HOPE TRILOGY: Sacred Sinners- Texas Chapter

by Cummings, Bink

  Rosie slips both hands into her butt pockets and rocks back on her boot heels. “It’s nice to meet you, Kat. I’ve gotta admit I’m not very good with this sorta stuff. I usually work alone. But when Big called me yesterday with a job, I couldn’t say no. It’s been a slow month.”

  “There’s no way you’re protecting my Kat,” Ryker interjects, hostilely inserting himself between Rosie and me.

  His Kat. Uh huh. And I’m Martha fucking Stewart.

  Ryker makes a terrible window, so when Rosie replies, I can’t see her face. “Call your national prez. Ask him about me. He’ll fill ya in.”

  Kade finally climbs off the floor and stands next to his brother, making this double wide wall of yummy maleness quite appealing from the backside. Hell-o, tight biteable asses. Where’s a quarter when ya need one?

  Right. Now’s not the time to joke.

  “I’ll call him. But you need to step outside before I do,” Ryker says.

  “Isn’t she supposed to be my bodyguard? So why would she have to step outside?” I ask their broad shoulders.

  ‘Cause if it’s true, then there’s no reason for Rosie to be shoved outside in the blustery winter to stand with the fellas who’re busy freezing their twig and dingleberries off. Big’s men aren’t concerned by her presence. Which stands to reason that what she said is true. Obviously. Why is it the men in my life always try to dictate every darn thing? Why can’t they do things the easy way? You know, with manners. One step at a time. Not this Tarzan, beat my chest, I’m always right mentality.

  “She’s not your bodyguard. You don’t need one,” Ryker tosses over his shoulder, none too happy.

  Once again, annoyed by his flagrant disregard for my feelings, I jab the back of his neck with my middle finger. “You don’t get to decide that.”

  Ryker turns around, giving Rosie his backside and me a stern look. His defined arms, which seem right at home folded beneath his pecs, are trying their damnedest to intimidate us lesser beings. If I didn’t know him intimately, I’d probably be a little nervous. He is a big, strong, muscly beefcake. But I’m not worried in the slightest. He’s a prickly teddy bear wearing the Big Bad Wolf’s clothing. “Yeah. I do,” he counters.

  Mimicking his stance, I heft my breasts higher to show him that his pecs might be impressive, but those bad boys have nothing on the girls. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  Ryker smirks, clearly amused by my posture when he takes me in slowly from head to toe. The smirk morphs into a toothy, almost endearing smile that I wanna slap off his face. I’m not trying to be funny or cute. Why won’t he take me seriously?

  Agitated, I tap my bare foot on the floor. “Those, are not my eyes,” I scold when he stares too long at my boobs. Not that I blame him. They are nice, and since I’m pregnant they’ve gotten larger. Not that they needed to grow any. They’re more than enough to handle without a bun in the oven.

  Eventually, he lifts his gaze. “Those might not be your eyes, beautiful. But they’re sure sexy.”

  I frown, not flattered in the slightest.

  He keeps on. “If it’ll keep ya from fighting with me, like you seem to love doin’ today, then why don’t you take Rosie with ya and finish packing.”

  Is he that dense? Doesn’t he see the picture here in vivid color? I’m not the good little wife to pat on the head and usher into the next room to keep her from bitching. That’s not what this is. Sometimes I think he’s caring. Other’s loving. Then he has to show this dickhead side. Which makes me wonder what I ever saw in him in the first place. Aside from his looks. Inside, not so much. You have to earn the right to insert yourself into my life and give me your opinion. You don’t get to boss me around. I’m not a child. I’m a grown ass woman who may use humor, sex, and sarcasm to lighten the burden of life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of handling myself.

  “I’m not the same person I used to be, Ryker. This is who I’ve become.” I sweep a hand down the length of my curvy body. “If this wasn’t so messed up, I wouldn’t fight with you. But you seem to forget I have a damn brain in my head and can make my own decisions. I don’t need a man to run my world. God knows the men in my life have a habit of letting me down. So I’ve made a life for myself, on my own. You tryin’ to dictate my life isn’t gonna go well for you. I will fight you at every corner. The carefree, innocent girl that gave you her virginity is dead. It’s about time you realize that.”

