Sinner's Steel

by Sarah Castille

  Connie put a hand on her hip and sashayed toward the door. “I think you should work it. If you decide you want him, he’ll be drooling all over the floor. If you don’t want him, he’ll never forget you. Either way, you’ll leave an impression. Although, I have to say, the couple of times he came into the shop, he didn’t strike me as a man who took ‘I don’t want to see you any more’ for an answer. And since you’re not interested in getting involved with Zane again, he’s your best option for getting a little biker down ’n dirty.”

  And wasn’t that part of the reason Evie had agreed to see him the first time? After years of dealing with Mark’s insecurities, there was something utterly compelling about a man who dripped power and confidence. She had been flattered by his attention, intrigued by his charm, and slightly awed by the fact he had so many men to do his bidding.

  A tiny part of her had thrilled at having captured his interest, and there was no danger of getting caught in the trap of thinking her relationship with Viper was anything more than a fling. Viper was a statement to herself that she’d gotten over the emotional abandonment issues that had driven her to seek safety and security with Mark despite knowing he was wrong for her. She could look after herself, face the world on her own terms. And what better way to prove it than to play with the biggest baddest biker in town?

  But that was before Zane returned. He was everything that had attracted her to Viper, but without the ruthless edge. Where Jagger and Viper wore their power for all to see, Zane commanded respect without the show. She’d seen how his biker brothers deferred to him, and how even Jagger looked to him for advice. Not that she wanted to get involved with Zane. Even though she now knew he’d returned to Stanton, he was three years too late, and he wasn’t there when she needed him. But more than that, he had broken her heart.

  In his own way, Zane was as dangerous as Viper, and his very presence cast Viper in a new light.

  “It’s not like we’re in a real relationship.” She pulled out the elastic from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. “We don’t text or talk to each other every day. We haven’t slept together … just kissed.” Perfectly adequate kisses, considering the scratchy beard, the rough lips, and the fact he always seemed amused when he backed away.

  “Then he’ll be all over you tonight.” Connie smirked. “Biker presidents aren’t known for their restraint. He probably didn’t know how to handle a civilian at first. Better bring some condoms ’cause I’ll bet he’ll be wanting more than a kiss tonight.”

  Viper’s kiss. So unlike Zane’s kiss.

  Oh, God. That kiss. Fueled by desire, filled with passion, Zane’s kiss had been deliciously hard and hungry. He had taken everything she had to give and demanded more. After her shower this morning, Evie had inspected the bruises he left on her skin, remembering how it felt to be held tight, totally and utterly claimed, if only for a moment. The spark was still there between them, but now, when her heart had finally healed and she had moved on with her life, he wasn’t the right guy for her. She couldn’t control a man like Zane. Or maybe the problem was that she couldn’t control herself around him.

  So maybe she was better with second best.

  A loud knock on the front door startled her and she peered out the window into the twilight, spotting the motorcycle parked on the street only seconds before Jagger shouted from outside.

  “Evie. It’s Jagger. Gotta talk to you.”

  She pulled open the door and he brushed past her, stalking into the house before she could speak.

  “You with Viper, Evie? Is it true?” His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her outfit, and he scowled. “That where you’re going tonight? You’re meeting the fucking president of the fucking Black Jacks?”

  Evie closed the door, taking a minute to compose herself before she whirled around. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but yes.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “All those bastards we saved you from in high school, and you’ve still going for the most dangerous fucking scum of the earth. Except Viper’s not just dangerous. He’s lethal. He’ll fucking chew you up and spit you out if he doesn’t kill you first.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Jagger.” She folded her arms and leaned against the door, her cheeks heating in anger, only vaguely aware of Connie in the hallway behind her. “I’m a grown woman now and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I know who Viper is and he’s never been anything but kind to me.”

