Sinner's Revenge

by Kim Jones

  She shakes her head in annoyance. “Yeah, well, it’s gonna take a while for me to adjust to all your pet names.” I burn holes into the back of her head until she finally lets out a breath and twists in her seat to face me. “You said you didn’t want to talk.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Her eyes narrow on the cut above my eye, then move to the one on my lip. Her face softens. “Does it hurt?” she whispers.

  I laugh. “No, babe. It doesn’t hurt. I’m not that fragile, you know.” I shoot her a wink. “I can take a lick.” A small smile plays on her lips. “What about you?” I ask. “Did it hurt you?”

  “Hardly,” she scoffs, but I can tell she’s lying. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep our secret when you continue to show your ass in front of everyone.”

  “So let’s stop keeping us a secret. Everyone already knows something is going on.” I shrug, looking over at Clark, who pretends he’s not listening, even though I know the bastard is.

  “First off,” she begins, pointing her finger at me. “There is no us and nothing is going on. We broke up. Remember?”

  I roll my eyes to the roof, twisting my lips in confusion. “Nope. I don’t remember that. The way I see it, we had a disagreement. Happens all the time with couples, from what I hear. You should know that. You were married once. Remember?”

  “How can I forget?” she asks, her eyes taking on a dreamy state. “The honeymoon was the best part.” My jaw tightens and she smiles at my reaction.

  I lean back in my seat. If I’ve learned anything from being around women, it’s that they hate to be ignored. Pulling my earbuds from my bag, I plug them into my iPod and put it on shuffle. She says something, so to drown her out, I cut the volume up and look out the window. Eventually, she gives up and turns back around.

  I close my eyes, knowing I’m too pissed now to sleep, but trying like hell anyway. Time passes and just when I start to doze off, the universe fucks me once again and “Girl Crush” by Lady Antebellum plays, reminding me that I won’t ever be able to forget what we had. And as long as I’m in this life, I’ll never be able to escape her either.

  * * *

  My phone vibrating in my pocket wakes me. It takes a moment for me to remember where I am. I look around the car and Diem is asleep, Clark still has his headphones on, the car is completely silent, and Rookie is looking at me. His eyes move to the floorboard and I follow them to find a cell phone laying at his feet. His gaze shifts to the back of Diem’s seat, then back to me. She must have dropped it.

  He raises his eyebrows, silently suggesting that I pick the damn thing up. I don’t know why he wants me to snoop around, but my curiosity is getting the better of me by the second. My hand in my lap, I turn my thumb up so he can see, and his foot pushes the phone over to me. Stretching, I can feel Clark’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror and I yawn, then lean my head against the back of his seat like I’m napping.

  I position the phone in my lap so that if Diem wakes, she won’t see me with it. Sliding my finger across the screen, I find it locked and smile. Some days, it is good to be a nerd. I crack the code and scroll through her apps.

  Candy Crush—predictable.

  Menstrual Cycle Tracker—ugh.

  MyFace—of course.

  Fitness Pal—naturally.

  I scroll through her contacts, smiling when I find two hearts, a knife, and a gun emoji next to Zeke’s name. There is only one text that is still unread. I don’t have to open it to read the small message displayed on the screen.

  Do it.

  Hopefully, whoever Tampa is, isn’t giving her an order to kill me. I have two guns on me, one behind my back and the other strapped to my ankle. I make a note to keep them close even in my sleep.

  The inbox in her email is empty and so is the trash file. Outgoing messages have been wiped too. If I knew I had the time, I could find anything that has ever been on her phone, but I don’t. So, I go to her gallery and discover that Diem is a selfie queen. Duck faces, smiles, pissed-off looks, edited pictures, and bathroom pics go on for pages. Then I come to pictures of me.

  They were all taken when I wasn’t looking. I’m in the bar, at Dirk’s house, on my bike, and even some from when she was staying with me at home. Did she have a phone the whole time? If so, where the hell did she hide it?

