Sin: A Dark & Dirty MC Romance (Satan's Sinners Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  Me: Which way?

  Sin: ‘Committed.’ Like he was involved in a crime. He was obviously depressed, Tiff. Probably lost and scared.

  Me: I think that’s what I can’t forgive. Was money that important to him? Did his reputation mean so much more to him than I did?

  Sin: No, sweetheart. He loved you. That’s all you have to remember.

  Me: Easier said than done.

  Me: I don’t even have my degree, Sin. I know how things work, but even I’m at a loss. There’s so much to becoming a psychologist. I was only at the start of my education.

  Sin: Do you think you’ll want to go back to school to get your degree? Maybe head in that direction?

  Me: Is that an option?

  Me: I mean, I’d kind of like that.

  Sin: I can keep us well fed and with a roof over our head, Tiff. Not saying you could live like you did with your daddy, but we can have a good life.

  Me: Really?

  Sin: I might be in line for a promotion, and if I am, things will get better still. I might think about putting in an extension on the back of the house.

  Me: Why? It’s plenty big enough as it is.

  Sin: In case we want two.

  Me: Oh.

  Me: Fuck.

  Me: Really?

  Sin: I told you a long time ago that you and me will never be nothing, Tiff.

  Sin: Glad I’m coming back just to remind you of that.

  Me: Thank you, Sin.

  Sin: For what?

  Me: Being you.

  The next morning.

  Sin

  Tiff: Fuck.

  Me: Lol, what is it? It’s early for you, isn’t it?

  Tiff: I think this is what morning sickness feels like. Either that or I ate something bad last night.

  Me: What did you eat?

  Tiff: A sandwich. I wasn’t very hungry. After the way things went down at the clubhouse? Yikes, no way was I ready to eat. I only had the sandwich because Lily said I had to.

  Me: She’s going to be a tyrant through this pregnancy, isn’t she?

  Tiff: Lol, yeah, I think so.

  Tiff: TBH, I’m going to let her be. Maybe if she uses me as a project, it will help her.

  Tiff: Did you know about her dad? Luke?

  Me: No, but I shot the shit with the guys last night. They kept me in the loop. I’m sorry, love.

  Me: I knew about the women, but not about what they did to her.

  Tiff: I’m ashamed of myself for not spotting the signs.

  Me: Don’t be nuts. You weren’t born a therapist.

  Tiff: She’s my best friend. Christ, we’re like sisters. But she was being abused for all that time, and I never picked up on it?

  Me: You were a kid for most of that time, angel. Stop being so hard on yourself.

  Tiff: Easier said than done.

  Me: Ain’t that the story of everyone’s life.

  Tiff: True.

  Me: How did yesterday go, anyway? You wouldn’t really talk about it last night.

  Tiff: Badly. But good too.

  Tiff: I never expected for Lily to admit what she did, but when she opened up? The others let her in. It was touching. Sad, but beautiful.

  Me: I hate that fucker.

  Tiff: Me too. I wish he was dead like Luke.

  Me: It’s something to think about.

  Tiff: It is?

  Me: You’re in a whole other world now, babe. Just leave it to us.

  Tiff: Shit. Right. Yeah.

  Me: You scared?

  Tiff: No.

  Tiff: I just realized something is all.

  Me: What?

  Tiff: Our kid will be one of you.

  Me: You will be soon too.

  Tiff: I guess.

  Me: Lol. Don’t turn snooty on me now.

  Tiff: I’ve seen what goes down in that bar, Sin.

  Me: Can’t judge the whole club on that. We’re a family, you know that. We protect each other. That’s what matters.

  Tiff: You also fuck each other.

  Me: Lol. Clubwhores are a different thing.

  Tiff: Will you still sleep with them?

  Me: I’m surprised you asked.

  Tiff: Why?

  Me: Because if you’d asked me and I was home already, I’d spank you for that.

  Tiff: Oooh, did I make you mad?

  Me: You know you did.

  Me: Ain’t fucked anyone since the last time I slid into that delicious cunt of yours.

