Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)

Written By: Kim Jones

Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)

Kim Jones

For my beautiful Saylor Grace


To God for giving me the gift of life, the courage to take a chance, and an eternal love.

My husband, Regg. You are by far the best husband I’ve ever had. And even though you’re the only one I’ve ever had, it doesn’t make me love you any less.

Amy—you’re not just my best friend, mother of my godchild, or favorite girl. You’re my inspiration—my rock. You’re the one who helped make me who I am—which is a pretty damn good person if you ask me.

Mom and Dad—I know you’ll love me no matter how successful I am. For that I thank you. But I’m still not cutting you any slack in Phase 10.

My sisters—eh . . . I don’t really have anything special to say about the two of you. Kidding. I love you both very much. Not everyone can say that they have sisters as talented as mine. I mean, one runs ninety-nine Dollar Generals and the other has given me nineteen brothers-in-law.

Katy Evans—you helped make this book possible. Thanks for loving me and my stories. Your friendship, encouragement, and feedback played a HUGE part in this novel. You’re sweet, genuine, and make me feel like a superstar—which I really am.

Joanna Wylde—thanks for helping me make the right decisions. You’re my voice of reason. Your guidance and support are two of the greatest gifts you could ever give me. And a car . . . that would be a nice gift too.

To the girls who reassured me that Sinner’s Creed was truly everything I thought it was. Chrisy Morris, Sali with an i, Benbow hyphen Powers, Danielle Kendall, Brooklyn Brown, Katelan Awesomeness, Kathi Pepper and the Pepper girls—you are amazing. I couldn’t have done it without you. Or cigarettes. Definitely cigarettes.

My family—my aunts, uncles, cousins, stepcousins, half cousins, ex-cousins, in-laws . . . There are too many of you to list. But you know who you are. And you know how much I love you. If you don’t, I’m telling you now.

To my HNDW family—it is because of you that I have an infatuation with the lifestyle. Not only are you sexy, badass, and . . . sexy. You’re a true inspiration and your actions teach what true brotherhood is all about. A special shout-out to Jared . . . my Dirk.

My editor, Cindy Hwang. Thanks for enduring me and my antisocial, early-morning behavior. I have a feeling that was just the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship. There’s no getting rid of me now. I’m like a fungus, baby—I grow on you.

Last and certainly least, I’d like to thank my agent. Even though you sometimes ignore me, I still couldn’t have done this without you. Thanks for believing in me. And remember, I love you despite all your many, many flaws. Amy Tannenbaum—you’re my horse; I don’t care if you ever win a race.


I KNEW THE man in front of me was doomed.

This was a test. I had to prove my loyalty. The club had my pride, now they wanted my innocence.

The knife I held in my hand would be kept as proof that I was guilty of murder. It wouldn’t help my case that the man was begging for his life, on his knees in front of me. We were the only two on the video. It was everything they needed. My fingerprints, my weapon, and my face. The club would use it against me if I ever turned on them.

I wasn’t scared to take this man’s life. I knew he deserved everything he got and so much more. What scared me was knowing that if I did this, there would be no saving me from the depths of hell, from the fiery roads of eternity or the haunting sounds of this man’s screams, which I was sure would give me nightmares for the rest of my days.

But, this club is all I know. I’m out of options. Either I prove myself now, or I walk away and never look back. I look up at my grandfather, who gives me a nod of encouragement. His black eyes are full of hate. They have the same effect on me now as they did when I was seven. He is the only man I fear, and the only man I don’t want to disappoint.

The club means something to me because it means something to him. He is all I have. He has molded me into the monster I’ve become. If I knew for sure that not becoming a killer would ensure me a spot in the afterlife away from him, I would take my life right now. But, I know there is no place for me but hell. With him. For eternity.

I can only hear the man’s screams, but I see my grandfather mouth “*.” He is growing impatient. I have to make a decision. So, I ask myself, Is killing this man worth pacifying the demon-possessed grandfather who raised me? Is taking a life really worth seeing the small, temporary sparkle of pride in his eyes that I’ve never seen in my twenty-one years? Is it worth the small mustard seed of hope that this will make him love me? You’re f*ckin’ right it is.

I kill the man with the brutality that the club expects, stabbing him multiple times until his face is unrecognizable. I let the faith I have in my grandfather’s love fuel me. I let images of him smiling and telling me he loves me fill my head, and block the sight of the face I am butchering.

When I am finished, I search for him in the crowd, but he isn’t there. When I finally notice the men around me, the body is buried and the evidence has been collected. They all wear a look of pity on their faces. Their eyes apologize for what my grandfather is, and what I have become. They can keep their guilt. They can save their sorrow. My cold, dead heart is at the point of no return.