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

by J. L. Leslie

  She’s in Hell’s Fury with Harper and she’s not just a prospect or a member, she’s their damn vice president. I know what it feels like to hold that title. To be in that position. She’s far more dangerous to our club than Harper ever was.

  The moment Harper told us about her club – after they stole our trucks and product – I did my own digging. I know how being pussy-whipped can blind you, so I wasn’t taking the chance that Lucien would miss something.

  We already knew Mackenzie worked for the DEA but having her be part of that club, with the position she holds, makes her an even bigger threat. She can’t be trusted, and as far as I’m concerned, neither can Harper.

  So, when I stopped being able to come after I fucked her, I told myself it had nothing to do with her. That she was a one-time thing and now she’s the enemy. Fuck, she’s always been in the enemy and although we got our shit back, promising to stay out of our way if we stay out of theirs, I know better than to believe they’ve forgiven us for the past.

  Too many clubs hold grudges and seek retaliation when you don’t even realize they’re coming for you. I would have my club, the Rykers, had it not been for the Sinners. I hope their former president is rotting in hell.

  “Come on, I know you didn’t fucking nut, so let me make you feel better,” Sabrina whines when I take my cigarette from her and dump her over onto the bed. I stand up and grab my boxer briefs from the floor.

  “You good to stay with the other girls tonight?” I ask her, letting her know my bed is not an option tonight. She can stay with the other club whores. Their apartment is not far from the clubhouse.

  “I’m not staying here?” she questions me, somewhat pouting.

  “Not tonight.”

  She gets off my bed, walking around the room to pick her up discarded clothes. She’s pissed and making it obvious by the way she’s stomping and snatching things.

  “You know, I put up with a lot of shit from Lincoln when we were in Verdana and I haven’t asked much of you, but this whole treating me like a whore bit has to stop,” she huffs, referring to the guy she was fucking from the Rykers. “I may as well be your old lady.”

  “If I recall correctly, Lincoln put up with a lot of shit from you. He never knew who you were fucking around with,” I tell her. “If you don’t want to be treated like a whore, then don’t act like one. As for being my old lady, you are not old lady material and we both fucking know that.”

  Her eyes water up, but I don’t fall for this game of hers. She’s pulled it too many times. Sabrina doesn’t get offended when she’s called a whore because she knows she is one. She’s not old lady material, not that I’m looking, and she never will be.

  I stand by the door while she pretends to be upset, puts on this show of getting dressed while wiping imaginary tears. Once she’s decent, I hold the door open for her, tired of her fucking games.

  “I’m not always going to be here, willing and waiting for you, Warren,” she snaps. “You’ll see.”

  I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response before closing the door behind her. Her words don’t bother me. She always comes back.

  Mackenzie

  I park my bike and walk around back to the storage unit in Donia’s backyard. To anyone passing by, her home looks like any other home on this block and Donia looks like the typical woman next door. She has short brown hair and light brown eyes, with this motherly air about her that makes me feels safe.

  Donia is anything but motherly though. She’s the president of Hell’s Fury, the motorcycle club I’m in. She’s manipulative and ruthless when it comes to this club. She will do anything it takes to achieve what we came together for.

  And that’s retaliation for the death of our loved ones, the Hades Riders.

  There was a slight bump in the road. We were on our way to taking down the Sinners, but one of our members couldn’t go through with the task she was assigned. I should’ve seen it coming. Harper is only a prospect and although she was bitter about her half brother’s death, she’s too optimistic. She believed a little too much in the power of love and that shit won her over.

  I sigh when I think of my best friend. Former best friend. It’s been weeks since I’ve been spoken to her. I only catch glimpses of her as she’s coming and going from her house and most of the time that’s with her old man, Lucien McNamara. He just so happens to be the fucking president of the Sinners.

  I mostly blame myself for her being with him. It was my idea to have her get close to him when I realized he was taking an interest in her. I saw that she was falling for him and although I told her she was losing control, I did nothing to stop it. Maybe there was part of me that was happy for her. In this world so full of darkness, she had finally found some light. Damn it, she deserves to be happy, and he clearly makes her happy, but it’s fucked all the same.

