Tink's Salvation (Satan's Sinners MC Book 9)

by Colbie Kay

  “Hey,” Grady’s voice calls, catching my attention and pulling it to him. “What’s going on with you today?”

  Running my forearm over my forehead, I wipe the sweat away. “I don’t know. I’m just in my head about not working. I wish I could find something that’ll get me away from here, that I love doing.”

  He nods. “Makes sense.” Grady sets his own tools down and steps to my side. With his hand on my shoulder, he squeezes tightly as a father would to their son. “You’re still young and have time to figure your life out, but until then, I’m taking you to my old hangout.”

  A rush of excitement washes through me, reminding me of when I was a kid waiting for that one present on Christmas morning. “Where’s that?” My gaze meets his.

  His smile lights up his entire face. “You’ll see.”

  I straddle the 1983 Heritage Softail that Grady dubbed mine since it was the one that kept drawing me in. Waiting for him to pull his 2013 cherry red Road King around, I start up the bike, grinning when I feel her vibration and hear her rumble to life. Once he’s in front, I follow him out of the trailer park, and we begin to ride.

  We don’t stop until we’ve come to a gate where a man is waiting. Grady talks to him for a second then the gate opens. A line of beautiful Harleys sits pretty side by side along the front row of the parking lot. Mesmerized, I shut my own bike off and step beside Grady’s bike. In awe, I ask, “What is this place?” I stare at the brick building.

  He stands and swings his leg over, dismounting. “It’s the compound for the Satan’s Sinners Motorcycle Club.”

  My eyes widen. I remember hearing stories around town about these guys, how they’re dangerous and not people you wanna mess with.

  “I was a hang-around, but never prospected. I quit comin’ here when the old president got killed,” he explains.

  My brows knit in confusion. “Then why bring me?”

  “I see the way you love that bike and the happiness you get from riding. It’s in your blood. Thought maybe these guys might have some work for you or something. You’ve complained about those shit jobs that never last. Maybe finding something you have a love for would help you.”

  I shrug. “It’s worth a shot.”

  We walk through the door. Stepping over the threshold is like stepping into a whole new world. Men wearing black leather sit around the bar with bottles and glasses in hand. Those men are huge and kind of terrifying. Naked women without an ounce of shame bounce around from table to table and guy to guy. One woman pokes her head out from under the table as she wipes her mouth. I think my eyes may have grown to the size of saucers. I gape at the man, and he’s grinning like a fool as he pulls his jeans up. I lean closer to Grady. “Was she sucking his dick right there?”

  He chuckles. “You’re gonna see a whole lotta shit here, Boy.” He steps closer to the bar where a red-headed woman is tending to the patrons. My eyes keep scanning the smoke-filled building, taking in everything I can. This place is fucking awesome!

  “What can I get ya’?” The bartender’s bubbly voice asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  I stay quiet as Grady orders, “Two beers.” He pauses before telling her, “And the President.”

  She nods before opening a cooler and pulling out two ice-cold bottles. “Drifter, go see if Hanger is busy. Tell him someone’s here to see him.”

  “Got it, Chat.” He doesn’t hesitate to disappear down the hallway. She must be important here.

  She passes us the beers, and we find an empty table. It doesn’t take long for a man to come and kick out a chair at our table. He’s got short dark hair and stubble that lines his strong jaw. Glancing at his black vest one patch says Hanger the other says President. “You wanted to see me?” He rests both his inked arms on the table, lacing his fingers together.

  Grady speaks, “I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I used to come here when your pop was President. Name’s Grady Schmidt.”

  Hanger’s eyes narrow as he stares at Grady for a few moments. “I think I remember you. What can I do for you?”

  Grady’s arm settles on my shoulder, he pats my chest with the other. “My boy here has been having a tough time keeping work. He helped me get two bikes running over the last year, and I taught him how to ride. I was hoping maybe you had something for him.”

  Hanger sucks in air through clenched teeth. “I don’t know, Grady.” He runs his hand over his unshaven face. “Most of our work is tied up with members and prospects.”

