Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(16)
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll have someone fix it tomorrow,” the woman says, as she eyes the two of us hand in hand. “You are a lucky girl to have a man that cares so much for you.” She walks toward us and I stiffen. I don’t want her to touch me and she looks like the hugging kind. Saylor intercepts and steps in front of me, sticking her free hand out to the lady.
“Thank you for your concern.” Saylor’s smile is genuine and f*cking remarkable. She renders the woman speechless and I know the feeling. She turns back to me and winks. I let her hand go, and disappear into the men’s bathroom. Saylor’s winks have power over every part of me, including my growing cock.
—
We are about three hours from Banks, Alabama, and I let Saylor feed me Skittles, compliments of the store clerk, for the first hour. She is singing again and I’m pissed again ’cause I can’t f*cking hear her, but I do enjoy her touch. I put my cut in my bag before we left the store. My f*ckup with kicking the door down and the fact that we were nearing our destination has me taking precautions earlier than usual.
It wasn’t out of the norm for me to not wear my cut on a run, but I try to wear it as much as possible. There are MCs all over this part of the country, and I need to represent as often as I can. We have charters in forty-seven states including Hawaii and Alaska. We are world-renowned, but the U.S. is our home. I’ve visited a few other countries here and there, but Mexico is the place I frequent more often than the others. I go there for business, but mostly just for pleasure.
I suck another Skittle into my mouth, making sure to touch Saylor’s finger with my tongue. I’ve watched her more than the road and noticed that every time I licked her finger, she put it in her mouth before diving into the bag for another. I don’t know if she knows I notice, but I won’t tell her, because I don’t want her to stop.
The sugary candy is good, but my stomach needs something a little more filling. If I’m hungry, she probably is too. I would have to get better at this shit. Usually, it was only my needs that mattered.
Troy, Alabama, is located about ten miles from Banks. It isn’t a big town, but big enough that we won’t draw any attention. I find an older motel where they accept cash and the rooms have doors that lead outside. I leave Saylor outside by the bike while I book the room in the same name that is listed on the credit card and license in my wallet. When I get back outside, I see Saylor taking a picture of herself with a Polaroid camera. I didn’t even know they still made those things. But she was now holding the picture, fanning it in the air, waiting on the image to become clear. She sees me and smiles.
“I have helmet hair, but I don’t care. I wanted to have a picture to help me remember my first ride.”
“No pictures,” I snap, feeling anger creeping back into my veins. Why in the hell had I not warned her of this? But if I did, what in the hell would I have said? “Do you have any more?”
“No. Just this one.” I grab the picture from her fingers. There is nothing but a brick wall behind her. Her smile in the picture has an instant softening effect on me.
“I can’t let people know where I am. So we can’t leave anything behind that might put me in any of these places. Do you understand?” I ask, hoping like hell she does so I won’t have to explain anything further.
“I do. I promise I won’t take anything with you in it or leave any incriminating evidence behind.” Her words are serious, but her smile is playful.
Our room has two beds. I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep with me, so I made sure she had an option. I have my tank bag, my luggage bag, and her backpack in my hands, and I’m frozen in place at the door—watching her. She touches everything in the room, her eyes closed. She is breathing deep as if to memorize the smell of the room. I inhale and all I smell are stale cigarette smoke and that cleaner they use that has the same scent as the towels. When she opens her eyes, she is looking at me and she smiles, revealing her teeth.
“It’s perfect,” she tells me, as if I had asked what she thought of the place. It’s the same thing she said to me at the warehouse. It’s nice to know she’s not hard to impress.
“I have to go out.” Her smile falls some, but I can tell she is trying to hide her disappointment. I would love to be in her head, but if I had to guess what she is thinking, it would be that she will do anything to prevent me from thinking bringing her was a mistake. My heart does that weird fluttering thing where you can feel it skip a beat.
—
“Stay inside. Don’t leave. Don’t answer the door. If the building catches on fire, get your shit and find the nearest bus station to take you back home.” My voice is harsh when I speak to her, but it isn’t to hurt her or scare her. She knows this, because she doesn’t look offended. I remember she has to eat, and I know she won’t tell me if she is hungry. I’ll just bring her something back, but I don’t know how long I’ll be. Fuck.
I drop her bag and stomp out, loading my shit up and speeding off to the nearest burger joint, which is just around the corner. I nearly bite the man at the counter’s head off when he asks me what I want, because I realize I don’t f*cking know.
She could be allergic to something or a vegan or some shit. One thing about the club, I knew all that shit about my brothers. But I don’t know anything about Saylor.