The Sinner Within (L.A. Sinners MC Book 1)

by J. L. Leslie

  “We need some fucking ground rules, Harper,” he says. “You can’t just go and do whatever the fuck you want.”

  “Oh really? I thought that’s what adults did. Did you miss where I just told you I’m a grown ass fucking woman?”

  He sighs, clearly frustrated. “I don’t want to worry about you, and damn it, you worried me tonight. I have too many enemies to protect you from if you don’t allow me to!”

  I like that he cares. I hate to admit that, but I do. But I don’t need a babysitter or a man acting like I have to report to him in order for him to protect me. Gavin was protective enough, and it drove me crazy most of the time. He tried to control everything I did, who I spent time with. It feels like Lucien is trying to do the same.

  “I’m not going to bend to your rules,” I tell him, pushing away from him.

  His arm goes across my chest, holding me firmly against the wall. His other hand has my wrist, keeping me from struggling.

  “I told you before that you were claimed,” he tells me. “You need to understand what that means.”

  Hearing him tell me I’m claimed, knowing it’s by him, makes my nipples tingle. I have tried to deny this attraction between us and what it’s doing to me. I’ve tried to tell myself that I don’t care about him, that I can end him when I need to.

  But that’s not true.

  I jut my chin forward in defiance, knowing it will piss him off but anxious to see how he’ll respond when I say, “If it means having to follow any rules you set, then you can forget it. Walk away now.”

  He uses his knee to nudge my legs apart. “You think I can just walk away and forget you, Harper?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but I’m so stunned by his admission that I can’t find my words. I thought this was all fun for him. Sure, I told him I wasn’t that type of girl, but in all seriousness, we haven’t made any type of commitment to each other that was beyond fun.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you, Harper?” he asks me, running his lips up my neck. “You’re pissed at me, frustrated by my demands, but you still want me.”

  I nod my head, not ashamed to admit it. He lowers his hands, releasing my wrist and placing them underneath my skirt so that he can squeeze my ass cheeks. He lifts one of my legs up, and grinds his hard cock against my aching core.

  “I can’t be that woman for you, Lucien,” I tell him. “That’s not me. I’m not going to do as you tell me.”

  “I know,” he whispers, unbuckling his jeans.

  “We’re wrong for each other,” I say to him, and he nods. “We both know that.”

  Lucien tugs my panties to the side and presses the tip of his dick to my entrance. He teases it up and down my slit, coating it with my wetness.

  “But it feels so fucking right,” he groans and pushes inside me.

  I gasp, digging my fingernails into his biceps. His thrusts are rough as he pulls out and slams back home, causing my other foot to rise off the floor. Anyone who was to come into this bathroom would know we were fucking in this stall and I don’t care.

  “Oh, God!” I cry out. “Yes! Fuck!”

  He lifts my other leg, scooping it up and over the crook of his arm. I’m not the most limber person in the world, but I can manage this when it feels this good.

  “Come on my dick, Harper,” he orders. “Coat my cock with your fucking pussy juice! I need to feel it!”

  He grunts into my ear, making dirty commands and telling me how good I feel inside. He must have no idea how good he feels to me. I know I can’t describe it, but when we’re like this, I can’t think straight.

  “Lucien!” I moan his name, coming on his dick just like he wanted.

  “Aaaggh!” he groans and pours his release inside me, one of his hands fisted in my hair and his mouth on my neck.

  He slowly lowers me to the floor and grabs some tissue to clean me up. After he rights his jeans and I adjust my panties and skirt, we emerge from the stall. My legs are a little wobbly, but Lucien takes my arm, holding me up.

  There are a couple of women standing at the sinks wearing knowing smirks on their faces. I just smile and let him lead me out, not caring that they know what we just did.

  “I should find Mackenzie,” I tell Lucien.

  “I’m pretty sure they never made it inside,” he says, holding my hand tightly as we make our way through the club. “She didn’t seem happy about coming here.”

