Sinner's Revenge(60)

I jerk my head to look at him. “What the fuck? What kind of shit is that? I just told you I was in love with a woman. You . . . the most pussy-whooped man I know, and you have the balls to tell me it won’t work?”

“That’s what I said. You’re too selfish, Shady. And you have no remorse for your actions. You’re a cold-blooded killer whose only mission in life is to avenge the death of a brother who would tell you the same thing if he were alive.”

I shake my head. “No, Dirk wouldn’t say that. He’d be happy for me. See, that’s the difference between you and him.” I turn away from him, gritting my teeth. “What makes you think you deserve love and I don’t?”

“Because my woman knows nothing about what I do. She only sees the good side of me, because that’s all I let her see. But Diem?” he says, letting out a loud breath. “She won’t be that easy to pacify. She’ll dig until she finds something, then she’ll rip your heart out and ruin you and the club. It can’t happen.”

As much as I want to deny it, Rookie is right. It didn’t matter how coldhearted Diem seemed to be. If she ever figured out the monster I really was, she’d ruin us all. Carrie and Saylor had something in common—they were both innocent and naïve. Diem was nothing like that. She’d get to the bottom of it. She might not care right now, but months or years from now, she would.

“You’re playing with fire. You better end it while you still can.” Rookie’s advice hits me right in the heart—that one organ that I’d finally decided to listen to only moments ago. But as much as I want to, I know I can’t. I have the power to do a lot of things, but letting Diem go isn’t one of them. I was playing with fire.

But getting burned never felt so good.


* * *

We killed six men that night. It was a bloody, fucked-up battle that turned south because my head wasn’t in the game. Too anxious to get back to Diem, I started shooting the moment I laid eyes on Death Mob. Somehow, Sinner’s Creed managed to walk away unscathed. Lucky for us, Tank and Cleft were in town and helped clean up the mess before anyone witnessed anything. It was after noon when I got home and Diem had already left.

I exhausted myself with exercise. I butchered the punching bag in my shed until my fists were bloody and I nearly had to crawl inside. My mind was in overdrive. My heart felt like it had already been ripped to shreds. Now I’m on the phone with Nationals and the news they’re giving me is worse than any feeling I could have ever imagined.

“They know.”

Two little words had just ruined my whole life. I knew who “they” were—Death Mob. Sinner’s Creed wanted me in Jackpot in the morning. It might very well be my last time there. Rookie comes over to tell me that he was called in too. I assured him he had nothing to worry about. This blood was on my hands. I knew getting into this that my life would be the penalty if I ever got found out.

Now I had.

My life was at stake.

And I was ready to give it.

I believed in my mission, and for the most part I accomplished it. Over sixty members of Death Mob had been killed. It didn’t destroy their club, but it damn sure made them bleed. I’d won. Dirk had won. Sinner’s Creed had won. The price to pay was worth it all.

My only regret was Diem. This wasn’t fair to her. She hasn’t said it, but I know she loves me. I should break her heart so that her memory of me won’t hurt her. But I can’t do that. Instead, I call and invite her over like nothing is wrong.

I’m anxious by the time she arrives. I haven’t seen her in days and when she walks in, I feel the full impact of the saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” She’s all business in a white pantsuit and matching heels. She looks stunning, but tired and overworked.

“Rough day at the office?” I smirk, grabbing her duffel from off her shoulder. Pulling her down with me, we sit in our usual position in the recliner. She kicks her heels off, rubbing her feet up and down my jean-clad leg.

“Something like that . . . You?” She nods her head toward my laptop and the scattered papers around it I’d planted just for her to see.

“Nah . . . just being a nerd.” We watch a couple of westerns, enjoying the silent company. But after a while, I know I can’t postpone it any longer.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I tell her, feeling her head nod into my chest. “I’m not coming back.” Slowly, she drags her head up until she is looking at me—searching my eyes for humor, or doubt, or any other emotion that’s not truth.

“Where are you going?” she whispers. I close my eyes, memorizing the sound of her voice—something Dirk did when he knew Saylor was soon going to leave him.