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Dirty Deeds
Dirty Deeds
Dirty Deeds
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Dirty Deeds

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Tori
My life had been going just fine until the night I met him. He was darkness, sex, and danger, all wrapped into one perfectly muscled package, and he had his sights set on me. But that same night, everything I knew about my life was turned upside down. One glimpse of Trick’s tattoo, and the memories consume me. That’s when my anger was born. Someone in his club killed my parents, and I had watched it happen. I can’t remember much, but I will stop at nothing to find out who that someone was, and make them pay. Getting close to Trick is the only way to do that, but he’s loyal to his club. As things heat up, conspiracies are revealed, and I’m about to learn just how deep those loyalties run.

Trick
From the instant I laid eyes on Tori, I wanted her. And for the first time ever, I find myself having to work at getting close to a woman. She’s mysterious and gorgeous, and I never quite know what she’s going to do next. She’s fascinating, but something’s not right. Something is holding her back from me. Something I intend to find out. But then she does something crazy. After she accuses my club of being responsible for the death of her parents, I know I should cut ties with her. I have a responsibility to my club—to my brothers. But what if she’s telling the truth? I've introduced her to them, and that means she’s now in danger. As a member of Satan’s Wrath, I have to let this play out, but how can I protect her without going against my brothers?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 6, 2017
ISBN9781370566013
Dirty Deeds
Author

Jacqueline M. Sinclair

Jacqueline grew up in the rural southeast and is the youngest child of a large and rowdy family. Reading was an escape when there wasn't much else around to do. She loves everything from classical literature to true crime and everything in between. With her two children grown and gone, she's surrounded by a menagerie of adopted pets and a two-legged thief who refused to give her heart back after a night of karaoke. With a day job and a dream job, her writing is a steamy combination of real life and seeking to answer the age-old question of what would happen if...and then characters come along and completely derail the plan. Letting them have their say provides plenty of sleepless nights and an endless combination of coffee and wine, but she hopes you enjoy their stories.

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    Dirty Deeds - Jacqueline M. Sinclair

    A Satan’s Wrath MC Novel

    Book One

    by

    Dirty Deeds

    © 2016 Geri Glenn and Jacqueline M. Sinclair

    Dirty Deeds is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

    This book is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader. It is the copyrighted property of the authors and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial use.

    Cover & Logo Design: Wicked by Design

    Cover Photo: Dave Kelly Artistics

    Cover Models: Lance Jones and Jurnee Lane

    Editor: Rebel Edit & Design

    Formatting: Shanoff Formats

    Dedication

    For all the girls who thought they couldn’t.  We’re here to tell you … you can!

    Six-year-old Tori

    My eyes didn’t want to open. They felt crusty and heavy, so I let them close, but I could still hear people talking. At least, I think they were. It didn’t feel like a dream. Did people hurt in dreams? My head hurt so bad, I hoped it was a dream.

    She can stay with us. That was a woman. Was I awake? The bed dipped and my body jerked, as if I was going to fall, but I didn’t. I was still snug in the warm bed.

    Why did I need to go stay with anyone? My mommy and daddy took good care of me.

    Warm hands wrapped around mine and squeezed a little too hard. I tried to tug it away, and the touch became more gentle. My eyes fluttered open, wondering if my mommy had come to tell me good night.

    It wasn’t her, but she looked a lot like her. The woman turned, noticing I was awake and she smiled, but her eyes were red, like mine were after I’d gotten a spanking and cried.

    Hey, sweetheart. She let go of my hand and reached out, rubbing her fingers over my hair. You’re awake.

    I looked from her to the man who stood behind her. The man didn’t look angry, more like the way Daddy did when I asked a bunch of questions he didn’t want to answer, like how all the kittens got in our cat’s tummy. Daddy didn’t give very good answers to questions when he looked like that, so I didn’t want to talk to him. I looked back to the woman. Where’s my mommy and daddy?