  Having asked the bartender to hold my purse for me, I go retrieve it so that I can get my phone and call her. Lucien sits on a barstool and pulls me between his legs while I wait on Mackenzie to answer. He kisses my shoulder while her phone rings.

  “She didn’t answer,” I tell him.

  “We can go check the parking lot and see if his truck is here,” he replies.

  “I know that you know him,” I let him know. “I could tell.”

  He stands from the barstool, not confirming or denying my accusation. He just takes my hand and leads me outside. I do see Suggs’ truck, so I head over to it. I peek into the window and then immediately cover my mouth, holding in laughter.

  “Okay, um, she’s alright,” I say, quickly walking away from the truck.

  “Are you sure?” Lucien asks.

  “Unless you want to see your friend’s bare ass, I suggest you do not go over there,” I laugh.

  Lucien shakes his head. “Why don’t I take you home, and we’ll discuss how wrong we are for each other a little more?”

  I follow him to his bike, knowing that Mackenzie is fine, and that she’ll know I’m with Lucien.

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lucien

  I stare down the barrel of the gun that’s pointed right at my face. I take a deep breath and swallow, unsure of what to say to get myself out of this situation. I decide I should say nothing and just lie very still.

  “Who are you?”

  So much for not saying anything. I shift on the bed, and the little girl takes a step back, but still keeps the gun on me. It’s a pink Nerf gun, and she looks pretty damn adorable, although she is the spitting image of her dad with her dark hair and blue eyes. Had I not seen that photo, I would’ve known who she belonged to the moment I saw her.

  I have never been good with kids, and I fear this one will be no different, especially if she finds out I’m the man accused of killing her father.

  Spencer and I never talked about having kids. Even when we thought about leaving the Sinners and having our own life together, kids were never in the picture. Now, I can admit that I’m becoming attached to this woman who has a major responsibility in the damn form of a child.

  Harper warned me up front that she was not a fun and games type of girl. We haven’t made any commitment to each other, and throughout the short time I’ve known her, we’ve had our share of trouble. Neither of us seems to be able to stay away though.

  “My name is Lucien,” I answer the little girl.

  She cocks the Nerf gun, and I try not to smile. “Are you my mom’s boyfriend?”

  Okay, she does call Harper mom. I supposed by the looks of her, she had to be around three when Gavin died. Harper is probably the only mom she has ever known.

  “I don’t know,” I answer, honestly. “I think so.”

  She fires the gun, shooting a foam bullet right at my forehead. She giggles when it hits me and falls to the pillow.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” she asks, giggling again. “Either you’re her boyfriend, or you aren’t. I mean, you’re in her bed.”

  She’s very dramatic when she says this, drawing out the word ‘bed’ and rolling her eyes. She’s cocking her gun again when Harper comes into the room.

  “Layla! I told you not to bother him!”

  I sit up on the side of the bed, the blanket effectively covering my nakedness. “It’s okay; she’s not bothering me at all.”

  Harper ushers her out of the room, closing the door behind her. I get up and qui
ckly get dressed just in case she decides to come back in for another shot at me. It might not be my forehead she shoots next time.

  Once I’m dressed, I go into the kitchen where I find the two of them eating cereal and Pop Tarts. I don’t mention that I find that a strange combination. Instead, I pour myself a bowl of flakes and sit down across from Layla.

  “Is that your bike outside? My friend Jessica saw it and thought it was cool. My mom has a bike too, but Jessica doesn’t know that. We don’t take it out often. When I get older, I’m going to ride a bike too,” Layla says and gets it out all in one breath.

  “Yes, that is my bike. I’m glad your friend Jessica thinks it’s cool. I haven’t seen your mom’s bike before, but if you want and if it’s okay with your mom, we can all go for a ride when we finish eating,” I answer her, glancing at Harper to see if it’s okay.