  My temper spikes when I come across a photo of her with another guy. She’s taking a selfie with him at what looks like a bar. His arm is around her waist. Her head is on his shoulder. And what pisses me off more than the fact that they look too comfortable, is the patch he’s wearing—Death Mob. And what’s worse than that is I recognize him.

  It’s Fin.

  I shoot the picture to my phone, then delete the message. Diem is still asleep, so without drawing any attention to myself, I slide the phone under her seat. Leaning back, I study the picture from my own phone a minute before I send it to Rookie. The date was months ago, but she was alone with him only days ago. Was she playing us both?

  Don’t do anything stupid.

  Rookie’s text has me cutting my eyes at him. Then texting back.

  I’m not an amateur . . . ROOKIE.

  He smirks, putting his phone back in his pocket. The clock on the dash reads a quarter after eleven, and I’m ready for some lunch and to take a piss.

  As if she could hear my thoughts, Diem wakes up seeming dazed and confused. Looking in the backseat, she raises an eyebrow at me, looks over at Rookie, then finally to Clark. “I’m fucking starving. Let’s eat.”

  He nods. “We’re almost to Allentown, ma’am,” he says, his voice cool and level.

  “Shit! Already?” she asks in a panic, looking around for her phone. She’s searching the seat and the floor and her purse and I’ve never seen her like this. It’s pretty comical. “I can’t find my fucking phone!” she roars, and I wonder if it’s the “Do it” message she’s so anxious to read.

  “Look between the console and your seat,” I suggest, leaning forward in an attempt to help her. She’s digging, her breathing coming in quick bursts. Damn, she really is in a panic. Feeling sorry for her, I grab the phone, pushing it toward her fingers.

  “Wait,” she says, concentrating hard while her arm is shoved down in the side of the seat. “I think I felt it.” Pulling her arm out, she holds the phone in her hand, furiously punching in the code and retrieving the message. I lean back and watch her as she lets out a sigh of relief. Then turning to Clark she says, “We’ll be staying in Allentown tonight.”

  “Babe,” I whine. “Come on. We haven’t been on the road for six hours. I thought this was a road trip.” I catch Rookie’s smile out of the corner of my eye at my dramatics.

  “Look,” she snaps, positioning herself so that Rookie and I both can see her. “This isn’t a field trip. It’s business. There are still a lot of people out there riding in your territory wearing Death Mob cuts. So I suggest you man up and jump on the kill Death Mob bandwagon.”

  Before I can stop myself, I’m putting my foot in my mouth. “Like Fin? Is he on that bandwagon too? Or are we handing out special privileges?”

  “Do I look like an idiot to you?” she asks, not at all surprised at my assumptions about her and Fin. I don’t answer because I don’t think I could say the right thing in this moment. “Fin is my problem. But if there is something you want to know, why don’t you just ask. Stop being . . .” She gestures her hand toward me, scrunching her face into a scowl. “So . . . Shady.”

  I guess the pun is intended. “Are you working with him? Because I didn’t hear any gunshots after I walked out of the bar, so therefore, I’m assuming he isn’t dead. That is, unless you cooked him something.” I give her a sardonic smile, which she is kind enough to give back.

  “Yes, I am. I needed a man on the inside. And he’s my man.” I want to roar when she refers to someone else as her man. Someone that isn’t me.
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  “You don’t actually think you can trust him do you?” I ask incredulously.

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course I don’t trust him, you fuckwad. But money talks and bullshit walks and life is one hell of a bargaining tool for someone who’s facing the death penalty. Do your job. Shut up. And let me do mine.”

  I look at Rookie, who gives me a shrug. So maybe she does know what she’s doing. And in my eyes, she’d just earned herself some respect. But it means nothing if she isn’t aware of it. So I say two words and then vow to never say them again. Although, I’m sure they’ll bite me in the ass sooner or later.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Diem instructs Clark to pull into a drive-through, and I try to prepare myself for the clusterfuck I’m sure is to come. Could we not go inside? Or eat somewhere a little nicer than fucking McDonalds? Thinking back to our one and only date, I think she chose this place on purpose.

