All Sinner No Saint

by Serena Akeroyd

  Unfair?

  Maybe. But I’d get shit from her teachers if she started dropping F-bombs around the classroom, and that was the only reason I stopped her.

  Ryan and I had taught her that words were only as powerful as you made them.

  In this instance though, Wolfe’s words would have held power. The trouble was, I was bluffing. Bluffing that their feelings for me were as powerful as they’d ever been. Bluffing because this could only work if they wanted me as badly as I wanted them.

  It was a game of Texas Hold ‘Em where my heart was the prize.

  Ryan had kept tabs on our family, so I knew what they’d all gone through. Knew about Flame’s appendicitis that had almost killed him, knew that Axe’s folks had died in a bike crash. Knew about Kim, the whore, and knew that Dagger had almost lost an eye in a bad knife fight.

  Still, knowing and seeing were two different things.

  They’d changed. As had I. But I’d had softness in my life, not just with Amaryllis but Ryan too. He’d loved me. But there’d been no one to love these guys. No one who could love them like me.

  I stared at Wolfe, stared him down like I would the beast he was named for, and before he could say anything to piss me off, I grabbed my shirt and lifted it to reveal my ribcage.

  When he saw the tattoo of his namesake, he blanched. Then, I turned around. I moved my hair off my neck where Ryan’s mark lay, then lifted my shirt again to reveal the tramp stamp that I’d never be ashamed of, one that was shaped like Dagger’s favorite blade. When I turned around once more, I shot Axe and Flame a look. “Yours I can’t reveal in public.”

  Flame’s eyes ignited at my words, but he calmed things down by snickering. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “Thought you might be,” I teased, my grin widening as I saw that for him, Axe, and Dagger, things were as right as I’d left them.

  Why they’d let me go was something I’d be angry about later on. Why they hadn’t fought for me was something I’d nail them in the balls for at some point in the future. Now? I had other fish to fry.

  “You marked yourself,” Wolfe rasped.

  “Five times,” I agreed.

  “Why?”

  There was pain in his eyes, pain in his voice. Wolfe might be a cunt, but that was because he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had to be a bastard to cover that shit up.

  In this world, any and all weaknesses were exploited, and that meant usually the biggest bastards were the softest pussies on the inside.

  “Because I’m yours,” I told him simply, and before any of them could say another word, I left them with my bags, and Amaryllis and I moved toward the clubhouse.

  Toward home.

  It hadn’t changed.

  Not really.

  Sure, the paint on the siding was different. It was an off-white instead of the dark beige it had been the last time I was here. The doors and the window covers were all a bright green, making the place look close to respectable. A notion that made me want to snort, because now that I’d crossed through the gates, I was in Hell.

  Respectability and the Devil’s abode didn’t exactly go hand in hand, but my dad had always been weirdly house-proud. I thought it had something to do with snubbing the supposedly good people of Rutherford. He liked to rupture their expectations, and this was one passive aggressive way of doing so.

  It was hard to think a one-percenter would give a fuck about siding, but to make a point? There was nothing these fuckers wouldn’t do to ram something home.

  As my stomach fluttered with nerves while I climbed the few steps to the entrance, I pressed a kiss to Amaryllis’s head and murmured, “You know you were naughty, don’t you?”

  “He was being mean to you,” came the stubborn retort. My lips curved, but I buried my smile in her silky blonde hair that always reminded me of Wolfe. He’d had hair this color until he turned sixteen or seventeen. It was like puberty had darkened it.

  “I know he was, but he was also…” How did I even begin to explain this?

  Amaryllis was having anger issues after Ryan’s death, and I couldn’t blame her. I was fucking furious too.

  Who died at twenty-seven?

  Who?

  My husband, that’s who.

  He died and left Amaryllis and me alone.

  I was here, trying to pick myself up and make things better for her, all when I wasn’t sure which way was up and which way was down.