  As if I’ve slapped him, he rears his head back.

  “I have accepted that I’m moving to Texas temporarily. I have accepted that you did a shitty thing today by letting your dad take our kids without my permission. I’ve accepted I have to pack, and ride in a truck with Vanessa all the way to Texas.” The thought of that already peeves me off.

  “I’m an adult. I can accept the things in which I cannot change. But what I can’t do is let you run the show. You are not my father. My boss. My husband. Or my … anything. If Big sent Rosie here to be my bodyguard, she’s gonna do her job. Because I’d rather have a woman, who’s a supreme badass, protect me, then someone who I wish I could shove a bag over his head so I didn’t find him so goddamn lickable all the time. So, yes, I’m gonna go into the bedroom with Rosie, because I said I am. You’re gonna call Big. And you’re gonna be nice, and thank him for his generous gift. After that, you’ll take my suitcases to the truck, and buy me as much fucking road trip junk food that I want. Without complaining that Sno-Caps are a movie staple, not a road trip snack. Because they’re both. I dunno how many times I have to tell you that.”

  As I rattle on, the air in my lungs thins out, so I stop to catch my breath before finishing. “Then you’re gonna play whatever music I want on the drive. Which includes N’sync and Hanson, because I know you hate that crap. And I’m gonna sing everything off key the entire trip just to drive y’all insane. However, you’re gonna praise my awful vocals by saying they’re the best you’ve ever heard. To which, I’m gonna shake my head, stick my tongue out at you, and keep on belting the next verse of whatever 90s shit I wanna jam to. Do I make myself clear?”

  Visibly dumbfounded, Ryker nods slowly.

  Good. Let him marinate on that for a minute. Maybe he’ll finally see the light. If not, I’ll remind him repetitively until it soaks in.

  Before the cat that’s caught Ryker’s tongue lets go, I spin on my heel and say, “Rosie, I’ll be in the bedroom if you’d like to join me. The testosterone out here’s stifling,” and waddle up the hallway to my bedroom where I need to finish packing.

  “I’m coming,” she calls.

  Yep. It’s gonna be nice having a woman around that I don’t wanna throttle every three seconds.

  Fifteen

  Ryker

  I love her. I love her so fuckin’ much it hurts my heart and dick. That sassy, smart mouth, I’ve got bigger-balls-than-you attitude has me rock hard. It’s a good thing she didn’t check out my crotch during her rant, or I’d get an even sexier ear full. As long as my old lady is still breathin, she can hate me, curse me to Hell, or kick me in the nuts and I’d still crawl back for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Kat’s right. The girl I fell for years ago is gone. But she ain’t dead. Nope. She’s better. Grown into a fierce woman that I can’t help but respect … and itch to fuck in every room of every house on this block, the next block, and six more after that. I wanna wear that pussy out until my cock falls off.

  As Kat penguin walks back to her room, hand perched on her lower back, and Rosie, the chick I don’t trust as far as I can throw her scrawny ass, follows behind, I yank my phone outta my pocket, scroll to Big’s number, and hit call. I’m not down with this shit. You don’t send some bitch to protect my old lady without givin’ me at least a heads up.

  Lovesick, all starry-eyed like a damn cartoon character, my brother floats on cloud nine toward Kat’s bedroom. He wants another glimpse of that knife totin’ female. The woody in his pants is one clue that my brother’s sprung. Add the fact he isn’t actin�
�� normal, that’s the second clue. Someone’s in wild lust with the chick that just took him to the floor, then revved his kinky engine just the way he loves. A way that very few people know about. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times, Kade’s a sadistic motherfucker in everyday life when you push the wrong buttons. In the bedroom, you might as well tattoo masochist across his forehead. Pain, pain, and more pain is his sweetest pleasure.

  Big growls his greeting after the second ring. “You better not be callin’ to bust my balls.”

  Sighing loud enough he can hear, I heed his warning. There are very few people I’m scared of in this world. Big Dick happens to be in my top two. And considering there’s less than five people on my list, that’s sayin’ something.

  “I don’t wanna bust your balls. I wanna know what the fuck you were thinkin’,” I grumble, pacing my old living room.

