Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(12)

“Heyyyyy, Shady,” the girls at the bar greet me with a smile. I’ve known them for years. They’re always here, always willing, and always ready. There’s no challenge. No bets or deals or games to play. If I want it, I get it.

“Heyyyyy, ladies,” I drawl, thickening my accent.

“We missed you.” Monica pouts, poking her lips out and reminding me of why I like them so much.

“It just hasn’t been the same without you here,” Jennifer adds, lining up shots on the bar.

“I missed y’all too.” I toast with them and, keeping to tradition, I announce to the entire bar, “Rally rules!” The girls squeal. The men cheer. And I sit back and watch as the women stand on the bar and start peeling off what little clothes they had on. Damn, it’s good to be back.

Before I indulge too much in the premium liquor and the easy *, I make my way to the porch, where I know Nationals are waiting. They all stand to greet me, taking turns to shake my hand and clap me on the back. Everyone else is dismissed and I find myself inside the circle of men who call the shots for Sinner’s Creed.

With the pleasantries out of the way, they get right down to business.

“We got an offer for you, Shady,” Jimbo, Nationals president, says. “We want you as a Nomad.” My back stiffens at his words.

“Why me?”

“You’re the best man for the job.” He shrugs as if it’s just that simple. But it’s not. Being a Nomad comes with a huge responsibility and one of the highest levels of respect. There are many other men in our club who are more worthy of the title than I am.

Being a Nomad was never really something I wanted. I liked being behind the scenes. But only because Dirk needed me there. Nobody could do what he did. Not even me.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I have what it takes,” I answer honestly. I didn’t want to disappoint my club. I didn’t want to disappoint Dirk.

“Yes you do,” Chaps, Nationals enforcer, says. “People respect you. They listen to you. You have more knowledge about the field than anyone else. You were Dirk’s right-hand man. The two of you were a team. Together, y’all made a difference. You deserve it. And we all agree that Dirk would have wanted you to have that rocker.” The men around me all nod in agreement.

Jimbo leans forward in his seat, wrapping his hand around my shoulder. “Dirk set the bar high. He’d been a Nomad for years. He earned everything he ever got and then some. You’ll do the same. It’ll take time, but I know you can earn that same level of respect from your brothers as Dirk did. Don’t doubt yourself, Shady. If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t ask you to.” He drops his hand and leans back, lighting a cigarette.

“Take six months and think about it.” Jimbo levels me with a look. He’s giving me the time I need to finish my current job before taking on this one. “In the meantime, enjoy yourself while you’re here. I need you in Texas next week. Got a big shipment coming in.”

I’m dismissed, but the meeting is still in order. I’m sure they’re discussing whether or not I’ll take it. If they know me like they should, then they won’t have very much to discuss. I don’t care about being a Nomad. The title don’t mean shit to me. But I’d just been asked to fill the biggest shoes of the best man I’d ever known. So I’ll say yes.

Because it’s a f*cking honor.





5


“HOW’S CARRIE?” I ask Rookie, passing him the joint. We’re on my porch, Dirk’s porch, where we’ve seemed to end up every night since I got here.

“She’s good. Took a job travel nursing. I see her when I can.” The sadness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

I nod, not really knowing what to say. “You ready for tomorrow?” We would be heading down to Texas to work our asses off for a week. It wouldn’t be an easy task considering we hadn’t done shit since I got here.

“I guess. I just hate dealing with those Spanish-speaking motherf*ckers. I know they speak English. I think they just like making us feel stupid.” He passes the joint back to me, and I take a drag before knocking the cherry off and sticking the roach in my cut.

“Well lucky for you, I speak Spanish fluently.”

“Bullshit.”

“I swear, man. Ask me anything.”

“How the f*ck I’m supposed to know if you tellin’ the truth or not? I don’t speak Spanish.”

I laugh, giving his shoulder a push that nearly knocks him off the porch. Making me laugh harder. “Seriously, man. I ain’t ever lied to you. Come on. Ask me something.”

He shakes his head, clearly annoyed with me. “You’re f*cking high, Shady. Too high. You need to take your ass to bed.”

I am high. Maybe even too high. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s easier to try and stay here when I’m under the influence. I tried to do it sober. That shit didn’t work. The depression seems to worsen when the reality that Dirk’s body is buried in the backyard hits me. It slams me right in the chest. Every f*cking time.

I watch Rookie walk to his bike, the white threads of his cut no longer new. They are dirty and worn—a sign that he’d been doing his job.

“Hey, man, don’t leave,” I yell out. He’d stayed with me every night. And every night we did this. But we always wound up back at the clubhouse. This time I was hoping to finally confront my fears and actually walk through the door. Having Rookie here would help. And with him around, I managed to get some sleep even before the sun rose. Tonight I really need him, or else I’ll never make that ride tomorrow.