Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)

by Kim Jones

  The first is the sergeant at arms, who is soon to be the president. He yells something but all I can hear is the roaring in my ears. He hits me—hard, but I feel nothing. I don’t want to hurt this man, my brother; he is just doing his job. So I hit him just above his eye, in his brow. Blood gushes from his head, and while he is wiping to get it out of his eye so he can see me better, I speak.

  “SA, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.” He acknowledges my words and although he is still pissed, he doesn’t make any threatening moves toward me. Everyone is on their feet, even the VP, who is fixing to be in a world of pain. I go to him, and he knows what’s coming. It would be stupid of him to fight back, but he will because he is a man.

  I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. I have something to do, someone waiting for me, and the faster I handle him, the faster I can get back to her.

  He throws his hands up, welcoming a fight. That’s his first mistake. He thought we were gonna square up. I don’t give him the chance for a fair fight. My job is to hurt him. Which I do. I break his nose, and the feeling of bone crushing beneath my fist is so fucking satisfying that I don’t stop hitting him until he is unconscious. I pull his cut from his back and hand it to the secretary. He takes it with a nod of understanding.

  “He is out bad. He was warned. Drop him off at his house and keep his bike.” I turn to the SA, who is still trying to stop the bleeding in his brow. Fear registers on his face when I pull out my knife. It isn’t me he fears, but losing his cut. That is one of the aspects that make him a good brother.

  I cut the SA patch from him roughly and watch his eyes close. I put my hand on his shoulder, which is a show of high respect coming from me. I usually don’t touch anyone unless it is to hurt them. “Brother.” He opens his eyes at my words. “You are the new president of this chapter. You earned it. Don’t disappoint us.” I hand him the president patch and step away. “Appoint your officers. I will be outside.”

  I send the two Prospects at the door inside to take care of the unconscious body of an ex-brother. It should have been a dead body. He told the club he handled something when he didn’t. The result cost the club money, time, and favors to the wrong people. The money, time, and favors were forgivable, the lie was not. A lie is a lie, no matter how big or small, and you don’t lie to your fucking brothers.

  I prop up against the wall outside and pull a cigarette from the pack, noticing the blood covering my hands. I should wash it off, but I’ll keep it a little longer as a reminder.

  Church is over before I finish my cigarette, and the new president of the Oklahoma City chapter joins me and hands me a beer. His brow has finally stopped bleeding. A piece of bloody gauze now covers the wound.

  “Officers,” he says, handing me a piece of paper.

  I finish my beer with him before calling Nationals and informing them of the new officers of the Oklahoma City chapter. Now my business is done.

  As I mount my bike, I get a weird feeling inside of me. One that makes me wonder what has happened to the man I was only fifteen minutes ago. Right now, I no longer want to be that man. I’m ready to be that lust-struck puppet I was this morning when I woke up. The reality should be sickening but it’s not. Because right now, I just don’t give a damn.

  —

  We’re at a gas station, two days from Jackpot, when I get a call from Shady. I can tell by the gravity in his tone that his news is bad.

  “We got a problem. Remember Chester?” Chester, a member of some riding club who I’d beat to death a few months back. The guy had it coming for disrespecting one of our Nationals repeatedly, but I knew there would eventually be blowback from it.

  “What about him?”

  “We discussed his brothers wanting revenge, so I’ve been keeping an eye out. One of them spotted you. He sent a message out on an unsecure line. They’re planning an ambush.”

  I replace the nozzle on the pump, wondering why Shady was so worked up about this. It wasn’t the first time someone had threatened me.

  “I’ll deal with it,” I say, doubting anything would happen anyway.

  “Um, Dirk?”

  “What?”

  “What about Saylor?” Shit. Of course Shady knew she was with me. The little fucker knew everything. But his reminder has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I had put Saylor’s life on the line. There was always a target on my back, and as long as she was with me, there was a target on hers too.

