Even when they were quiet, their eye contact alone produced an undercurrent of barely restrained mirth.
Then there was Tanner.
Most of his attention was spent on his phone, but when he did manage to come up for air, he cared so much it could sometimes be suffocating. I didn’t need to be shielded from the world when it had already done the worst it could to me. If anything, the world needed to be protected from me. Unfortunately, there was no telling him that.
He was the overprotective older brother I had never asked for. Complete with the need to threaten any guy not part of the club who might be in my immediate vicinity. An effort in futility, given the watery grave my romantic life rested in. He got on my nerves the way only people you truly cared about could. I sometimes grew tired of his antics, but there was no denying he did his best to watch out for me.
I blinked as a new thought occured to me and retrieved my white board again. Tanner, in his meddling do-gooder glory, had hooked me up with a brand new tablet, stylus and everything. It was sitting in the box under my bed back in Oakdale.
What could I say? The smell of dry erase markers had developed a special place in my heart.
“What are you doing here?”
The whole point of sneaking out of the hospital before the sun rose this morning had been to avoid having company. Especially with the sight of Lizzy cradling little Abigail still burned into my retinas. I'd needed to get away, badly.
“Creed figured you would do something like this, so he had me on lookout. I slept in my car, by the way, so thanks for that.”
My cheeks twitched at his put out tone. “You’re welcome. So why am I just seeing you now?”
“You know how many coffee shops this city has?” He shuddered dramatically. “I’ve been searching for a while.”
It was so odd sometimes, reconciling the gun toting outlaw I knew he was with the patient man who brewed his own herbal tea. It should’ve been my thing. I was the one whose room looked like it came straight out of feudal Japan. Tone though, he was serious about the natural, organic stuff.
If you asked me, I would say it didn’t have any flavor.
Not that anyone ever asked. Carrying out a conversation with someone who only wrote or typed their answers wasn't high on anyone's to-do list. Except Tanner’s, of course. He tended to stick to my side like glue. I didn’t really understand why but I never questioned it. I would take whatever company I could get most times.
“Plus, I was looking for a biker with a badass mohawk sharper than the weapons she carries...not a half drowned looking goth chick,” Tone continued. I smacked him lightly in the arm and he laughed. “Seriously. Did you lose a bet?”
I adjusted my beanie, feeling overly conscious and hating it as I made sure nothing was out of place. Wearing full face helmets almost year round - because I refused to get on my bike without one like the rest of the guys - should’ve left me used to having my normally spiky hair flattened into an unflattering line.
It hadn’t.
Being without my usual style always made me feel I was missing a crucial piece. At sea without a life jacket. Standing in the spotlight with my lines forgotten.
I could remind myself it was only hair until the end of time, but some part of me would continue holding onto the need to be presentable, despite the lengths the other part of me went to in order to look as threatening as possible.
“It’s called being undercover. Dick.” These were the instances I was glad I didn’t speak. There was no risk of my voice betraying my inner thoughts.
“That’s what they’re calling it these days?”
“If the Cartel have a most wanted list, I’m in the number one spot. My usual look is about as subtle as a flashing billboard.”
“All the more reason why you shouldn’t be doin’ this alone.”
“I guess you don’t want to join me for the Cartel and Viper meeting tonight?”
He stopped right there on the sidewalk, forcing people to go around. No one complained. Would you, if the guy standing in your way was over six feet tall and sporting an inordinate amount of muscle hardly contained by his leather jacket? That was without adding the gleaming bald head and his thick, well groomed beard.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“How the hell did you manage that?”
I stepped backwards out of the flow of pedestrians and Tone followed. My closet was full of more weapons than clothing but I knew how to not be rude. Most of the time.
“Early bird gets the worm.”
He didn’t scowl so much as he radiated a lack of amusement. “Be serious. If all the players are going to be there we need to let Creed and Tex know while they’re still in town. That way they can-”
One word. Bold and underlined. “No.”
“No?”
“Do you hear an echo?”
“Jesus, Sly. Now isn’t the time to start fucking around.”
It didn’t take much for the rage I was carefully keeping a lid on to bubble to the surface. It was always there. Waiting and ready to be unleashed. I let Tone see it in my eyes.
“Do I look like I’m fucking around?” He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly but shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Now I’d like to have you with me on this but I’ll order your ass gone if you get in my way and do the rest myself.”
“Readin’ you loud and clear, boss.”
I pinned him with another hard stare before continuing.
“The disguise worked perfectly. I caught Raze off guard and let him know he was under Judas protocols.”
It was exactly what it sounded like.
In simple terms, it meant we had reason to believe someone was up to some shady ass shit. If we determined they were, well, the name of the club wasn’t Seven Saints for good reason. Forgiveness wasn’t a concept we indulged in often.
Tone grunted. “Wish I could’ve seen his face for that.”
“It was well worth waking up before the rest of the city.”