  I jump in maybe with a little more enthusiasm than I should. “I’d prospect!” Grady and Hanger both laugh.

  Hanger’s gaze meets mine, all laughter gone. “Do you know what prospectin’ even means?”

  I shake my head but sit up straighter in my seat. “No, but I can learn. I’m a fast learner.”

  He smirks. “There’s nothin’ really to learn except the rules. This club would be your life, it would be your number one priority. When we need you, you don’t hesitate, and we’re a family. I would take a bullet for any one of my guys. We’re family.” His eyes are hard as steel as he stresses the family part again. He continues, “Is this something you could handle? You’re young.”

  I nod. “I can handle it. I’ve never had a family besides my mom and Grady.”

  His eyes narrow. “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  His brow arches. “Why you wanna prospect.”

  My gaze casts down for a moment before I lock eyes with him again. “I’ve never fit in anywhere. Like I said, all I’ve ever had was my mom and Grady. Family sounds nice,” I tell him the truth.

  His head tilts to the side a little as he rubs his chin. “What’s your name?”

  “Lucas Melody, but everyone calls me Tink.”

  His lips lift up with a grin. “Alright, Tink, come tomorrow. I’ll have a prospect’s cut for you.”

  He stands from the table and strolls away.

  “Boy, I didn’t bring you here to get you into something you ain’t ready for.” Grady shakes his head.

  My smile grows wider. “I’m ready.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Grady takes a pull from his beer and stands. “Let’s finish our ride.”

  I haven’t been a prospect for long, but when the opportunity arose and Satan's Sinners needed me, I was happy to volunteer to go undercover for them. This was my chance to prove my loyalty, prove how much I want this life with them, prove how much I want that member’s cut instead of this prospect one.

  I haven’t minded all the bitch work they have me doing like washing their bikes or cleaning up puke, piss, and trash after the weekend parties. They’ve given me a place to stay and an actual bed all to myself to sleep in. That is if I don’t have one of the club girls there. I’ve gotten more pussy being here than I have in my entire life. Who would have thought a black vest and a motorcycle would have chicks begging for your cock like flies on shit?

  I enter the chapel behind Gunner, the vice president, and take a seat at the church table. Hanger, Bear, and Demon are waiting. Bear is the club’s enforcer and Demon is treasurer. “You two ready to do this?” Hanger questions with worry etched in his expression, more so for his best friend than me.

  “As ready as we’re gonna get,” Gunner taps his knuckles on the table, responding straight-faced.

  Hanger shakes of his head once before his eyes focus on me. “Alright. Tink, you’re goin’ in to get close to The Four Kings and Deuce. All information you receive you bring to Gunner so he can relay it all back to us. If at any point, Gunner wants to pull out of the mission, thinks it’s getting too dangerous, or even gets a bad feeling about either of you, you pull the fuck out. Got it?”

  “Got it, Prez,” I reply without hesitation.

  His stare bores into mine. “I’m not bullshittin’ on this, Tink. This will decide your fate as a patch-holder or if we throw you out on your ass.”

  “I got it!” My voice raises as we stare at one another, neither backing down. It may b
e fucking stupid to stand up to Hanger like this, but I have something to prove, and there’s something I want. He needs to understand I’m in this and I have heart. After high school, I vowed to never allow another person to bully me or make me cower. I’ve held onto that promise to myself, and I won’t back down now.

  Bear breaks the silence and standoff, “Here are your fake IDs.” He slides them across the table.

  Gunner picks his up first. “Edward?” Gunner cocks his brow, amusement playing on his face.

  “Yeah, Mr. Businessman.” Bear laughs deeply, the sound loud and rich. “You’ll be drivin’ a Prius, too.”

  Bear’s eyes locked on mine as he addresses me. “You’re the younger brother of Edward Johnson. Your name is Alex, and y’all just transferred there because of a promotion Edward took from Washburn University. You were born and raised in Ohio. The Prius has the fake tags already on it—and watch yourselves on the ride there. Gunner, thanks to Hacker, you’re in the system at Washburn University as the new physics professor, and Hacker’s already made what is going on known. If someone tries to call and get information on you, they know what to do. Here are your burner phones. I programmed mine and Hanger’s numbers in so call with updates.”

