Sinner's Revenge

by Kim Jones

A year after that, I sewed my top rocker, bottom rocker, side rocker, full back piece, one-percenter patch, and number thirteen on while a whore named Gabby held a flashlight. That one took all night, and as soon as the sun rose, I was ordered inside back to the darkness again.

  They say anything worth having is worth working for. I say, anything worth having is worth earning. Tonight, for the first time ever, I have my Nomad rocker. And I’m sure as fuck gonna earn it.

  With every prick of my finger, I bleed love for Sinner’s Creed. Pride swells in my chest with every stitch. My hands are numb. My eyes hurt. The pain in my back from my hunched-over state is almost unbearable—and I love every second of it.

  Two hours later I’m finished. My patch is perfectly aligned, stitched to perfection. The tip of a knife can’t fit between the threads. To cut it off, they’ll have to pull it from my back and even then, it will be a struggle.

  My cut feels heavier when I slide it over my shoulders. The weight is warm, welcome, and comforting. I’ll wear it with honor. I’ll wear it for Dirk. I’ll do it justice. I’ll make him proud.

  The club is gathered around me. The feeling is overwhelming. I’m no longer just a patch holder. I’m not just another brother. I am the greatest thing I’ve ever been. I’ll never be more than I am in this moment.

  I am proud.

  I am powerful.

  I am his legacy.

  I am Sinner’s Creed Nomad National, Shady.

  * * *

  I hadn’t given much thought to how being a Nomad would affect my time with Diem. I like her—a lot. But I love my club. There will never be a time I put her first. This is my life. If she wants a place in it, she’ll have to settle for second.

  Even though she’s not my top priority, she’s never far from my mind. I think about her every day. I miss her more than I should. I haven’t been apart from her long enough for my absence to be questioned, but I know that’s all fixing to change.

  It’s time for me to start making my presence known. Today, I’m in Los Angeles, where things are different. The brothers here are different too. They don’t trust easily, and they don’t take well to change. Dirk didn’t care about their trust. It was his respect they had to earn, not the other way around. But I’m not Dirk. And they’re not letting me forget it. I start to call Jimbo and ask him for a little advice on how to bring them down to size. But it’s Diem’s number that I dial instead.

  “Well hello, stranger,” she greets, and I smile.

  “Where are you?” My first job as a Nomad isn’t going as well as planned. Because of this, I find myself wishing I was at home and she was on her way over.

  “I’m out of town on a business trip. Won’t be back for a couple of days. Where are you?”

  “Same. Meeting with some clients out west.” I light a cigarette, listening to her vent about some work colleagues that can’t seem to do their job, which means that she is called out to pick up their slack. Then about how she doesn’t get the respect she deserves because everyone thinks they are in charge.

  “I know the feeling. Sometimes, there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians,” I say, stubbing out my cigarette and digging deep to find the courage to go back inside the Los Angeles chapter’s clubhouse.

  “True, but what they don’t know is that I’m not a chief or an Indian. I’m a wolf . . . the one everybody should fear.” She doesn’t know it, but her words were just the kick in the ass I needed. It sounds just like something Dirk would say.

  “Go be a wolf, pretty girl, and call me when you get home.” I hang up and walk inside with a newfound confidence. This place is swarming with chiefs, but just like Diem, today I’m a motherfucking wolf.

  * * *

  “You did what?” Jimbo is pissed. The president of the Los Angeles chapter is in the hospital. And I’m at a gas station on my way back home.

  “With all due respect, Jimbo, what the hell did you expect me to do? They didn’t want to listen to me, and if I’m here to represent you and Sinner’s Creed, then that means they disrespected all of us. Me, the patch, and Nationals. Now, if you want me to go back, apologize, and renege on everything I did, I will. But if what you want is an army you can trust and soldiers that know their place, then I suggest you back the fuck up off me.”

