Page 15

“It won’t take long for me to dig into what Tyson Redding is all about. I can do it, no problem.”

“I don’t need the club popping up, Dyke.” Cut tells him. “I don’t need our name associated with anything about this chick and this Tyson punk. I don’t need our contacts getting wind that we’re looking for problems. We remain under the radar.”

“That won’t be a problem for me. I can do discreet.” Dyke responds. “We need to see what he intends to do knowing that his fiancée who he seems to push around is no longer under his control.”

“Fuckers like this can go two ways, he can walk away from her or he can make a whole lot of trouble for us. Option two isn’t going to happen.” Cut's gaze bores into mine. “I’m telling you straight, Sin. I don’t like this. I don’t like that she’s at our mother’s house. You’re getting our mother involved in shit she doesn’t need to be involved with. Mama has already experienced more loss in her life than she’s meant to experience. I don’t need her getting attached when we don’t know what’s going to happen with this situation. I especially don’t like that I’m risking our club and what we do to find out shit on this bitch and her man.”

“I get it, Cut. I appreciate it.”

He put his hand up, signaling me to stop stalking. “I especially don’t like doing all this when I know there's no money to profit from it.”

“Who says there isn’t any money profit?” Lick comments, standing up. “We still don’t know the story or what this Redding bitch is all about. We may be able to make some money, after all.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I stare at him, completely confused.

“Maybe Savannah is worth more to Tyson than we know. Maybe he’ll pay us a hefty finder’s fee, if you know what I mean.”

My vision blurs and before I know it, I'm flying at Lick. My fist connects with his face and I welcome the pain as my bones dig into his flesh. I swing my left fist and feel it splits the skin at his lip. I continue to throw punches, again, and again. His arms wave and his face moves from side to side, as he tries to catch the fists that keep raining down on his face.

Hands grab at me, pulling at my own skin trying to get me off him. It’s no use, I'm a machine and nothing is going to stop me until I make sure Lick knows his place, and that’s to stay the fuck away from Savannah. I keep pounding on him until I feel a sharp stab and burn in my right side where my kidney used to be. The same place where the shrapnel ripped through my body, ending my military career. It’s that pain that makes my world go black.

“I have to say, mija, I’m surprised you stood up to my son the way you did. Devin can be intimidating at times.”

I follow Sin’s mother back to her house. Cut is right, her house seems to be on the compound grounds, but it’s located down the way a bit, a short walk from the clubhouse and not behind the cinderblock fence, like the club is.

“I agree. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how does a woman who has been beaten up the way you have, still have a backbone to stand up to a room full of angry bikers?”

“I’m not some beat down broken thing.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. I have a mind of my own. Feelings and beliefs. I’ve just lived a life where I’ve had to suppress them, I suppose. I don’t know. I didn’t feel afraid in there. Isn’t it funny though, I’ve lived my life for the past four years in fear of one man? Then today, I’m faced with a room full of huge men and I never once felt scared.”

“Jury is the one place where outsiders should feel fear. In my husband’s day many men left the room unable to walk, some even unable to talk and there you were. No fear present at all. You surprise me, mija.”

“Savannah.”

“Si, Savannah, the one who’s caught my Matthew’s eye, I’m Bianca Sinclair. Welcome to my home.”

I'm not sure what I expect from the other woman. I have no room to judge her character, but I have to say, if I weren’t in this situation and I were to see Bianca on the streets I would have looked the other way. At her age, which I guess is about late forties, she is a well-kept, biker woman. Her dark hair mirrors that of her sons’. Her tan skin is flawless and doesn’t show her age at all. But the leather choker she wears around her neck, the leather cuffs that encompass her wrists and the thick leather belt that surround her hips scream biker. Along with the same biker logo that’s on the shirt I'm wearing and her knee-high black leather riding boots.

Bianca’s home is quaint and welcoming. It feels like a home, like my parents’ home. Nothing like the mausoleum the Reddings live in. The furniture is nice, but well worn. Knickknacks are placed with care on shelves. The walls hold pictures of children and other families. Looking at three young children on the back of a big bike warm my heart. I rub my hand over my stomach and my gaze roams over the smiling faces.

“That’s my Devin, Matthew and Sienna. They loved riding on their father’s bike. It was like flying to them.”

Catching her eye, I notice she’s eyeing the movement of my hand, making me stop instantly. “Sienna? Is she your daughter?”

“Yes,” is all she says.

“I heard them talk about her back at the clubhouse. Is she here? Can I meet her?”

“She is no more.” My stomach rolls with the news. She isn’t Sienna. This has nothing to do with fucking Sienna! The words that were said in the clubhouse replay in my mind. “Come, let me show you where you will be laying your head at night.”

I follow her down the hall. “I’m sorry about your daughter.” I say sincerely, but there's no response from Bianca.

“Here.”