Sins of the Father Page 7

  “Rumor has it you were pretty feral in the chapel the other day.”

  My eye twitches, but I refuse to respond, knowing her ass has been holding on to that information for the last five days.

  “Your brother,” I begin, but my words fade off because I don’t know how to end the sentence. My words and my actions haven’t exactly lined up lately. I’ve always hated hypocrites, and my own character flaw being pointed out is sobering.

  “My brother what?” she challenges with a smirk on her pretty little lips.

  “When do they get back?” It’s the best I can come up with as a means to deflect from what I was about to say.

  Most of the men left days ago. I’m sure some people here know where they are and why they went, but I wasn’t privileged enough to receive that information. I also haven’t had the guts to ask anyone. I know Molly’s keeping secrets. I know she recommended me to help Boston with the books, whatever the hell that meant, but he isn’t around either. The only guys left in the clubhouse are Briar, two prospects, and whoever the grunting member is beside me that just orgasmed with minimal fanfare.

  “No clue,” she says answering a question that takes me a long minute to realize I’d asked.

  Her eyes dart from mine to over my shoulder. When they don’t look away, a sure sign that she’s giving someone privacy while they do private things in public, I know that Xena and the club member have unlatched from each other and something else is drawing her attention.

  “Oh,” I praise looking over my shoulder. “He’s cute.”

  “That’s Ronan,” my friend whispers. “He’s a prospect.”

  “Have some fucking class, Princess,” I tease throwing her words back from my first night.

  “Don’t call me that,” she hisses. “Ronan won’t be a prospect long.”

  “He looks like the younger version of—”

  I squeal when she pinches my leg. “Don’t even say it.”

  The words never leave my mouth, but my eyes still dart around the room. Briar’s ice-blue eyes are glaring in this direction, but he doesn’t see me. The only thing he concentrates on is Molly.

  “Tell me about him,” I beg when her eyes finally meet mine. “I never see him with a girl.”

  Looking back over my shoulder without answering, I watch my best friend bite into her lip, focusing on the boy at my back. The man across the room isn’t impressed, but I’m not convinced. Molly is too stiff beside me, her focus is split between the two males, and I know for a fact that the scale is tipping in Briar’s favor.

  “Don’t, Princess,” Briar warns, finally having enough of watching Molly flirt with the prospect.

  Slowly and deliberately, Molly runs her tongue over her lower lip before breaking eye contact with Ronan and focusing on Briar. His throat works on a swallow, but his eyes narrow in agitation.

  “We’re going into town,” Molly says suddenly as she stands up from the couch.

  “Prez said you can’t leave the compound,” Briar reports with no emotion. Whatever spell they had been under is gone.

  “Legs and Vixen went to town yesterday,” she counters.

  “The whores weren’t included in the orders.” I cringe at the use of the words, even though I’m the only one around here that seems to be offended by it.

  “I can take them to town.” A smile spreads across Molly’s face as Ronan walks up behind us to speak with Briar.

  “You can take your ass back to the kitchen if you want to keep your balls,” Briar counters.

  By the time I look back, Ronan’s back is disappearing through the kitchen door. I would chuckle, but Molly is all but shaking with anger beside me.

  “If you won’t—” she begins but stops short when the bell I’ve learned is connected to the front gate chimes on the back wall. Someone is entering the compound, but there isn’t a roar of motorcycles. The bell is always accompanied by the purr of engines. Today, the silence is thicker than I like.

  Within what seems like seconds, Vixen, Legs, Velvet, and Piper magically appear from the back of the building. They’re primped, half-naked, and waiting with smiles on their faces when the front door opens and the guys begin to file inside.

  Four men, none of them TJ or Lynch, walk in looking livelier than anyone traveling for the better part of a week should. They focus on the willing women.

  “The best part of being stuck in a cage is that I don’t need a shower before I fuck you stupid,” Hornet says as he walks up to Piper. Grinning, she swats him on the chest before he throws her over his shoulder and disappears down the hallway.