  “That’s not necessary,” Harper replies. “I’m sure you have some things you need to go take care of.”

  I know she means club business, and yes, I do need to have church so we can discuss what we’re going to do about Jiminez. I don’t want to wait to take action on him yet, not when I’m limited on time to get payment to Wakeford. But I can spare an hour or two to spend with them first.

  “I have some time,” I assure her and Layla’s bright blue eyes light up.

  I can see that Harper doesn’t want to disappoint her because she smiles over at her, conceding almost instantly.

  “Fine, we’ll go for a short ride.”

  Harper

  Despite my objections, Layla insisted on riding with Lucien. Apparently, he won her over by showing her that he could shove an entire strawberry Pop Tart into his mouth all at once. She certainly didn’t mind the mess he made doing it.

  We’ve been riding for about an hour, him taking the lead the majority of the time with Layla clutching his back. We pull to a stop at a red light, and I ease my bike up beside him. Layla gives me a wave, and I smile over at her. When it turns green, I gun it past them, laughing as I take the lead.

  I turn onto Gilspar Avenue and ride past some old shops and down to where I know a park is. I start slowing down, waiting on Lucien and Layla to catch up with me, when I see that there’s some sort of festival going on at the park. There are vendors and games set up, but I also spot a few bikers coming out of the park entrance.

  “Harper!” Lucien calls out, stopping his bike beside mine. “We need to get out of here!”

  I can barely hear what he’s saying so I take my helmet off and he repeats himself. I nod, my face going pale when the bikers surround us. I hadn’t realized they had gotten so close to us.

  “You’re on the wrong side of town, Revenant,” one of them says, and I recognize him as the man from Mario’s Pizza. These are Sicarios.

  “We’ll just go,” I say. “I’m sorry, this was my fault.”

  “Mom?” Layla’s voice sounds from behind Lucien, and I see that he has his arm wrapped protectively around her.

  “You and the kid can stay,” the man says, “but that damn demon there has to go.”

  I put my helmet on the back of my bike, and get off even though Lucien is shaking his head at me. I walk over to his bike and extend my hand to Layla.

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “We will be fine. We don’t want any trouble with them. You can go.”

  “The hell I am,” he growls.

  “Thank you for letting us stay,” I tell the man. “She’ll enjoy the games.”

  He nods at me and taps his hand on his waistband, letting Lucien know he can leave the easy way or the hard way. He is in their territory, something I didn’t realize when I turned down this road.

  Lucien is shooting daggers at me as he rides away, no doubt pissed that I didn’t leave with him. I know one thing though, it would have been disrespectful of me to not accept the Sicario’s invitation to stay.

  I help Layla take her helmet off and place it on the back of my bike. I can feel the man staring at me as I take her hand.

  “Your old man would be ashamed of what you’re doing,” he says, disgust in his voice.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I tell him.

  I don’t give him any more than that. I’ll let him come to his own conclusions. It’s not any of his business what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with. He can believe whatever he wants.

  I walk down to the park, keeping a close eye on Layla. We play a few games, and I let her get a funnel cake. Lucien has already texted me and I’ve responded, letting him know that we are fine and will be leaving soon. I don’t want to cause another scene.

  I understand that he’s anxious. He rode off while I stayed behind with bikers from a rival club. I’m certain he didn’t feel too good about doing that.

  “It’s time to go.” I turn around to see Lucien standing right behind me. “Get Layla and let’s go. Now.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I ask him. “We are perfectly safe. It’s you who’s not safe here.”

  “She’s right, demon.”

  Lucien laughs, a very taunting laugh. “You keep tapping that gun in your waistband, Tonto, and you might shoot your tiny dick off.”

  I huff and take Layla’s hand, pissed off that she’s hearing this right now. I start toward my bike and hear the clicking of guns being cocked behind me. I stop dead in my tracks but don’t turn around.