  The place I bounced Roxie on my chest so she’d fall asleep. The same place where I held all three of my girls as they passed out on me while watching some movie. Not that the babies were watching much of anything. It was Kat who didn’t wanna put them to bed. So I had one resting on my chest, as the other sat next to me, tucked against my side. Kat took the other. It was one of the best days of my life. Until I ruined it all for family and her protection.

  Big speaks to someone else, his hand obviously covering the phone, before he gets back to me. “I was thinkin’ that I told Katrina I’d keep her safe. Rosie’s a sure bet to ensure that. This ain’t about you and your wounded pride. This is about keepin’ a woman safe that shouldn’t need savin’ in the first place. If Bear had kept his head on straight and you toed the line, none of this never woulda happened. Now I’m cleanin’ up your mess, by doin’ the only thing I know how. And that’s protectin’ family. That’s what I do. I keep mine safe. She’s a Sacred Sister, whether she knows it or not. She’s Ghost’s daughter. Your babies’ mama, and a badass to boot. I’ve got mad respect for her. So she gets the best of the best to keep her safe. Which, asshole, ain’t you.”

  Restless, I scrub my short beard. “You sayin’ it’s Rosie?”

  “I’m not sayin’ shit. I’m tellin’ ya it is.”

  “Can’t say I agree with you there.” She’s too small. Too fragile. There’s no way she can take on a group of angry bikers. Not possible.

  “Bullshit. She had your brother down in less than ten seconds. That takes skill.”

  Of course, he knows about that already. Probably has an entire photo album dedicated to the moment. I can’t argue it happened. Still, that doesn’t mean shit when we’re talking club on club. This is war. We declared it. We’ve got a shit storm on its way, and a five-foot nothin’ chick is gonna protect the love of my life? Nah. I’m not buyin’ what Big’s peddlin’. Not for a second.

  “Sorry, Prez, but I ain’t seein’ what you are. She’s tiny. Sure, she took down Kade. But that don’t mean shit to me when we’re goin’ to war.”

  “Then you best listen to me, boy. ‘Cause Rosie is more qualified to be in this war than any of us. She may not be a Sinner ‘cause she’s got a pussy. But she’s a brother, through and through.”

  Now I’m confused as hell.

  I take a seat on a stool in the kitchen, perchin’ one elbow on the countertop. The same place Kat used to eat my special pancakes, and give me those light-up-the-world smiles that took my breath away. This house holds so many memories; every place I look another one resurfaces. It’s a damn miracle the guilt of leaving this all behind hasn’t killed me yet. Where’s Jim, Jack, and Jose when ya need ‘em? Drunk sounds mighty perfect right about now. Less feelings that way. Less stress. Less memories.

  I shake my head to clear it. “Ya gotta elaborate, Prez, if you expect me to go with this.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Rosie is in it. She’s Kat’s bodyguard until I say otherwise. You don’t run this show. I do. I mighta gave you the authority to decide where your family ends up. ‘Cause I wouldn’t want anyone tellin’ me what I should do with Bink, or my kids, if I had any. That was about respect. Nothin’ more. Rosie isn’t up for negotiation. You’ll get with the program, ‘cause I said so. Ya, hear me?”

  “I get it,” I clip, clenching my jaw so hard I might crack a tooth. If he wasn’t my prez, I’d tell him to go fuck himself. That he doesn’t tell me what to do, and can lick my hairy nut sac. But I know what’ll happen if I open my mouth. The price would be steep. And I don’t have the time to recover from that before war. A visit to his shed doesn’t sound appealing to anyone. That’s the place people go to hurt, and die. Disobedience is for morons who have a death wish. I don’t. I’d like to keep my kneecaps right where they belong.

  “Good,” he growls.

  “Fine,” I grit.

  “You about done lickin’ your prissy bitch wounds for me pullin’ rank?” There’s humor in the dickhead’s voice.

  “Not even close,” I admit truthfully.

  He chuckles. “Ya know, if you didn’t worry about Rosie bein’ there, and ya weren’t this pissed at me, I’d be ready to hand you your ass.”

  This man makes no sense.

  “What?”

  “You think I want brothers who lie down and take it like a club whore?”

  Easy. Ready on our backs. That’s what he’s getting at.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Damn right I don’t. I want someone who’s gonna call me to find out about the chick I sent to protect his woman. I’d do the same thing. So ask your questions. I’ll tell ya what I can. But Rosie’s story isn’t mine to tell.”