  We take the phones Bear passes us, and Demon takes over. “Here’s ten G’s to get you started.” Demon slaps the stack of money into Gunner’s palm before continuing, “You’ll be living outside Topeka. It’s a suburb called Montera. You have a house set up, and someone will be by in the morning for the money due. Here’s the address.” I take the paper with a picture of the house, information about it, and the location. Demon finishes, “The utilities are already turned on in Edward’s name. Gunner, there should be no reason for you to even step foot inside the city limits of Topeka. Tink, do not bring anyone home–it could risk the undercover job. You wanna get your dick wet, do it somewhere else.”

  “Any questions?” Hanger asks as the three of them focus on me and Gunner.

  Gunner slams his hands down on the table and stands. “Nope, looks like everything’s covered. Let’s do this.”

  We all follow suit, and Hanger holds the door open for us to leave the room. I head to the bar where all of the brothers and other prospects are standing, waiting to say their goodbyes. Hanger pulls me aside while I’m making the rounds.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he states, “What happened in there, don’t ever let it happen again. Got it?”

  “I’m sorry. I just really want this.”

  The tension leaves his stance. “There’s a difference between having heart and disrespect. I’m your president. When I question you or tell you somethin’, it’s with good reason. Raising your voice isn’t going to get you anything but hurt.”

  “I wasn’t trying to come off as disrespectful. I won’t let it happen again.” My stomach tightens at the thought I came off that way toward him. It wasn’t my intention at all.

  He slaps my back. “Be safe, Tink.” He leaves me standing alone. I walk to my room and remove my cut before hanging it in the closet. Turning, I step over to the door and grab my packed duffle bag sitting against the wall.

  Entering the bar again, I find Gunner waiting for me at the entrance of our clubhouse. He opens the door, and we exit.

  “Take care of yourself, Prospect,” Bear says while slapping me on the back.

  I nod and jump into the passenger side of the silver Prius.

  It took Gunner and me hours to make it to Montera and find the house. We drove in circles for I don’t know how long, and I had to keep a straight face because we were lost. Gunner was pissed, and I wasn’t trying to get that frustration turned on me. I did serenade him during our trip though. I don’t let many people hear my voice, but I can’t help it whenever a rock song I love plays. I acted like a damn fool singing at the top of my lungs and throwing my long hair around. I’m not really the type of person to share shit about myself, but it was good to let Gunner in just a little. Maybe this undercover job will bring us closer together and give me another person on my side.

  Now that we’ve settled in, there’s no time to waste. I have work to do. I study the directions to the bar where The Four Kings are known to hang out and recruit before leaving the house. After telling Gunner my plan, I straddle my Harley and ride the highway into the city limits of Topeka.

  The Spot is a small bar, but my eyes light up when I pull into the parking lot. Perfect! There are at least fifteen bikes parked in the lot, and I stop right next to the one on the end. With confidence, I stroll inside and up to the counter.

  “What can I get for you?” The female bartender asks with resting bitch face.

  “Just a beer,” I respond absently while I drag my eyes around the room. Only a few booths are set up along the wall with torn seats. Along the bar are stools with tears in the seats too, including the one I’m perched on. Shouts from the back draw my attention, and I grin at the sight of men with cuts playing pool.

  Laying a few dollars down on the counter, I grasp the beer bottle and stand. I join the men playing pool and lay some more dollars down. “I got the winner,” I announce as I step into the corner and watch while their game continues.

  Once done, I grab my stick and chalk it up. The man that won is a stocky older guy with a graying beard and shaved head. He breaks, and our game begins.

  Everyone who is watching stays silent. Both of us have sunk all of our balls. It’s down to who will sink the eight-ball and win the game. It’s my shot. I shuffle around the table, trying to figure out the best move. Tapping my stick on the pocket, I decide. “Corner pocket.” Bending over, I line up my shot and fire. The cue ball knocks into the eight-ball, and it begins to roll. My heart pounds until finally, it drops into the pocket I designated.