  I’m breathing hard. I’m beyond pissed. With every word, I became angrier. I didn’t mean any disrespect toward Nationals, but they sent me to do a job and I did it. If my methods were too harsh for their sensitive little Los Angeles chapter, then next time they could send someone else to do it.

  Jimbo’s breathing is all I can hear on the line. I don’t know if he’s trying to calm down or preparing to tell me to come back so he can kill me. What I do know is that I’m in the right on this one. And I ain’t backing down.

  “If I didn’t witness his burial with my own eyes, I’d swear I was talking to Dirk,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Get on down to Phoenix. And this time, try not to break any bones.”

  I don’t make any promises.

  “When are you coming home?” Diem asks a week later. She sounds like she’s tired. And lonely. And missing me.

  “Soon, pretty girl. Real soon,” I lie. The truth is, I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’m starting to like the feeling of power that courses its way through my veins with every chapter I visit. I like the way my brothers look at me with a twinkle of respect in their eyes. I like it more than pussy, but I can’t deny that I miss Diem.

  “Well hurry the hell up. I’m starting to rethink this whole ‘I’m yours’ and ‘you’re mine’ monogamous talk we had.”

  “So, if you’re that desperate, then why are you still waiting on me?” I know her answer will probably be something about her giving her word. But what I want her to say is that I’m the only man she wants. That with me, it’s different than it is with anyone else. That she has feelings for me that run deeper than sex. But, as always, she surprises me with words of truth.

  “Because I know you’d kill them.”

  Damn right I would.

  * * *

  I’d been gone for twelve days. Not one day had passed that I didn’t talk to Diem. It was nice to hear her voice, but it was never enough. I wanted to see her. Touch her. Sleep with her. At this point, I don’t even care about the sex—I just miss her.

  My club wanted me to start making my presence known all around the country. First was Los Angeles, then Phoenix and Albuquerque. The days were exhausting, the nights long, and by the time I make it back, I’m so tired mentally and physically that all I want to do is sleep. I’m sunburned, my ass hurts, and my nuts are still vibrating from the endless hours on my bike. But I’m home, and she’s here—waiting on me naked and in my bed. It’s a welcome-home present I didn’t realize I needed until this moment.

  Her olive skin seems to glow against the million-dollar white comforter. Her black hair is messy and matches the thick, black eyeliner she wears. Long, red nails match her perfectly painted toes, and she looks like sin just laying here waiting for me.

  I take my time crawling on the bed between her thighs. I drag my hand slowly up her smooth calf, trailing it up her stomach, her chest, her neck, until I’m holding her face and kissing her like I missed her. Like I can’t get enough. Because I did. I can’t.

  We don’t speak, we just fuck—soft and slow, hard and fast, in every position until we both collapse from exhaustion. Then I hold her. And I realize that sleep has never come as easy as it does with her in my arms.

  * * *

  We’re still in bed. It’s sometime in the middle of the night and we’re eating crackers and drinking beer. Naked. She’s telling me about how being a wolf worked out in her favor. I tell her the same, only a little more evasively.

  “I didn’t realize being a pharmaceutical sales rep could be so challenging.” I smirk. She narrows her eyes on me, clearly pissed with my c
hoice of words.

  “And being a website designer, for a company that you run is?” She shakes her head. “You know I don’t buy that bullshit. I just go along with it because I know that whatever it is you’re hiding must be pretty important.” I just smile, not letting my eyes give anything away.

  “Actually, I run a large company. It’s worldwide. I have a lot of people who work under me. Most have never even met me before. So, when a guy like me shows up and demands respect, you can imagine why they’re a little hesitant.” I snatch a cracker from the pack lying on her belly. “But you . . . you just sell drugs.”

  “Actually,” she says, coming to a sitting position. “I sell drugs to a number of companies. And unlike you, I work for a corporation where there are lots of employees who are on the same level as me. The difference between me and them is that I want to make my way to the top. They want to stay exactly where they are, so they throw their workload on me because they have nothing to lose.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so ambitious.”