  Tiff: I really shouldn’t like it when you get all gruff on me.

  Me: Gruff’s one way of phrasing it.

  Me: Pissed is another.

  Tiff: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.

  Me: No, you never do.

  Me: I’m gonna go.

  Tiff: No! Sin! Please don’t.

  Two hours later

  Me: I’m on the road. We should be back for three.

  Tiff: Are you still mad at me?

  Me: Disappointed.

  Me: Did you fuck someone while I was gone?

  Tiff: Holy shit! Is that why you’re mad?

  Me: Maybe. If you think I’m fucking anything that moves, maybe that’s you projecting it onto me.

  Tiff: Fuck that. I’m not a cheater.

  Me: Neither the hell am I.

  Tiff: You’ve gone to a place you might have been stuck in forever. I wasn’t sure what was going on with us.

  Me: I was always either going to get my ass home or bring you down here.

  Tiff: What?!

  Me: You read that right.

  Tiff: Well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Sin, I’m not the only one who’s shit at communicating. You never said dick about me moving to Ohio.

  Me: Because I didn’t think you’d be open to the idea, but if my plans didn’t work, I wouldn’t have let you get away.

  Tiff: Fuck, is it bad that I like that?

  Me: Why is that bad?

  Tiff: I’m supposed to be a feminist.

  Me: Lol.

  Tiff: It isn’t funny!

  Me: You want me to go caveman on you?

  Tiff: Maybe. *gulps* What does that involve?

  Me: Probably what you’re already used to. My dick is so ready to slide home, angel.

  Tiff: Oh.

  Tiff: Shit.

  Tiff: Why do you always say that kind of thing?

  Me: That a complaint?

  Tiff: No, but now I’m horny. And I thought you were mad at me, so my body’s all restless.

  Me: Lol. I’ll settle your body the second I get back. And I WAS mad at you. Let’s not beat around the fucking bush, angel.

  Tiff: I’d never cheat on you.

  Tiff: Ever.

  Tiff: But my life, my world, is different than yours. Yours has women who’ll service you and won’t even care if you’re married or not.

  Me: I can’t argue with that, because you’re right, but it’s down to each man to say no, isn’t it?

  Tiff: Yeah, it is.

  Tiff: But you can’t blame me for being nervous.

  Me: Yeah, I can. If you think you’re not special to me, then that’s an issue. Like I said, I’ll be home soon, and we can sort things out then.

  Tiff: Should I be scared?

  Me: Lol, your pussy should. My cock is aching something fierce.

  Tiff: God, when will you get here?

  Me: ASAP, doll.

  Tiff: Thank fuck.

  Me: I missed you.

  Tiff: You already know I missed you. I did. I’m not good at talking about this stuff, but I’ll get better with time. If you want to hear it that is.

  Me: Of course I do.

  Me: I have to go, the guys are calling me, but I want you to know something.

  Tiff: Sure. What is it?

  Me: I was married before. Back when I was new to the Forces. It didn’t last.

  Tiff: Oh. Christ. You were married?

  Tiff: Why didn’t it last?

  Me: Got back from deployment, my first one, and s
he’d been cheating on me.

  Tiff: Shit. Sorry, Sin. Even if I’m glad you’re not with her anymore and you’re mine.

  Me: Does my heart good to know you think that way, angel.

  Tiff: I won’t do that to you. I’m not like that.

  Me: I hope you’re not.

  Me: I don’t intend on letting you get away from me, Tiff.

  Me: But I won’t be like Storm. He’s a dumbass. Lost his woman and his kid over it, so I’m going to be straight up with you.

  Me: If a clubwhore comes on to me? I’ll tell you, because they’re catty bitches and they’ll share it either way. When I tell you, I don’t want you fucking thinking about whether I’m telling the full truth or not. You hear me?

  Tiff: I hear you.

  Me: Good. I’ll be honest with you, and I expect the same in return.

