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

by Sarah Castille

  She dabbed antiseptic on his wound, remembering how many times she’d treated his injuries over the years. From school fights to reckless stunts, she had always been there to pick up the pieces. And he had done the same for her. They’d missed so many years together because they were too afraid to destroy their friendship, and yet, in the end, they destroyed it anyway.

  “Then why did you leave me?” Her voice tightened as nine years of heartache bubbled over. “What happened that night?”

  Zane covered her hand with his, drawing it away from his arm, threading his fingers through hers. “Your dad warned me away from you down by the creek after he sent you home. He said I wasn’t good enough for you. Later that night, he came to the trailer. He … saw … all the drugs and cash. There was a fight. He shot my dad. I ran at him, knocked him down. He dropped the gun. My dad grabbed it and shot him. I didn’t think anyone would believe I wasn’t involved. Maybe shot them both. Everyone in the trailer park knew how my dad beat me; they heard us shouting at each other every night. And I figured your dad had told people I’d been with you and everyone would think I’d decided to get him out of the way. The town would need a scapegoat and I was an easy target.”

  Evie’s skin prickled with awareness. He wasn’t telling her everything. Even after all these years, she knew he was holding back, whether it was the way he stumbled over his words or how he stared out into the darkness, or from the set of his jaw. There was more to the story than he was letting on.

  “The police thought my dad went to arrest your dad for drug dealing,” Evie said. “They figured there was a fight, my dad shot yours in self-defense, and then you picked up the gun and shot my dad in revenge for killing your dad. Your prints were on the gun. Your footprints were all over the scene. Witnesses had placed you there…” She pressed her lips together, fighting back a wave of anger. “They didn’t want to go to the expense of doing an autopsy or getting forensic reports. They just issued a warrant for your arrest.”

  “Figured as much.” He squeezed her hand. “Small town. Saving money. Taking the easy way out.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” She leaned her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes against the images of her father dying alone, tried to come to terms with what really happened that night. “I was waiting for you. I waited all night.”

  “I was worried you wouldn’t believe me either.” He said the words so quietly, she almost didn’t hear them.

  She supposed she could understand his concern. Her father had ripped Zane off her, thrown him to the ground, shouted harsh, cruel, horrible things. Then he stood over him and ordered her to go home. He said he and Zane were going to have a talk, but she would never be allowed to see him again. At first she refused to leave, but Zane begged her to go. Promised he’d see her later. Seventeen years old, innocent, trusting, unsure of herself in the world, she’d made the biggest mistake of her life and did as he asked.

  “I would have believed you.”

  With a sigh, Zane released her hand. He walked down the steps and into the small copse of trees bordering her property, as much lost in his thoughts as he was in shadows.

  “Zane?” Puzzled, she followed him, stopping only a few feet away when she spotted him leaning against a tree trunk, worrying the corner of the label on his beer bottle, the gesture so achingly familiar it twisted her stomach in a knot.

  “At first, I meant to come back for you,” he said, his gaze focused on the trailer park across the field. “I was going to come at night in disguise. But as I got farther away from Stanton, I began thinking it might be best if I stayed away. I mean, you were going away to college. You were going to meet guys who were smart and had things in common with you. And who was I? No skills. No future. A warrant on my head. Like your dad told me, I had nothing to offer you.”

  “I loved you.” She choked back a sob as the words she’d held back for nine years spilled out. “I never thought for a moment you were responsible. I had faith in you, but you didn’t have the same faith in me. You broke my heart.”

  Zane rubbed his forearm across his face, then pitched his bottle over the fence and into the field. “I fucked up. Big time. I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. Hell, I regretted leaving the moment I drove away and I’ve regretted it every day since.”

  Part of her wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him and tell it him it was okay. It had felt so right when he kissed her. Like coming home. Maybe they could pick up where they left off. Erase the past. But the other part of her knew she couldn’t erase the pain of losing him, of losing hope and faith and love. She couldn’t erase the soul-destroying marriage to Mark or the years of hardship of raising Ty alone. They had changed. She wasn’t Evie anymore. She was Evangeline. And Zane wasn’t Zane. He was a Sinner, an outlaw, and he lived in a different world.

