HOPE TRILOGY: Sacred Sinners- Texas Chapter

by Cummings, Bink

  “Kade’s gonna pick me up in about an hour. We’ve got some club business to attend to tonight.”

  Already? He got out of the hospital a few days ago. What would they need with him when we just got him back?

  Swallowing down my argument like a hot branding iron, I give a firm nod, lips pursed.

  “Kat?” Ryker prompts again.

  “Yes?” I try hard not to snap and fail.

  “I’ll be home in the morning.”

  Great. Fabulous. Not only is he leaving, he’s staying out all night doing who knows what with his club brothers. And I know if I ask what he’s doing it’ll fall on deaf ears. Club business always stays club business… Please excuse me while I puke in my mouth.

  “Yup,” I reply.

  “Babe, don’t be like that.”

  “Be like what?”

  “Mad.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “We’ve been over this. I know you. You’re upset.”

  So? Why does it matter what I think or how I feel? It doesn’t when it pertains to the club, he’s made that crystal clear. If he doesn’t quit, we, as a family, fall second in line. I get it. What I don’t understand is why my heart suddenly hurts so much. It’s not like he’s leaving us for good. He’s staying the night with my dad, Bear, and Kade, so it can’t be all bad. Tell my heart that, though, she’s cracking like Humpty Dumpty for no reason.

  Refusing to have any more of this conversation with Roxie present, I ignore him and exit the bedroom with my current priority—Walker. This little one needs my attention, and I’m more than happy to give it.

  Ten

  Ryker

  Sittin’ next to Kade in his pickup truck, I stare out the window, watchin’ the world fly by as we head to the clubhouse to handle business. We left the cabin less than ten minutes ago, and by the half-assed hug my old lady gave me, I can tell she’s put off by me leaving. Part of me is proud as fuck she doesn’t wanna see me go, while the other wants her to trust I’m not gonna fuck shit up.

  Rubbin’ my palm down the supple leather of my cut, I send a silent thank you up to the Big Man for keepin’ it safe. I’d taken it off and threw it in the back of Vanessa’s car when I drove her to the hospital the day of the accident. One of the brothers found it underneath a seat, covered in debris. Kade cleaned it up. Now it looks as good as new. It’s a damn fine feelin’ wearin’ it for the first time since the crash. Seems fitting to have it on when I enter the clubhouse. If only I’d worn sweats instead of these holey fuckin’ jeans, that I had to cut in order to get my cast through the pant leg. The black Harley tee I donned covers enough of my arms, that most of the stitches aren’t visible. But I’m gonna be uncomfortable as fuck with this denim rubbin’ my leg all night.

  “Watermelon Tits is pissed at you, ain’t she?” Kade asks outta nowhere, tappin’ his steering wheel to the beat of some twangy country song playing over the radio.

  “Was it that obvious?” My bro might know Kat well, but he doesn’t have the kinda time invested that I do. They can be chummy best friends with all that mushy, braid my hair, paint my toes, kumbaya, BFF shit. Regardless, there’s a difference between friendship love, and the kinda love and devotion you have for a soulmate.

  “Yeah, it was. She kept givin’ you the evil mom eye. That’s the one she usually reserves for me when she thinks I’m bein’ an asshole, or when I sneak the girls a second dessert. I swear, it’s as if she’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

  “I know. She’s been givin’ me that look since I told her I was leavin’.” Which went worse than expected. If this situation could’ve waited, I would’ve blown it off for another week or two. As it is, it’s well overdue. Pops has been on my case since I left the hospital to come in and take care of business. I wanted a few days to settle in with my girls before I ran off for the night. He said no. That it was tonight, or he was pullin’ rank.

  “Did you tell her why you had to go?” Kade prods.

  “No. Why would I do that? It’s club business.” How would that look if I told her what’s goin’ down, when we just had that discussion about the club?

  “Oh, I dunno, genius, ‘cause she’s your woman. Who almost lost you, and is also goin’ through a lot right now.”

  “But, it’s club biz,” I reiterate, staring out the side window, wantin’ to punch him in the fuckin’ mouth for givin’ me hell. I’m trying to protect Kat, not involve her in more shit.

  “You two talked about this, didn’t you?”

  “The club? Yeah.” I shrug half-assed.

  “And you still didn’t tell her what you were gonna do?”

  He needs to get off my nutsack.

