The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (47 page)

Leaning low on his bike, Cade closed the distance between him and Mad Dog, the icy wind sending a shiver down his back. Living in Montana had its challenges, not the least of which was winter riding. But with the advent of spring, he'd dumped the tire chains and Gore-Tex gloves. The bandanna, however, was still a must.

Mad Dog's bike screeched to a stop outside a warehouse nestled at the foot of the Bridger Mountains, just outside the town boundaries. Something about the warehouse niggled at the back of Cade's mind. He knew for certain he'd ridden past it last year in pursuit of a gang of Black Jacks intent on taking out Jagger and Arianne, but there was something else about the building … something he couldn't quite remember. An offhand comment made a long time ago.

Cade parked his bike, then did a quick reconnaissance of the building: Two windows, blacked out. A side door, locked. Tire treads near the front door. White panel van parked out back. He searched the trees nearby but found no other vehicles, bikes, or Brethren.

Maybe Mad Dog had run out of fuel … or courage. Or maybe he thought he'd be able to take Cade out from a secure position inside. He had to know Cade followed him here. So was it a trap or a challenge? Not that it mattered. Cade had a duty to address the wrong done to his MC: the blatant disrespect of daring to ride in Sinner territory wearing the colors of a rival club.

Steeling himself for the confrontation, Cade drew his weapon and stalked toward the door, a thrill of adrenaline shooting through his veins. Nothing Cade had accomplished as a child—school, sports, summer jobs—had been good enough for his father, but Cade excelled at using violence to solve his problems. Just like his old man.

He sent a quick text giving Jagger his location and the barest details of what had happened. He had no hesitation going in alone after Jimmy, preferring solo missions to group efforts where he invariably would be put in charge of inexperienced prospects or junior patch who had never fired a gun. Not that he had any issues with being in charge. He'd led his squad through countless missions while on tour in Afghanistan, until the night they were caught in an ambush. His discharge hadn't come about because he'd been the only man to survive, but because afterward he'd sought comfort the only way he knew how. And damned if anyone had told him that the lush blonde with the big blue eyes who tried to convince him life was still worth living by inviting him into her bed was the Lieutenant General's daughter.

But that was a long time ago. He no longer needed the soft sweetness of a woman to soothe his pain. He had the club, his bike, his brothers, and he had a fucking kick-ass weapon, a military-issue SIG Sauer P228 begging to be unloaded in a dirty piece of Brethren ass.

Cade slowly turned the handle on the front door, his weapon raised and ready. The hunt was on.

 

TWO

I do not fear death. Death will fear me.

SINNER'S TRIBE CREED

“Doors open in five minutes. Quit your yapping and get out front.”

Joe Banks, proprietor of Banks Bar, lifted a warning eyebrow and glared at Dawn and her best friend, Arianne, engaged in a deep discussion in the middle of the stockroom.

“The bar isn't open yet.” Dawn returned his scowl. “There are no customers I need to serve, and I haven't seen my bestie in a week. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That's what phones are for.”

Arianne laughed as she twisted her long, dark hair into a ponytail. Tall and slim, with startling green eyes and a perfectly oval face, she and Dawn had bonded her first day on the job over Banks's gruff manner, his pawing customers, and a shared fondness for flavored vodka.

“That's what stockrooms are for,” Arianne said. “So wipe that frown off your face and let us have our little catch-up, or this bartender is going to walk and take your best waitress with her.”

“Ever since you became Jagger's old lady, you got a serious attitude problem,” Banks grumbled as he hoisted a box on his shoulder. “Before you hooked up with him, you were sweet, nice, easy to get along with. Now you're telling me how it is, wearing your damn cut while you're working the bar, throwing me out of my stockroom … I liked you better when you were just Viper's runaway daughter. Before, you had more respect.”

Dawn laughed and kissed his cheek. Ex-law-enforcement, with one hell of a ripped body and the chiseled good looks to match, Banks was a close friend, and more often than not she found herself eating pizza and watching westerns at his apartment when she had a rare evening off. Arianne thought they were a good match, but Banks was too straitlaced for Dawn. She'd always had a wild side. And if not for the streak of rebel in her, she'd never have been able to run away from home the night she turned fourteen.