  “Let me know as soon as you find something out. I’ll keep my phone in my helmet.” I hang up, watching Saylor as her smile fades when she notices the look on my face. We’d been talking more. I’d even explained my patches to her, and she had read me a poem from her diary. Two steps forward, three steps back.

  “Something wrong?” I don’t want to lie to her, but I know she needs reassuring. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning down to kiss the crease between her eyes. It’s the most intimate gesture I’ve given to her when we weren’t in bed. I feel her body melt and hear her sigh. She likes it and I know that my touch was all the reassurance she needed. And her smile was mine.

  —

  We’re on the interstate, rolling at a leisurely pace of ninety-five when I hear them. Seconds before I see them, my phone rings loudly in my ear. I flip up my visor, reaching in to open the phone. Shady’s voice can be heard loud and clear, even before I shut the visor to block out the sound of the wind.

  “I just got confirmation, but I think some are already on you.”

  “Some? How many are there?”

  “More are coming, but I don’t know how many.” I pull the throttle back on my back, hitting a hundred on the speedometer within seconds. I grab Saylor’s arm, pulling it tighter around my waist, hoping she gets the message. When her fingers lock and I feel her press up against me, I know she does.

  “I see three in my rearview. I’m gonna try to lose them, but I’m on the interstate. Got an exit coming up—fifty-six off of I-40 west.”

  “I’m pulling it up now.” I ride faster, hoping Saylor doesn’t freak out as I split two eighteen-wheelers. She tightens her hold and despite the situation, I want to smile. I wonder if she is getting the same adrenaline high I am right now. “Take the exit, then go left.” I wait until the last minute before taking the exit, cutting off a car in my path. Before I’m at the intersection, I can see the three bikes exiting the interstate right behind me.

  “We got anybody around here?” Sinner’s Creed had support clubs in every state, but having one in this area would be sheer luck.

  “Nope.” I guess it isn’t my lucky day. I stay straight, running red lights and passing cars through the small town.

  “Got another problem, Dirk.” Of course he does. “You’re probably about to lose reception.” How the fuck Shady knows that I don’t have a clue. I guess that’s part of the “mad skills” he always claims to have.

  “If I lose you, keep trying me. I’m passing Lott Drive on highway 564.” The three bikes in my mirror are now only two. If I can find somewhere secluded and put enough distance between us, I can stop and shoot them. I don’t want to, but it isn’t only my life that’s at risk . . .

  “There’s a house for sale ten miles from you. It should be vacant. Try to make it there. Follow the signs. It will be on the le—” Shit.

  I see the sign up ahead and start to slow. Pulling my gun from my cut, I check my mirror for any other cars and thankfully there are none. As I’m turning, I extend my arm beside Saylor, shooting aimlessly beside me. The bikes slow and I speed up, using the distraction to put as much distance between us and them as possible. Saylor’s screams can be heard over the sound of the gun, and the feeling is sickening.

  I replace my gun then rub my hand over hers, trying to calm her. Noticing the sign, I speed up, waiting until the last minute to turn, and I have to put my foot down to keep from dropping us. Saylor rides it out, not panicking and leaning away, but leaning with me. Her trust fuels me and I pull back on th
e throttle again, determined to not let her down.

  The road leads us deeper into the country until the houses become further apart. The bikes are far enough behind me that I should be able to turn into the driveway and pull around back before they see us. The small sign ahead sits next to a driveway that is thankfully paved. I pull onto it, flying over the small hill with no knowledge of what’s on the other side, but I have no choice. The hill leads into a curve that I know I won’t make.

  My bike leaves the driveway, bouncing through the yard. I manage to come to a stop at an old shed without killing us both. I climb off, breaking the lock with the butt of my gun before opening the door and pulling inside. Saylor is off the bike and standing in shock beside it. Once it’s hidden, I listen for the sound of pipes, but they are long gone. I’m pretty sure they didn’t see us, but I won’t take any chances.