  I pressed my nose into her hair and sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t hit people just because you’re angry, Amaryllis.” It was weird parroting that when I’d done it myself. I was a hypocrite, but I was trying to make my daughter less messed up than I was.

  “But it feels good.”

  That made me wince. Why? Because it was something I knew I’d said to my momma a long time ago.

  Of course, she hadn’t been able to answer back. She wasn’t around, but I had to talk to someone.

  Hey, I listen.

  I winced at Ryan’s voice, which popped into my head as a reminder that I was also going fucking insane.

  Dead people did. Not. Speak.

  I ignored Ryan and headed up the two steps toward the entryway. The door pushed open and the immediate racket was both jarring and a relief.

  I’d been raised in this mayhem. After my mom left, though we’d had a house in town, my dad hadn’t been able to stand the place.

  Most people thought bikers were evil shits, and yeah, they were, but they also loved like no one else. It was amusing really. My dad had killed only God knew how many people, had gained his road name for a reason, and yet where my mom was concerned? He’d been a goner.

  Each day without her had been an extended death.

  I wasn’t saying that all biker marriages were made in heaven.

  Fuck that.

  Take Wolfe and Kim. Bleugh. I’d always hated that slut. Why the fuck he’d married a clubwhore I’d never know, but marry her he had, and divorced her in the same year too.

  Some bikers beat their old ladies, others abused them in ways that the club turned a blind eye to—well, they wouldn’t when I was in charge—and then, there was the fact that most bikers were incapable of keeping it in their pants thanks to all the sluts who threw themselves at the brothers…

  So, no, I wasn’t saying my dad had been an angel, because he’d been the exact opposite—she’d left him for a reason, after all. But I was just saying that he’d loved my mom in ways that few people could understand.

  Myself included.

  Some days, I’d craved his love, his affection, but he’d never given it to me. Whatever softness he’d had died the same day my mom had left town.

  Throat thick with memories, I tuned into the cacophony as I crossed the threshold of the clubhouse.

  There was some kind of Swedish death metal on the radio, and my ears winced even as my head began to bop to the music. The rage in the beat was something that called to me, but I knew it had to be hurting Amaryllis, so I scurried away from the common area—the bar where I could already see a sweetbutt sucking off a brother—and toward the ‘family’ room, which was down at the other side of the property.

  Here, kids gathered and played around the TV. The bar was off-limits to them, but I knew they probably saw stuff they shouldn’t all the time—fuck, I’d seen way too many of my dad’s buds having sex. But I’d been sneaky, and Amaryllis wasn’t like that.

  Yet.

  Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen soon, but seeing what I had hadn’t messed with my head because sex in the MC was natural. Weird, I knew, but fuck, you had to be raised with this shit to understand it.

  There was crap of all kinds in the family room, because though most of the old ladies and the kids lived in the town, some lived in.

  Usually, the council lived in the clubhouse, and until now? Most of them had old ladies and kids.

  I knew why Wolfe’s council were all single.

  Me.

  Of course, the rest of the MC didn’t
know that, and they were about to find out.

  Well, not straight away, but eventually. I was done hiding this shit. My dad had cast me out for my sins, and I was taking back what was rightfully mine, what he’d denied me because he’d known I loved five boys.

  Well, fuck him.

  And I hoped the devil had sent a shit ton of demons to fuck him in the ass.

  Mentally flipping my father two birds, I asked Amaryllis, “Do you want to play, or do you want to go nap?” I had a feeling she’d want to play, but we’d been driving for what felt like forever, so I’d understand either way.

  “I don’t know anyone.” She gnawed on her bottom lip with the one baby tooth she had left on her upper jaw.

  I shrugged at her response and told her the truth. “They’ll be family soon enough.”

  “Like Daddy Dagger was to you?”

  My lips curved. “And Daddy Axe, and Daddy Flame, yes.”

  I’d told her all the stories. The shit the six of us had gotten into as kids. We’d been best friends before we’d become lovers, after all.