“It's not just Arianne; I don't respect you, either,” Dawn teased. “Like you. But no respect.”

“Fired.” He pushed open the swinging door leading to the bar. “Both of you. Fired.”

“Is that the first time we're fired tonight?” Arianne leaned against the wall, arms folded over the Sinner's Tribe cut Jagger insisted she wear when she worked the bar. The Sinner patch alone would have been enough to save her from roaming hands, but the
PROPERTY OF JAGGER
rocker above it kept all but the most ignorant away.

Dawn tied her apron around her waist. “Yep. But it won't be the last.”

Banks wasn't given to overt affection. His threats to fire them were the closest he got to expressing friendship. That and saving Arianne from her psychotic brother, and then taking a beating from Jagger for his trouble.

Still, he was a good manager and the bar had always done well. Dawn made twice as much money at Banks Bar as she did waitressing at Table Tops restaurant in the mornings, and arranging flowers at Cindy's Florals in the afternoons. One day, though, when she got her girls back and returned to college, she'd get that Accounting Technology Certificate she'd always dreamed about, a good, stable, high-paying job, and maybe even study for her CPA. Just like her dad.

At least that had been the dream a year ago.

Shortly after meeting Cade, she'd taken the bold step of filing for a divorce, and then she'd lost the girls. After that, determined to regain custody, she had no time for men, not the engaging new Conundrum deputy sheriff, Doug Benson, and especially not bikers, and most particularly not bikers who thought they were God's gift to women.

“So … finish telling me about Cade.” Arianne gave Dawn a nudge after the door closed behind Banks. Arianne knew about Dawn's past, although not the reason Dawn had run away from home, or what happened to her on the streets before Jimmy found her—some doors were better left closed. “You gonna see him again?”

“No.” Dawn checked the small mirror near the coat hooks and fluffed her curls.
The bigger the hair the better the tips
. “I broke it off last year after those two hot nights for a reason. And that reason was right in my face this afternoon. Present company excluded, of course, outlaw bikers are bad news.”

“You can't judge all outlaw bikers solely on what you experienced with Jimmy and the Brethren. The Sinners care about their women, protect them.” She gave Dawn a wry smile. “Some women even get respect.”

“They have bylaws and rules, but they don't follow the law. And they're misogynistic to the core.”

“True.” Arianne gave her a wink. “But you just have to learn how to work the system.”

“I'm not you,” Dawn said. “I'm not badass to the bone and make all men except Jagger quake in their biker boots when I walk past. I've been betrayed in one way or another by every man I trusted, but I survived Jimmy and fought my way free. Now I'm fighting for my girls. I don't have time for men, and I'm not about to open myself up again, especially to a man like Cade.”

“What kind of man do you think he is?”

“The dangerous kind,” Dawn said. “The kind of man a woman dreams about, but never wants to meet because the reality of him overwhelms any fantasy. Powerful. Dominant. A biker. The kind of man I promised myself I would never fall for again.”

And a womanizer, or so she'd heard after their two nights together. Charming, handsome, and seductive, but totally unfaithful, unable to commit, and unrepentant for his “crimes.” The last time she'd been to a Sinner party, she'd heard rumors that Cade never slept with the same woman twice. She'd been tempted to share the fact that she had, in fact, slept with Cade twice, but she decided instead to slip out of the party and out of his life.

“I thought you liked him.” Arianne rounded the bar and took up her position behind the polished wood counter.

Dawn grabbed a serving tray from the shelf behind Arianne. “I don't really know him. We didn't talk much. We were too busy ripping off each other's clothes and having sizzling-hot sex in his room at the clubhouse. And both mornings, coward that I am, I sneaked away at daybreak so I didn't have to tell him to his face I couldn't see him again.”

“And yet after that first night, you did.” Arianne waved to the first customer in the door. Dawn grabbed her notepad from the counter and stuffed it in her apron.