  Tiff: You’ll get that. But I don’t think I have to worry. I’m dating a nasty biker. I think I have a big fat ‘no entry’ sign on my forehead coming my way.

  Me: Lol. Yeah, but still, there’s always a way to lie to people.

  Me: I don’t want that with you.

  Tiff: I don’t want that either.

  Tiff: I’m sorry I made you worry.

  Me: Yeah, you did. I thought you weren’t like that—then you were weird this morning.

  Me: I’ll be so fucking glad when the only reason I have to text you is to ask you to pick up something from the store or to tell you when I’ll be home.

  Me: I want to be able to fucking look you in the eye when we talk about important shit.

  Tiff: I suggested vid calls back in the day.

  Me: No privacy. Not letting anyone catch a glimpse of you.

  Tiff: You’re a lot more possessive than I thought you were.

  Me: That going to be a problem? If it is, say so now because I’m only just getting started.

  Tiff: It’s not a problem.

  Tiff: But hurry home, yeah?

  *Picture received*

  Me: Fuck. I want those juices all over my fucking mouth.

  Me: Get you hot thinking about me being all possessive over you?

  Tiff: Yeah, it did. It really DOES.

  Tiff: Sin?

  Me: Yeah, baby.

  Tiff: Be safe?

  Me: Got someone to worry about and someone who worries about me now, angel. I’ll always be safe

  .

  Lodestar

  “Katina, if you ask me one more time, I might scream.”

  She snickered. “Are we there yet?”

  When I let out a holler that turned into a wail a banshee would be proud of, she started pissing herself.

  Not literally.

  Thank fuck she was past that phase.

  There’d been a few times, right at the start when I’d fostered her, that she’d been a bed-wetter, but I was proud we were past those days. Phew. They’d been kinda gross.

  Okay, more than that, they’d been a lot gross.

  I wasn’t sure what she’d expected though, way back then, but I thought someone might have hit her for pissing the bed. She’d been shaking when she’d woken me up to tell me, and that we’d gone from that to this?

  Her laughing as I screamed in the car?

  No lie, I thought I’d done a really fucking great job.

  When she started slapping her knee, I stopped screaming and grinned at her when she let out a final hoot.

  When she asked, “But, really, Star, when are we gonna get there?” I rolled my eyes, and she saw that plain as day because she was staring at me in the rearview mirror.

  “I told you it was a long drive.”

  “Yeah, you did.” She grimaced, then something had her perking up. “Can we really go to New York?”

  “Yeah, not right away.” As in, not this year, not with the fucking Irish Mob breathing down my neck, but she didn’t need to know that—both the time or the reason why. I’d only just figured that shit out too. aCooooig for a username? The Acuig Corporation. Five Points… I’d bitten off more than I could chew for once. “We need to set up a base here first,” I muttered, after I cleared my throat.

  She squinted at me. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  It was really hard not tugging at my shirt collar, because Christ, kids were better investigators than the cops.

  They really got into the nitty gritty of shit, and when they scented blood, they never fucking let go.

  I huffed out a sigh. “How can I be in trouble? I’m a virtual assistant.”

  She snickered. “Yeah, you keep on telling yourself that.”

  “Have you been snooping?”

  “It’s not snooping if you leave the computer on, is it?”

  “I never do that, so you must have been snooping.”

  “Well, it was a bunch of letters and numbers and stuff.” And stuff.

  Malboge.

  Ha.

  She could be a better bloodhound than the FBI, but she couldn’t read that level of coding.

  Not yet, at any rate.

  I peered at the odometer, the gas gauge, then the GPS, and told her, “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Now you’re answering?”

  “Yeah, because we’ll be there soon. Plus, we need to be there soon, because I can’t afford to keep you with snacks on this trip.”

  She sniffed. “I haven’t eaten that much.”

  “You’ve eaten me out of house and home.”

  “You can afford a Porsche, so I figure you can afford a few quesadillas here and there.”

  I grinned at her, loving that she never took any of my shit. “You’re going to like it where we’re going. They’re your kind of people.”

