Free The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 by Sarah Castille Page A

“Too much life experience too young makes ’em sharp and savvy, not innocent, the way I like ’em. Plus they’re hard to control, hard to manage, and—”
    â€œYou mean they see through your bullshit.” Zane laughed and glanced over at Jagger. “She had balls, though, and one helluva kick.”
    Jagger stared straight ahead. Zane was entirely too perceptive. Although Jagger never discussed his PTSD, Zane, who knew him best, had been quick to pick up on his triggers. He was the one who’d insisted they ride with the windows down, and when it came time to drive, he’d tossed Jagger his keys.
    â€œWhat’s on for tomorrow?” He pointedly ignored Zane’s not-so-subtle attempt to feel him out about Arianne, because Zane clearly knew what he thought already, and the fact that he’d picked up on Jagger’s interest in the fiery brunette irked him even more than Bandit’s disrespect.
    â€œDevil Dogs MC are good to meet tomorrow,” Cade said. “They’re so desperate for a patch-over, I think they’d lick our boots if we asked. I’ve already placed the order for new cuts with our patches on them. They’ve passed all the tests. If you approve, I think they’d be a welcome addition to the club.”
    He’d been thinking the same thing. While the truce with the Black Jacks had held and they weren’t losing brothers left, right, and center, Jagger had been reluctant to bring smaller biker clubs into the fold because the resources required to keep them in line and protect them were substantial. But now that the feud was back on, the Sinner’s Tribe would need to aggressively expand to keep their numbers up and protect their territory. And if his ultimate goal was to maintain their status as the dominant club in the state, he would need to patch in new clubs.
    Cade leaned over the seat. “You want them to come to the new clubhouse?”
    â€œWe still don’t have full security in place,” Jagger said. “And I want to meet them on neutral ground.” His pulse kicked up a notch, and then the words spilled out before he could catch them. “There’s a bar on the West Side, just off the 191. We’ll meet them there. It’s called Banks Bar.”
    *   *   *
    Arianne parked her car in the dimly lit parking lot behind Banks Bar and reached down to check the LadySmith .38 Special in her lower calf holster.
    He was coming for her. She knew it from the pounding of her heart and the sick feeling that hadn’t disappeared since Jagger dropped her off five days ago. If she could only get home to collect the rest of her weapons inventory: a 9 mm Glock 26, usually holstered under her shirt when on Black Jack business, and a .22 she carried in her purse when she wore a skirt or dress. But she’d been in such a hurry to get to Jeff the night of the fire, she hadn’t had time to get them, and since then she hadn’t been able to go home to retrieve them. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to collect clean clothes, knowing that the minute she stepped into her apartment, she would be snatched up and dragged back to face Viper’s wrath.
    But that was the biker way. A price would have to be paid for her interference with the raid on the Sinner clubhouse, especially since Jeff hadn’t managed to steal all the guns from the weapons shed out back, and there were only two possible punishments. Since she could never be kicked out of the club, she would have to pay in blood and bruises, and she hadn’t yet recovered from the last beating.
    Arianne took one last glance in the rearview mirror before turning off her vehicle. She’d managed to hide at Dawn’s place for the last week. Her best friend and coworker was always more than happy to give up her spare room when Arianne needed a place to stay, and had even cleared out a space in her wardrobe so Arianne could store