  My opponent shakes my hand. “Good game. Where you from? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  I put my stick back on the rack hanging on the wall. “I just moved to the city with my brother. He got a job at the university.”

  His eyes move up and down my leather chaps, t-shirt, and black riding boots. “You ride?”

  A smirk appears on my face. “I do. I got my ’83 Softail outside.”

  He nods with a grin. “Some of us are heading back to our clubhouse. You should come.”

  And just like that, I’m in. “Let’s go.”

  I was not prepared for this shit. First, I followed him all the way through Topeka to the outskirts on the other side of the city. To my surprise, we park at an old bar–like really old and dilapidated. It should probably be condemned and torn the fuck down. I was expecting them to at least be in a safe structure. The size of the building is ridiculously small too, and I don’t know how all the men in their made-up club fit.

  Second, when we enter, it’s lit up by nothing more than kerosene lanterns. The men are wild and unkempt. My stomach rolls as a circle in the center of the room instantly breaks apart. They have a table in the middle, and a naked woman is lying on top screaming in agony. One man holds her arms while two others hold her legs apart. Another from the circle steps up and drops his jeans before slamming himself inside of her. Tears leak from her eyes as yet another pushes in and out of her mouth.

  “What the fuck?” I murmur.

  “You’ll have your turn soon enough,” The man who never told me his name says with hungry eyes as he steps up into the circle.

  My lip curls in disgust. I didn’t sign up for this shit but looks like I’m going to have to participate so I can get in fully with this fucking shit show of a group. I won’t even give them the recognition of being a club.

  I’ve been in Topeka with Gunner doing this undercover job for the Sinners for the last couple months. I feed Gunner any and all the information I receive, but I’m not getting a whole lot at this point. I’m ready to go back to my own club in Wichita. The Four Kings are nothing except a bunch of disorganized fucks. There has been some talk about moving in on the Sinners, but then they all start drinking and usually pass out. Deuce
isn’t here much since he’s constantly out recruiting and adding more and more men. I don’t understand why he needs to build what he thinks is an army, but these guys are useless.

  It’s two in the morning, and my eyes are getting heavy, but I don’t ever sleep or pass out here. I don’t feel safe enough to do that because these men are too unpredictable. Just as I’m getting ready to stand, the voice of Hammer, Deuce’s vice president, grabs my attention as he uses my fake alias, “Alex?”

  My tired eyes meet his. “Yeah, Boss?”

  “Come to Deuce’s office.” The office s nothing more than an old storage closet in this shitty dilapidated bar. I definitely miss the Sinners’ clubhouse.

  Following behind, he shuts the door when we enter. The so-called Enforcers, Fist and Knuckle, are already in the room waiting. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the names they chose.

  “What’s going on?” My brows furrow in confusion.

  “Who are you?” Hammer’s arms are crossed over his chest, his features hard as steel.

  I laugh lightly. Is he joking? “I’m Alex from Ohio like I told you.”

  Stomping toward me, he spits out, “You have one more chance to tell me the goddamn truth.”

  “My name’s Alex.” Beads of sweat begin to gather on my forehead. Not only because it’s hot as fuck in the tiny space with all these bodies, but fear is rising in me. I think my cover has been blown. But how? Hanger, Bear, and Demon swore everything was covered.

  His lips purse as he nods. “There are repercussions for lying, and you’ve been here for the last couple of months spying on us. Ain’t that right, Tink from Wichita?” His head tilts from side to side as he reveals my true identity. He adds, “Prospect for the motherfuckin’ Satan’s Sinners.” His eyes drift to the two men standing behind me. “Do what you gotta do to get him to talk but keep him alive, Deuce’s order. They’ll want him back.” He leaves the room.

  Each of them grabs one of my arms and begin to pull me from the old storage closet. Kicking and screaming, I try to fight my way free from the two men, but it’s useless since they are larger than me. I am squirrely though so I twist and turn my body in every direction trying to break their hold. A couple of times their grips loosened, but they quickly adjusted.