“But not after the second time.” She turned away so Arianne wouldn't see the regret on her face. She'd felt something the second time—a longing that tugged at her heart and kept her awake long after Cade had fallen asleep, an inexplicable certainty that nothing and no one would harm her while she lay in his arms.

She'd never felt so safe since her parents died, and the memories of their unconditional love and the good times they shared together—picnics and hikes in the mountains, playing number games with her dad and gardening with her mom—still made her heart ache. With Jimmy, she'd walked a fine line between affection and anger. One wrong step, one misspoken word and he would turn on her, his punishment swift, brutal, and invariably cruel.

She couldn't afford to have those longings. Dreams, hopes, and desires that did nothing to help get her kids back were a waste of time and energy. A heartbreak waiting to happen. Maybe one day, when she and her girls were together again and living far, far away from Jimmy and the Devil's Brethren …

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She looked up as T-Rex, the newest full-patch member of the Sinners, joined them at the bar. Tall, blond, and built like a linebacker, with a broad face and a warm smile, T-Rex was a favorite in the club, and one of the few bikers who didn't set Dawn's teeth on edge. And that was saying something.

“Corona. Cold. No lime. No glass.” Dawn rattled off his drink as T-Rex sat on one of the bar stools and chuckled.

“Damn. Don't know how you do that, but you impress the brothers every time they stop by for a drink. Even if Cade hadn't laid down the law, they wouldn't be cracking blonde jokes about you.”

Dawn froze, her hand outstretched for the bottle Arianne was opening. “What do you mean, he laid down the law?” After she'd made it clear to Cade she wasn't interested in seeing him again, he'd respected her wishes and stayed away. She'd assumed he had found someone new, likely one of the club's sweet butts. Lower than old ladies and house mamas in the biker hierarchy, the young women who hung around the clubhouse, helping out and offering their services in return for food, shelter, and protection, were desperate to find a biker who would make them an old lady. And Cade, handsome, charming, unattached, and always willing, was quite the catch.

T-Rex's eyes widened, his usually affable expression turning to wariness. “You know.”

“I don't know, or I wouldn't have asked.”

“Well…” He coughed and looked around, but there were no other Sinners in the bar to save him. “He kinda … you know … warned the brothers away. Said you were his, 'cept you were wanting to take things slow. So no one was to touch you, hit on you, or disrespect you if they saw you at the bar or if you came with Arianne to our parties.”

Dawn shot T-Rex an incredulous look. “Seriously? Except for this afternoon, it's been over a year since I've seen him. How slow do the brothers think I want to take it?”

“You saw Cade this afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“You tell Jagger?”

Puzzled, she frowned. “Why would I tell Jagger?”

But T-Rex already had his cell in his hand. “We're supposed to call in if we see Cade or hear anything about him. He sent a text to Jagger saying he was up at a warehouse in the North West checking out a Brethren sighting. He didn't report back. I figured he probably just hooked up with some chick and…” He cut himself off with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“No problem. It's not like we're together. I'm sure he was with some ‘chick.'” But she wasn't so sure. Could Jimmy have hurt Cade? Although Jimmy hadn't made any effort to drag her back to the clubhouse after she ran away—he had someone new to warm his bed the next day—he'd told her through Shelly-Ann he would kill anyone who touched her. And Jimmy wasn't one to make idle threats.

“Actually…” She hesitated, not wanting to share her business, but sufficiently concerned to give him the most relevant information. “He saw Jimmy ‘Mad Dog' Sanchez, VP of the Devil's Brethren, outside St. Francis Xavier's School about three-thirty this afternoon and went chasing after him. They headed north on Twenty-Seventh Avenue.”

T-Rex texted her information and then looked up. “How do you know Mad Dog, or the Devil's Brethren? I thought you were just a civilian.”

Damn
. She'd managed to keep her past a secret from all but her closest friends. The last thing she wanted was Jagger breathing down her neck, hounding her for details of an enemy MC. Arianne described Jagger as a sensual, loving, caring man, but all Dawn saw was a powerful, violent, ruthless biker who would let nothing stand in the way of his goals. And Arianne had been one of them.