Sinner’s Redemption by Rebecca Joyce

Chapter Twelve

Montana

It had been a few days since I saw Tessa. She still wasn’t talking to me. No matter what I did or said, she refused to listen. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have blurted out the marriage shit, but in my defense, she pissed me off. All I wanted to do was sleep. My family showed up out of the blue and they were exhausting. Coupled with my visit earlier to the Lansing House, I just wanted some peace and quiet.

She didn’t stop me when I showed up every evening to spend time with York. Even leaving me alone in the apartment with him, while she ran errands. But she wouldn’t talk to me.

A knock had me looking up as Mercy walked into my office. The man looked haggard, as if he wasn’t sleeping either. Sitting in one of the chairs in front of my desk, he began, “Got a call from Tennessee. Ghost officially asked for help.”

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. “What’s your estimation?”

“He’s done. I say we go in, clean house and leave a skeleton crew until the kid comes of age.”

“What about Bullseye or Sandman?”

“Both are still refusing to sit in the chair.”

“Someone has to. I promised Reaper I would save the club for his son. I can’t put a Soulless Sinner in the chair. It must be a descendant. You read their charter. The rules are clear. Only a descendant of the Original Seven can sit in the chair.”

“Then we need to convince Bullseye because Sandman won’t do it.”

“What about putting a female in the chair?”

“The charter doesn’t allow for that. The club can patch in a woman, but the chair is for dicks only.”

“And there is no one else?”

“No.”

“Get with Fury and have him gather a crew. Make sure that those volunteering know they will be relocating for the foreseeable future. What else?”

“Satan’s Angels are going to be a problem. Ghost told me their numbers have tripled. Made some calls and found out that chapters from Alabama, Georgia and Mississippi have descended to the area.”

“They are gearing up for a bloody takeover.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“The Sons of Hell are closest. Call King and tell him it’s time to earn that marker. Then reach out to our neighboring clubs and tell them to get ready to ride. I want those sick fucks taken care of.”

“This is going to be bloody, Prez. Those Satan’s Angels won’t go quietly.”

“Nothing we haven’t dealt with before. When is Ghost expecting us?”

“He asked if we could come as soon as possible.”

Shit. That meant it was worse than he was letting on.

“Call for an emergency board meeting,” I said, getting to my feet.

Shit, this was bad timing.

I had enough crap to deal with, not including the Tessa situation. I hated leaving her and York, but I couldn’t ignore this situation. I had a club to run, and this wouldn’t be the first time I had to leave her and my son, nor would it be the last.

Walking over to my closet, I bent down and picked up a black bag I kept at the ready. Everything I would need was in there and more. Placing the bag on my desk, I started barking out orders, “Call the airport and have Eagle get the plane ready. Tell him we lift off in three hours. Then call the Bowling Green Chapter and have Razor and his crew meet us at the airport. They’re the closest. Tell him we’ll need rides and make sure they’re black. Then reach out to King and tell him I want intel by the time we land. I want to know exactly where those fuckers are hiding and how many we have to kill. If I’m leaving my woman and kid without protection, we’re taking no prisoners. Reach out to the local authorities and ask them nicely to look the other way for the next forty-eight hours. Tell them pest control is coming.”

Stripping out of my shirt, I discarded it, grabbing my solid black long-sleeve Henley. Putting it on, I reached into the bag again and grabbed my leather pants and black riding boots. Kicking off my shitkickers, I undid my jeans and slid them off. Shaking out my leathers, I stepped into them, tucked in my shirt and buttoned them up. Sitting behind my desk, I grabbed my black riding boots and put them on.

“What about Vicious? Linsey’s due any minute now.”

Standing, I reached into my bag for my black leather holster and put it on, securing it tight around my chest. “Sucks to be him. He knew the score before I branded him. He goes.”

Over the next hour, the clubhouse came alive as board members showed, each ready for war. Club brothers who milled around, talking and enjoying themselves, halted their merriment as board members arrived in all black.

It was nothing new for the club members to see us in all black.

They knew the Soulless Sinners were more than the average motorcycle club, but even I had to admit, we were a sight to see.

“Clear the club!” I roared loudly, as the patched brothers said their goodbyes, the last one closing the doors behind him.

“Silver.”

“On it, boss,” the club’s bartender rushed around the bar, locking the doors. When the security system was engaged, I turned to Silver. “Go on, girl. You’re done for the night.”

Silver rushed over, jumping into my arms, hugging me tight.

“Be safe, boss.”

Swatting her butt, I nodded, sending her on her way.

“Where are we going?” Payne asked, slamming a clip into his Glock.

“We are keeping a promise. Flight leaves in an hour. Gather your gear,” I said, checking my weapons. “Vicious?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be okay with this?”

“Not my club anymore, Prez.”

Nodding, I reached for my black leather jacket and donned it. “Let’s ride!”

Thirteen Soulless riders pulled into the Golden Skulls compound in the dead of night. Hidden behind black leather and full-face helmets, not one identifying mark was visible.

We were the darkness.

Our anonymity protected us.

We were the Soulless Sinners. The darkness that loomed in the night. The nightmare that haunted dreams. We were the keepers of the souls. No one wanted us to show up because when we did, we collected souls.

The compound was a ghost town.

No one manned the gates, leaving the place open for attack. Slowing my bike, I pulled to a stop a few feet from the clubhouse. My body wound tight, hummed, ready for anything.

“Storm. Vicious.”