  “They are? Who are my kind of people?” she inquired, frowning at me.

  She was a pretty kid. All blonde hair, long arms, and short legs. I mean, she looked like an alien, kind of, but I figured when she grew into her limbs, she’d be cute.

  As it stood, her face was doll-like, and I knew if I took her to Manhattan, some fucking model agency would pick her up and put her on their books.

  She was that level of weird that designers liked on their catwalks.

  I stared into her clear blue eyes and told her the truth. “They’re good people. But they might have a few scars here and there, might utter one too many swear words, but they’re friendly if you let them be.”

  That was a bit of a reach. But hell, the bikers were good with kids. I knew because they were a family, even if that family usually had parties that would make a Roman orgy look tame from time to time.

  I mean, it wasn’t like the kids were frickin’ invited to those fuckfests.

  Jeez.

  “They might not like me,” she mumbled.

  “Of course they will. Just, ya know, don’t be too honest with them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve already told you. You can’t tell people if they have a zit. I mean, they have to know. It’s their face, right?”

  She sniffed. “If there’s a big fat zit on someone’s nose, I’m telling them. I think it’d be mean not to.”

  My lips twitched. “Is it kind to make them feel embarrassed?”

  “No, I guess not, but I’m trying to save them from embarrassment in the long run.”

  I sighed, because fuck, we’d had this conversation so many times. The kid wondered why she found it hard to make friends when she was so honest—it was painful to behold.

  Like the other day, before the shit had hit the fan and we’d had to go AWOL, I’d worn a really nice pair of shorts and a great tee to take her out to the movie theater.

  I went downstairs, headed for my bag, and she said the forbidden words: “Your butt looks big in those shorts.”

  Even now, I cringed at the memory.

  I was used to her, though, so I hadn’t been offended, and I’d told her, “My butt doesn’t look big, it looks thick. Yes, there’s a difference.”

  Shaking my head at the memo
ry, I grinned when the GPS told me we were almost there.

  For someone who was relatively smart, and a veritable genius with computers, I found it incredibly difficult to navigate. As in, I was terrible at it.

  As in, I could get lost in a fucking supermarket.

  So that the GPS was bleating at me to get off at this turn? I was a very happy bunny.

  We’d taken three days to do the nine-hour journey because she kept getting car sick, and I was so tired of being on the move.

  The trouble was, if she sat in the front seat, she didn’t get sick. If she sat in the back, she did.

  The last thing I needed was for us to get stopped by the cops considering, she was, ya know, technically kidnapped.

  I mean, she didn’t know that, but we weren’t supposed to cross state lines without approval from her social worker, and I’d done more than cross the damn line, I’d gone over to the East Coast.

  I figured there’d be all kinds of alerts on me by now, so I’d been taking back roads.

  Worth it.

  We were there, nearly home free. I’d had to burn another identity, but I wasn’t about to let her go back into the system, not when it had fucked her around already.

  When we made it down the road to the clubhouse, I saw the Prospect on the gate, and climbed out of the car when I pulled off to the side of the road.

  “Stay here, this might take a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so?”

  She snorted. “Yeah, that never works.”

  I turned around to look at her for real, instead of just in the rearview mirror, and muttered, “I need to speak with one of the guys.”

  “I can’t believe we’re going to a biker’s clubhouse. This is so cool.”

  Yeah.

  Cool.

  I pulled a face. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  “What? That we crossed a gazillion state lines?” She was too smart for my good, and her smile told me that. “Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone. Not that I have anyone to tell,” she muttered.

  “Well, we’re going to work on that for the future, aren’t we?”

  She huffed. “I guess I can try.”

  “You’d better try. These guys are nice, doll, but they’re not that nice where you can talk mean to them and tell them they look fat in their jeans.”

  She grinned, but when I just stared her down, she ducked her head. “Okay, I won’t.”

  “Good. Even if you think it’s going to hurt their self-esteem if someone else picks up on it before you, or teases them about it, you don’t say anything, okay?”