Page 27 of Sinful Secrets

“You often interrogate women like this?” Dreads asks, eyebrow raised. “By the smell of the room I can guess exactly what it’s used for.”

Rips eyes turn glacial. “Don’t question how I run things, because if you start doing that then we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

The man they call Dreads just smiles at Rip, and at this moment in time I don’t know who I am more afraid of. I clear my throat. “If I was to go back––”

Khan interrupts. “No fucking way, Bambi.”

I hold my hand up, stopping him. “If I were to go back, I would need time. Upon my return, I would be in isolation for at least three days. All my privileges would be stripped, they aren’t stupid. If you can wait two weeks, then yes, I may be able to get you in,” I state.

“Fuck this, I'm done,” Khan snaps and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

“I’ll go,” Wheels states, rolling his eyes.

“Well?” I ask. Rip turns his attention back to me, and I can see he has doubt behind his eyes. I don’t know if that doubt is there because he doesn’t trust me to do it or because he's worried about sending me in. Right now, I'm terrified. I'm scared of what I will face going back, but I have to try. I have to try and help the women and children.

Rip turns, looking at Dreads and they exchange a look before Rip lifts his chin. “Yeah, we will set it up. We can’t just dump you back there, it will look too obvious, so we will have to stage your escape.”

I nod, I just hope they believe it, because one thing I've learnt in this new life is that the community I thought I knew and loved is a dark, dangerous place. My only hope is I survive going back.

Chapter Sixteen

Khan

I can’t believe what I am fucking hearing. Rip wants to send her back there. After all she went through there, after finding out exactly what they do to the women there. I couldn’t stand there another minute listening to that shit.

I hear someone approach and I turn to see Max, wheeling himself towards me. “I ain’t in the mood for no fucking lecture or wise old man words,” I snap.

“Well, that’s fucking good then because I ain’t here to give you advice, I ain’t your fucking father and I ain’t no damn therapist,” he states.

I laugh. “Then why the fuck are you here because you sure as shit ain’t about to side with me on this decision.”

“Damn, idiot boy, since when have I ever chosen sides? Just because Rip is my son doesn’t mean I agree with him. It’s not about sides, it’s about getting this shit shut down and getting those people away from that damn cult. Your woman volunteered herself, and I get why you're pissed with that.”

“She’s not my woman,” I growl.

“Ha, yeah right, of course she's not.” Max rolls his eyes. “Anyway, if she can get us in, if she can help get those people out… well, damn, she is one brave bitch, so maybe instead of fighting her, instead of having your head shoved so far up your own ass, you should be there for her and have her back, not out here whining like a little bitch,” he rants before turning and wheeling himself off. I don’t bother arguing back. I have too much respect for him to do that. He was here before Rip became President, when the club was under bad leadership, and it’s how he ended up in a damn wheelchair.

Needing a ride, needing to get out of here, I jump on my bike and take off. It’s the only place I can think clearly, it’s the only place not just me but all us brothers feel free.

* * *

Locking myself in my room with a bottle of whiskey, I ignore my brothers, and I ignore her. I don’t want any part of it, I don’t want to be the one to send her to the slaughter. It’s easier this way, shutting myself away and drinking to forget.

I'm not sure when I pass out, but the next morning, I'm woken to some asshole pounding on my door.

“Alright, fuck!” I yell, holding my head, feeling like it’s that they are hitting. I swing open the door and Rip is stood there. “Ain’t in the mood, Pres,” I say, turning and getting back into bed. He walks in, screwing up his face.

“Damn, smells like a liquor factory blew up in here.”

“Just say whatever shit you gotta say and fuck off,” I groan.

“Today, at noon, you're going to supposedly take her shopping. You're going to wear your Kutte and you're going to not retaliate when they take her,” he states.

I open my eyes and glare at him. “You want me to be a part of the set up? You want me to not retaliate when they take her even though I said I was done?”

“They saw you both, they know you're the one that’s been watching over her. We need to keep it as believable as we can. If it’s in the supermarket parking lot, there will be no gun fire. It’s the safest way,” he adds.

“If she dies, it’s on you,” I growl.

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