  She sighed and tugged at my hair. “I want best friends too.”

  Amaryllis was like me in so many ways, but not like this. “You have best friends. We bought a shit ton of them with us, sweetie. If you just want to read, you can as well.”

  Ama’s buds were her books. Just like with Ryan. I could remember the two of them sitting in the family room, quiet as church mice as they both read. It had driven me insane some days. I’d wanted to go out, do something, anything, and the two of them had been content to just bury themselves in a book.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d been envious of their contentment or just bored.

  “I’d better play nice, huh?” Amaryllis decided, without any prompt on my behalf.

  “Why?”

  “My Daddy’s the Prez. That means I’m in charge of the kids.”

  I laughed, amused at her bossiness. “It does, does it?”

  “Of course. I’m like you, Mommy, aren’t I?”

  “You are, sweet pea.” And I told her what I’d been telling her since she was old enough to understand. “You’re the princess.”

  I let her get down, squeezed her shoulder, and watched her head off to explore the many toys that were in this room.

  The place was simple and easy to clean thanks to all the kids. The TV was big and currently blaring Nickelodeon. There were a couple of old leather sofas that were easy to wipe down, then there were around six or so chests that bracketed each sofa, and each held toys. On one wall, there was a long dining table, more of a banquet table than anything else. Kids ate there, and when they were old enough, they would do their homework there also.

  Not much had changed except for the fact the walls were painted a robin’s egg blue, when, before, they’d been a sickening yellow. The carpet had been replaced by cream tiles and a dark blue rug, and the leather sofas were no longer black but brown.

  When I looked around, measuring the place up, I saw the kids were staring at us. Most were Amaryllis’s age, but there were a couple a few years older. The eldest was around eleven, and I tipped my chin at the kid who gulped, then pointed at his chest as if to say, ‘Me?’

  Nodding, I waited for him to approach, and when he did, I squatted down to his level. “That’s the Prez’s daughter. If anyone so much as prods her, you tell them that whatever they do to her, I’ll do to them back. Twice as hard.”

  The boy gulped, his eyes huge in his skinny face as he whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Name?” I asked. “Just so I can tell your parents that I warned you.”

  It might have seemed cruel, but these little fuckers were spawned by bigger fuckers. They all had attitude problems—I’d been one of them, so I knew. This little shit here was, without doubt, the ringleader by age alone.

  “Lawrence.”

  I cocked a brow at him. “Lawrence. Who’s your daddy?”

  “I’m Wheels’ boy.”

  “He’s still here?” I said with a laugh, pleased by that. Most brothers stayed for life, but that life could run short. I was glad to know the SOB was still on this plain and wasn’t messing around with my dad and the devil.

  “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry. I’ll tell the others.”

  “Good. I’m putting her safety on your shoulders, Lawrence. Don’t you dare let me down.”

  He gulped again, then in a squeaky voice, inquired, “Are you Lucie?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask that?”

  He shrugged. “I just… I saw a picture of you and my mom told me some stuff.”

  “Who’s your mom?”

  “You threatening my boy, Lucie?”

  I straightened, preparing myself for a catfight, then my mouth dropped open and I squealed, “Dorie?”

  The brunette grinned then launched herself at me. “What the hell are you doing back here, Lucie?”

  I shrugged. “Home. It was time I showed my face.”

  She reached up and pinched my cheek. “And what a face. No wonder Wolfe stormed inside here looking like someone had set his cut on fire.”

  Snorting, I told her, “You know him and I always did raise hell together.”

  “Something like that, that’s for damn sure.” She cocked a brow. “You here for good or just a little while?”

  “For good.” I pointed at Amaryllis, who was picking through one of the many boxes in the room. “She’s mine.”

  A gasp escaped Dorie, and I nodded before she even asked, “Wolfe’s? What the—” Dorie’s mouth worked for a second and she shook her head. “You were pregnant when Bomber—”

  “Yes.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, at least. “Where did Wolfe go?”

