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

by Sarah Castille

  Zane opened his mouth to ask Jagger to handle the surveillance personally, and closed it again when he remembered the kiss that had started it all, and the night he’d discovered that there was pain worse than the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father. Although nine years had passed, and Jagger had found the other half of his soul with Arianne, Zane didn’t think his heart could go through that kind of pain again.

  “I’ll do it.” Zane settled back in his chair. “Shooter can stay outside and I’ll take the inside watch.”

  “You sure? I need someone to check out the local support clubs for puppet Jacks.” Jagger lifted an eyebrow, giving Zane an out if he wanted it.

  “Yeah. Although maybe not first thing in the morning, ’cause I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get out of bed.”

  Jagger clapped him on the back. “Shooter will take you back to the clubhouse. He’s waiting outside with the bikes. I couldn’t let him come in because last time he almost shot the place up when he saw some dude at the bar wearing a TV show cut.”

  “That boy’s got a serious gun problem,” Zane said. “He carries more weapons on him than Cade had notches on his belt before hooking up with Dawn. Sometimes I wonder how he stands upright.”

  “Well then it’s a good thing he’ll be your second.” Gunner raised a challenging eyebrow. “No risk that boy’s gonna run out of ammo.”

  “Fuck you.” Zane steadied himself with the back of the chair. Holy Hell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk. Usually he stopped at one drink, sometimes two, because he didn’t want to impair his ability to ride. Well, he’d kicked that record under the table tonight.

  “Easy, brother.” Jagger steadied him with a firm hand. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep in nine fucking years,” he mumbled, half to himself. “I doubt I’m gonna start tonight.”

  * * *

  “We’ve got a big problem.” Connie sipped her coffee, leaving a bright pink lipstick stain on her chipped white mug. The small kitchen in Evie’s rental bungalow was barely big enough to hold a table and two chairs, but with with a wall of white lacquer cabinets, green accents and a black-and-white tiled floor, it was cozy and eclectic. And it was hers. Sort of.

  Small droplets of water slid down Connie’s hair and splashed on the shiny green table. Two days of rain and no sign of a break in the clouds. Evie had sent Ty down the road to have a playdate with a friend to get him off the gaming console, although she suspected that was exactly what he would be doing when he got there.

  “I guessed that from your unexpected visit in a downpour on our Sunday off.” Evie poured herself a second cup of coffee then lifted the aerosol container of whipped cream beside her and squirted it over the top. She had been awake all night trying to figure out how to introduce Zane and Ty without taking the risk Zane might not want to be involved. She didn’t want Ty to get hurt, and if Zane wasn’t interested in being a parent, it would be better to feel him out first before making the introductions so she could prepare Ty in advance, or even not tell him at all.

  “That looks good in a bad sort of way.” Connie shook her head when Evie offered her the container. “But whipped cream on black coffee? Why don’t you just add cream and sugar like normal people? It’s not hot chocolate. It’s not dessert. It’s not a latte. Hell, it’s not even a man’s—”

  “Don’t go there.” Evie added a last dollop of whipped cream and then licked it off the top.

  “Do you let Ty see you do that? What kind of mother are you?” Connie stirred her coffee, her attempt at righteous indignation totally lost in her accompanying snort of laughter.

  “The kind who’s addicted to whipped cream, and when no one is looking, sprays it into her son’s mouth to his utter delight.” She licked her lips and grinned. “Plus, this is more efficient. Why add cream and sugar when they come already mixed together? And this is real cream. No chemicals. I only buy the best. I’ve turned Bill to the dark side, too. There’s a can of whipped cream in his office fridge.”

  Connie’s smile faded. “Bill is gone. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

  “I guessed that when he didn’t show up at work all week.”

  “No. I mean gone as in disappeared. I haven’t seen him since the night Axle came in one door and Bill slipped out the other. I went by his place, and when I looked in the window, I saw food spoiling on the counter. I think the Black Jacks got him.”