  “I’d better go,” she said. “I have to be at work early, and I have a babysitter coming over to look after Ty.”

  “Maybe I should come over…”

  Evie shook her head. “Let’s take it slow with you and Ty. One thing you two have in common is that neither of you is good with change.”

  “What about you and me?”

  Her mouth went dry, and her stomach churned. “There isn’t a you and me outside of Ty. I have my life, Zane and you have yours. We don’t have anything in common anymore.”

  “And you and Viper do?” His voice dropped to a growl, so fierce and low the tree frogs stopped croaking, silencing the night. “How’d you wind up with that piece of shit?”

  “He came to the shop for some detailing. I didn’t know much about the Jacks so I thought he was just another biker. He was charming, intelligent … probably the most interesting guy I’d met since coming to Conundrum. When he came back a third time for a touch-up on his fender, he asked me out. Bill told me who he was and said I should be careful.”

  “Probably made you want him more,” he said quietly.

  “Maybe it did. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself I could handle a man like him—the way I couldn’t handle Mark—and that I didn’t need anyone to save me. I made a decision to take control of my life when things went wrong with Mark. I realized I’d spent too much time chasing a dream of finding someone to look after me when really I needed to look after myself. But that’s not all it was. I liked him, and I was flattered by his attention. I enjoy his company. I’m not ashamed of that.” She turned back to the house and Zane grabbed her arm, spinning her back to face him.

  “You’re done with him. I don’t give a fucking damn how you feel about him, or what you’ve got going on. He’s a vicious, ruthless, coldhearted bastard. I know you got that wild in you, and maybe that’s why you’re with him, but he’s dangerous and I won’t let him near you or my son.”

  Evie shook him off, anger warring with confusion, her emotions battling against her aching want for the only man she’d ever loved. “Maybe the reason I was with him is because he reminded me of you.”

  Wrong thing to say. Eyes glittering, he lunged for her, clasping her wrist in his warm palm, pulling her to him. “Then be with me.”

  “I can’t.” Her throat tightened and she had to force the words out. “What we had is broken and it can’t be fixed. I can’t do this with you again. I just couldn’t bear to be with you and have you disappear again. And I’ve moved on. I don’t need you that way anymore.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her neck. “What we had is still there. I can feel it and I know you feel it, too.”

  His warmth seeped into her skin, his arms strong around her. Yes, their chemistry was still there. She could feel it pulsing through her veins, an arousal so fierce she could feel it in her fingers and toes.

  “Kiss me.” Zane’s voice was hoarse, tight. “Kiss me and tell me you don’t feel what I feel. Kiss me and tell me you want him and not me.”

  Unable to pull herself away, her mind clouded with desire, she acquiesced to his demand. Twining her fingers through his hair, s
he pulled him down and kissed him. Zane groaned and squeezed her so tight, she could feel the press of his buckle against her stomach. His tongue tangled with hers and he took over, returning her kiss with an intensity that left her breathless and made her knees tremble. She ached for him, wanted nothing more than to strip off his clothes and drown in the heat of his body.

  “I wanna see you, my sweet Evie. I wanna bare your body, lick every inch of you, feel your skin against mine. I wanna be inside you so deep you forget everything but me.”

  Evie took a quick glance to each side to make sure they weren’t in view of the neighbors, but with the trees around them, and a field to the back, they were well hidden in the shadows. And although she knew she should refuse him, walk away, and hold firm to her resolve, she licked his taste from her lips and whispered, “Yes.”

  He slid down the straps of her dress, undid the catch of her bra, dragging it over her arms, baring her breasts to his heated gaze. “Ah, God,” he whispered. So fucking beautiful.” He cupped her left breast in his palm, kneading it gently as he ravaged her mouth with sensual kisses. White-hot heat sizzled down to her core and she moaned.

