. “Too nice. I’d probably taint him forever if I told him my whole life story. But he can also be very intense. Sometimes he gets fixated on a case and he can’t let go. He told me all about it over coffee one afternoon. He hinted that it had something to do with one of his sisters.”

  Arianne loaded Dawn’s empties in the dishwasher. “Where’s he from? He doesn’t sound local.”

  “Chicago. He wouldn’t tell me why he moved out here, but he doesn’t have any family or ties to the town.” Dawn gave her a grin. “Maybe he’s running from something. I think he has dark secrets. The quiet ones always do.” She lifted the tray, freezing when Arianne hissed in a warning breath.

  But she didn’t need a warning. She knew Cade was here, felt his eyes burning into her skin, had sensed him the moment he walked through the door.

  “Where is he?”

  “How did you…?” Arianne cut herself off with a grin. “Sort of like I did the first time Jagger came to see me.” She looked over Dawn’s shoulder. “He’s heading to the back. Section four. Not sure why because all the tables are taken.” She snorted a laugh. “And suddenly there’s a table free. Your customers from table sixteen have been relocated to section five with only minor injuries. I guess he enjoyed your sordid activities at Big Bill’s bike shop.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you. And it’s not serious. It was just … sex.” Turning slowly, Dawn spotted Cade at the back of the bar, sitting in the corner in an I’m-so-dominant-I-need-the-space-of-three-men pose, his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. God, he was gorgeous.

  “I’m surprised to see him.” Arianne pulled a bottle of bourbon from the shelf. “Last I heard, he and Gunner were at Peelers Strip Club with some of the brothers for a hot night watching Dancing Delilah and the other strippers. They were celebrating some secret thing that happened a few days ago that I’m not supposed to know involves fifty thousand dollars’ worth of stolen guns, five injured Jacks, and one angry Mafia boss.”

  “Seriously? And now he’s here?” Dawn turned and Cade beckoned her to him with a waggle of his finger. “Oh. My. God. Does he think I’m going over there after he’s spent the evening with a woman in his lap? The strippers were the warm-up and I’m the booty call?”

  “From the way he’s looking at you,” Arianne said, “that would be a yes. And I have a feeling that if you don’t go over, he’s going to pounce. But, like you said, it’s not serious, so why do you care?”

  “I don’t.”

  Arianne gave her sly grin. “Maybe you should kiss your cop friend. See how not-serious Cade thinks things are between you. Because I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned during my time at the club: The Sinners are a possessive bunch. Once they claim you, there is no going back.”

  After enduring all the posturing at the police station, Dawn could just imagine what would happen if she kissed Doug. But she didn’t want Doug to get the wrong idea, or for Cade to wind up in jail. “Maybe I’ll just ignore him instead. I’m not going over there to be someone’s sloppy seconds.”

  Arianne poured a shot of bourbon and placed it on Dawn’s tray. “He’s watching you like a predator about to pounce. If you don’t go over there, he’s gonna hunt you down, and I don’t think he’ll care who gets in his way. Maybe you should spare Banks the bloodshed.”

  Dawn unbuttoned the top two buttons on her shirt and pulled the ponytail holder from her hair. “How about this? He wants a hot night; I’ll give
him a hot night. But it will be look and don’t touch.”

  “I can hardly wait.” Arianne laughed. “Cade’s never been with a woman who pushed back. He’s always the one running the show.”

  Dawn lifted the tray and wove her way through the tables, flirting and joking with her other customers as she steeled herself for a professional but distant conversation with the man who made her blood hot and her heart cold. By the time she reached Cade’s table his lazy smile had disappeared beneath a mask of disapproval.

  “You look like you need a drink.” She handed him the last glass on her tray.

  His fingers brushed over hers as he took the glass. A zing of electricity shot through her body and she stifled a gasp.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “What?”

  “That.” He gestured toward the sea of tables between them and the bar. “Taking down your hair. Unbuttoning your shirt. All that laughing and smiling and touching guys. That dude on the right in the red shirt is still staring at your ass. And those two suits haven’t stopped looking at your legs.”

  “That is called being friendly with the customers. Happy customers give better tips.”

  “This customer isn’t happy.” He sipped the bourbon, his eyes boring into her with an intensity that took her breath away. “You’re my girl. You don’t be friendly with anyone but me.”

  Dawn lifted an admonishing eyebrow. “First, I don’t recall us discussing an exclusive arrangement in which I would be your girl. And second, you get to be friendly with the dancers at Peelers? Hardly seems fair.” She tried to keep her tone light, but her words came out slightly sharp and she cringed inwardly. She didn’t do jealous. And really, she didn’t care what Cade did in his free time. So they’d shared a few kisses. And blazingly hot sex in parking lot behind a bike shop. No big deal.

  Cade finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. “I had a shit week, so yeah, I went to Peelers to relax. Watched my friend Delilah on the pole, but afterward, when she wanted to dance in my lap, I turned her down. All I could think about was you.”