  “Kind?” Jagger’s lips curled in disgust. “Kind is not in Viper’s vocabulary. Zane’s gonna go out of his fucking mind when he finds out that Black Jack bitch wasn’t lying.” He pulled out his phone but before he could type out his text, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in a manner unbecoming an outlaw biker president. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

  Evie didn’t need to turn around to know the reason for his outburst, and it was too late to undo what had been done. Damn. She wasn’t ready for this. The timing was off. She hadn’t prepared or even thought about what to say. And really, Zane should have been the first to know.

  “Hell, Evie. Tell me he isn’t—”

  “He is.” She held out her hand to her son. “Ty. This is mom’s friend, Jagger. And Jagger, this is Ty.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Jagger ran a hand through his hair. “He looks just like him.”

  “He swears,” Ty said with delight. “Just like a real biker.” He ran to the kitchen and returned with the glass jar Evie had designated as their swear jar to curb the bad language Ty was learning at school. “You owe four quarters. Or does Jesus Christ count as two swears?”

  “Ty!”

  “I was just saying what he said.”

  “Hey, Ty. How about we go find that board game so mom and her friend can talk.” Connie took the jar from Ty and led him down the hallway to the bedroom.

  Jagger let out a long breath and then sat heavily on the couch, taking up the bulk of the space with the vast spread of his long legs. “Zane doesn’t know, does he?”

  “He left Stanton before I even knew I was pregnant.” Evie sagged against the wall. “He told me he would come for me. And when I found out about the baby, I tried to find him. I didn’t believe he killed my dad like everyone said. I waited, kept trying to find him, but after a while I lost faith. He’s still wanted by the police, Jagger. There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

  Jagger leaned forward on the couch, dropping his hands between his legs. “I know about the warrant. He told me about it when he joined the club because he was worried it would come back on the MC. He had changed his last name, got fake ID, grew his hair. I didn’t give a damn. I know Zane and I didn’t need the details. Neither did the brothers. The club protects him now.”

  Evie sighed and twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger. “No wonder I couldn’t find him. I tried everything, even got child services involved on the basis he wasn’t paying child support just because I thought they’d have more resources to track him down. Then my mom died and I was so alone. I had to sell the house to cover the debts. I was struggling, and I had to accept that Zane wasn’t coming back. Then I bumped into Mark.”

  She didn’t tell him the rest—Mark’s insecurities and controlling behavior, the drinking, the affairs, the money problems, and the night she finally had enough—not just because she knew it would anger Jagger, but because she was embarrassed that she’d stayed so long.

  Jagger shifted on the couch. “You have to tell him, Evie.”

  Her mouth opened then closed again. Yes, she had to tell him, and if Ty got hurt, she would help him through it and they would move on. But now that she’d spent more time with Zane, she wondered if that was really a concern. He’d been outraged at the thought Mark hadn’t been there for his son …

  “Evie.” Jagger’s deep voice echoed in the small space.

  “Yes, of course. I just … I want it to be right. I’ve been worried Zane wouldn’t want to be involved and I don’t
want Ty to get hurt.”

  “You think he wouldn’t want to be involved? That’s his son.” Jagger stood and paced the room. “All these years he’s been talking about a woman who betrayed him, a woman who broke his heart—although he never said it in so many words. I never imagined it was you. I never even thought you and he … I thought we were all just friends.”

  “We were. At least until that one night when Zane and I suddenly realized we were more.” She bit her lip, her forehead creasing in worry. “Do you think he’ll want to be a part of Ty’s life? I mean, you guys don’t really live a family-friendly lifestyle.”

  “Do you really need to ask that question?” Jagger’s voice thickened. “Despite the shit he went through at home, he was always there for us. He even dragged me out of bed one night to rescue you from that heavy metal guitar player who lured you to his trailer … Derek. Zane called him Derek the Dick.”

  Evie’s stomach tightened at the memory. Derek had been wild and exciting, irreverent and cool. All the girls in high school wanted the talented frontman and he picked her. She hadn’t even stopped to think what might happen in that trailer after the concert when Derek invited her to join him and the rest of the band. But, of course, Zane had known and he came to her rescue.