  “I remember that sound,” he murmured. “I remember everything about that night in the forest, the softness of your skin, your breath on my cheek, your hard little nipples, the slickness of your pussy. I remember what it feels like to be inside you. That night ruined me for other women, Evie. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

  He held her arms behind her, pinning her wrists with one hand while he kissed her breasts, sucked gently on her nipples, tasting, devouring her. She tugged against his grip, wanting to touch him, slide her hands over his broad chest, work her fingers through his hair, and caress those broad shoulders. But he held her fast, and the restraint aroused her, made her more wanton, more desperate to have him inside her.

  “Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” He slid one hand up her thigh under her dress. Far from the shame and disgust she’d felt when Viper had done the same, passion suffused her. Sweet desire. And when he shoved aside her panties, slid his finger through her wet folds, she almost came right then.

  “Tell me, Evie.” His voice dropped to a husky growl, and he thrust one finger deep inside her. “Tell me you want me.”

  “I want you,” she whispered, trembling at the exquisite intrusion. “It was always you.”

  A dog barked. A man shouted. She heard the low rumble of a quad in the field and suddenly the fog in her brain lifted. She was a mom. Ty was sleeping inside. Her neighbors were sleeping only fifty feet away. She’d just ditched the man she’d been dating for the last four weeks. What was she doing only hours later in her backyard with the man who had broken her heart? A man who had walked away and would no doubt leave her again. A biker. Living the biker life.

  Steeling herself, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “But when I gave up hoping you would ever come back, I let you go. I’m sorry, Zane. I’m not ready to open that door again.”

  He released her so abruptly she almost lost her balance, but if she’d thought to push him away, she was gravely mistaken.

  “Whatever it takes for you to trust me, I’ll do.” He wrapped his hand around her neck and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “If you want me to go slow, I’ll go slow. If you need gentle, I’ll be gentle. I will do what it takes, however long it takes. But I won’t let anyone else have you. You are mine, Evie. You’ve been mine since you were eight years old. And now that I’ve found you again, I’m not gonna let you go.”

  ELEVEN

  Sometimes the most difficult problems can be easily fixed with teamwork.

  —SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

  Zane usually enjoyed watching Dax work—especially during the first half hour of a torture session. Not because he was into blood and pain—he wasn’t—but because Dax could get even the most hardened of men to talk without laying a hand on them. No wonder the CIA, FBI, and every covert organization in the U.S. had offered Dax a job after he completed his PhD thesis on psychological terror at Yale.

  And he turned them all down for a piece of tail.

  Zane couldn’t understand it. Sure, Dax’s old lady, Sandy, was attractive in a honey-blond goddess kind of way. And she had to be good in bed since they had five kids—or maybe he was Catholic, although who ever heard of a Catholic Sinner?—but still it seemed a lot to give up for good sex and a career as an outlaw biker, especially since torture was in his blood. Why else would he have joined the Sinners with the stipulation that he be given free rein to practice his craft?

  “Haven’t had a woman under my knife for a long time,” Dax said as they descended the stairs to the clubhouse basement. “I’m surprised Jagger allowed it.”

  “No harm.” Zane skirted around the pool table and grabbed a set of keys from the wet bar in the corner. The vast, poured concrete basement served as a games room and wet bar, as well as housing three cells for prisoners and interrogations. “Terror only. That’s why I’m here.”

  Better here than driving the roads around Evie’s house looking for Jacks. Or in his room thinking about her. He’d told her Viper was the kind of man who took what he wanted—as if it were a bad thing. But hell, he was that kind of man, too.

  And he wanted Evie.

  He had lied to himself last night just as much as he had lied to Jagger after Viper left the bar under a truce born solely by the fact they were evenly matched in both men and arms, and neither club wanted to attract the attention of the ATF. Yes, he wanted to rebuild his friendship with Evie, make up for all that had transpired. But friendship wasn’t enough, just as it hadn’t been enough when they were young, and damned if Viper would get in the way.

  “You’re here because you’re a secret sadist.” Dax laughed and lowered the duffel bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder. “You have a fascination for extremes—extreme pain, extreme emotion, extreme desire. You like to see how far a person can be pushed. What you don’t seem to realize is that, really, you’re pushing yourself.”