  Evie’s hand tightened on her mug and her mouth went dry. “Maybe he just ran after seeing Axle at the shop. He might have figured Axle had a message for him that he didn’t want to hear.”

  “You think they found out about the skim?” Connie dabbed at the water drop on the table. “I never understood why he would take the risk of stealing from the Jacks, especially after introducing you to Viper. Is the store doing that bad?”

  “We’ve been in the black for the last year, although we’re not making a huge profit,” Evie said.

  Bill had sold half his interest in the business to Evie after he got involved with the Jacks. His gun running took him out of the state for weeks at a time and he needed someone reliable to look after the shop and the employees. Evie had to do a lot of soul searching before she parted with her cash, but after her accountant gave the deal a thumbs up, the opportunity to double her earnings as a part-owner of the business and to secure a better future for Ty had been impossible to turn down.

  “Maybe he just panicked,” she suggested.

  “That’s what I’m feeling now.” Connie’s face paled. “What if they got him? What if the Jacks tortured him to find out where the guns are?” Her voice wavered. “What if your Black Jack boyfriend shows up for your date and tells you he just made a fresh kill? Or worse … what if Bill’s pulled a runner and they come after us looking for the guns?”

  “Then we’ll tell them where the guns are.” She had no doubt the Black Jacks were involved in illegal activities, but Viper rarely mentioned his club around her, never brought her to the clubhouse, never talked business, and except for Axle, had never introduced her to his biker brothers. He had a wide variety of interests, however, and when they were together, they talked about everything from politics to entertainment and from sports to art.

  She laughed, trying to put Connie at ease. “I’ll make sure Viper knows that torturing my friends is a deal breaker, and he’ll have to find another civilian to date. And if it makes you feel safer, you can stay here. I have my own personal Sinner’s Tribe biker guards so you can be sure the Jacks won’t be coming around.”

  “I noticed them standing on the street on my way in.” Connie licked her lips and grinned. “Cute, but in a menacing kind of way.”

  They left the kitchen to check out the bikers, now huddled together under a tree as the rain streamed around them. Evie recognized the blond from the night Axle had paid his first visit to Bill’s shop, but not his dark-haired partner.

  “I texted Jagger,” she said. “Apparently Axle escaped from Zane so now Jagger has his boys watching my house and the shop in case Axle shows up again. I told him none of the Jacks know where I live, and Axle won’t be coming around again, but he insisted. They really want the poor guy bad. I’m afraid to think what they might do to him.”

  “You know exactly what they’re going to do. Zane was trying to kill him.” Connie’s lips quivered at the corners and she shot Evie a sideways glance. “They’re looking kind of wet. And cold. The hot, dark one shivered when I walked by earlier. It would be terrible if they died of pneumonia right there on the street. And they look so young … early to mid-twenties … same as us. I don’t know if I could live with myself, knowing I was the cause of their deaths.”

  Evie tipped her head back and groaned. “You’re as bad as Ty when he’s trying to guilt me into buying him something he doesn’t need.”

  “Please, Evie.” Connie gave her a soulful look. “Can’t they come inside?”

  “Okay.�
�� Evie sighed. “They can sit on the porch, but you’re responsible for them.”

  “I’ll just give them food and water and clean up their mess. And I won’t ask to keep them.” Connie pulled open the door. “You can have the blond, but leave the dark-haired one for me.”

  Evie leaned out and waved the bikers over to the house. Yeah, the blond guy was cute, but she wasn’t looking for a man. She hadn’t had a serious relationship since Mark, and Viper was just … an interesting distraction. Especially now that she’d seen Zane. She brought her fingers to her cheek, remembering the heat of his breath, and how she had almost let him kiss her.

  Zane.