    The man squeezed the woman’s shoulder and looked away. I felt like neither of them wanted to talk to me, and I didn’t understand why they were there and my mommy wasn’t. My chin started to tremble, like I was cold, but tears came and I knew something bad had happened. I hurt, and my parents weren’t there. Why?

    Sweetheart, I’m your Aunt Kay, and this is your Uncle Mel. Do you remember us?

    She looked up at him when she said his name. I’d heard mommy and daddy talk about them, but I didn’t remember knowing them. I shook my head, telling her no.

    I sniffed back the tears, trying to keep from acting like a big baby, but my body felt funny and I was scared. I need Mommy.

    The woman looked even more sad. Do you remember what happened, Tori?

    Tugging the covers tight under my chin, I shook my head. Can you get my mommy?

    The woman didn’t say anything for what felt like a really long time, then she shook her head, frowning at me. You don’t remember anything? she asked again. I looked back to the man she called Mel, who was looking at the floor when she answered. I can’t, sweetheart. There was an accident.

    The man pulled away, crossing his arms. Now he did look angry, and the woman looked so sad. I didn’t want to talk to them anymore. I wanted to curl up in my daddy’s lap and trace his tattoos with my finger, like I was drawing them on his skin. I loved falling asleep like that.

    Tori, you’re going to come live with us and our little boy, Spencer.

    No, I whined. They’ll come, you’ll see. I didn’t have to talk to these people, they were strangers. Mommy said so. I pulled my blankets close, rolled over, and that’s when I saw him, the boy sitting in the corner, jumping a toy motorcycle from one arm of the chair to the other. He pulled the tiny stuntman from the motorcycle and sat there, holding his dirt bike toy in one hand and the man in the other.

    He stared at me while I laid there, crying. I waited for him to tease me, to call me a baby, but he didn’t.

    Tori, the woman said. Your mommy and daddy went to heaven, so you get to come live with us.

    Calling the lady a liar would get me in trouble, but I wanted to scream it at her. I wanted to yell it and stomp my feet and keep doing it until my mommy came in and told me to stop my tantrum and fix my face.

    But I couldn’t. I only cried harder, and now the little boy was crying too. He pulled his chair close to my bed and tucked his little motorcycle into my fingers. I’m Spencer. We’re cousins.

    ☠☠☠

    Ten-year-old Trick

    Mom! I called out, tossing dirty clothes from my hamper into a scattered mess around my bedroom floor. It was seven thirty in the morning and I couldn’t find my favorite T-shirt. The bus was going to be here any minute to take me to school.

    My mother didn’t answer so I rushed down to the laundry room to double check the machines. Mom hated doing laundry, and had a habit of leaving the clothes in the dryer for a while before finally forcing herself to take them out and folding them.

    Sifting through the load, I still didn’t find my shirt, so I called to her again. Mom!

    It was strange for her to be sleeping this late. Usually she woke me up for school and went downstairs to make my breakfast, but today the house seemed oddly empty. Dread slowly washed over me as I turned and made my way to my parent’s bedroom.

    Pushing open the door, it creaked loudly as it moved aside. Their bed was empty, the blankets smooth over the mattress, as if it hadn’t been slept in at all the night before. Had they not come home?

    After that kid’s party they’d dragged me to last night, Riot had brought me home and dropped me off, saying my parents needed some alone time, whatever that meant. I’d been exhausted anyway, so I went straight to bed.

    I stood in their doorway, frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Were they okay? Why hadn’t they come home?

    Just then, the sound of the door unlocking, then footsteps echoed from downstairs and I hurried down to meet them. Relief flooded through me when I saw my father on the bench in the front hall, removing his giant black boots.

    There you are, I said.

    He looked up at me in surprise. What are you doing up?

    I frowned. Dad, it’s a school day. I have to leave soon. I looked around, but there was no sign of my mother. Where’s Mom? I can’t find my gray tee.

    My father stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. She’s gone.

    Gone? She never left this early. Well…when’s she coming back? I really wanted to wear that shirt today.

    She’s not coming back, boy. She’s gone, up and left.

