Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)

He gave an exasperated grunt. “Last week you were wearing too much blush.”


“You sound like someone’s dad.” Dawn pressed her lips together to keep her laughter in. “You gotta get a handle on that protective streak, Banks. What are you gonna do when you finally stop working so hard and get yourself a girlfriend? Wrap her up in tissue and keep her in the house? Or spend your evenings beating on anyone who dares look in her direction? I’ll tell you right now, those are big relationship killers.”

Banks scowled. “Fired.”

Dawn laughed, her throaty voice warming the room. “Seeing as you fire me at least three times a night, honey, I’ll just keep countin’ bottles and get ready for work.”

Arianne’s tension eased with their familiar banter. She grabbed her apron off its hook and tied it firmly around her waist. “For the record, I don’t wear blush. Blows off when I’m riding.” Banks knew about her bike but not about her biker family. No one knew about them. Not her friends or coworkers. No one except Dawn.

But Dawn hadn’t been so forthcoming about her own past, the night Arianne shared her story. Whatever pulled Dawn into the biker world had scarred her so deep, she refused to talk about it.

“Good thing. Got enough trouble with the guys drooling over you two.” Banks hoisted a crate onto a nearby shelf and then stepped to the side to let Arianne pass.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek as she reached for the door to the bar. “Thanks for giving me the week off. And for caring.”

“I don’t care.” He turned and shoved the crate to the back of the shelf. “Just need to make sure my girls aren’t being harassed. Got a business to run, and now I got a fucking motorcycle club breathing down my neck, demanding protection money.”

Arianne stopped short, her hand on the door. She had taken the job at Banks Bar for the simple reason that it was one of the few bars in Conundrum not owned, managed, or under the “protection” of any gang or motorcycle club. Banks was tough enough to keep those wolves at bay.

“Which club?”

He pried the lid off another crate. “Don’t know. They’re all the same to me. They came in here this morning when I was taking a delivery. One of them pulled a gun on me while the others cased the joint. I told them where to go, but these guys were different from the usual suspects. They asked for the protection money as an afterthought, and when I told them to go fuck themselves, they went.”

Arianne’s pulse kicked up a notch. Good thing she was leaving anyway. If one of the MCs decided to shake down Banks, she would have had to quit. She couldn’t take the risk of being recognized by any of the Black Jacks’ enemies. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

“They didn’t say.” Banks scowled. “But I do know I’m not playing that game. They come back, I’ll burn down the bar, take the insurance money, and start up somewhere else. I don’t have a sentimental attachment to this place. Won it from a guy in a poker game my first night out of the joint.”

“Well, if that happens, you won’t have to worry about staff. As long as I’m in town, I’ll follow you wherever you go. And I know Dawn and the other staff will, too.”

His face hardened with emotion. “Don’t know if I’ll need a bartender who wears too much lipstick.”

“And I don’t know if I’d follow a guy who fires me at least three times a night.” Dawn gave him a warm smile.

“You two don’t get onto the floor right away, you’ll both be fired.” Banks turned away, his voice rough. “Doors open in ten minutes.”

*

“Hey, sugar. You okay?” Sherry smoothed her hands over Jagger’s shoulders, her breasts brushing against his sweat-slicked back. “The boys said you were all wound up. You want me to take care of you?”

Jagger’s muscles bunched at her touch. Axle and his supporters had declared a vendetta against the Sinners and, according to new intel, were trying to patch over to a midsized rival club to get support to carry the vendetta through. As if having to deal with the Black Jacks wasn’t enough.

After an afternoon closeted with the executive board, discussing whether to strike first or wait it out, and a long run through the forest with Max, his body still thrummed with anger. The last thing he needed right now was having to deal with Sherry’s attempts to get back together. “Not now, Sherry.”