  “Or maybe I should just become barefoot and pregnant and let some man take care of me like my mother did.” She offers me a sardonic smile, and even though I didn’t mean to, I somehow struck a nerve. The mood seems to shift at the mention of her mother, but she wouldn’t have brought her up if she didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Do you really hate her?” I ask, wiping a crumb from the corner of her lip.

  She frowns. “No. Not at all. But I’ve always been a daddy’s girl.” Her eyes seem to brighten as she continues. “When I was little, he used to take me to all his business meetings. I became obsessed with the company. He was so powerful and demanding. I used to practice his facial expressions in the mirror. Eventually, I perfected them.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Her eyes narrow as she peels the label from the beer bottle in her hands. “He’s still around. I’m just not his little girl anymore.”

  “Do y’all still speak?”

  She nods. “When we can. It’s complicated.”

  “Doesn’t seem complicated,” I counter, letting her know her excuses don’t pacify me.

  “Well, when you’re surrounded by guards and guns and people telling you what you can and can’t do, it is. You want another beer?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “Sure.” I watch her naked hips sway as she walks out. Prison must have been too hard of a word for her to say. I guess having a father locked up was about as bad as not having one at all.

  She comes back with the beer, and my eyes zoom in on her tits as they bounce when she literally jumps back on the bed. “What about your parents?” she asks, twisting the top off and handing the bottle to me.

  “I don’t have any.” I turn up the beer, helping it wash away the reminder. When I look at her, she sits expectantly, waiting for me to elaborate. “I was born a ward of the state. You know those movies where people drop their babies off on the doorsteps of an orphanage? Well that shit happens in real life too.”

  “But you have a family,” she says, and I remember I told her my family was the reason I was away for so long.

  “Adoptive family. They took me in, when I was older. Helped me get on the right path.” I look down at my beer bottle, unable to meet her eyes. I’m not lying to her, I’m just not telling the whole truth. In my book, that’s the same damn thing.

  “Family is family. And at the end of the day, your family is all you have.” Like she’s done so many times before, her words are rehearsed—like she’s been told that her whole life.

  “That’s some Mafia shit right there,” I say, tilting my beer to her.

  She laughs. “I guess I’ve been watching too much Scarface. What can I say? I love Al Pacino.”

  “Want to shay ’ello to my lil’ friend?” I ask in my best Tony Montana voice.

  She pulls her lip between her teeth, crawling seductively across the bed and straddling my lap. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  19

  IT’S MIDNIGHT. DIEM is laying in my bed, the covers tangled at her feet. And I’m just standing in the doorway watching her sleep. There’s something about it that’s peaceful—a peace I’ve never experienced.

  My duffel is slung over my shoulder. I’m dressed in black. Rookie is waiting just down the road for me. After the fight with Death Mob in the nightclub, I made the decision to step away for a while. It gave me time to handle shit with the club, but now, it’s time to focus on my ultimate goal. And tonight, we’re going to make a kill.

  Take a life.

  Seek revenge.

  Bring hell to those that wronged my brother and my best friend.

  But tonight, it feels different. Because for the first time, I don’t want to kill. I don’t want revenge. I don’t care about Death Mob. I love Dirk, but I’m tired of fighting this battle.

  I just want to crawl back in bed with Diem. I want to spend my nights with her wrapped around me. I want to spend my days laughing with her. I’d rather argue with her over something as simple as who left the light on than avenge the death of my brother. I was fucked up, and I was falling hard.

  Pulling the door closed behind me, I ease out of the house, then jog down the road toward Rookie’s waiting truck. Midstride, I let my emotions get the best of me. I let all the feelings I’ve been shoving to the back of my brain finally surface.

  I don’t just like Diem.

  I’m not just infatuated with her.

  This isn’t just a fling or a lay.

  This is something bigger . . . something better . . . something I just can’t shake . . .

