The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3

by Sarah Castille

  Without hesitation, Arianne grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. “I’m afraid my ass isn’t on the menu.”

  Wham. Jagger thudded a knife on the table between the outstretched fingers of the biker’s free hand. “You don’t fucking touch her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. And you sure as fuck don’t disrespect her.”

  The table stilled. If he had been any other man, she might have thanked him verbally, or she might have pointed out that his actions were dramatic and unnecessary, since she had the situation in hand. But he wasn’t just any man. He was an outlaw biker president, and his actions weren’t directed solely at saving her ass from a squeeze. In that brief exchange, he’d laid down the law for the bikers on both sides of the table. First, he was in charge. And second, Arianne belonged to him.

  So she gave him a simple nod of thanks. Her response seemed to please him. His face softened almost imperceptibly as he unclasped her hand from the Devil Dog’s wrist, then tugged until she released her captive. Her skin tingled at his touch, and when he rubbed this thumb lightly over her knuckles, she felt each stroke as a throb deep in her core.

  Still holding her hand, he retrieved his knife and then leaned back in his chair, his icy glare fixed on the now quivering Devil Dog who had no doubt pinched his very last ass.

  “Sinners don’t disrespect women. You want to patch over, you adjust the attitude.”

  The Devil Dog, his face red, sweat beading on his brow at the possibility his behavior might have just lost his club the protection they clearly needed, apologized profusely to Arianne. Then he apologized to Jagger and each of the Sinners at the table. When he was done, he started again, but Arianne held up her free hand.

  “Apology accepted. Now, let’s get some drinks on the table. Jagger, you want to start?”

  “You already started something.” Jagger’s voice dropped to a low, husky rasp, and he squeezed her hand, sending all the wrong messages to all the right parts of her body.

  “Question is … do I want to finish it?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or threatening to beat on the Devil Dog, so she threw the question back at him. “Question is, what do you want to drink?”

  “Pad.” He released his grip and held out his hand. Arianne gave him the pen and pad and he scrawled on the paper, then handed it back to her.

  Sexy. As. Fuck.

  Biting her lip to stifle a laugh, she tucked the notepad in her pocket. “So, our best whiskey and enough glasses to go round?”

  Satisfaction glittered in his eyes as he confirmed his assent with the briefest dip of his chin. For a heartbeat, she wondered if he’d been testing her. But did he really think she would give the game away?

  Relieved to have an excuse to get away from Jagger’s distracting charm and good looks, she headed back to the stockroom. What the hell was she thinking? Not only was she about to leave Conundrum, but he was exactly the kind of man she’d spent a lifetime trying to avoid: Too powerful. Too confident. Too violent. Too masculine. With the quiet kind of arrogance that came from being in command.

  And, of course, he had to be a biker.

  She searched the shelves for Banks’s twenty-one-year-old Redbreast. Although not a whiskey drinker—vodka was more her style—but she figured that at $180 a bottle, the selection would satisfy even the most discerning palate. Spotting the yellow label at the back of the shelf, she stretched up and reached for the green glass bottle.

  “Hello, Vexy.” Low and rough with an unmistakable drawl, the voice in her ear sent a wave of cockroaches skittering beneath her skin, but not so much as the hand sliding over her hip.

  Danger. The warning spiked through her mind, bringing with it fleeting images from the nightmares that haunted her sleep. Dark room, torn clothing, fingers around her throat. Her body pinned to the bed. Helpless. Arianne drew in a ragged breath and tried to stem the flow, but the dam was broken. More images flashed. The thud of a door. Cool, sweet air in her lungs. A roar. The crack of bone. Jeff’s scream. And then Viper.

  Gritting her teeth, she forced the memories away. “Leo.” She spat out his name, her nose wrinkling when he pulled her hard against his body. “How did you get in here? Get the hell off me.”

  “I’ll get off on you, babe. How would you like that?” He ground his hips into her ass and she almost heaved.

  “You’re disgusting.” She grabbed the bottle from the shelf and slid past him, then headed for the door. Last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a room with Viper’s VP.

  “And you’re coming with me when you’re done work,” Leo said, following her into the main room. “Viper wants to see you, but he’s tied up till later, so there’s time for a drink.”