  “No. Why the fuck would I? Spell it out for me, Kade, ‘cause she ain’t a brother.”

  “But she’s your old lady, my best friend, and Ghost’s daughter. She’s got a fuckuva lot invested in this club. I think she might deserve to know that her man is gonna have more blood on his hands tonight.”

  Scoffing, I shake my head in disgust. “You’re fuckin’ stupid.”

  “Why? ‘Cause I want her to know we got justice for you?”

  “Do you think Kat of all people is gonna be down with me killin’ in cold blood?”

  “You did it to save her.”

  One time, under special circumstances.

  “That’s not the same thing,” I growl, tappin’ my finger on the windowpane, irritated as fuck. “Plus, she shouldn’t be an accessory to murder.”

  “She already is. Or did you forget the dead men in your woods?”

  “That was unavoidable.”

  Kade snorts derisively. “Right. So it’s okay if she knows about those ‘cause it was unavoidable. But it’s not okay now? You make no goddamn sense.”

  “Club biz, bro, we’ve gone over this.” That’s what’s been ingrained in us since infancy. What does he expect me to say? When the teachers in school would send the counselors to check on us, because we’d act up, or whatnot, they were constantly trying to pry. They didn’t like the club in this town back then. They wanted it gone. And to get Pops in trouble, they used us as pawns in their silly games. If we hadn’t learned to keep our traps shut then, our lives would be a helluva lot different now. My childhood wasn’t filled with hugs, kisses, and caviar dreams. Pops ran a fuckin’ motorcycle club. Hell, I saw my first set of bare, perky tits when I was in elementary school. My first gangbang, six months later. I lit up for the first time when I was ten. This isn’t a fairytale. Never was, and never will be. If that’s not reason enough not to include my old lady in this lifestyle, and what it entails, I dunno what is.

  “I call bullshit,” Kade grits.

  “Why? What the fuck is it any of your business how I handle my woman anyhow? Oh, that’s right, asshole, it’s not. Sorry, I don’t wanna tell her I’m about to bleed three men that almost killed me, and did kill Vanessa. She ain’t like us. That’s not gonna make her sleep peacefully tonight. It’ll make her feel guilty as fuck. Death isn’t a big deal to people like you, me, Pops, Ghost, any of the Sacred Sinners, or Rosie. It’s a huge deal to her. You know me, Kade, you know I won’t tell her stuff for her protection. Not ‘cause I don’t think she can mentally handle it. But because she shouldn’t have to carry that burden around.”

  Kade groans his acquiescence. “Fine. I see your point. Your lady, your choice. Did you at least tell her about the party?”

  “Nope.” I hold up my hand to stop the tirade I can tell he’s about to unleash. “She already has club whore jealousy issues. If she knew we were gonna have a massive party tonight, she’d be worried I was gonna fuck around on her.”

  “Well, are you?”

  I shoot Kade a scathing look, fistin’ my hands on top of my lap. “Did you seriously fuckin’ ask me that?”

  “It’s a valid question. I love you, bro. But, no offense, I love her more.”

  That makes two of us.

  “No offense taken, fucker. And no, I’m not.”

  “Did you
bang that rat ass wife of yours, when you and the club left me in the dark about what was goin’ down?” Kade asks.

  “No. I didn’t. And we did that—”

  “’Cause I would’ve gutted that slut without thinkin’ twice.”

  Right on the money. He knows himself as well as we do.

  “Yes you would have, and that would’ve gotten us nowhere.”

  “Doesn’t matter now. She’s dead, and their club is about to be wiped from the face of the earth.”

  Hell yeah, it is.

  “Did Pops tell you about Rosie?” Diverting the subject to something lighter than Kat is always best. Topics pertaining to her have a tendency to get us both riled the fuck up. She’s family. And we protect what’s ours, even if it’s from each other. I can’t fault Kade for stickin’ up for my woman. Even if it pisses me off.

  Kade’s shoulders deflate as he grips the steering wheel firmly with both hands. “That she left ‘cause Big called on her to tie up loose ends? Yep, he told me. Fuckin’ sucks she left. Figured she might come back to check on Kat after she was finished.”

  “Maybe she’s not finished,” I offer. It’s a valid point. Tracking people who are in hiding takes time.

  “She is.” Kade’s crestfallen demeanor troubles me. I’m supposed to be the sullen sonofabitch. Not him.