  The intense connection and chemistry that had first drawn them together hadn’t changed. But she had. She was finally in control of her life. No longer at the mercy of her mother’s emotional abuse, or longing for a father who was rarely home, she had embraced normal to the extent she knew what normal was. She made her own choices, cleaned up her own messes, and occasionally let her wild side out to play. And that most definitely wasn’t going to be with the man who had left her alone and pregnant, wishing on a promise he didn’t keep.

  She let Connie fuss over the bikers while she called to check up on Ty and chatted with him about his game. By the time she made it outside, Connie had everything ready: coffee, sandwiches, and cookies. She introduced Evie to the bikers, dark-haired Tank and his companion, T-Rex.

  “Much obliged for the snack.” Tank stood to make room as Evie joined them on the porch.

  “Thank Connie, not me. She’s the one who felt sorry for you standing out in the rain.”

  Tank leaned back and stretched out his long legs, the patio chair creaking beneath his weight as they chatted about the town and the club. He was a bear of a man, but all muscle and no flab, with a cheeky smile and a dry sense of humor. She could see why Connie was practically drooling over him. T-Rex had a similar build to Tank, but without the bulk. He was fun and easygoing and she was surprised to hear he didn’t have a girlfriend. Connie gave her a nudge when T-Rex made the big reveal, but he was too nice, even though he was an outlaw, and Evie had never been attracted to the “nice” guys.

  Still, she’d never thought outlaw bikers could be such fun, and when Connie switched their coffee for beer, and the conversation turned flirtatious, she felt the stress of the last two days sliding away. Between the jokes and the laughter, they all turned a blind eye to the fact the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. And when T-Rex put a hand on Evie’s knee as he leaned over to get another beer, she wondered if she’d been too hasty dismissing the nice guys. Maybe that’s what she needed in her life. Someone relaxed and even-tempered, without a hint of Zane’s dark, brooding, passionate depths, or Viper’s feral power.

  And just as Zane’s face flickered through her mind, there he was. How he had managed to drive down her street and climb the steps without any of them noticing was beyond her, save as a testament to just how much fun they’d been having.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he snapped by way of greeting. “What the hell is going on?”

  SIX

  Think before you act. If you do impulsive, stupid things, you will break parts.

  —SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

  Evie gently removed T-Rex’s hand from her leg and stood to greet her guests. But Zane clearly wasn’t interested in hellos. His gaze locked on T-Rex and his lips peeled back in a snarl.

  “What the fuck are you doing touching her?”

  Zane’s companion, a young, slightly crazed-looking biker with a thin, angular face and a dark, pointed goatee joined him on the porch, and pulled a gun from his cut.

  “You want me to take someone out?” He waved the gun vaguely over their small group and Connie screamed.

  “Dammit, Shooter. Put that away. We’re in a residential area and if someone calls the fucking cops, I’m not bailing you out.” Zane slapped Shooter’s wrist and the aptly-named Shooter tucked the gun away with a mumbled apology.

  T-Rex and Tank scrambled to their feet. T-Rex hung his head like a kid who’d just been called to the principal’s office, and Tank followed suit.

  “It was … uh … rainin’,” Tank said. “And the ladies offered us a snack and a chance to dry off.”

  Zane’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Evie knew that look, just as she knew the throb of the pulse in his neck. She’d seen that look back in their school days when he found out someone had hurt her, or worse, asked her out. Alarmed by his anger, Evie took a step toward him.

  “Don’t.” He raised his hand and she froze, stunned by his command and his authoritative tone. So unlike the Zane she remembered. Like Jagger, he radiated power, but without Jagger’s softer edge.

  “How the fuck can you watch the street if you’re gabbing with a coupla chicks?” Zane’s hands curled into fists. “Shooter and I drove around the block, parked our bikes out front, walked right onto the porch, and you two idiots didn’t even bat an eye.”

  “Sorry, man.” T-Rex held up his hands palm forward in a placating gesture. Evie gave him credit for remaining cool in a crisis. Zane had been frightening in his anger as a teenager, but now that he was a man, his intensity had ratcheted up to a whole new level.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it if someone gets killed.” Zane’s voice rose to a shout.