“You do realize, that if he was dirty, he could’ve put a bullet in you and none of us would’ve known shit.”
It was almost funny. Him thinking I might actually be scared of death after so long spent wishing for it. “If I let a chump like Raze punch my ticket, I would’ve deserved it.”
His long, exhausted sigh said he wanted to argue but common sense prevailed. “So when and where is this meeting?”
“Cartel owned club. A little before midnight.”
He cursed and walked a few steps away from me, pinching the bridge of his nose before coming back. “And you want to go in there with just the two of us?”
I groaned, annoyed at how long this was taking. My wrist was starting to hurt.
“Swear to God, you’re gonna give my beard gray hair. Fine, I’ll follow your lead unless shit starts looking fubared. I am bringing in some other guys I trust, though.”
I started writing and he put his palm over the board. Caught by a surprising bout of pettiness, I scribbled on the back of his hand with my marker.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Sly. You’ll still be runnin’ things and some backup won’t hurt. End of discussion. So what are we doin’ in the meantime?”
I clenched my fingers but managed to keep myself from responding. What he was suggesting was fair. Unwanted, but fair. Besides, I had another way to get back at the health freak anyway.
“Doughnuts?”
***
The more time that went by with me sitting at a table in the VIP section of whatever this annoyingly loud club was called, the more convinced I was Carlos really had chosen to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Raze was seated to my left, looking like someone needed to get him a prescription for the twitching he was doing.
To my right, was the overweight man Raze had introduced as Narciso. It was another red mark in the Viper’s ledger when he couldn’t afford many more. Did he really think I wouldn’t recognize the sweating pig beside me as
the leader of the Cartel in this city?
The Sinners had decided who would keep their lives, and the right to continue their operations under new guidelines. It was a decision I had vehemently disagreed with at the onset, until I saw the sense in it.
Destabilizing the Cartel as a whole, without possibly turning the entire state into a warzone, was nearly impossible. Keeping their major workings under our firm fist and watchful eye proved to be much more manageable than tracking down a thousand smaller deals.
Narciso pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his face while Raze continued to send worried glances towards the stairs. I hadn’t said or written a thing, yet here they were, already acting like guilty men.
But guilty of what?
My gut was telling me Carlos was the one with all the answers. All the secrets. Too bad the bastard was nowhere in sight. If Raze was wasting my time with this, the consequences were going to be dire.
“He’s coming,” said Raze, sensing my impatience. I shot him a look and he shut his mouth, swallowing thickly.
Luckily for him, he was right.
Carlos rose to the top of the stairs and onto the landing with a casual grace and time froze.
I thought I would be better prepared for seeing him face to face, given the picture Tanner dug up for me.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
He was a boy, the last time I laid eyes on him.
Now he was undeniably a man.
His features were sharper than any of the knives I had hidden away and equally as alluring. The same way I used the pads of my fingers to test their edges; I was struck by the need to feel along the line of his jaw, partially hidden by the shadow of scruff.
Would it cut me?
Would it not?
I wanted to find out bad enough I was grateful my hands were still beneath the table. I was able to squeeze them tightly together, strangling the urge, without anyone knowing the difference.
There was a perfection to his appearance that went beyond the wavy, dark brown hair swept expertly into place and skin the color of warm caramel. His grey suit fit without there being a single wrinkle out of place, no easy feat given the wide shoulders and thick arms packed inside of it. Custom made. Had to be. And if I took one of his polished dress shoes, I would never need another mirror in my life.
In the interest of full disclosure, I had to admit he looked mouth wateringly good and I fucking despised it.
Where the Cartel was involved, there was no room in my heart for any emotion other than the fiery, unrelenting hatred. The same emotion responsible for turning me from the prey into the predator.
So why, when those honey eyes locked onto mine, did I momentarily lose my breath?
What was it about him that drew me in and made me forget, even for an instant, the awful truth of my reality?
I couldn’t blame it solely on his looks.
This had happened once before, during our first and only encounter more than a decade past. He’d been a teenager, with the gangly, awkward limbs and budding sense of self that came with it. Except he hadn’t acted the part. The sheer courage he'd shown by standing firm in the face of three walking, talking, natural disasters had chipped at the glacier of hate deep in my soul.
He had silenced, for an instant, the howling gale calling out for blood.
I often told myself a lie about the reason I let him live that day. It sounded good, to pretend my reasons were based on something as lofty and pure as not wanting more deaths laid at my feet than there had already been. The truth was simple, and selfish. In appreciation for accomplishing something I could never quite manage on my own, I had spared him while knowing good and well who his father was.
But as Carlos moved closer to the table, sinking down in his seat with a comfortable grace, I found myself questioning my earlier mercy.
He reeked of wealth and arrogance, the stink of it saturating my nose. The frayed nerves Raze and the other worm were clearly afflicted by didn’t show in the least on his chiseled features. If anything, he looked more annoyed than scared by this change of events, full lips curling slightly at one edge to reveal a hint of sharp teeth.