  Dax was always direct. And when it came to analyzing people, he hit too close for comfort. One of the reasons Zane kept his sexual liaisons discreet was because he didn’t think his brothers would understand his need to dominate in a way he couldn’t as VP. He needed the kind of control he hadn’t had over his life. Whether it was because of his abusive father or the girl he loved but couldn’t have, he didn’t know, but Dax had the unique ability to pin him down, and although he knew himself well, he had no desire to have his inner motivations brutally exposed.

  “Save the psychoanalysis for Doreen.” Unable to hold Dax’s searching gaze, Zane turned and unlocked the door. “You’re gonna need it. Never met a woman like her before. If you so much as loosen the ropes on her wrists and ankles, she’ll throw herself at you and claw out your eyes. Piston is in the medical suite right now with Doc Hegel because he was taken in by her tears. But make no mistake…”

  “I never do.” Dax pushed open the door and they stepped into the bare, cinder block room, lit only by a single bulb on a wire hanging from the ceiling.

  “I see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding brought a little friend to play.” Doreen swung her bound legs over the side of the camp bed Jagger had provided for the comfort of their female prisoner. “Who’s gonna be first, or are you gonna both do me at once?”

  Dax turned slightly to the side as he removed the tools of his trade from his duffel bag, holding each one up as if to assess it under the light. Zane had watched this performance before. Some prisoners caved when Dax pulled out the blade saw, for others the nutcracker was enough. He suspected the nutcracker wouldn’t frighten Doreen, although she had bigger balls than many of the prisoners who had warmed that very bed.

  Dax carefully placed his tools on the table—whips, knives, cuffs, gags, a squeaky toy … If he hadn’t known Dax was a torturer, Zane would have thought the guy had a kink. Maybe he did, although Sandy didn’t strike him as the submissive type. And with five kids, when would they find tim
e to play? That was one benefit of remaining unattached. No kids to tie him down or interfere with his lifestyle. No lives to ruin because of his total lack of a role model for being a dad.

  “How did it go last night?” Zane leaned against the wall, paying no attention to the prisoner on the bed. After the Jacks had left Riverside Bar the other night, the Sinners launched a revenge attack, setting fire to one of the restaurants the Jacks were known to frequent. He could have asked any of the brothers about the outcome of the restaurant hit, but the conversation worked well into the game he and Dax played to unsettle their victims, an easy banter that took the focus off the prisoner and onto the collection of torture toys.

  “Good.” Dax placed a pair of forceps on the table. “The restaurant burned down in a matter of minutes. Too bad for Mario. But then he shoulda thought about what might happen if he let too many Jacks into his establishment.”

  “You burned down Lucky Mario’s?” Doreen’s baby blues widened. “That was Viper’s favorite restaurant. He’s gonna hit you so damned hard, you’ll be over at his clubhouse on your knees begging for mercy.”

  Dax pulled out a whip and flicked his wrist, the crack echoing in the small space. “Someone’s gonna be begging for mercy, and it isn’t us.”

  “You can’t hurt me,” she said quickly. “Zane gave me his word. And I got a kid. He needs me.”

  “If I know Zane, and I do, he probably gave you his word that you won’t be harmed. But there’s a world of difference between hurt and harm.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. His old man knew the difference. Zane’s father was always careful to hit Zane where the bruises couldn’t be seen. But the emotional abuse, the constant accusations that his mother died because of him, that he was worthless and no good and a burden on his dad, caused irreparable harm. If not for Evie and Jagger, Zane doubted he would have made it through school without some serious psychological damage, or landing his ass in jail.

  Dax studied Doreen, his lips twisting to the side. Then he put away the whip and pulled a pair of scissors from the bag, holding them up to the light. “That hair’s gonna get in the way. Maybe I’ll give her a pixie cut, shaved up both sides with a piece in the middle for holding on to.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he dug it out and frowned. “Damn. Timmy’s back in the principal’s office. That’s the problem with having five boys. I gotta spend half my day gettin’ them outta trouble. Excuse me love, I’ll be right back.”