Sinner's Revenge

by Kim Jones

  I drag my hand over my face, knowing the next three days will likely be the worst in my entire life. With women’s power in mind, I pump my fist in the air. And with zero enthusiasm in my tone, I mumble, “Go team.”

  The sound of bikes wakes me early the next morning. It sounds like a fucking parade and I open the blinds in my room to find that there is one. Bike after bike, they roll down the driveway, parking on either side. There are at least thirty and more are pouring in by the minute.

  I pull my jeans on, walking outside to find Rookie, Carrie, and Diem already on the porch. “What’s going on?” I ask to no one in particular.

  Diem comes to stand next to me, wrapping her arm around my waist. Looking up, she smiles. “They’re here for you.”

  Less than an hour later, I’m dressed, our bag is packed, and the Prospects have my bike clean and polished. I look at myself in the mirror, dressed like the Johnny Cash of MCs—all in black. Grabbing my cut from the bed, I look down at the dirty patches and remember when they were white and new. Years of riding, blood, sweat, and tears are in these threads. And I’d earned every damn one of them.

  Slipping it on over my shirt, I fasten the chains across my stomach and take a deep breath. This is it. Pulling my riding cap over my head, I grab my full face, turning one last time to look at my bedroom. I’ll come back to it one day. Even if it is just for a visit. This was my home, and even though I’ll miss it, I’m ready to make a new one.

  I walk outside, hearing a silence come over the crowd of men here to see me off. I don’t have words for them. The loyalty I’ve shown them over the last eight years is enough. Words are not needed for me on their behalf either. Just having them here is more than I ever could have asked for. So I just look out at all of them, and offer them a nod of respect.

  Diem is standing next to my bike, looking every bit the biker-bitch part. She and Carrie had done some shopping yesterday, and I remind myself to thank her for it later. Black leather pants cover her legs, accenting her toned thighs. Knee-high riding boots with a six-inch heel have never looked more sexy on a woman. And the black shirt she wears shows off her perfect tits and molds to her tiny body.

  Damn.

  She walks over to me, crossing her ankles on every step like she’s on a runway—one of the first things I noticed about her. “What is it about a bad boy in leather?” she asks, dragging her eyes up and down my body.

  “Nobody does leather better than you, pretty girl.” Wanting nothing more than to squeeze her ass in those tight little pants, I clench my fists, knowing if I get started, I won’t stop. “We need to go over a few things,” I start, but she shakes her head.

  “I’ve been lectured for the past thirty minutes. Trust me, I know the rules.” To emphasize, she starts calling them off on her fingers. “No bitching, no whining, no complaining, and no fucking tears.” Her voice deepens on the last one, and I know that Chaps is here somewhere. He can’t stand to see a woman cry. I guess that’s why he sticks to the whores—not that I blame him.

  Jimbo comes over, eyeing Diem a little too appreciatively, but I decide to let it go. “We’ll follow you out of town, but then we gotta get back. Someone has to run shit now that I’m losing my best man.”

  “Thanks, Jimbo. For everything.” I shake his hand respectfully, remembering the sacrifices he’s made for me. Not only is he letting me go, but he gave me the time I needed to do right by Dirk. And I’d never forget it.

  “A little something for the lady,” he says, pulling a vest from his bag. “I believe any woman that can capture your heart, deserves to wear your patch.”

  I get nervous, wondering how Diem will react when she sees the Property of words on the back of her cut. If she shows her ass, I’ll have to kill her. But she stands proud, a sparkle of pride in her eyes to wear something that means so much to me.

  “I’d be honored,” she whispers, holding her arms out for me to slip the patch on her back. She looks down at her name, running her fingers over the threads. She starts to get a little teary eyed, but laughs and fans herself. “Does it look good on me?” Her laughter fills my ears, clenches my heart, and touches my soul.

  Taking her chin in my fingers, I lean down and give her a soft kiss. “It looks perfect.” And it fucking feels perfect too.

  * * *

  “One final ride,” Rookie says from the seat of his Harley that stands next to mine. I stretch my arms, my adrenaline serving as a painkiller to my shoulder.