    My heart stopped. Left? But…

    He shook his head and stood, coming over to ruffle my hair. It’s just you and me now, kid. Go find somethin’ else to wear before the bus comes. You can look for your shirt later.

    I gaped up at him, still not understanding what he’d told me. But—

    Go! he ordered, his voice a strange combination of harsh and weary.

    She didn’t even make my lunch this morning, I whispered. A million thoughts ran through my head, all of them just as unimportant as my lack of a meal for the afternoon.

    My father sighed and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He sifted through some bills and handed me ten dollars. Buy yourself one for today, he said softly. You’ll have to start makin’ your own lunches after today.

    I stared down at the money in my hand, unable to make sense of any of this. How could she have left me? Mothers didn’t leave, did they?

    Look, my father said, heading toward the stairs. I’m fuckin’ exhausted, kid. I’m gonna grab a shower and hit the sack. You get yourself together and get out to the bus on time, yeah?

    I nodded back, wide-eyed, the money clutched in my hand. He turned and trudged up the stairs, leaving me to wonder what I could have done to make my mother not want to stay with me.

    Tori

    Why did I agree to this? Waitressing? Me? I couldn’t be relied on to walk a straight line and stay upright. This was a bad idea.

    Come on, Tori. Those guys aren’t gonna wait all night.

    I glanced around the room at the leather cuts and the men wearing them. I was clumsy on a good day—that was enough to have me feeling out of sorts—but something about the group rattled me. They weren't the young street bike riders I was used to. Maybe you should let me man the bar.

    Mel’s face fell and he waved his hand at the crowded room. You think all those bikers want to see my ass sashaying across the room? No. Get on it.

    Taking in the smoke-filled path leading to the opposite side of the bar, I picked up the tray with two hands. Even then, one longneck tipped and hit the floor before I could take a step.

    Jesus fucking Christ. They were the only words I could make out before Mel turned to grab another bottle, but his mouth was still moving and I figured I was better off not knowing. I loved him, which was the only reason I was spending my Friday night dodging biker boots and ass grabs. That, and I needed the money. I saw now why Spencer and I hadn’t been allowed here during business hours when we were growing up.

    Sorry—I’m sorry, I gushed, easing the tray back onto the bar. Mel sat the new beer on it and shooed me away. The poor man. I bet he wished he hadn’t been so desperate now.

    Easing across the room, I went out of my way to avoid the crowd. I didn’t need an elbow or wayward foot helping me screw up more, or Mel might start taking it out of my pay.

    That shit still cold?

    Taking a deep breath, I decided right then that if I was going to get through the night, I’d better start faking my hospitality skills. I’ll get you another one if it isn’t. I pasted on a fake smile and set the drinks out. Did I want the money this bad?

    This isn’t what I ordered. The fingers slipped around my wrist before I could make my escape. An uneasy feeling exploded in my stomach; I didn’t like people. I liked them touching me even less. I glanced around the bar, taking a minute to convince myself that getting mouthy with him wasn’t the best option.

    My eyes met the man’s, my face all business. He was sitting, but he was still massive, having to tilt his face just a fraction to look up at me as I stood at the table.

    I wanted a Bud Light, not a red label. He was holding the Budweiser up to me.

    Give it to a buddy, I’ll be back. That is, if you let me go, I added, smiling a little too sweet. His fingers slid from my wrist and I walked away, ignoring the rowdy comments and suggestive remarks. How was I going to get through six more weeks of this? 

    You will because you need the money. It was pure luck that Staci needed some unexpected time off. For me, not for her dad, who was recovering from a heart attack and bypass surgery.

    It had been a mistake to open the paint shop in the middle of summer. Nobody wanted their bike out of commission during the best riding months of the year, even for custom work. Especially not for more than some simple designs that only took a few hours. Now, the rent was coming due on the building again, and I had just managed to get last month’s paid. Even taking in other projects besides bikes, I was short, and I’d be late, again.

    I need a Bud Light, not a Budweiser, Mel. 