  “Where’s TJ?” I ask no one in particular.

  Asking for Lynch is too obvious, but he’s the only one I’m honestly concerned with.

  “They’re a day or so behind us,” Chains says as he walks in my direction.

  Legs pouts on the other side of the room when Chains directs his attention in our direction rather than on her. She’s left standing alone until Ronan steps out of the kitchen and catches her around the waist.

  “You’re too good for him,” Briar tells Molly as he angles his head.

  Molly turns, watching Ronan as he wraps his arms around Legs before dragging her out of the room.

  “I hear his huge cock is pierced,” Molly says without inflection in her voice.

  I nearly choke on a laugh when Briar grunts in irritation.

  “Does that turn you on?” Chains asks without pulling his eyes from mine. “I’ll get my cock pierced if you’re into it.”

  My cheeks flush. Lynch promised I’d be safe here, and as if some invisible barrier surrounds me, not one guy has blatantly hit on me. Of course, there are the eyes following me and the guys looking at me while other girls please them, but nothing like what Chains just said.

  His dark eyes are watching my face, an easy grin on his mouth. He’s too handsome to be creepy. Hell, every guy in this club is incredibly good looking. It’s as if hell spat out every single rogue, sexy, bad boy and dropped them in the middle of Sutton, Massachusetts. Each and every one oozes charm, turning it off and on when they need to.

  “Depends,” I coo. “Are we talking about a Jacob’s Ladder or a simple Prince Albert? What is your level of dedication to my pleasure?”

  Chains steps even closer. “I can please you with my big cock without getting it pierced. Wanna test the theory?”

  A huff of breath at his brazenness escapes my lips, and if I’m honest with myself, his offer of satisfaction entices me more than it ever should.

  “You’re pushing up on Prez’s pussy,” Briar warns, butting into a conversation I didn’t know he was witnessing.

  Chains’ terrified eyes widen before he spins on his heels and vanishes down the hallway leading to the back of the building.

  “You need to mind your own damn business,” Molly spits at Briar. “No one claims anyone in this clubhouse.”

  Briar stands, his full height towering over my friend, but she doesn’t move an inch. Not once have I seen her recoil from any of these men when they’ve tried to assert some perceived dominance over her. I watch in awe as her head tilts back and she’s looking directly into Briar’s stormy eyes.

  “You are off-limits,” Briar says. “Your friend is off-limits. Deal with it.”

  “I can fuck anyone I want,” I hiss. My courage has enhanced by watching my friend stand up to the huge man in front of her. It doesn’t last long because I begin to tremble when his frigid stare focuses on me. Only then do I realize, even when Briar is chastising and correcting Molly, his gaze is warm and considerate. The same allowances provided to my friend do not extend to me.

  “Let one of the guys here touch her and see what happens.” Briar’s voice is calm, emotionless, but I feel the warning down to my bones.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” Molly urges as she grabs my arm and drags me toward the back door.

  I feel Briar’s eyes on us the entire time.

  Chapter 13

  Lynch

 
Doing my best to hide my yawn behind my hand, I widen and roll my eyes in an attempt to stay awake.

  There are five people in this very small room. One has no choice but to be here, but his buddies are shaking in fear in the corner near the point of pissing on themselves.

  “Please don’t.”

  The begging is followed by another scream and plea for mercy. This kind of thing normally entertains me. Watching my brother cut into some asshole who has fucked up would normally make my dick hard. It would make me want to beg him to hurry so I could find some local chick to suck my dick, but tonight I’m just not feeling it. I’m not entertained watching TJ mutilate our recently fired employee. I’m not enticed by fresh pussy here in Detroit. The only thing familiar right now is the half-mast cock in my jeans, and that has nothing to do with the current situation. My dick can’t even concentrate on the matter at hand because it’s focused on that damn girl back in Sutton.

  “I won’t ask you again,” TJ warns as he drags his knife down the uninjured arm of the man tied to the wall.