  I grab our bags and Saylor’s hand, pulling her behind me as I run to the back door of the old house. The door is made of wood and I easily pry it open with my pocketknife. I walk inside, breathing in the scent of mold and staleness. Locking the door behind us, I pull Saylor into my arms. Her heart beats heavy and hard against my chest.

  “You okay?” That’s a stupid question. Of course she isn’t. She nods into my chest, and I know she’s lying. “Look at me.” She looks up, and I see the fear in her eyes. She isn’t afraid of me, only the situation.

  “What did those men want, Dirk?” I look away, knowing the time has finally come for me to make a decision. I have to be honest with her. There is no half in or half out in this life. Either she knows everything or nothing at all. I would prefer nothing, but knowing Saylor, she wants everything. And I’m afraid it still won’t be enough to make her leave.

  “They wanted me. Revenge.” I see the question in her eyes. Just as I expected, she wants more.

  “Are we safe?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.” My words are determined. I speak the truth and she believes it.

  “What about you?”

  “I can take care of myself.” My phone rings and I’ve never been more thankful for Shady’s interruption.

  “Shady,” I say, never letting my eyes leave Saylor’s as I hold her in my arms.

  “He’s alive!” he says, in a very dramatic voice. It’s loud enough for Saylor to hear and she smiles.

  “What do you want?”

  “To make sure you aren’t dead, of course. Got big plans tonight?” I can almost see the prick wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t forget my bir—” I hang up, not giving a shit about his birthday and wondering how a thirty-year-old man could still expect presents and well wishes—especially from someone like me.

  I follow Saylor into one of the back bedrooms that has a window seat. She sits, looking out across the yard, then up at the darkening sky. I’m content with just standing here and staring at her, but I’m sure she is fixing to start asking questions. I just hope they are ones I can answer.

  “You said those men wanted revenge. What did you do?” I walk up behind her, standing close but not allowing our bodies to touch.

  “I handled business.”

  She lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. “Let me guess, it’s confidential.” I let my silence answer for me. She doesn’t push further and I start to relax, knowing she won’t always be this easy to pacify, but thankful that she is right now.

  “You should sleep. I have some calls to make.” I don’t wait for an answer as I leave her and walk around the house, then through the yard to familiarize myself with the place. After I’m comfortable with my knowledge of the layout, I return to the shed, where my bike is hidden.

  In my saddlebag, everything is a weapon. From a tool to a gun, I have it all. Today, one of my homemade creations will serve a better purpose than just a weapon. I pull out the lock that is tied inside of a bandana and replace the broken lock on the shed door. Now that my loose ends are tied up, there is only one thing left to do. I light a smoke, lean against the shed, and call Nationals.

  “I see you’re still alive.” What the hell was it with the doubt?

  “I see you and Shady think alike.”

  “I need you here by Friday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The line disconnects and the conversation is over before half of my cigarette has been smoked. It took less than a minute for my club to do nothing more than give me another job. Some days I can’t help but feel like just a number. But as I look down at the 1% patch on my cut, I know that it doesn’t matter how I feel. It only matters who I am. And tonight, just like every other night of my life, I am only one thing. Sinner’s Creed.

  —

  The only piece of furniture in the house is an old couch that sits in the living room. I’d returned to find Saylor sitting there writing in her diary. She was so absorbed by what she was writing that it took her a while to notice me. Even then, it’s like she could sense me before she saw me.

  She asked me to lay with her on the couch, so I did. Now I lay here in the darkness with nothing but the sound of her breathing filling the room. Until I hear the growing sound of pipes.

  Blood runs cold through my veins as I strain to hear what direction they are coming from. I know they are coming back to find me. They likely had people at each end of the road, waiting to see what direction I went. Since I never left, they know I’m here somewhere, and if they’re smart, this will be the first place they look.