  He rounded the bar and settled himself on a barstool. Almost immediately, the couple at the end of the bar vacated their seats. But then, Leo always had that effect on people. With his sharp, angular features, unnaturally pale skin, cruel slash of a mouth, and pitch black hair cut long on top, he almost had the look of a comic book villain. But there was nothing comical about her father’s VP. Not even the bulky hoodie he wore under his leather cut could hide the enormous, cruel power of his muscular body.

  Arianne didn’t dare look at the Sinners in the corner as she filled a tray with whiskey glasses. Leo had to have come in through the back door leading to the parking lot. He would never have risked a public meeting with the Sinners this soon after the fire. Would Jagger think she was still with the Jacks? How could he not, with her pouring drinks and chatting with Leo at the bar?

  Still, she could hardly wait until Jagger saw Leo’s cut. The Sinners were the dominant presence in the bar, which meant no other bikers were welcome tonight. She had no love for Leo, and he deserved what was coming to him.

  “Sure.” She opened and closed cupboards on the pretense of looking for more glasses. For the first time ever, she considered not answering Viper’s summons. Usually he sent Leo when she’d done something wrong. This time she’d done something unforgivable, and it wasn’t just her at risk, but Jeff, too.

  “What does Viper want with me?” Still playing for time—what the hell was taking those Sinners so long to notice the Black Jack sitting at the bar?—she added a few more glasses to the tray and placed the whiskey bottle in the center. Then, to keep Leo distracted, she threw a few ice cubes into a glass and shoved it across the counter.

  “What do you think he wants?” Leo’s eyes narrowed in contempt. “He wants to know what the fuck you were doing at the Sinner’s Tribe clubhouse, fucking up Jeff’s job. The truck came back half empty, and Jeff has disappeared. The Triad is riding Viper something fierce ’cause he made them pay in advance for those weapons.” Leo leaned toward her, his body thrumming with menace. “Viper’s wondering if you and Jeff got together and decided to do a little business on the side. And even if you didn’t, you know how it works: Someone has to take the fall—and he’s decided on you.”

  “He can get more damn guns.” She dropped her hand to the counter, just above the hidden emergency call button. She’d seen Leo angry and agitated, but never like this. Viper must have blamed him in some way for what happened.

  Leo’s mouth crimped in annoyance. “There are no more AK-47s in any of the four neighboring states, and he can’t take the risk of bringing them direct from Mexico. He’s so fucking pissed, Vexy, he’s destroyed half the clubhouse and put the three men who went with Jeff in the hospital.”

  Arianne rearranged the glassware beneath the counter to hide her trembling hands, but she couldn’t stop a shudder from coursing up her spine.

  “Yeah.” Leo’s gaze crawled over her. “You know what I’m talking about. This time when you go back to the clubhouse, you won’t be coming out again. At least not in one piece.” His lips twisted in a cold leer of a smile. “Not unless you ask me for help. And you know the price.”

  Not a price she was prepared to pay. Arianne stared down the tray and then over at the rowdy group of bikers. S
hould she bring the tray over and ask for help? Technically she was a Black Jack and MCs as a rule didn’t interfere with the business of other clubs. Given Jagger’s duty was first and foremost to the Sinners, a request for assistance might put him in a difficult position, and her, if he refused.

  And since when had she ever needed help? Arianne grabbed a bottle of Scotch and poured it into Leo’s glass. She still had the .38 strapped to her leg, and Banks kept a .45 in the drawer under the cash register in case of emergency, which this was. Still, Leo wouldn’t have come alone, and if she drew a weapon, civilians might get hurt.

  “At least you remember my favorite drink,” Leo said, after his first sip.

  As if she could forget—the smell of Scotch on his breath as he threw her on the bed that awful night had ruined her for Scotch forever.

  Leo turned thoughtful as he threw back the rest of his drink and shoved toward her. “Viper’s looking for Jeff, too. He might show you some mercy if you give him up. You know where he’s at?”