  Fresh blood blooms on his flesh under the blade before spilling down his arm to pool in his armpit.

  “I s-saw on Netflix,” the guy stutters.

  I roll my eyes before the guy even continues because if it’s on TV, it must be true.

  “Th-the show,” he continues, “It said that junkies flock to your dope when someone overdoses. I thought it would be good for business.”

  “You tampered with my dope?” I push myself off the wall I’ve been leaning against since we carried this sad sack of shit from the front door. His bedroom seems like the perfect place to carry out his punishment. This is the first I’m hearing about this. I thought he was dealing to people he shouldn’t. “In what fucking universe would you ever think it was okay to make your own fucking business plan?”

  TJ steps back as I step closer.

  “What did you do to my product?”

  “F-fent,” he stutters. “We d-dosed a few cuts with fent.”

  My tongue rolls over my bottom lip in a bid to gain my quickly failing temper. “You put Fentanyl in my heroine?”

  “You d-don’t understand.” The guy tries to cower away when I step closer, but the wall at his back prevents any real movement. “It’s a fucking p-perfect plan.”

  “You don’t make decisions,” TJ sneers from behind me. “You sell our dope exactly how we tell you to.”

  Holding my hand up to silence him, I narrow my focus on this stupid fucking dealer.

  “L-look. An OD is good for b-business. The junkies are always skating that fine line b-between life and d-death. W-with Narcan so common these days, h-hardly anyone ever d-dies.”

  “Hardly?” I clarify.

  His dirty head bobs up and down as a weak smile crosses his face. This filthy motherfucker actually thinks he’s convinced me to change my business practices. His line of reasoning may make partial sense, but you can’t think things all the way through when you’re using more product than you’re selling. Lucky for me, a joint every once in a while is all I touch.

  “The boy that died is connected to a very powerful family in Chicago. Samuel Litton was a star athlete—”

  “He was a junkie just like everyone else that comes by the house,” one of the guys in the corner interjects.

  TJ slices his knife across the throat of the runner that just interrupted me, silencing him forever.

  “Greg,” I urge when his eyes widen as he stares down at his dead friend. “Pay attention to me.”

  Greg’s eyes snap in my direction. “Y-yes, sir.”

  Damn, if only he’d had enough manners not to fuck with my product.

  “Regardless if the kid came here looking for H, he sure as fuck wasn’t looking for something laced with fent.”

  “H-he was only looking for a little powder,” Greg confesses, and I have to wonder if blood loss from his various wounds is making him delirious. It’s amazing how quickly he went from refusing to talk, trying to look like a badass in front of his runners, to spilling his fucking guts.

  “He came looking for powder,” I verify. Of course, he was. A kid of Litton’s breeding can afford any damn thing he wants. There’s a low chance he’d ever done H before in his life. “But you gave him fent-laced heroine?”

  “N-not on p-purpose. Tim dropped the shoe box. W-we didn’t color code the baggies.”

  “Tim?” Fuck, this shit was tedious. I should’ve stayed at the damn clubhouse.

  Greg nods his head in the direction of the dead guy near TJ’s boots.

  “Shoebox?” I turn around to look at my brother. “Are we not providing what these guys need to have a successful business?”

  TJ shrugs. “Most of them take the startup money and buy their own dope with it.”

  It’s not something we need to discuss right now, but we need to find some trustworthy fucking businessmen. These low-level idiots are harder to work with as each year goes by.

  “A little advice, Greg,” I say and close the last foot of distance between us. “Save the fent-laced H for the Hill District.”

  His brow furrows. “But I don’t work in Pittsbur—”

  His voice cuts off when my knife rips through his stomach.

  “Nice,” the lone runner hisses when Greg slumps against his restraints.

  When I turn back to him, I find the guy as steady as a mountain. There’s no shake in his hands, no quiver in his voice. He’s already decided if he’s going to die today, he’ll do it like a man. I respect him immediately.

  “What role do you play in this…?”