  I’m not just falling hard, fast, deeply and madly for Diem . . .

  I’m falling in love with her.

  * * *

  “You look different,” Rookie says, eyeing me warily when I get in the truck.

  “I just had a revelation.” Admitting it should be hard, but if anybody gets it, Rookie will. “I’m in love with Diem.”

  “No shit you are,” he says, acting like the news is old to him. “But you know it will never work.”

  I jerk my head to look at him. “What the fuck? What kind of shit is that? I just told you I was in love with a woman. You . . . the most pussy-whooped man I know, and you have the balls to tell me it won’t work?”

  “That’s what I said. You’re too selfish, Shady. And you have no remorse for your actions. You’re a cold-blooded killer whose only mission in life is to avenge the death of a brother who would tell you the same thing if he were alive.”

  I shake my head. “No, Dirk wouldn’t say that. He’d be happy for me. See, that’s the difference between you and him.” I turn away from him, gritting my teeth. “What makes you think you deserve love and I don’t?”

  “Because my woman knows nothing about what I do. She only sees the good side of me, because that’s all I let her see. But Diem?” he says, letting out a loud breath. “She won’t be that easy to pacify. She’ll dig until she finds something, then she’ll rip your heart out and ruin you and the club. It can’t happen.”

  As much as I want to deny it, Rookie is right. It didn’t matter how coldhearted Diem seemed to be. If she ever figured out the monster I really was, she’d ruin us all. Carrie and Saylor had something in common—they were both innocent and naïve. Diem was nothing like that. She’d get to the bottom of it. She might not care right now, but months or years from now, she would.

  “You’re playing with fire. You better end it while you still can.” Rookie’s advice hits me right in the heart—that one organ that I’d finally decided to listen to only moments ago. But as much as I want to, I know I can’t. I have the power to do a lot of things, but letting Diem go isn’t one of them. I was playing with fire.

  But getting burned never felt so good.

  * * *

  We killed six men that night. It was a bloody, fucked-up battle th
at turned south because my head wasn’t in the game. Too anxious to get back to Diem, I started shooting the moment I laid eyes on Death Mob. Somehow, Sinner’s Creed managed to walk away unscathed. Lucky for us, Tank and Cleft were in town and helped clean up the mess before anyone witnessed anything. It was after noon when I got home and Diem had already left.

  I exhausted myself with exercise. I butchered the punching bag in my shed until my fists were bloody and I nearly had to crawl inside. My mind was in overdrive. My heart felt like it had already been ripped to shreds. Now I’m on the phone with Nationals and the news they’re giving me is worse than any feeling I could have ever imagined.

  “They know.”

  Two little words had just ruined my whole life. I knew who “they” were—Death Mob. Sinner’s Creed wanted me in Jackpot in the morning. It might very well be my last time there. Rookie comes over to tell me that he was called in too. I assured him he had nothing to worry about. This blood was on my hands. I knew getting into this that my life would be the penalty if I ever got found out.

  Now I had.

  My life was at stake.

  And I was ready to give it.

  I believed in my mission, and for the most part I accomplished it. Over sixty members of Death Mob had been killed. It didn’t destroy their club, but it damn sure made them bleed. I’d won. Dirk had won. Sinner’s Creed had won. The price to pay was worth it all.

  My only regret was Diem. This wasn’t fair to her. She hasn’t said it, but I know she loves me. I should break her heart so that her memory of me won’t hurt her. But I can’t do that. Instead, I call and invite her over like nothing is wrong.

  I’m anxious by the time she arrives. I haven’t seen her in days and when she walks in, I feel the full impact of the saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” She’s all business in a white pantsuit and matching heels. She looks stunning, but tired and overworked.

  “Rough day at the office?” I smirk, grabbing her duffel from off her shoulder. Pulling her down with me, we sit in our usual position in the recliner. She kicks her heels off, rubbing her feet up and down my jean-clad leg.