  Worried that the confrontation would escalate out of control, Evie covered his hand with her own, startling when a zing of white lightning shot straight to her core.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’re okay. No one came down the street except you.”

  Zane jerked his hand away so fast, Evie lost her balance. Reacting quickly, T-Rex grabbed her arm to steady her. Zane lost control. He grabbed T-Rex by the collar and yanked him forward, dislodging his hand from Evie’s arm.

  “Get your fucking hands off her.”

  Evie opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but closed it again after a warning cough from Tank. Following his lead, she thanked them for watching out for her and moved to the side to let them pass.

  “Why aren’t you at the shop?” Zane turned his anger on her, and Connie discreetly ushered Shooter down the steps.

  “It’s Sunday.” She struggled to keep her voice calm and even. “We usually have the day off and Bill runs the store alone, although he seems to have disappeared so it’s closed today.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why? Did you need something?”

  “Yeah.” His voice softened, and their eyes met. Caught in the intensity of his gaze, Evie was drawn back to the first time she realized her feelings for him went beyond friendship. After school one warm spring afternoon they’d climbed their favorite tree to check out a robin’s nest. As always, Zane went down first. But that time, when he wrapped his hands around her waist to help her, something changed. Warmed by the press of his hands on her body, she stared into his dark eyes, and knew deep in her soul she was exactly where she was meant to be. In that moment, the world shifted irrevocably between them, and when he let her go, she felt instantly bereft.

  After that afternoon, she’d made up excuses to touch him—brushing her thigh against his leg when they sat on Jagger’s couch, a hand on his arm when she lost her balance, a gentle stroke on his hair to remove an imaginary leaf—and every time she felt the rush, a curious sizzle that went straight to her core. But except for that brief moment when he’d held her, his eyes soft, his breath warm on her cheek, he never treated her as anything more than a friend.

  Until the night he ran away.

  “What are you looking for?” She looked down, letting her hair cover her face so he couldn’t see the flush in her cheeks. “I have a few hours free this afternoon, and since Bill isn’t there, I don’t mind going in to help you out. Ty … my son … is with a friend.”

  “Paint.”

  God, this was as bad as getting Ty to tell her about his day at school. “Do you need to buy paint or are you looking for artwork?”

  “Art. Yours.”


  Evie fought back a smile. Zane had always reverted to monosyllabic answers in emotionally stressful situations, and she had a feeling his stress wasn’t because of T-Rex and Tank shirking their duties. “You want to see my portfolio and some samples or do you have something in mind?” She sidestepped around him, heading for the door so she could grab her purse. Her body brushed against his and just that tiny touch—the feel of his hard chest against her breasts, the scent of his leather cut—sent her pulse skyrocketing, and she stumbled.

  Zane put out a hand to steady her, then yanked her against him, holding her fast with an arm around her waist. “You were always touching me, Evie,” he murmured. “Drove me outta my fucking mind. You playing games with me now?”

  Her chest expanded and she sucked in some badly needed air. This wasn’t Zane the teenager, who fumbled with her clothes beside the creek, his hands shaking as he touched her bare skin. This was Zane the man, confident, self-assured and strong, with a dominance that made her knees weak and a body that made her mouth water.

  Dangerous. Maybe even a killer.

  No. She pushed the thought away. Even after she gave up hope of seeing him again, she never believed he was responsible for her father’s death.

  “We should go.” She pulled away, at least she thought she did, but his hand stayed firm on her lower back. “I’ll show you my portfolio.”

  “Saw it when I stopped by the shop on my way here. You got real talent. Always did.”

  “You broke into the shop?” The warmth of his hand seeped through her body making it difficult to keep her spine stiff and her indignation firm.

  A half grin spread across his face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Thought maybe you were unconscious inside since the hours on the door said the shop was open on Sunday.”