  “Parker,” he responds. “I’m the one who called the number that was provided.”

  “You reported the OD?” I look to TJ who nods in verification as Parker verbalizes it as truth. “Why?”

  Parker’s lips draw up in disgust. “He was running the fucking business into the damn ground. Drawing too much damn attention to us.”

  “But you’re still a snitch,” TJ taunts from the other side of the room.

  “I’d prefer to see myself as an opportunist.” Parker’s eyes plead with mine.

  TJ’s voice may be threatening. TJ may be the one who tortured Greg for the last hour, but Parker knows where the power lies.

  “Opportunist, huh?” He nods, swallowing in warranted fear since he’s aware his life hangs in the balance. “You think you could do better?”

  “Without a doubt.” There’s not a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and he’s steady enough that says he’s confident in his skills. He’s not narcissistic or egotistical. This man has thoughts, ideas, and a plan. He’s a businessman.

  “Let’s have a conversation then,” I tell Parker as I walk past him into the living room.

  “Let’s hit that club that opened up last month,” TJ says as we leave the small house.

  Our cleaners are on the way, but they have to wait for the sun to go down before they can work on getting the house emptied of its current unliving inhabitants.

  “We’re heading back tonight.” Lifting my leg, I throw it over the seat of my bike and settle in. “We can make it before midnight if we leave now.”

  “Now?” he whines. “Are you afraid someone is going to push up on your girl?”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I don’t say a thing as I strap on my helmet. We don’t wear them in town, but traveling on such long rides is too dangerous without them. You can’t fucking trust anyone on the road these days. We’ve lost several members under the tires of cars, trucks, and eighteen-wheelers as it is.

  “You’re the only one dumb enough to try.” The statement is a warning.

  “Virgins aren’t my thing.” He climbs on his bike and situates his own helmet. “I need a woman who knows how to fuck.”

  “She’s not a virgin,” I mutter.

  “Are you sure? You know there’s only one way to be certain.”

  She’s too responsive to have never been touched by a man before, but I don’t know with certainty. The distance over the las
t couple of days has had a reverse effect on me. I left to get my shit together, but all I’ve wanted to do since I hit the road was turn around and fucking bury myself inside of her. I’ll remedy that shit when I get back to the clubhouse, and that’s going to happen tonight.

  “We can leave at first light,” TJ bargains.

  “You won’t be sober then. You’re sober now.”

  He grins like a maniac.

  “I can head back on my own,” I mutter as I crank my bike and pull out onto the quiet street.

  The roar of his bike only takes a minute before it lines up beside mine. He may act childish some days, but he knows leaving his President alone on the ten-hour ride back to Sutton can’t happen.

  Chapter 14

  Candi

  “I suck at this,” I complain as another damn dart hits the wall instead of the board I’m aiming at.

  “You’re drunk,” Molly says with a laugh.

  “True.” Grinning wider than I have since I arrived at the Ravens Ruin clubhouse, I reach for another drink. “I don’t even know what’s in these things, but they’re dangerous.”

  “They’re Blue Motherfuckers,” Xena says as she drops a maraschino cherry in my glass before I can lift it to my lips.

  “Just like Lynch’s balls.” My head snaps in the voice’s direction, watching TJ as he saunters up. He presses a kiss to Molly’s temple before grabbing Legs and forcing his mouth on hers.

  “I didn’t hear them come in.” I look up at the wall with the chime on it. “That thing didn’t go off either.”

  Minx chuckles. “He doesn’t always announce himself.”

  “I can’t wait for him to release you,” Chains says as he leans in a little too close, wrapping his arm around my back. He’s stayed away for the most part since they got back two days ago, but it seems the liquor is giving him courage.

  “Church!”

  The party dies down immediately when Lynch storms across the room. Watching as the men turn to follow him, I notice it’s only the ones with certain patches. The prospects keep doing whatever menial job they’ve been given, and the guys everyone calls hangarounds smile wide, knowing that the pow-wow frees up the women.