  “Just get four number ones with Cokes,” Diem orders, and I’m leaning forward at her command. She might be the boss, but I can order my own food.

  “Um, I want a number six,” I say, ready to kill her if she deprives me of the white-meat chicken strips instead of the soybean patty. “What about you, Rookie? You want a number six?”

  Diem glares at me as Rookie plays along and looks up to read the menu. “No, I think I want a number eight. But I want Sprite. Caffeine stunts my growth.”

  “He’s a growing boy,” I add, flashing her a smile. Even Clark’s lip twitches, and I’m not the only one that notices.

  Her eyes slide over to him, her tone sweet as honey but no less threatening when she speaks. “What about you, Clark? What would you like?”

  “A number one will be fine with me, ma’am,” he answers, like the puss he is.

  I clap him on the shoulder and he tenses. “Come on, Clark. Live a little.”

  He clears his throat, then pushes the button, ordering a number six for me, an eight with a Sprite for Rookie, a one for Diem, and then a ten with coffee for himself. I beam at Diem, who turns in her seat, mumbling something about us all being fucking idiots.

  While we wait, Clark fidgets with his phone, then lets Diem know the room is booked. What kind of outlaw books a room, over a phone, with a place that takes reservations? He probably used a credit card that’s in his name too. Or one that’s in Dorian’s name with a little inscription below it that reads, Underground Mafia LLC.

  The food comes and just the smell of it has my stomach growling. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Looking around at everyone else shoveling their food down, I guess we all were pretty damn hungry. Leave it to Diem to try and starve us out. Even though she’s eating faster than everyone else.

  “Do we have some ketchup?” I ask, just to be a dick. My answer is Diem wadding up the bag and throwing it at me. I narrow my eyes on the back of her head, then search the bag and come up empty. She turns to show me the delicious ketchup on the end of her fry before giving me a wink and taking a bite. Damn, I hate her.

  At the hotel, I’m surprised to find that we all have separate rooms—not that I’m complaining. But I’m a little disappointed that I’m separated from Rookie. I don’t completely trust Diem or the message on her phone, and I’d like to keep Rookie in my sights at all times. I doubt she would kill him, but I’m not putting anything past her either.

  “Be ready in an hour,” she tells us, just before disappearing in her room. Clark enters his own room, not bothering to speak or even look our way.

  “I think we should stay together,” I tell Rookie, and he nods in agreement. I shut my door twice, just in case someone was listening. We remain silent inside, while I throw on a black hoodie and add a couple more weapons to my body. Rookie changes into an outfit similar to mine with a full arsenal beneath his clothes. No sooner are we seated than I hear a knock on the door next to mine. I keep Rookie in place with a look and go to the door. Looking out the peephole, I can’t see anyone so I put my hand on my gun at my back and ease the door open.

  Diem is standing in the hall, her eyes swinging to me in surprise. “You looking for me?” I ask, keeping most of my body inside.

  She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and walks over, glancing nervously back at the other door. “Yeah,” she says, her voice a little too high. She’d once told me she never lied. No fucking wonder . . . She sucked at it.

  “What do you want, Diem?”

  “I wanted to go over the plan. Can I come in?”

  I shake my head. “You don’t want to go in there. Trust me.” I give her a cocky grin and her back straightens.

  “We’ve been here all of ten minutes and already you have someone in your room? Who the fuck is she? The maid?” she asks, her temper rising as she throws her hands on her hips. She’s so cute when she gets all jealous.

  “No. I just took a shit,” I say, deadpan. Relief floods her face along with a little embarrassment. She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing those perky little tits up for me to see.

  “Okay. No biggie. I’ll just fill you in when we’re in the car.” Her brows draw together in confusion as she jerks her thumb toward the other door. “Have you seen Rookie?” she asks, trying to be nonchalant.

  Damn. Could she be any more obvious? “Probably taking a shower. You need him?”

  “No. I was just curious.” Oh for fuck’s sake.

  “Cut the shit, Diem. What do you want with Rookie?” I ask, growing more impatient with every second that passes.