  “He’s in his office.”

  Daddy’s office.

  I gnawed on my lip, but before I could say another word, Dorie called out, “Lawrence?”

  Her son stepped over to her, his chin lowered. “Yes, Momma?”

  “Did you break that window?”

  The kid licked his lips. “No.”

  Dorie narrowed her eyes. “Did. You. Break. That. Window?”

  I had to stop myself from smirking because, shit, not only was it hard to imagine little Dorie being a mom, but reprimanding an eleven-year-old?

  I wasn’t even fucking sure when that had happened, because she sure as shit didn’t have a kid when I’d left.

  Lawrence’s shoulders dropped. “How did you find out it was me?”

  “Your father told me.”

  “And he ratted me out?” Lawrence scowled, his small hands balling into fists that settled on his hips. “That’s not fair.”

  “You know what’s not fair? How many shifts I have to take at the diner to cover you and your incapability of aiming your goddamn baseballs at the batter! No allowance for two months.”

  He scoffed, “I ain’t had none for three months anyway.”

  “Looks like you’re out of dough for longer then, doesn’t it?” I tacked on with a smirk.

  Lawrence glared at me, then when I narrowed my eyes at him, he took a step back.

  Kid knew not to mess with crazy.

  Wheels and Dorie had taught him something, at least.

  “Can I go? I have homework?” Lawrence whined.

  Dorie nodded, eyes narrowed, and watched him go.

  “When did that happen?” I questioned, seeing the affection warring with impatience in the smile she tried to hide as he skulked off.

  “Clubwhore dumped the kid on Wheels a few years back. He didn’t know he existed, Lawrence didn’t know Wheels existed either.” She cleared her throat. “I helped out.”

  “Then helped yourself to an old man?” I teased, elbowing her in the side.

  She giggled and covered her face. “Maybe,” she admitted sheepishly.

  “You always did like the ones who stank of grease and motor oil.” My nose wrinkled in disgust. “Is he treating you right?”

  “You think I’d let him treat me anything less
than that?” Dorie demanded, her shoulders stiffening in mock outrage.

  “Good.” As I laughed, I held out my hand and we bumped fists.

  “Got two little girls with him now. He’s a good man, Lucie.”

  “I’m glad.” And I meant that. I’d always liked Dorie, and she deserved an old man who was good to her. “Now I have a man of my own to wrangle.” I didn’t suck down air like I was drowning, even though I wanted to, but only because I’d never let anyone, not even Dorie, see a hint of weakness.

  “Good luck.”

  My smile was tight. “I figure I’ll be needing it.”

  ❖

  Flame

  “You scared the piss outta that kid.”

  Lucie jolted at the statement, and then when she saw it was me, she grinned. “Doing what I do best, Flame. Scaring the piss out of anything with an X and a Y chromosome.”

  Her laughter had me grinning at her. Fuck that. It wasn’t just a grin. I was beaming like a goddamn set of headlights, and did I give a fuck?

  Nope.

  No sirree.

  This bitch?

  She was mine.

  If anyone was allowed to make me smile, it was her. She’d more than earned the goddamn right.

  “Wolfe sent you after me?” she grilled, cocking a brow my way.

  I shrugged. “Kind of. I came on my own accord. Wanted to see what you were about.”

  “Wanted to make sure I didn’t try to steal the family jewels?”

  Snickering at that, I shook my head. “No. I was curious about you. Always been curious about you and that fucked up head of yours.” I cupped her chin and saw, deep in her eyes, that she took no offense at my words. Why would she? I only spoke the truth and Lucie was many things, but she wasn’t a liar.

  It was why I’d never believed her daddy and had always had faith in her.

  She sighed as she settled into my palm, relaxing like she’d been born to be there—and hadn’t she?

  Hadn’t she been born to be mine?

  To be ours?

  Fucking Wolfe and Bomber.