  “I haven’t seen him, and I have nothing to say to Viper.” A sliver of relief shot through her heart. At least Jeff had the sense to stay hidden. She held up the bottle, offering a refill. Maybe if he was drunk, he wouldn’t notice when she slipped out of the bar. “I got there after the fire started. Then someone knocked me off my bike. The Sinners took me. They let me go. End of story.”

  “You forget how well I know you.” Leo reached across the counter and squeezed her fingers around the bottle so hard her eyes watered. “And I can tell when you’re lying.” He released her with a satisfied smirk. “You always thought you were better than me, Vexy. That was always your problem. Too much thinking, not enough fucking.”

  She didn’t know why she felt so bold. Maybe it was because she knew that within the next few days she would be leaving Conundrum for good. Or maybe it was because Jagger was in the corner and he’d almost sliced off a Devil Dog’s fingers for pinching her ass. Whatever the reason, she met his gaze full-on. “I fuck, Leo. Just not with you.”

  Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she would pay a heavy price. And she did. He backhanded her so fast she didn’t have time to defend herself. She staggered back, her head hitting the shelf so hard, bottles crashed to the ground, splintering on the wooden floor in a cacophony of sound.

  “Fucking bitch. I was trying to be nice, letting you finish your shift, having a little talk. But clearly I was wasting my time. Just ’cause you don’t ride with the Jacks doesn’t mean you aren’t bound by the rules. You’re coming with me now, even if I have to drag you out of here, screaming your little ass off—”

  And then he was gone.

  Arianne blinked, trying to clear her vision as people scattered—Was that … Jagger with his hand around Leo’s neck? Pounding Leo’s head on the counter?

  “Fucking cowardly piece of shit, beating on a woman.” Jagger’s deep growl reverberated through her body. “Let’s see how you like it.”

  Wham. Wham. Wham.

  “Coupla Jacks on their way over.” The heavily muscled blond biker helped Arianne up, then gestured toward the door. “They seem to be takin’ offense to the way you’re treating Leo.”

  Arianne wasn’t surprised they knew who Leo was. The top brass of all the clubs knew each other, if not by sight, then at least by name.

  Jagger scowled. “Clear the bar, Cade. I’m not done yet, and the civilians will go crazy when they see blood.” With one hand still around Leo’s neck, he wrenched a .45 from the holster under his cut, then waved over a tall biker with thick chestnut hair and eyes a deep, almost azure blue. Arianne recognized him from the meeting, too. Did the Sinners have a good-looks requirement for patching in new members?

  “Sparky, go help Cade get the customers outta here. Pay off the manager for the rest of the evening. Me ‘n’ Leo need a little alone time.” Jagger thumped Leo’s head on the counter again and then jerked him to standing.

  “Heads up.” Cade shouted from beside the window. “It’s a fucking ambush. Jacks comin’ in from the front. I count at least ten bikes. They got a support club with ’em too.”

  The front door slammed open. People screamed. Pulse racing, Arianne edged toward the till as the bar erupted into chaos around them.

  Banks and the mouth-watering Sparky wove their way through the tables, yanking people from their seats and herding them out the side door to the beat of Jay-Z’s “On the Run.” Shouts and the tinkle of broken glass peppered the air. Sinners and Devil Dogs launched themselves at the Jacks who had come in the front door, heedless of the customers racing for the exit. Dawn shot her a worried glance, then held up her keys and mouthed “outside” before Banks hustled her through a fire exit.

  Arianne reached for the drawer beneath the till, and Jagger froze her with a glare. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “I’m not with them. I left the Jacks a long time ago.” She held up her hands so he could see she wasn’t armed, and he nodded, his free hand still pinning Leo, cheek to the bar.

  “So … did you wind up here by chance, or because I invited you?” Heart hammering in her chest, Arianne contemplated her escape route as she tried to keep Jagger distracted. Her safest bet was the stockroom exit to the parking lot, but with a biker brawl on the premises and Jacks no doubt on patrol outside, she couldn’t risk going unarmed. She still had the gun she’d strapped to her leg, but it wasn’t so easy to retrieve in a pinch. The gun under the till was her best option. But if she had to pull the gun on Jagger, was she prepared to use it?

