Beyond the Cut (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #2)(13)

Drawing in a ragged breath, he released her. Dawn staggered back a step, her face flushed, lips swollen from his kiss, confusion wrinkling the smoothness of her brow.

“Cade.” Her voice caught as she whispered his name. A plea. A warning.

“On second thought…” He gritted his teeth against the tightening in his groin. If he climbed into bed with her, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Not with adrenaline still streaming through his veins, stirred up by her gentle touch, her barely concealed curves, and the memories of the two nights they had spent together. “I think I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She stared at him, nibbling her lip, then swallowed hard. “Probably a good idea. I mean … nothing has changed.”

What did she mean “nothing has changed”? Everything had changed. He knew about her kids and about Mad Dog and what he intended to do. He understood now why she had pushed him away. Just like his mom, she needed protection, but couldn’t ask. Maybe this was another chance to do it right. And this time, when he walked away, the person he wanted to protect wouldn’t die.

“Right?” She stared at him, her beautiful eyes liquid with desire.

“Right,” he lied.

Who was he kidding? He wanted her more than any woman he had wanted in his life. He was hurting and he wanted her. Her every touch would be agony, and still he wanted her. His want was a living thing inside him, hungry, clawing at his insides, desperate to be free.

He couldn’t give in to the want.

He wouldn’t succumb to temptation.

Even if it killed him.

And given the current state of his cock, it just might.





FOUR

I will stand ready to help any biker who truly needs my help.

SINNER’S TRIBE CREED

Silence.

Cade shrugged on his cut and turned to face his brothers, seated around the table where they’d convened for an emergency executive board meeting this morning. Revealing the defiled tattoo on his back hadn’t been easy, but Dawn had treated the slashes that went through the symbol of his brotherhood last night with a quiet understanding that made this moment slightly more bearable.

“Jesus f*cking Christ.” Zane, the Sinner VP, pounded his fist on the large oak table, carved with the same Sinner’s Tribe patch that the Brethren had butchered on Cade’s back. “Mad Dog is a dead man.”

Dax, official secretary and unofficial torturer, nodded in agreement, as did T-Rex, the junior patch member-at-large. Sparky, the road captain, joined in with a “hear hear.”

Cade didn’t bother looking over at Shaggy or Gunner. The senior patch member-at-large and the club’s sergeant-at-arms, like Zane, lived and breathed for the club, and this kind of dishonor screamed for Sinner justice. No questions. No mercy. No regrets.

“I say we adjourn the meeting and go now.” A war vet and Sinner since before Jagger’s time, Shaggy had earned his road name because of his full beard and unkempt long hair? now almost fully gray, that he claimed had never been trimmed in twenty years.

T-Rex snorted a laugh and gestured to the patch covering Shaggy’s left eye. “That’s ’cause you only got one eye and you can’t see in the dark when normal bikers do their killing.”

“I’ll kill you with both eyes closed and my dick buried in a sweet butt’s *, young pup.” Shaggy drew his weapon and placed it on the table.

“Enough.” Jagger folded his arms across his chest. An inch taller than Cade, and broader, dark where Cade was fair, he’d served with Cade in Afghanistan until a rocket propel left shrapnel near his heart. After being honorably discharged, he’d found a home with the Sinners, and when Cade had returned home, burdened by the crushing guilt of losing his squad in a desert ambush, Jagger sobered him up, straightened him out, and invited him in.

“I hear you, brothers. I feel Cade’s pain. This disrespect screams for justice, but Wolf called me this morning to apologize for Mad Dog, and he made me an offer that we need to seriously consider.” Jagger spoke with his usual implacable calm, and yet his sheer presence and power left no doubt he could enforce his will if anyone dared step out of line.

“We don’t want any f*cking apologies. And we don’t want anything the damn Brethren have to offer except Mad Dog’s head on a plate and the bodies of his men lying on the street.” Gunner slammed his coffee cup on the worn, wooden table. With his head shaved military short, and his body thick with muscle, he was perfectly suited for the position of sergeant-at-arms, responsible for keeping order in the club.

“Hear him out.” Dax put a cautioning hand on Gunner’s shoulder. “It’s not a done deal. Whatever Wolf proposed will be subject to a vote.”

“I vote no.” Gunner held out his hand, thumb pointed down. “Done. Let’s get going.”

“Viper approached Wolf about a Brethren patch-over.” Jagger held Gunner in place with the fierceness of his scowl. “Wolf says the club is undecided, and he personally doesn’t think it is a good fit. The Brethren have an election coming up. Wolf made it clear he would be interested in patching over to the Sinners if he wins.”

Cade stood so abruptly his chair toppled over, banging against the worn wooden floor. “You can’t seriously be considering patching in those motherf*cking pieces of slime. We kicked them out of Conundrum for a reason.”