  The sound grows louder as headlights dance across the wall in front of me. There is no time to call for backup. Even if there was, there isn’t anyone within a hundred-mile radius. All I can do now is hide and hope that they leave. I place my hand over Saylor’s mouth. I feel her tense beneath me then immediately relax at the sound of my voice.

  “It’s me. I want you to crawl to the hallway. Don’t make a sound.” She nods and slips off the couch, crawling in the direction of the hallway. I grab our bags and follow her, then stand and grab her hand before leading her into the back room we were in earlier.

  I pull open the closet door and usher her into the tiny space. I place her directly behind me, pull both my guns from my cut and wait. I can feel Saylor’s hands gripping the back of my cut, hanging on for dear life. I let her touch power my need to protect her and fuel my anger. I’ll kill any motherfucker that I see, just to keep her safe.

  I close my eyes and concentrate on the sounds around me. The only thing I hear is the steady beat of my heart and the hammering of hers until the back window on the door is busted open. They’re in the kitchen. Footsteps . . . three sets. The voices are hushed at first, and then become louder. They are amateurs, likely men who have no direct ties to the man I killed. If they were personally affected, they would know me. And they would know to treat each step they take as if it were their last.

  “Nobody’s here, man. The shed is locked up tight, no sign of forced entry on the house. Let’s just get the hell outta here.”

  Fear. If I couldn’t hear it in his voice, I could smell it on him the moment he stepped into the room. I keep my guns trained on the center of the door, ready for them to open it. But footsteps descend and soon, the sound of three bikes leaving is echoing through the night.

  I turn my head, burying my face into Saylor’s hair. “Stay here. No matter what, you stay in this closet. You understand?” She nods into my back, and I start to walk away but her tight grip on my cut holds me to her. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I say, reassuring her. I wish I could touch her, but there is no time for that.

  She lets out an exasperated sigh, and I’m unsure why until the moment she speaks. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  —

  I’ve made my rounds. I’ve cleared our hideout. I’ve followed protocol and done everything I’m supposed to do. But the only thing I can focus on is Saylor’s words. No one has ever said something like that to me. Not even my own brothers. My club cares about me; they have to. I’m valuable to them. But, if I died today,
someone else would only take my place.

  But Saylor, she makes me feel like I’m the only man on the planet. Like if my life was lost, hers might as well be too. I know my thoughts are pretty fucking extreme, but I can’t help how she makes me feel.

  I take time to get my shit together before going back to her. What I find when I open the closet door is not what I expect. I’m expecting her to be curled into the fetal position, bawling her eyes out and begging me to take her home. That would be a normal reaction for someone who just had a near-death experience. But Saylor is on her feet, until she launches herself at me.

  “What took you so long?” she asks me between kisses. She is breathless, and her words are angry. My hands are on her ass, holding her around my waist. She slaps me, then grabs my face between her hands, forcing me to look at her. “I thought you were dead!”

  Tears of anger are flooding from her eyes. She kisses me again and I can taste her salty tears on my lips. I don’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here. With her. And I don’t care if this is dangerous for her.

  I should be taking her home. I should let the anger I feel toward myself for putting her in this shit in the first place push me to do the right thing. But I can’t. And by the way she is attacking me, she sure as fuck don’t want to leave me.

  My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, for her. I don’t care if she reads my thoughts. I don’t care if she is in my head. She can have me. All of me. She can have the bad and the good and I will give her everything I’ve got.

  She is ripping my clothes from me. I lay her on the floor so that I am on top of her. And I remember her promise. I remember she promised her dying mother that she wouldn’t give herself to anyone unless they meant something to her. I won’t make her break her promise.

  I pin her arms above her head and slow the kiss down. I hold her there until I feel her submit to me. When I pull away from her mouth, she has calmed down. Her breathing is almost normal, but the hollow of her throat is moving rapidly with her pulse. I kiss it then slide my tongue across her collarbone. I raise my head and look into her eyes. She wants me. She needs me.