    He cut his eyes to me, shaking his head. We’re both gonna be broke if you keep this up. He went to the cooler and I propped myself against the bar to wait.

    You’re lookin’ kinda guilty there.

    Turning toward the voice, I rolled my eyes, already exhausted. It's hard to think of something to poison your precious Bud Light with, with all the noise.

    There was no movement on his chiseled features. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. Had he even spoken? I stared a moment longer, waiting. Nothing.

    Then a wide smile grew on his face. I’ll settle for just my beer, and maybe a game. He tossed his head toward an empty pool table. Wanna play?

    The dimples that sat just above his goatee were too cute, and he was a lot less intimidating away from his buddies. Still, all that sexy wrapped up in a leather cut and jeans screamed danger.

    Mel’s getting it, and I’m working.

    My comment was punctuated by Mel putting the Bud Light onto the bar a little too hard, getting the attention of both me and the stranger. Ain’t you workin’? Mel asked.

    I straightened myself. I had no plans of saying yes until Mel had snapped at me, but I couldn’t lie. Knowing I could probably put this hard-ass in his place over a game of pool was starting to feel kind of satisfying. It won’t take long.

    My eyes fell to Mel’s fingers, drumming on the bar top. He knew I was an ace at pool. I’d be back to work in a few minutes, but I wasn’t surprised he didn’t want me socializing with the stranger. 

    Mel scanned the bar, as if thinking about it, before his face scrunched into a frown. He looked back to me, waving his hand. Go. Maybe I can make up some of the money you’ve cost me tonight without you in the way.

    He sat a shot of bourbon on the bar, along with a Jack and Coke. Just hurry up.

    I twisted my lips into a smile, slammed down the shot, and turned to the man. You rack.

    Brushing past him, I went to the wall, found a cue with a decent weight and took my spot at the end of the table. He was still putting the rack away when I took aim and followed through on a break that sent two high balls and one low into the pockets.

    Lining up for a shot at the three ball, I risked a peek at my new friend. He was running his thumb and index finger over his chin, watching me. I shook it off and focused on the cue ball, missing the three altogether when it banked off the rail instead. Shit. I stepped to the side, taking my drink from the ledge that ran along the wall and drew in a long swallow.

    Where do you put all that?

    For the first time, I realized he’d sat his precious Bud Light on the ledge close to my drink, but hadn’t taken so much as a swallow. I took another long draw before setting it back on the ledge and leaned my shoulder against the wall. Make you nervous, a girl that can hold her liquor?

    He smirked and bent over the table, his long arms making easy work of the distance. His sleeves rode up, exposing even more artwork on those massive arms. When his hand glided forward, I heard a ball drop into a pocket. I couldn’t even look. I was focused on the tattoo that filled his bicep. I’d seen the design before.

    A dozen hazy visions flooded me. Were they real? I kept my eyes on the terrifying depiction of the angry horned skull of Satan surrounded by flames. What was worse were the almost unnoticeable images of open-mouthed, tortured souls faded into the background. They were barely there, making them even more haunting.

    I tried to clear the fog. I could feel my buried past rising right there in the bar, each breath bringing an image clearer than the last. Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed hard, feeling sweat dampen my body.

    The stranger straightened, eyeing me with confusion, his hands curled around his stick. You okay?

    Easing onto the closest seat, I braced my hand on the wall and tried to steady myself. He was by my side in an instant.

    Do you need me to get you somethin’?

    He was reaching for me. I held out my hand, stopping him, afraid if I opened my mouth, eighteen years of pain would erupt. I shifted my gaze back to his arm. The tattoo was mostly covered by his sleeve again, but the memory of it was like a photograph in my brain now. This one was more detailed, professionally done, but I swear I’d seen that tattoo on a man before. The man who had his hands wrapped around my mother’s throat the night she’d died, the night my parents had been taken from me.

    ☠☠☠

    Trick

    Whoa there, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I took a step back, staring down at her. Her face was pinched in fear, her skin white as a sheet.

    I turned and looked back toward the

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