My brothers said nothing as they parked their bikes, slowly getting off. Walking up to the clubhouse, Vicious opened the front door and walked in with Storm behind him. Their guns at the ready. In the darkness, they looked like shadows moving in the night, but I saw them clearly.

We all did.

Something was off about the place.

There should be Golden Skulls roaming, protecting their clubhouse.

Instead, there was no one.

“Place is empty, Prez,” I heard Storm from the mic in my helmet.

“They could be in one of the homes,” Vicious countered.

“Where?” I asked.

“The houses are out back.”

“Go check it out.”

“I don’t like this, Prez,” Malice muttered. “Something is wrong.”

“Where is King?” Mercy asked.

Good questions, but I didn’t have an answer for them.

Lowering my kickstand, I got off my bike and looked around the place. It was nice. What I would expect for a place so high in the mountains of Tennessee. The newly built log-cabin clubhouse was a work of art. Whoever designed and built it was a master craftsman. The fence line and guard shack were top of the line. Cameras every few feet. Whoever installed the security system knew what they were doing.

The click of a weapon had me freezing on the spot.

“Put your hands in the air and take off your helmet,” someone growled deeply, hitting the back of my helmet with the barrel of a gun.

“No.”

Malice growled, and I slowly turned my head to see a man with a gun to my enforcer’s head. This would not end well for whoever got the jump on Malice. Brother was a hothead on a good day.

“Not going to tell you again,” the man behind me said, shoving the barrel of his gun against the back of my head again.

This guy was pissing me off.

“Bullseye! No!” Vicious shouted, running from the clubhouse waving his hands. “Stop! It’s us! It’s me, Vicious!”

“Fuck, man,” the man behind me sighed, lowering his gun, taking a few steps back. “Fuck, man. You could have called, asshole.”

While I was happy there was no longer a gun pointed at my head, seeing Malice try to contain his rage was concerning. “Do you mind telling your brother to lower his gun before my brother rips his arm from his socket?”

“That I’d pay to see. Sandman, go tell Ghost company is here.”

The second the man behind Malice moved away, I turned quickly and punched the motherfucker who held a gun on me. He flew back, landing hard on his back. Stepping over his body, I ripped off my helmet and sneered. “The next time you pull a gun on me, you better fucking shoot, because if you hesitate, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Stepping away, I ordered. “Everyone inside, now!”

Once inside, I scanned the common room for any threats. When I didn’t see any, I turned to Bullseye. “Where is everyone?”

Bullseye said nothing, walking over to a door on the far wall. Opening it, I saw a set of stairs. Walking down them, he disappeared for a few seconds before we all heard a steel door sliding open. Moments later, Bullseye reappeared with Ghost behind him.

Shaking my head, I growled, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What kind of President cowers like a fucking pussy in a goddamned safe room?”

“Hey, asshole. Ghost has kids. I don’t.” Bullseye defended his friend as Sandman and the remaining Golden Skulls stepped out of the shadows to stand next to their temporary President.

All of them protecting Ghost.

“I’ve got a fucking kid and I’m here. Fuck!” I roared, “Fuck it. You pussies just made my decision easier. This club is now under the control of the Soulless Sinners. Fury, have our team secure this motherfucking place. I want sentries on twelve-hour shifts. Shoot to kill. No prisoners. Payne, go find King. He’s got to be lurking around here somewhere. Tell that fucker I want to see him. Mercy, reach out to our chapters. I want a volunteer from each one here by noon.”

“All of them?” Mercy asked.

“Every fucking one of them. No exceptions.”

Mercy walked over, standing close and whispered, “Prez, I get that you’re pissed, but this goes against what you agreed to. We can’t claim this club without provocation. The rules were clear.”

“If I don’t, the kid won’t have a club when he comes of age. I’m keeping my promise.”

“This isn’t the way, Prez, and you know it. Stick to the plan. We can monitor it from home. If shit goes sideways, then we can assume control, but we have to at least try it Reaper’s way, first.”

I knew Mercy was right.

I made a promise. I gave Reaper my word. Shook on it. Reaper died for this club and the least I could do was try to uphold my end of the deal.

“How many brothers do you have left?” I asked, looking directly at Ghost.

“There are eleven of us, including one prospect. Sypher’s still at school and Viper and Bayou turned in their cuts. They went nomad.”

Doing a quick count in my head, I stated, “You’re missing one.”

Ghost nodded. “Ravage. He went native.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Ghost looked at Bullseye, who stood stone faced.

Sighing, Ghost added, “Ravage took off after the last attack. Took Ink’s sister with him. He’s around, but not. We can’t find him.”

I hated cryptic shit.

“Explain?”

“Ravage is a tracker. It’s what he does. You won’t find him unless he wants to be found. When Satan’s Angels last attacked, an asshole got inside the clubhouse. Ravage found him in Karlyn’s room. He was…touching her. Ravage killed him, then took off with Karlyn. We haven’t seen them since.”

There was a story there, but I didn’t have time to listen.

“What about Chaos? What kind of numbers does he have?”

“He took two prospects and Babyface. He’s been recruiting and his numbers are growing. Matrix learned he put out the call a few months ago. He’s patching in corrupt and disavowed brothers from other clubs. Last we knew, he had around twenty men, but with the Satan’s Angels backing him, his numbers are well over a hundred.”

This was a fucking shit show.

Sighing, I turned to Mercy and nodded before I heard him clearly say, “All right boys and girls, this is how this is going to go.”