Sinner's Steel (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #3)(39)

And he turned them all down for a piece of tail.

Zane couldn’t understand it. Sure, Dax’s old lady, Sandy, was attractive in a honey-blond goddess kind of way. And she had to be good in bed since they had five kids—or maybe he was Catholic, although who ever heard of a Catholic Sinner?—but still it seemed a lot to give up for good sex and a career as an outlaw biker, especially since torture was in his blood. Why else would he have joined the Sinners with the stipulation that he be given free rein to practice his craft?

“Haven’t had a woman under my knife for a long time,” Dax said as they descended the stairs to the clubhouse basement. “I’m surprised Jagger allowed it.”

“No harm.” Zane skirted around the pool table and grabbed a set of keys from the wet bar in the corner. The vast, poured concrete basement served as a games room and wet bar, as well as housing three cells for prisoners and interrogations. “Terror only. That’s why I’m here.”

Better here than driving the roads around Evie’s house looking for Jacks. Or in his room thinking about her. He’d told her Viper was the kind of man who took what he wanted—as if it were a bad thing. But hell, he was that kind of man, too.

And he wanted Evie.

He had lied to himself last night just as much as he had lied to Jagger after Viper left the bar under a truce born solely by the fact they were evenly matched in both men and arms, and neither club wanted to attract the attention of the ATF. Yes, he wanted to rebuild his friendship with Evie, make up for all that had transpired. But friendship wasn’t enough, just as it hadn’t been enough when they were young, and damned if Viper would get in the way.

“You’re here because you’re a secret sadist.” Dax laughed and lowered the duffel bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder. “You have a fascination for extremes—extreme pain, extreme emotion, extreme desire. You like to see how far a person can be pushed. What you don’t seem to realize is that, really, you’re pushing yourself.”

Dax was always direct. And when it came to analyzing people, he hit too close for comfort. One of the reasons Zane kept his sexual liaisons discreet was because he didn’t think his brothers would understand his need to dominate in a way he couldn’t as VP. He needed the kind of control he hadn’t had over his life. Whether it was because of his abusive father or the girl he loved but couldn’t have, he didn’t know, but Dax had the unique ability to pin him down, and although he knew himself well, he had no desire to have his inner motivations brutally exposed.

“Save the psychoanalysis for Doreen.” Unable to hold Dax’s searching gaze, Zane turned and unlocked the door. “You’re gonna need it. Never met a woman like her before. If you so much as loosen the ropes on her wrists and ankles, she’ll throw herself at you and claw out your eyes. Piston is in the medical suite right now with Doc Hegel because he was taken in by her tears. But make no mistake…”

“I never do.” Dax pushed open the door and they stepped into the bare, cinder block room, lit only by a single bulb on a wire hanging from the ceiling.

“I see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding brought a little friend to play.” Doreen swung her bound legs over the side of the camp bed Jagger had provided for the comfort of their female prisoner. “Who’s gonna be first, or are you gonna both do me at once?”

Dax turned slightly to the side as he removed the tools of his trade from his duffel bag, holding each one up as if to assess it under the light. Zane had watched this performance before. Some prisoners caved when Dax pulled out the blade saw, for others the nutcracker was enough. He suspected the nutcracker wouldn’t frighten Doreen, although she had bigger balls than many of the prisoners who had warmed that very bed.

Dax carefully placed his tools on the table—whips, knives, cuffs, gags, a squeaky toy … If he hadn’t known Dax was a torturer, Zane would have thought the guy had a kink. Maybe he did, although Sandy didn’t strike him as the submissive type. And with five kids, when would they find time to play? That was one benefit of remaining unattached. No kids to tie him down or interfere with his lifestyle. No lives to ruin because of his total lack of a role model for being a dad.

“How did it go last night?” Zane leaned against the wall, paying no attention to the prisoner on the bed. After the Jacks had left Riverside Bar the other night, the Sinners launched a revenge attack, setting fire to one of the restaurants the Jacks were known to frequent. He could have asked any of the brothers about the outcome of the restaurant hit, but the conversation worked well into the game he and Dax played to unsettle their victims, an easy banter that took the focus off the prisoner and onto the collection of torture toys.

“Good.” Dax placed a pair of forceps on the table. “The restaurant burned down in a matter of minutes. Too bad for Mario. But then he shoulda thought about what might happen if he let too many Jacks into his establishment.”

“You burned down Lucky Mario’s?” Doreen’s baby blues widened. “That was Viper’s favorite restaurant. He’s gonna hit you so damned hard, you’ll be over at his clubhouse on your knees begging for mercy.”

Dax pulled out a whip and flicked his wrist, the crack echoing in the small space. “Someone’s gonna be begging for mercy, and it isn’t us.”

“You can’t hurt me,” she said quickly. “Zane gave me his word. And I got a kid. He needs me.”