  Pushing my fist against his, I nod. “One final ride.”

  Diem clings tightly to my waist as I fire up my engine. Closing my eyes, I listen as one by one, every motor rumbles to life. The sound of pipes racking off echoes in my ears. The gravel beneath my feet shakes. My song of choice blares through my speakers, “Bartholomew” by The Silent Comedy.

  I say my good-byes today. I start my new life tomorrow. I finally have what I want. Love is not my weakness—it is my strength. I don’t know if I’ll be a better person with her. But I’m the best person for her. And she’s the best person for me. She’s my sunshine. My promise. My tomorrow. My everything.

  She gave me hope when I thought all was lost. With her, I found my way. I owe her my life. And soon, she’ll have it.

  Until then, I have to live this life. My life. For what will be the last time, my club needs me. So I give them the greatest part of me—my respect, which they more than deserve. Pulling my shades over my eyes, I close the visor on my full face. This might be my final ride, but in this moment, I remember who I am.

  I am a one-percenter.

  I am Sinner’s Creed.

  I am fucking Shady.

  EPILOGUE

  Three Months Later

  “I SAW THAT.”

  I roll my eyes at Diem’s words. Could she be any more of a jealous bitch?

  “What, Diem? What did you see?” I turn on my sun lounger to face her. She hides her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I know they’re blazing with fury.

  “You’ve been checking that girl out for weeks. I’ll kill her, Shady. I swear I’ll drown that bitch in the Caribbean.”

  “If you don’t stop acting so fucking crazy, I’m gonna drown you.” Upon my threat, I scan the beach for any witnesses. Lucky for her, this girl I allegedly want to fuck is too close for me to commit the crime and not be seen.

  Sitting up, she pushes her glasses on top of her head and glares at me. “Why do you do this?”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before answering. “Do what, Diem?”

  “Act all innocent. Why else would you want to come to the beach at the same time every day?”

  Over her shit, I sit up. My knees touch hers as I lean on my elbows and push my shades up on my head so I can match her death glare with one of my own. “I get up every morning at six,” I start, fighting my temper and losing. “I go for a run. I come back and eat cereal because my girlfriend can’t cook for shit.”

  Her eyes narrow, but I don’t let it stop me. “Then, I watch the Spanish soap operas like the house-trained, lovestruck, domesticated pussy I’ve become until noon. And guess what happens then?” I give her a second to answer, knowing good and damn well she won’t. “I eat another shitty meal consisting of either a sandwich or chips and salsa.

  “After that, I take a nap like a fucking fifty-year-old man because in my sleep is the only time I don’t have to hear your bitching. When I wake up at three o’clock, I like to come to the beach and relax. Now.” I clap my hands together to keep from choking her.

  “At any time during my pathetic day, if I had even one moment to be out from under your watchful eye, I’d spend it doing something other than burying my dick inside some random bitch who isn’t nearly as hot as you.”

  Pushing my shades back down, I lay back on my lounger. My pulse is racing. I’m trying to catch my breath. My adrenaline is pumping through my body—exposing my v
eins with every pulse.

  “You pissed?” she asks, hope in her voice.

  I smile in satisfaction. “Finally.”

  “See, honey, I knew you still had it in you.” Diem straddles my waist, and my hands come to rest on her warm thighs. Nobody does a bikini quite like Diem.

  “It’s been so long,” I say, rubbing my hands up and down her smooth legs. “I need to get mean before Rookie comes to visit. He’s gonna think I’ve completely lost my balls.”

  “Oh, I can assure him you still have your balls.” Diem smiles, and I can’t help it. I have to kiss her. Sitting up, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She tastes like coconut rum—her newest addiction.

  My life here isn’t pathetic in the least. It’s the greatest fucking decision I ever made aside from Diem. There are no worries, no stress, and no problems. The only time I don’t feel pure elation is when she won’t let me have the remote.

  Pulling my lips from hers, Diem holds my face in her hands. “Did you see him today?” I shake my head, and she offers me an encouraging smile. “Maybe tomorrow then.”

