Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(8)

Written By: Kim Jones



“Sure will, Zack.”

Or maybe she won’t.


*

As soon as I’m home, I gather all the information on Fin I can find and send it to Cleft, who is heading up my job while I’m away. I instruct him to give it to Nationals and to call me if he has any questions. Then, I invite Rookie over for dinner. He declines because Carrie, his longtime girlfriend, is in town, so me and my Fruity Pebbles are left all alone.

My thoughts keep going to Diem, even though I try to think about anything else. She couldn’t even remember my f*cking name. When was the last time a woman had forgotten me? I must be losing my game. I’d have to fly back to Jackpot this week and visit the club. Surely the women there remembered who I was. If I couldn’t f*ck Diem, I might as well f*ck her out of my system.


*

Things in the club were going smoothly. My help wasn’t needed, so I spent the next two weeks living like a caveman—pouring over all my research to perfect my next kill. When the walls started to close in, I decided it was time for a break. So, I’m in Concord at some upscale restaurant that promises me the best lobster on the East Coast, when I’m approached by a beautiful woman with skin the color of dark chocolate and legs longer than my own. I drag my eyes up her body, lingering longer on her cleavage than any gentleman ever would.

“May I?” she asks, already pulling the chair out and taking a seat. “I’m Ebony.” She reaches her hand across the table, nearly blinding me with the diamonds that cover her fingers.

“I’m Ivory.” My joke is funny to her. Too funny. I suddenly have flashbacks of the last time I visited Jackpot. The club whores laughed too hard at my jokes. Even when they weren’t that funny. They’d do anything to get in my bed. I’m sure she’s not a club whore, but I’ll definitely have her in my bed if that’s what she wants.

“I was sitting all alone at the bar when I saw you. Since you were all alone, I figured we could give each other some company.” She winks at me, giving me her best seductive smile.

“Really,” I say, bored beyond measure. “Can I buy you a drink?” My voice is lacking in enthusiasm, but she doesn’t care. At my offer, her hand goes up and the house wine she’s sipping on is forgotten. When the waiter appears, she asks for a cabernet that I know is the most expensive wine they offer. Oh, and two shots of Patrón—at twenty-six dollars a pop.

I was wrong. This lady is a whore. And by the looks of her, she’s a damn good one.

“So, what brings you here to Concord? Business or pleasure?” she purrs, toying with the tiny, diamond-encrusted necklace at her throat.

“Both.”

I engage in her forced conversation with lines of bullshit that I’m just making up as I go. She doesn’t care. I could tell her I’m a serial killer and she would just smile and tell me how awesome that is. That’s what whores are supposed to do. I’m sure she prefers the term escort over whore, but they’re all the same to me.

My bill has probably exceeded three hundred dollars when the offer to get out of here nears. She’s making advances, biting her finger and licking her lips. I almost want to lean over and tell her the overkill isn’t necessary. I’d be happy to f*ck her. There’s no need to try and convince me further.

I summon the waiter, and she starts to get excited. She excuses herself to the restroom and I’d bet she’s going to snort a line. That’s fine too. I plan to smoke a blunt while she gives me head. Who am I to judge?

“Hot date tonight?” I look up from my bill that is a hell of a lot more than what I’d predicted to find Diem smirking at me. Ebony might be beautiful, but Diem is a vision. Her short, jet-black hair is perfectly smooth except for her bangs that are wildly untamed and lay over her left eye. The dress she wears is candy apple red, matching her heels that are at least six inches tall. All she needs is a pitchfork to complete her evil, demonic, sexy-as-f*ck look.

Her skin seems to glisten like she bathed in baby oil, and I want to run my tongue and hands across every inch of her tiny body. People are staring. They are as captivated by this devil as I am. Damn, I want her.

“What do you want?” I ask, completely unaffected by her beauty. Or at least pretending to be. She raises her eyebrow inquisitively at me before turning her eyes to Ebony, who is walking toward us. The world seems to stand still a minute. The only thing happening is the unspoken conversation between the two women as they size each other up.

Jealousy flares in Ebony’s eyes. It’s not that she wants me; she just doesn’t want to lose a client. Diem looks amused. Her gaze focuses back on me, her eyes dancing with laughter. She’s definitely entertained by this and I don’t know why.

“You know she’s a whore, right?” Diem laughs, and now it’s my turn to be amused.

“You jealous?” I challenge, enjoying the roll of emotions as they cross her face. She narrows her eyes, clearly pissed at my question. Then, as if the idea to f*ck up the first possible piece of * I’ve had in weeks suddenly occurs to her, she takes a seat.

“I don’t think your services are needed today, honey.” She plasters a fake smile on her face as she looks at Ebony, who’s looking at me.

“Do you know her?” she asks, dabbing her nose with a napkin.

My eyes drift to Diem, who is completely relaxed. She feels like she’s in control of the situation. I could prove her wrong, but if I had to pick one of them to occupy my bed tonight, it would definitely be Diem. So I play along.

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