“What the fuck is she doing here?”
His words and tone strung my body tight as a bow, and I stared hard at him, hoping to burn a hole straight through. The anger was incredibly useful in that moment. I gave in to it, allowing the weight of it to crash against me and be harnessed.
It helped me ignore the way his accent rubbed against my senses like crushed velvet, igniting things low in my stomach he had no business being near.
My attraction to the opposite sex had returned in fits and starts over the years. An unwelcome visitor that had thankfully laid low until now.
Until him.
The one man I refused to be attracted to under any condition.
Carlos was with the Cartel, his presence here proved it. But there was more. His will was powerful. I could feel it like a living thing, pressing down on me from all sides. He was a destroyer. A conqueror. It was there in his eyes.
And I would never be conquered.
Ever.
Again.
I extended a hand, palm facing up, never taking my eyes from the enemy. Tone stepped up behind my shoulder and dropped a notebook and black sharpie into my waiting grasp. I propped it up in front of me as he retreated and started writing.
Carlos hummed a low note. “Are you going to draw something up for us, little girl?”
The muscular beast behind him coughed into his hand, hiding a grin. Manuel, my mind supplied from the other information I had dug up. Beside him, the slimmer one, Isaac, adjusted his glasses. His expression remained carefully neutral.
I paused, glancing up at Carlos’s smug, irritable face.
Two seconds.
That was how long it would take for one of the throwing knives tucked in my sleeves to be set free and buried in his throat. No one looked confident when their life blood was escaping from a red mouth they couldn’t close. It was a proven fact.
But I wasn't here in the capacity of an executioner. Not yet at least.
I skewered Raze with look, and if possible, he managed to seem more uncomfortable than he already was.
When I returned my attention to the notebook in my hands, it was to write something meant for all of them.
“Who's going to fill me in on what this meeting was supposed to be about?”
They exchanged glances and rage licked the insides of my veins, bright and hot and scorching.
Raze started tapping his foot beneath the table. “We try to get together once a week. That way, we can check in on what areas need our attention the most. Make sure everyone is following the rules.”
Was he really this stupid or was he trying to play me for a fool?
“Our?” I shook my head slowly and his face paled. “There is only us and them.”
“There's no reason our business relationships can't be more amenable than both sides tossing threats.” Carlos sounded cool and measured, every bit the smooth talking boss.
Raze visibly relaxed once the other man had spoken and my eyes narrowed. I was very aware of Tone behind me, the silent vanguard watching this all play out. Despite the harshness of my earlier warning, I knew if things started spiraling there would be nothing I could do to keep the other Sinners from getting involved. I also knew I didn't want them here, for reasons both selfish and not.
I couldn't help but feel responsible for this current mess.
Somehow. Someway. One of our chapters had been compromised.
Because of Carlos.
No matter how strong the empire, only one wall needed to fall to allow the invaders a straight route to the seat of power. Someone I had let live was responsible for the cracks in the foundation, which made this whole thing my concern and no one else's.
Selfishness aside, I couldn't stomach the thought of calling Creed or Texas in on this powder keg. They would both have some choice words for
me if they knew I was trying to protect them in any way. Creed especially would rage like a volcano blowing its top, but I didn’t care.
Things had changed recently.
First, when Texas had found Lizzy. Again, when Creed decided he was keeping Caitlin. I usually didn't play well with other girls, but I was glad to consider them my friends. They had been unrelenting in their quest to bring me into the fold every chance they got. The two had actually ambushed me with a sleepover/pedicure/wine session not long ago, and while I had sworn them to silence - God forbid any of the men in my life found about it - it had actually been pretty fun.
They were a breath of fresh air to lungs filled with smog.
They were also painfully innocent. Neither of them had been around during the bloody rise to the top. They didn't know what it was like to bury people who were like family. If something happened to Creed or Tex, I would be devastated, but they would be destroyed.
And if something happened to those girls?
Goosebumps rose up along my flesh.
We would leave this city trembling in the wake of death and agony we left behind.
“You don't want threats? Too fucking bad. This city is officially on notice. Now get out of my sight.”
Carlos went perfectly still and I flashed him a grin that was all teeth.
“You think you can dismiss me, just like that?” His tone remained impassive but his eyes flashed, giving him away. “Estas fuera de mi mente, chica.”
His accent was stronger in Spanish, rolling off the tongue rapid fire. A sexy, baritone barrage capable of making me duck for cover to avoid the flutter in my stomach, if not for the insult contained in his words.
“I'm not out of my mind.” His eye twitched and the brother built like a brick house cursed. Know thy enemy. The time spent wrangling Kane and Saze for lessons was made worth it by their obvious surprise. “And if you call me girl again, when I know good and damn well that you know my name, I'm going to empty your skull with a butter knife.”
Saved by a Sinner Page 4