  “Zane flew across the ocean using a fake passport to save me,” Jagger continued. “Even though he was wanted by the police. I was dying in a fucking hospital bed and he came to give me a kick in the ass so I would get on with my life. He’s had my back since the day we met. There is no man I trust more than Zane. No man more loyal. And once he finds out about Ty, nothing will tear him away.”

  “I don’t know if I want Ty involved in your life, Jagger. It’s dangerous.”

  Jagger pulled out his phone. “It’s too late to make that choice. He is involved because Zane is involved. You know my views, but I won’t push you. Do I tell Zane you’re safe and arrange to meet him at the clubhouse, or do I tell him to come here?”

  “Mom?” Ty appeared in the hallway. “Can I play my game again?”

  Evie smiled at Ty, the spitting image of his father, and let out a ragged breath. “Tell him to come. I’ll get Ty ready.”

  * * *

  Hope was his friend once more.

  Zane pulled up in front of Evie’s house and nodded to Shooter and Tank, keeping watch as he’d instructed while their president was inside. He’d been at the far edge of town when he got Jagger’s message that Evie was safe at home.

  He dismounted his bike, wondering what he was going to say. This wasn’t high school. He couldn’t grab Viper in the locker room and threaten to dismember him if he went near Evie again. He couldn’t stop Evie from seeing him if that’s what she wanted to do. Hell, he didn’t really know her any more. He didn’t know if she still preferred running outdoors to spending time in the gym. He had no idea if she still liked her pizza with anchovies and olives, or if she liked pizza at all. What did she do when she wasn’t at work? How did she look after her boy alone? How often did Mark show up to see him? Why the hell had she married Mark, and what the fuck was she doing with Viper?

  The door opened before he could knock, and Jagger blocked his way. “Brother…” He hesitated, his face a curious mix of sympathy and pain. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll be right outside. You need me, I’m here. You need to ride, we’ll ride.” He gestured behind him and Connie slipped past, giving Zane a wan smile.

  “Hey, there, biker boy. You got a surprise waiting inside for you.”

  Zane’s skin prickled as Jagger followed her onto the porch. “What the fuck is going on?”

  When nobody answered, he entered the house, slamming the door behind him. “Evie?”

  “Is that him, mom?”

  His gaze fell on the young boy in front of Evie. He looked to be about seven or eight years old, his dark hair long enough to cover part of his face. Evie had her hands on his thin shoulders and he was staring at Zane, his dark eyes curious.

  “Ty, this is Zane. He’s your … dad.” She looked up and swallowed. “Zane. This is your son … Ty.”

  His.

  Son.

  The words hit him in the gut like a goddamned sledgehammer, knocking the air from his lungs.

  “He’s eight years old,” she said in a rush, as if he might not believe her. “His birthday is in June.”

  But he had no doubt Evie was telling the truth. He could see the similarities, from Ty’s dark eyes to his lightly tanned skin, and from his overlong brown hair to the sharp planes and angles of the boy’s face.

  That night—the one perfect night in his life—had produced this perfect child.

  He opened his mouth, but words failed him. Caught in a maelstrom of emotion, he fought an internal battle against his instinct to walk out the door, jump on his bike, and ride until he ran out of road. He needed time to come to terms with what he’d just heard. Who he was looking at now.

  He had a son.

  With Evie.

  And he’d left them.

  Regret stabbed him in the gut, a pain so sharp he dropped to his knees. Not only had he left them, but when he’d returned and saw her with Mark … saw his son … he’d jumped to a conclusion that had cost him another five years. Jesus H. Christ. To think another man had looked after his boy, and all it would have taken was a word. A step.

  Faith.

  “Why isn’t he talking to me?” Ty’s voice wavered and he looked back at Evie. “Doesn’t he like me? Doesn’t he want to be my dad?”

  Did he want to be a dad? It would be so easy to turn and run, just like he’d done in Stanton. He could leave all this behind—leave them behind—return to the club. Hell, half the Sinner brothers had kids they didn’t see. He could get back to doing what he’d done before.