  “How do ya know?”

  “’Cause it’s Rosie and she don’t waste time.”

  I nod.

  True.

  Derailing the conversation to greener pastures that don’t include my woman or the one he’s lusting after, I ask about tonight’s party and what to expect. This perks Kade up. We fall into a comfortable banter the rest of the ride to the clubhouse, where shit’s about to get real.

  Eleven

  Ryker

  One arm hooked around my pops’ thick neck, I hop down one step at a time and use the handrail for extra stability. Gettin’ to the clubhouse basement is no joke. You gotta go through two steel doors and walk down a fair amount of stairs. If I wasn’t half crippled, I could descend without a problem.

  Behind us, Kade carries my knee scooter, which has been a damn godsend. “You sure you’re up for this, brother?”

  Grittin’ my teeth through the spike of pain enveloping my shoulder, I reply a curt nod. Pops helps me down yet another step as I grip the handrail ‘til my knuckles blanch. The slight jostle is enough to set my blood on fire. Fuck, I should’ve taken more painkillers before I left. A joint sounds pretty damn amazing right about now. If I still lit up, that is. This bein’ a better man shit is exhausting.

  “It’s gotta be done,” Pops supplies in my stead.

  “I know. But it didn’t have to be today,” Kade disputes, fuming on my behalf.

  Another step down, only five more to go. If it weren’t too emasculating, I’d ask to be carried the rest of the way. Going up should be easier than this. I hope. If not, I’m sleepin’ down here tonight. Screw the party. Kade can bring me a cooler with some beer to tide me over.

  “I’m not keepin’ three prisoners in my basement any longer than I have to. Not when the pigs have been sniffin’ around,” Pops grumbles. Any second and these two might be goin’ head to head. This is why Ghost should’ve come along. He can handle Pops way better than anyone else. One look from his VP and things are copacetic. Don’t ask me how it works, it just does.

  Four steps left. Fuck! My teeth begin to ache from the pressure. Sweat beads on my bald head.

  Kade rumbles an appalled sound in the back of his throat. “It’s not Ryker’s fault he almost died. You pushed the docs to release him before they wanted to. Now you’re forcin’ him to do this. He hasn’t even been home a week!”

  Perfect, now Kade’s losin’ his cool and the only way to chill him out is with fuckin’, suckin’, a fresh kill, or his best friend. Since three of the four are out, looks like he’s gonna be gettin’ his hands dirty with me.

  “Are you the prez, son?” Pops snarls.

  Knowing his place, Kade keeps his trap shut and trails behind ‘til we hit the basement level. Then he skirts around us, sets my scooter down for me, and shoots me a look that says he’s got my back. Turning, Kade saunters up the dank hallway to our clubhouse cellblock. His boot heels scuff the floor with each echoed step. This place ain’t pretty. Nobody chills or lives down here. It’s a piece of shit. The cinder block walls, which used to be bright white, are now chipped and dirty. On the floor, there are tiny wet spots where water seeps through the cracked foundation. And it smells musty year round. As a kid, I was too freaked to scope this place out. They could film a horror movie down here—it’s that sinister.

  Releasing Pops neck, I set my knee on the scooter and follow behind as he joins Kade.

  The steel door of our first room is open when we arrive. Holy goddamn. Sonofabitch! The rancid stench of shit and piss that oozes into the hallway smacks me in the face like a two by four, making my eyes fuckin’ water. Pinching my nose to reduce exposure, I gag, swallow hard to keep from pukin’, then draw a fortifying breath through my mouth. It doesn’t help all that much. It’s so bad I can basically taste it, which is worse. Motherfucker! Has nobody been cleanin’ this man’s cage out? Isn’t that a prospect's job? Don’t we have at least one of those measly bastards?

  Pops and Kade shoot me a questioning look, their faces about as green as I feel.

  My stomach rolls into itself.

  “Looks like someone decided to draw us a portrait with his shit.” Kade’s throat works as he talks funny, nose plugged.

  “You decide what you wanna do with this one.” Pops juts his chin in the direction of the animal we’re about to put down.