  Jesus Christ. This right here is why he’s the prez of the Sacred Sinners. He’s no bullshit.

  Huffing a sigh, I rearrange my thoughts, smother my temper, and get down to brass tacks. “How’d you meet her? What’re her qualifications? How do you know for sure she’s good for the job?”

  There’s movement as if he’s walking, the creek of a door closing, then the sound of … are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?

  “Big, are you pissin’ with me on the phone?”

  “Yup,” he states, no-nonsense.

  “Fine. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

  “No need. I’m done.” There’s the flush of the toilet and the sound of water running as he washes his hand. His breathing grates against the receiver for a second before he resumes our previous conversation. “I met Rosie in a bar four years ago when I was on a run. She was shootin’ pool. Some douche tried to feel her up. She didn’t take too kindly to that. One warning, turned in to two, and the man wouldn’t listen. She’s kinda soft spoken. Looks innocent. Small. Nobody would think she could kill a man with her bare hands. Well, I’m here to tell ya, she’s a fuckin’ beast. By the third time that man grabbed her ass, she backhanded him so hard it busted the man’s lip open. Then he was on her. Pushin’ her against the pool table, about to return the slap. Only, I got up, ready to stomp the shit outta that prick. But there was no need. Rosie smiled this cruel, sadistic grin. Her eyes glazed over. And she came unhinged. Let’s just say within two minutes there were three men on her, to keep her from killing the perv. If it weren’t for me, she’d be locked up for assault. The guy ended up in intensive care.”

  “Jesus,” I hiss.

  “After that, we talked. She told me her sad, heartbreaking story, and I offered her a job. She took it without hesitation. And that’s how Rosie became the unofficial member of the Sacred Sinners.”

  “So she does what for us exactly?”

  “She’s a hitman. We got a problem, she goes undercover, gets the Intel with Gunz’s help, and takes out our targets.”

  “But she doesn’t carry a gun.”

  “Nope. She doesn’t need one. The way Rosie eliminates the marks is a different brand of club justice.”

  Well, color me intrigued. “You gonna tell me how she does it?”

  “No. But let me just say, she has a black belt in most forms of martial arts. Did a stint in the military. Her hand to hand combat rivals anyon
e in the entire club. Give her knives, and she makes Kade look like a damn amateur. She’s also smart. Crazy smart. It’s a miracle she’s our ally. So try not to piss her off. You don’t wanna be on her bad side. Don’t worry. Ya don’t have to make nice. Just let her do the job I’m payin’ her to do. Trust me, you want her to protect Katrina. You’ve got enough to handle with the club on the brink of war, and your wife drama.”

  That’s true. Vanessa’s a thorn in my side. The worst of it? She loves me. If I could fix that, I would. I don’t deserve anyone’s love. Especially not a woman’s I don’t even want.

  Big keeps goin’. “This is the only way I can ensure she doesn’t get the short end of the stick. They want her. She’s Ghost’s daughter. She’s a sure fire way to pay him, and the club back for what happened. The money they want they’re never gonna see. The vengeance they’ve been stewing on for well over a decade has festered. Their club’s low rent. They used to be bigger dogs in the rink. Because of Ghost, they lost territories, suppliers, and respect. They’ve left Kat alone for all these years ‘cause she’s an innocent. Let’s be thankful they’ve lived by a code thus far. Not all clubs do. But, now that they’ve confirmed Mike ain’t dead, they’re gonna use any means necessary to make him pay for his sins. That includes—”

  “Fuckin’ with my woman and kids,” I finish for him.

  Big sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Yep. They wanna pay him back. If he was dead, they’d have no reason to punish the daughter for the sins of the father. Now that Vanessa confirmed he’s alive, they’re gonna be itching to kill her.”

  “You think they woulda killed her if we hadn’t found her?”

  “Yes. And it woulda been dirty.”

  Bile rises up my throat, and I gulp it down. Thank fuck I got to her in time. Thank fuck for those necklaces.

  Big’s still talkin’. “They’d have tortured her worse than she was. Sent pieces of her body back to Ghost. Videos. Anything they could to draw him out and make him pay his dues.”