SINNER’S TRIBE CREED
Cade joined Gunner, Zane, and a handful of Demon Spawn brothers crammed into the only strip bar in Whitefish. The dark, scuzzy dive in the center of town contained a small stage with a pole, no more than twenty worn, wooden tables, and enough smoke to conceal a wildfire. But it fitted Cade’s mood to a T. He didn’t want to be here. The Sinners didn’t want to be here. And Demon Spawn definitely didn’t want to be here since they suspected the Sinners hadn’t come for a simple social visit.
And they were right. The Sinners hadn’t just traveled to Whitefish to deal with the Demon Spawn members who attacked Zane and Cade in the alley. Dax had obtained some very disturbing information from Matchstick in the Sinner dungeon, and Cade and Zane intended to find out if it was true.
So now they were all pretending to celebrate, but the only person with a smile was the stripper on the pole.
Gunner slid over in the booth and Cade joined him, falling back against the plush, black velvet cushions. The prospect hovered at his shoulder, and he sent the kid away to find him a drink.
“Nice of you to join us.” Gunner grabbed a beer from the collection in the center of the table. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it tonight.”
“Neither was I,” Cade said, keeping his voice low. “Who woulda thought I’d be spending my honeymoon offing a bunch of betraying Demon Spawn bastards?”
“Whaddya think of our girls?” The Demon Spawn VP, Skid Mark, soon to learn he was the new president, leaned over to shout above Warrant’s “Cherry Pie,” while the dancer spun around the pole. He was clearly drunk, his eyes at half-mast and his words slurred. “I hear you’re the expert.”
“Not anymore. Got an old lady now.”
“That’s right. I heard about that, too. You stole Mad Dog’s old lady.”
Gunner tensed, but Cade played it cool. “Can’t steal something if it didn’t belong to him.”
“You steal his kids, too? They’ll ruin your life, man. Suck your wallet dry.”
Gunner was out of his seat now. And Zane, too. The prospect put down the beer he’d brought for Cade and moved to intercept the bouncer heading their way.
“You got a lot of personal information about Mad Dog’s situation.” Cade sipped his beer and fought for calm. “Kinda curious since Mad Dog lives way down south and you live way up north. But then, he likes to visit up here, doesn’t he? Maybe he’s a big skier, or does he come for the roads? Or maybe he likes disrespecting a brother’s old lady, just like you.”
Theory of a Deadman’s “Bad Girlfriend” blasted through the tinny speakers and a new dancer took the stage, but the audience was now watching the conversation between Cade and Skid Mark. Tension thrummed through the bar, a powder keg ready to explode.
“Hey man, no offense. Just rumors. Congrats on getting hitched.”
“He didn’t mean to offend.” Skid Mark’s companion offered Cade a beer. “Sometimes he runs off at the mouth when he’s had too much to drink.”
Cade pushed the beer away. Disrespect was disrespect and it couldn’t be smoothed over with words. Plus, he’d been itching for this fight since he left Conundrum. According to Matchstick, a handful of Demon Spawn members were Black Jack puppets, bikers who did the Jacks’ dirty work in exchange for the promise of being allowed to form a new Black Jack chapter, or be patched over to the club, and it was time to put them in their place.
Justice for their treason would be swift and fierce, and Cade was leading the charge.
“Not interested in beer, but I am interested in teaching shit-for-brains a lesson in respect.” He grabbed Skid Mark by the hair and smashed his head down on the table. “You can fucking apologize to me outside for disrespecting my old lady.”
The music kept playing.
The dancer kept dancing.
The bikers drew their weapons.
Zane paid off the bouncers.
Cade’s phone buzzed in his cut.
“Gotta take a call.” He thudded Skid Mark’s head on the table again. “You gonna walk outside or I gotta drag you?” He hadn’t expected to have to make a show of the Sinners’ dominance so soon, or in public, but what the hell.
Let’s get the party started.
“Fuck you,” Skid Mark said.
Cade pulled his gun from his cut and held it to Skid Mark’s head. Skid Mark’s Demon Spawn brothers pointed their weapons at Cade. He almost laughed at their lack of resolve.
“Tell your brothers to stand down or someone is gonna get hurt and I promise it will be you.”
“Stand down,” Skid Mark shouted, blood trickling from the side of his head.