  My mind drifts back to our first night here. We’d chose Barbados for a reason that neither of us could determine. No sooner did we walk into the real-estate agent’s office, than we were ushered out the door to see a new property that went on the market that morning.

  Because I’d never been to the beach, Diem insisted we find a place on it. The small villa was perfect for the two of us. The location was great. But it was the scent of citrus that sold me. I ignored it at first, but then shit started getting weird.

  We stayed in a hotel for two days while the paperwork was being processed. On the day we moved in, a welcome home present was waiting for us on the bedside table. A bouquet of fresh flowers, a bottle of champagne and . . . Skittles.

  That night, I laid down, and on the ceiling above our bed was a scripture. I have found the one whom my soul loves. And at the end, where there should have been a chapter and verse number, there was something else.

  D&S

  By the time I got Diem’s attention, the words had disappeared.

  I snap back to reality, and give Diem a shrug. “Maybe it’s all in my head. I mean the supernatural? I think I’m losing my shit.”

  “You’re not losing your shit,” she says, pulling my hair and forcing me to look up at her. “We all have to believe in something.”

  Smirking, I ask, “What do you believe in, pretty girl?”

  “You.”

  Damn, she’s perfect. Maybe not in anyone else’s eyes, but in mine, she’s the ideal mixture of everything I’ve ever wanted.

  “Okay.” Grabbing my shoulders, she pushes herself off my lap. “I’m going to get a drink. You want one?”

  What kind of question is that? Three months with me all to herself and she’s still asking? Then again, the fact that she’s actually asking is progress. I’d better not fuck this up. “Yeah, babe.”

  “Don’t call me babe,” she snaps.

  Picking up her cup, she turns to leave but her eyes focus on something down the beach. Lowering her shades, I watch her squint in the sun. “I’m so jealous.”

  I roll my eyes. “Let me guess. Her ass is bigger than yours? Her tits are nicer? When are you going to stop worrying about what everyone else looks like and start appreciating me a little more for loving you the way you are?”

  “It isn’t always about you, Shady.” She spits my name. Great. Now I’ve pissed her off. “And I wasn’t talking about her body, you perv. I was talking about her hair.”

  She stomps off, mumbling to herself. I just shake my head. Turning to see this fabulous hair, my heart stops and my breath catches at the sight.

  And there they are.

  Walking hand in hand.

  I can’t see their faces, but there’s no mistaking who they are. Saylor’s hair is just as wild and untamed as ever. Dirk’s big body looms huge beside her. Even if I wasn’t able to identify him from behind, I know it’s him. He’s the only motherfucker on the beach in jeans.

  There appears to be a halo of light surrounding them. I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not just imagining them. But when I open my eyes, they’re still there. No one else is paying attention to them, and a part of me knows that it’s because only I can see them.

  I watch Dirk as his arm wraps around Saylor’s shoulders—pulling her in to kiss her hair. Then, with a glimpse that only lasts a second, his dark eyes narrow on me. They’re not filled with hate or pain or pride. There’s no steel or distance or coldness in them either. He’s Dirk like I’ve never seen him. For the first time ever, he’s happy. And even death couldn’t stop him from getting the one thing he’s always wanted—love.

  I look back over my shoulder for Diem, but she’s already inside. When I turn back to Dirk and Saylor, they’ve disappeared. I wait for my heart to plummet. For my hopes to die. But all I can do is smile. I saw him. He lives. And finally, he is at peace.

  My heart swells with joy for my brother.

  With pride for knowing him.

  With honor for serving with him.

  With serenity . . . the one feeling he finally has.

  We were two brothers born into a life full of nothing. It was a long, hard, uphill battle, but we’d finally found something worth living for. Our lives were measured in miles. Our paths determined by our next mission. But somewhere along the way, God had decided to shed a little mercy on two of the darkest souls he’d ever created. And today, I witnessed what I’ve really known all along.

  Dirk had found his happily ever after.

  And finally, I’ve found mine too.

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