  Scootin’ forward, I peek inside the space. Sure enough, a naked man is lying on a cot, ankle cuffed and chained to the center of the floor. And, yes, he’s coated in fecal matter from toes to throat. How he can stand to bathe in his own excrement is beyond my comprehension. I’ve witnessed plenty of sick fucks get put to ground, but this would be a first that I’ve seen go out in such a fashion. Even the concrete floor is smeared with feces. On the wall above his bed, there’s a giant ‘fuck you’ spelled out. Underneath it, he drew a gun blowin’ someone’s head off. A six-year-old could draw better, but I think we get the gist. The spray of shit where the head exploded is enough visual for me.

  “Did ya have fun playin’ in your butt mud?” I torment, tryin’ extra hard not to gag. He doesn’t get to see me weak. Usin’ this scooter is weakness enough.

  “Fuck off!” The fat guy booms, shaking a piece of dark hair outta his toffee-colored eye with the twitch of his head.

  “Didn’t wanna rub it in your beard?” How’d he manage not to get it on his face when there’s no runnin’ water to wash? These rooms aren’t anything more than a large box with an old cot, a drain in the floor, shackles, and a metal bucket. When we imprison someone down here, a prospect delivers bread and water twice a day to keep ‘em alive. There are no frills. This ain’t the fuckin’ Ritz.

  “Eat shit and die!” he howls in response.

  Oh, the irony.

  “Don’t think I’ll be the one eatin’ shit, asswipe. You’re the one who wanted to make a mud pie.” Why I’m conversing with the dumbass, I ain’t gotta clue. Strangely enough, he’s not a threat. It doesn’t look like he’s about to try anything, not that he could get anywhere if he did. The chain doesn’t reach the door, and there’s nothin’ to throw besides the bucket he has tipped upside down next to the cot he’s restin’ on.

  Side-eyeing Pops, I gesture to the putrid mess with a jerk of my elbow. I ain’t no fool, I’m not unpluggin’ my nose ‘til we close that door. “How did you not know about this?”

  Glaring at the mess through tiny eye slits, Pops shakes his head in revulsion. “Fuck all was said to me. I don’t come down here. Ghost runs the crew who’s been deliverin’ supplies to the prisoners. This is the first I’ve seen any of ‘em since they were brought in bruised and bloody. Ghost hosed ‘em down with cold water and
stripped ‘em of their clothes. That’s all I’ve heard.”

  “Well, someone’s fucked up on their duty. ‘Cause no one shits this much in one day,” Kade throws in.

  “No shit,” I deadpan, lookin’ at my brother who busts the fuck up at my lame attempt at a joke. Pops doesn’t find it quite as funny, but he grins wide enough you can see it through his beard.

  “So, I ain’t touchin’ him, or I’ll be cleanin’ shit off my scooter for days. You think he knew nobody would want to torture a man covered in his own shit, and that’s why he did it? ‘Cause there ain’t no fuckin’ way I’d do that for any reason unless I was insane.”

  “He was the one drivin’, so he had to know this was comin’,” Pops remarks.

  “Then what do y’all wanna do? Kade, you wanna have fun with him?” I ask, hoping he says yes so I don’t have to.

  “Do I wanna wade through man shit to kill the sick fuck?” Kade’s cheeks puff out, and he swallows hard on the verge of puking. Doubling over, holdin’ his stomach, gagging, he gets himself in check. A minute passes before Kade pushes off his knee with a hand to stand upright. His red-rimmed, watery eyes lock with mine. “I can’t do it. Unless we get a prospect down here to spray this clean, I’m not touchin’ anythin’ in that room.”

  “Me neither,” Pops agrees, leanin’ against the hall wall.

  Knowing time’s a-wastin', I roll forward until I’m fillin’ the doorway. Lifting the back of my cut, I extract my 9 mm Glock, aim with one arm, and squeeze the trigger once, twice, three times in succession. A bullet pierces the man’s thigh from the side. Another goes in his bicep and the third close to his hip. It’s enough damage to make him hurt, but not die fast, unless I nicked a major blood vessel. The wounds seep bright red as it takes a moment for the bastard to realize he’s been shot. Five seconds later and awareness finally washes over his face. Howling in agony, he knifes up in bed. Covering the wound on his hip and thigh, he tries to staunch the bleeding. By doin’ so he contaminates his injuries with shit. In a day, two at most, he’ll be dead by fecal bacteria entering his bloodstream. It’s a shitty way to die, but none of us are gonna enter that nasty room to get the job done. A prospect can deal with his lifeless body and clean up the mess once he croaks. Then to the burn pile he goes.