  She ruined everything. Her happiness cost our Hell’s Fury dearly. We were so close to getting what we wanted, to taking them down, and she withheld vital intel. She chose him over her sisters. Chose love over her family. I can’t forgive that. Hell’s Fury always comes first.

  We were so damn close, so close to getting what we wanted. We had cut off their supplier and when they ventured into a deal with a new one, we stole their damn trucks with their product inside. Sure, we lost one of our own during that process, but we were all willing to take that risk.

  What Harper failed to tell us was that the Sinners were planning a hostile takedown of our supplier, our lifeline. Hell, more like a takeover seeing as how they run his business now. She was completely compromised, and instead of helping us, she helped the Sinners. She even set Lucien up to meet with Donia to smooth things over. He may have promised not to retaliate against us if she returned his trucks and product, but I don’t trust him. I’ll never trust any of them.

  Needless to say, the Sinners were successful in getting their trucks back and in taking down our supplier, leaving us with barely any product and a chip on our shoulders from our plan going to shit and losing one of our members.

  The dirt on Crystal’s grave is still fresh and as far as I’m concerned, Harper may as well be dead to me too. I know where her loyalty lies despite what she says. It’s impossible to have it both ways, but Donia says she can stay, remain a prospect until she earns membership status. She took her punishment and has the scars to prove it.

  Well, fuck her. I have my own scars.

  As if on cue, my phone buzzes and when I check the screen it shows a message from Harper. I guess if you think of the devil, she knows it. I delete the message without reading it and grab a brick of cocaine off the shelf, shoving it into my bag.

  The storage unit Donia put back here holds what’s left of our product. She didn’t feel it was safe at our unit downtown now that our club has been exposed. Although the Sinners are the only club that knows of us, it won’t be long until the Sicarios, the other prominent club in L.A., find out who we are. For all we know, the Sinners could rat us out to them in a ploy to get rid of us without getting their hands dirty.

  Besides, if we don’t find another supplier soon, we’ll be out of business and won’t be able to operate. We can’t make any money if we aren’t selling. We lost our bid to the governor to the Sinners, but we still have some loyal buyers. Unfortunately, buyers can’t buy what you don’t have to sell.

  I lock up the storage unit and head over to my boyfriend’s truck. I use the term “boyfriend” lightly. I think he’s a little more attached than I am. We had a bit of a rough start, with him thinking that a strip club was a good place for a proper first date, but I guess I can say he’s straightened up. Well, as much as someone who’s been in prison most of his adult life can.

  I don’t know where I find these fucking losers. The DEA agency where I work at was targeting him to be an informant, but he didn’t agree to work with them. I thought he could be of use to Hell’s Fury, but once I met him, I decided against bringing up the club and anything that I do with it.

&nbs
p; Christopher Suggs might be a hired assassin, but he honestly looks at me like I’m some sort of saint. It feels good to have someone look at me like that even if I don’t return his feelings. Maybe one day when my heart thaws out then I can try to be who he wants me to be. Until then, I have a delivery to make.

  I take a left onto Brasher Avenue and pull into the parking lot for Tammy’s Tacos. It’s a shitty little Mexican restaurant, nothing authentic about the food here, but the patrons come for what they get if they order a number thirty-two. It’s not on the menu but anyone in the city knows Tammy serves a beef and bean taco with extra cheese and a little something extra in the wrapper. Hell’s Fury supplies the “little something extra.”

  I grab the bag off the seat of Suggs’ truck and make my way across the parking lot. I head inside, nodding and smiling at the hostess as I walk past and to Tammy’s office in the back. I open my mouth to greet her, but my words falter when I realize I’m not alone.

  I grip the strap to my bag and narrow my eyes at the asshole seated across from Tammy. I try not to notice how good his leather Sinners’ cut looks on him. It fits him perfectly and he makes it look like he was born to wear it.

  “I apologize for interrupting, Tammy,” I say, tearing my gaze away from him. “I’ll wait outside until you’re finished.”

  Warren Mathis, apparently no longer a bitch boy for the Sinners, turns to me and licks his lips before grinning. I know exactly what his lips are capable of. How they feel against the curve of my neck. How he likes to bite at my skin, marking me with his teeth.

  He was a mistake. A one-time only mistake. I don’t make the same mistake twice. Not ever. It certainly doesn’t matter how much I liked it the first time.