  Searching. Hiding in the shadows. Longing.

  “He…” Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “He’s just so happy to see you, he doesn’t know what to say.”

  “Hey.” Zane had no other words. What did a man say to the son he never knew he had?

  Ty studied him in silence and then tilted his head to the side? “Are you my real dad?”

  “Seems like.”

  No wonder Evie never made it to college to pursue her dream of getting a Fine Arts degree. Alone, with a baby to look after, her parents dead, waiting for him to return …

  He bowed under the crushing weight of guilt at having doubted her all these years. How long had he expected her to wait for him? She’d been alone.

  So goddamned alone.

  “So you’re a biker?” Ty asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “A real biker? Like, is that your job or do you just ride for fun?”

  Zane sucked in his lips, considering. He’d never thought about the club in those terms, but he’d always known it was where he was meant to be. “It’s my life.”

  “Cool. Can I ride your bike?”

  “A biker doesn’t let—” Fuck it. This was his son. And his son wanted to sit on his bike. “Yeah, you can sit on my bike.”

  “What kind of bike do you have? I love motorcycles. I have a whole collection. I’ll show you.” Ty ran off before Zane could answer his question, returning only moments later with an ice cream pail filled with toy bikes. He placed them one at a time on the coffee table and Zane bent down to help while Evie perched on the arm of the couch, watching them.

  “You got a lot of foreign bikes here.” Zane grimaced as Ty pulled out a miniature Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R. A real biker only rides American. Harleys.”

  “I have Harleys.” Ty fished around in the pail. “I have a silver V-Rod, and a black Springer Heritage, and a red Electra Ultra Glide, and I’ve got the whole Series 28 and 31 Harley Davidson collections, and for my birthday, mom got me the Sons of Anarchy collection, except it only has three bikes in it, not six like the others.”

  “You got a Night Rod Special? That’s what I ride.”

  Ty shook his head. “Will you buy me one?”

  “Ty!” Evie shot
him an admonishing glance. “We don’t ask people for presents. It’s not polite.”

  “I’m not people,” Zane snapped, surprising even himself at the vehemence in his tone. “I’m his dad. I’m buying him a bike. I’ll take him to the toy store and we’ll buy all the goddam bikes they got.”

  He knew he’d spoken too abruptly when Evie startled. But fuck it. He’d missed out on eight years of his son’s life. Eight years of buying him toys and all the shit Zane had wanted growing up but could never have. Eight years of being a dad.

  “Why did you leave us?” Ty’s voice broke his train of thought, and Zane’s mouth went dry.

  Ah. The kicker. But how could he tell his son he’d left because he thought Evie’s father was right about him? He wasn’t worthy. He was nothing and had come from nothing. He knew the cops wouldn’t believe the truth, and he’d been afraid—so afraid—Evie wouldn’t believe him either. But more than that, he left to spare Evie the heartbreak of discovering her father wasn’t the hero she thought he was.

  “I didn’t know about you. If I had, I never would have left.”

  Ty brushed his hair back. “But you left Mom.”

  Damn. This was worse than an interrogation with Dax. “Hardest thing I ever did in my life.” Biggest regret he ever had.

  “Where’s your bike?”

  Zane stared at his son, his mind trying to keep up with the abrupt change of track. Here he’d exposed his soul, spoken a truth he had never admitted to anyone, and Ty brushed it off to ask about his bike.

  His son. The words rolled around in his mind, fresh and new, words he had never even contemplated being able to say. He’d never considered a future with children because he had never considered a future with any woman except Evie.

  “It’s outside. You want to see it?”

  Ty looked back at Evie and she shook her head. “I have to get going and Connie’s going to put you to bed. Maybe another time.”

  “Zane says it’s okay.” His bottom lip trembled and Zane felt no small amount of pride in the fact his son was already pitting his parents against each other. Did he know eight missed years led to a whole lot of guilt and guilt would buy him pretty much anything he wanted from his old man?