Page 1 of Sinful Lies
Chapter 1
Tank
Indulgence is the onlything that gets me through the dark nights. I drink, I fight, I fuck. Anything to keep my mind off of Dia. Each day is worse than the last. Her memory is never far from my mind. Our lives are volatile, we play hard and work harder. Every day we fight the bastards that want to destroy us. It’s no life for her but watching Chainz and his Ol’ Lady only makes me want her back even more.
The night I lost Dia was the darkest night of my life. I lost everything. If it wasn’t for this club, for Chainz, God only knows where I’d be. Rotting away in prison or buried six feet under. I owe my President everything and what he wants now are answers. Answers I’ll get for him at all costs.
I give the pulley a hard yank, contorting the man hanging from the rafters into an unnatural position. His screams echo off the concrete wall of the bunker, but no one here gives a shit. He can scream as loud as he wants. No one can hear him down here in our playground designed to inflict inhuman torture on inhuman men. Men like Lucas. Men who take the lives of young women and destroy them.
“We know who you are, Lucas. We know you’re making bank dealing innocent women and children into the sex trade. Did you sample the merchandise, is that why they left you to die a slow, agonizing death?” Chainz taunts him. “You should be grateful we found you, Lucas. We’re the reason you’re still breathing but if you don’t start talking my man Tank here will finish the job.”
Chainz, my President is taking as much pleasure in this man’s torture as I am. His Ol’ Lady, Raven, spent a year on the run from her ex, seeking protection from the one man she thought could help her. Turns out her friend Garrett was no match for a psychotic ATF agent with the weight of the Federal Government at his disposal to track her down. Luckily for Raven, she crossed paths with our brother Fuel and caught the eye of our President. Her ex was no match for the ruthlessness of the Krymson Destroyers. We protect our own, and that’s exactly what we’re doing here.
“We’re wasting our time on this asshole. He’s a rapist. A baby killer.” I growl, quickly losing my patience.
Lucas bursts into tears, sobbing like a fucking sissy. He can dish out the pain, but given a taste of it, he pisses himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never killed a baby. I swear. You have the wrong guy.”
His desperate plea is wasted on us. There’s nothing he can say to convince us he’s not a piece of shit.
“That’s because she’s not dead. Is she? Who has her?” Chainz grows more agitated as he stalks around the bunker. Slamming his fist into Lucas’s rib cage. His anger is understandable. When we learned Raven was told her daughter died, it ripped all our hearts out. The more pieces of this puzzle we uncover, the more convinced Chainz is that Paige isn’t dead. Unfortunately, the truth is locked away in Raven’s painful memories and buried with her ex, ATF Agent Adam Ward.
“I don’t know. I swear to God I know nothing about a baby. Please.”
When Chainz nods, I pull the rope harder, raising Lucas’s feet above his head. The bones in his back crack more with every yank folding him in two. We may be many things, but we don’t tolerate anyone who harms innocent women or children.
“A body isn’t supposed to bend this way, Lucas. If I pull this again, your back will snap. Is that what you want?” I ask, gripping the rope again, preparing for one last pull.
“Stop.” Lucas cries out again in agony, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. For the love of god stop pulling.”
Finally, we’re getting somewhere. We’ve spent weeks chasing dead ends. Shifting through mounds of paperwork. All on the DL. The last thing Chainz wants is for his Ol’ Lady to figure out what we’re up to. She’s been through so much already. The last thing she needs right now is false hope.
We’ve been sitting on a warehouse a sex trafficking ring, Raven’s ex owed money to, uses to hold their victims for a week waiting for movement. Two days ago, our Prospect, Corbin, spotted two men going in, but only one coming out. When Chainz and I got there, we found Lucas beaten and stabbed in the gut. If we arrived any later, he would have bled out on the warehouse floor. We brought him back to the compound, let Mercy patch him up so he would live long enough to fill in the missing pieces.
“I know you’re hurting, Lucas, so I’ll start with an easier question. Who’s providing you the women?”
I loosen the rope, lowering Lucas’s legs to the ground. His hands are stretched over his head by the chains and there’s rope knotted around his ankles, but he breathes a shallow breath of relief.
“I only know him as Steam. He runs a motorcycle club called the Savage Saints out of Detroit. He finds the marks and brings them to us. We hold them until transportation is ready, then they get picked up. I don’t know anything else.”
“You’re lying.” I yank the rope, ripping Lucas back up into the air by his feet. “Who picks them up?”
“Fuck.” Lucas screams, “Some guy named Ben. He works at the port for a shipping company, I think. I swear that’s all I know. Each piece of the operation works independently. It’s not like we hang out at the office Christmas party.” Hearing him say Ben’s name makes my blood boil. If this isn’t a coincidence, I need to stop fighting my conscious and reclaim what is mine. What has always been mine. My stomach wretches at the thought of Dia with a man like that. My fists clench at my side and I fight back the urge to kill this asshole right here and now.
“That’s a shame. We’d love for you to hang out with us.” Chainz laughs and tips his head toward the exit.
“Hang on, we’ll be back for you soon.” I toss over my shoulder to the half dead man hanging upside down from the chains and follow Chainz up the stairs. If I don’t leave now, we’ll lose our only leverage.
When we reach the top, I bolt the trapdoor shut. “What are you thinking, Prez?” I light a smoke and tip the open pack toward Chainz.
He draws one out and sparks it up, taking a long drag and exhaling, “I think we need to know more about the Savage Saints.”
Taking a seat at the picnic table, Chainz dials his phone, placing it on the table between us on speaker.
“Capone, what can I do for you brother?” Cal Carracci, head of the Carracci Family out of New York City, is on the other end of the line. He gave Chainz the nickname Capone, when he learned of his family’s mafia ties.
“You ever hear of the Savage Saints out of Michigan?” Chainz asks. “It seems they scout the merchandise for the sex trafficking ring we’ve been looking for. I know it’s not your territory, but I was hoping you know something that’ll help us.”
“You must mean Steam. I’ve heard he’s an evil mother fucker. It’s not my territory but you have my blessing to take him out but before you do anything, I want you to contact Kayne. He’s the President of the Savage Saints Mt. Pleasant Chapter. He’s had enough of Steam’s dirty business and I’m sure he’d welcome an alliance.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.”
“Anytime.” Chainz hangs up the call and snuffs out his cigarette.
“Looks like you’re taking a road trip, Tank. Take Reaper and Cobra with you and for fuck’s sake, try not to kill anyone. We’re looking to partner on this, not make more enemies.”