  At the sound of a whistle, men begin to move and I realize it’s the Sinners. They have guns aimed down at the park patrons. I know if Lucien gives the signal, they will annihilate any and everyone in attendance. It doesn’t matter how innocent they are.

  Layla grips my hand but doesn’t move. She doesn’t show any fear, and I have no idea how a seven-year-old child can be so brave.

  “You come into my territory and disrespect me like this!” Tonto yells.

  “We will walk away peacefully right now,” Lucien informs him. “No harm done. You have my word, and I would like yours that there will be no retaliation.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for an answer from Tonto. This could be a bloodbath here today, and too many innocent people could be caught in the crossfire, including Layla.

  “You can leave.”

  I hear his answer, but I hear no promise regarding retaliation.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucien

  I know that Harper is pissed that I bring her and Layla to the clubhouse rather than take them home. She can be fucking pissed! I’m pissed that she didn’t leave when I left!

  “Why are we here?” she asks, getting off her bike.

  I help Layla off mine, and the Sinners take my glare as their cue to leave us alone. Good choice. I don’t need them witnessing an argument between us.

  “Do you have any idea who you were dealing with back there?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice calm. “What they would have done to you and Layla?”

  “We were fine, Lucien!” she answers, slightly raising her voice and I see Layla’s eyes go wide. “Now we’re at your damn clubhouse when I need to get ready for work and Layla has school in the morning!”

  “You were not fine!” I hiss. “Why are you fucking denying that?”

  “Watch your damn mouth!” she points her finger at my face, and I feel like shit for using that language in front of the kid.

  “You just said the “D” word,” Layla accuses, fighting back a smile.

  “Be quiet,” Harper orders. “Sit on my bike while me and Lucien go over here and talk.”

  Layla does as she’s told and Harper stomps off a few feet. I follow her, ready to get my ass chewed out but anxious to dish it right back.

  “What you did was reckless and dangerous,” she says, and I raise my eyebrows at her.

  “Me? Are you shitting me right now? You really have no idea what the Sicarios are capable of, and you just expected me to leave you there with them? Fuck that!”

  “We were fine!” she says for the second time. She truly is clueless as to who she was dealing with, and ther
e’s a part of me that wants to keep her shielded from that harsh reality, but she needs to know.

  “Tell me, Harper, did you speak to anyone there? Were the women nice to you?” I ask her, and I can see that she’s struggling to answer. “No, because they didn’t fucking talk to you, did they?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “They aren’t allowed to speak to anyone! They are damn slaves! That’s what the Sicarios do to their women,” I tell her. “What you saw today was one of their rare public outings. Had you stayed longer, they would not have let you and Layla leave. You think they’re nice, that they’re better than us Sinners, but they’re the worst kind of people because you can’t see the evil lurking inside them! At least we don’t fucking hide who we are!”

  “We were going to be trophies,” Layla cuts in, prancing around. “Pretty trophies!”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Harper asks her, stopping her from dancing and kneeling down to her. “What did you say, baby?”

  “We were going to make the prettiest trophies!” she smiles. “Like pretty dolls. I heard one of the men say that. We are pretty, mom, so I didn’t tell him we couldn’t be trophies.”

  Harper stands, releasing Layla and she continues to prance around, completely oblivious to what that meant. I step to Harper, enclosing her in my arms and she sighs out with a sob.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t…I had no…”

  Her voice trails as I rub my hand over her back. “I know. I promised to protect you and Layla, and I will. They won’t lay a fucking hand on you. You have my word.”

  She shudders, no doubt thinking of what the Sicarios meant by making her and Layla ‘trophies’ and I hold her tighter.

  “Stay here tonight. I’ll send someone to get some things for the two of you and make sure your house is secure. I promise you, Layla will be fine here while you work.”

  Harper nods as she breaks our embrace. “Mackenzie’s going to shit a fucking brick.”

  I laugh at that. “She is welcome to come here and be with her if she wants.”