  Her eyes widen. “Nothing!”

  “Then why can’t you look at me?” She continues to avoid my gaze and I step out into the hall, flipping the latch to catch the door before I do. “Let me give you a little advice, ma’am,” I drawl. “If you want to try and play games or fuck with someone, make damn sure it ain’t us. We didn’t get where we are by being naïve. Now, I’ll ask you one more time. What do you want with Rookie?”

  “I need him for a job, okay?” she says, her body sagging with relief from finally telling the truth.

  “Now, see there?” I coo, like I’m talking to a small child. “How hard was that?”

  She gives me the finger and I close the distance between us until her body is a mere inch from mine. “That’s strike one, Diem. Don’t lie to me. At the end of the day, my brothers will choose me over you every time. I will pull the plug on this whole operation. Now that Death Mob is out of the picture, you need us as much as we need you. Don’t fucking forget that.”

  I turn on my heels, pushing open the door and waving my hand for her to come in. Dragging her feet, she gives me the evil eye as she walks through, then looks to Rookie, who’s standing on the other side of the room. “What is this? A sleepover?”

  I shut the door, standing in front of it to block her escape. Rookie mirrors my position, his arms crossed and looking just as pissed as I feel. Taking a seat on the bed, Diem puts her head in her hands. We wait for her to speak, which she takes her precious fucking time doing.

  “I need you to take out Clark,” she says, meeting Rookie’s eyes.

  He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “All right.”

  “And,” Diem starts, pausing to bite her lip. She stands, lifting her chin high and finding her balls. “I need you to take his place.” This time, Rookie looks to me and it’s my turn to shrug. “We have a rat in our family. Until Dorian is sure who it is, you two are the only ones he trusts.” She turns to level me with a look. “After hearing your speech about family, he thought you would protect me to no ends considering I’m Dirk’s sister. I guess he sees me as part of that family you’re willing to give your life to protect.”

  “So why not just ask Shady to step in as your second?” Rookie asks, clearly not comfortable with his new job title.

  “Because it complicates things,” she snaps, keeping her eyes on me.

  “Complicates things how?” His words are
deliberately slow, making sure she understands them.

  She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Because some people already know about us. Word is spreading fast and if they think we’re a couple, they’ll look to him for guidance instead of me. I’m the first woman to ever hold this much power in the business. If things were like they used to be, I would have married and my husband would hold the power. Some people still see the Underground that way. It will take some time to adapt. Until then, the rumors about us will just have to stay rumors.”

  How fucking convenient for her. “Well the least you can let me do is handle Clark. I mean no sense in wasting all this talent for nothing,” I say, flexing my arms for her.

  She rolls her eyes. “Can’t do that either.”

  “And just why the hell not?” I ask, a little offended.

  Walking toward me, she smiles. A very pleased look crosses her face when she reaches me. Standing on her toes, she whispers in my ear, “Because you’re the bait.”

  Of course I am.

  * * *

  I let Rookie and Diem have their little private powwow, while I stay in my room and sulk. I don’t know why she thinks they need privacy. He’s just gonna tell me everything anyway. I’m not jealous that Rookie is getting what I consider a promotion; actually, I’m happy he is. I don’t trust anyone with Diem as much as I trust him. I just hate being out of the loop.

  When Rookie finally comes back, he fills me in on the plan. In a nutshell, Clark thinks that I’m the one who is supposed to die. Lucky for me, I get to ride with him tonight to “handle something,” where he is supposed to shoot me in the back of the head and leave me. But Rookie will be there to take him out before he does, only after finding out who the leaks are. I’ll also be packing just in case shit turns south. What makes me nervous is that if Diem wants Clark dead, it’s because she or Dorian doesn’t trust him. So what in the hell makes her think he will follow through with her plan, and not devise one of his own?

  I’m skeptical about the whole ordeal, but I keep it to myself. I do, however, tell Rookie to watch his back and to not put too much trust into Diem. His response is a glare and a reminder that he isn’t a rookie anymore. Still, I don’t like it. So I decide it’s time to devise a plan of my own.