  “Man rescues a woman, usually expects a little gratitude before being interrogated. But since I’m in a good mood, I’ll let it slide. You owe me a drink, sweetheart.” He casually banged Leo’s head again, and Leo slumped forward on the counter.

  “A drink?” She waved her hand vaguely around the bar, where the Jacks and Sinners were now engaged in a full-out brawl. “Didn’t you notice there’s a fight going on? Or that there is a very dangerous man attached to your hand?”

  And then, because Leo was semiconscious and no one was within hearing distance, she leaned forward and said what she’d wanted to say when the Devil Dog had pawed her ass. “I had the situation under control. Am I supposed to be grateful you caused a scene, terrified the customers, and started a wholesale destruction of the bar?”

  Jagger’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sweetheart. You had it under control. I picked that up when he sent you flying into the cabinet.” He reached out with his free hand and ran his finger lightly over her cheek, his touch lingering on her skin. “You’re hurt.”

  Coming from a man who had almost just cracked open Leo’s head, Jagger’s concern unnerved her, as did his sudden switch from fierce to kind. Pulse racing, she dropped her hand back to the till. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

  “Had a meeting. Needed neutral ground. Couldn’t get your pretty face outta my head, and since you invited me, I brought everyone here.” He glanced down at Leo, who was moaning on the counter and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “You with him?”

  “Will he live if I say no?” Arianne’s fingers curled around the bottom drawer, and she tugged on it ever so slowly.

  Jagger’s eyes glittered fever bright. “You want him to live?”

  Did she want Leo to live? She’d wanted him to die since the night he’d tried to rape her. She’d dreamt of his death every time he looked at her or touched her since. Sometimes she even fantasized about pulling the trigger. But she had no doubt if she said yes, Jagger would kill him, and she couldn’t live with his death on her conscience.

  The lie dropped from her tongue. “Yes.”

  “Then he’ll live.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, not just because he was being perversely sweet, but because her fingers had finally touched cold steel. “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure, sweetheart. But I should let you know, he will suffer. I have zero tolerance for violence against women.”

  Too late, she saw the danger in t
heir intimate exchange.

  Leo pushed himself up, dislodging Jagger’s hand, his eyes narrowed and his face twisted into a mask of fury. “What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? You got something going on with the fucking president of the enemy, Vexy? You would dare betray Viper and the Jacks?”

  Arianne wrapped her hand around the grip of the gun and gritted her teeth. “There’s nothing between us, Leo.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He wrenched himself away from Jagger, then staggered back, out of reach. “Daughter or not, Viper’s gonna show you no fucking mercy. Nothing he hates more than betrayal, and you’ve dished him up a double dose.”

  “Daughter?” Jagger stilled, his face smoothing to an expressionless mask. “You’re Viper’s daughter?”

  “Unfortunately.” Arianne slid her finger through the trigger, her gaze now fixed on the bigger threat—the man who had gone from kind to killer in a heartbeat.

  “No fucking way in hell.”

  “You got the ‘hell’ part right,” she said.

  “Wait until Viper hears about this.” Leo cast a quick glance behind him, where the Jacks now outnumbered the Sinners two to one, then turned back to Arianne, his eyes black with rage. “All that fuss about putting out for me, and after one night, you’re spreading your legs for the damn Sinners.”

  Arianne’s lips curled in disgust. He felt no remorse for what he’d done to an innocent sixteen-year old girl, only regret that he hadn’t finished the job. Her free hand closed around an empty glass, and in one swift movement, she lifted it and threw it at his head. “Go to hell.”

  And he almost did. With a bellow of rage, Jagger let loose. He smashed his fist into Leo’s face, and within minutes, they had joined the brawl.

  Wood cracked and glass shattered. Chairs and tables splintered under heavy bodies. Jacks and Sinners fought without restraint and totally without mercy. Poor Banks. He’d only just finished with the renovations. This was all because of her.

  Another crash. A scream. A mug sailed across the bar.

  Goddamn outlaw bikers. No respect for people or property. She’d managed to live almost a normal life for the last three years, and suddenly she was in the thick of it again—all because she’d tried to stop Jeff from making the biggest mistake of his life. And failed.