Chapter 5
Time’s up, bitch.
Stomach clenching, I close out of the messaging app on my phone and shove the device back into the depths of my jacket.
Jack presses another beer into my hand. He’s got the long-haired biker thing going on, just like when we were kids. Big, tall, tattooed. And wild. Though as I really take him in, I realize he’s a little more put together now, his hair a little tamer, his beard a little less unruly.
Despite Jack’s warm welcome, the atmosphere is thick with awkwardness. To be expected, I guess. These men might be my brothers, but I’m a stranger to them.
That could be a problem, given the reason I’m here. A blood tie doesn’t always mean loyalty. I’m not their family. The club is.
“Walk me through it again,” Axe says.
He looks mostly the same too. Short dark hair, thick scruff lining his jaw, a permanent scowl. Like our father’s. Like mine. He’s bigger than I remember. Bulkier. Maybe even a little taller. Then again, Axe has always felt bigger than everyone else in the room.
The Sinner clubhouse is still a total dive.
It’s dimly lit and smells faintly of old beer and cigarettes.
The wood-panelled walls are covered in framed mugshots, stolen street signs, and pictures of bikes, women, and Sinner parties from decades ago.
I know if I looked closely, I’d find photos of my mom riding on the back of Jack’s dad’s Harley or of Jimmy drinking with a woman on his lap.
Maybe even some of me. My mom let me spend way too much time in a biker bar growing up. I was practically raised in this place.
“Grace,” Jack says softly.
He’s been talking to me like I’m some sort of victim. Small, awkward smiles, eyes not quite meeting mine. Each time I give my play-by-play, he gets a little more pissed off, a little farther away.
I take a breath. “I told you everything.”
“And you’ll tell me again,” Axe says.
Another vibration in my pocket. Shit. My shoulders tighten. Against my better judgement, I tug out my phone to check the message.
I’m not fucking playing.
“Something pulling your attention, Grace?” Axe asks.
I glare at him. My patience is slipping.
What did you tell them? Why are you here? Why didn’t you call?
The same questions over and over, worded differently each time, like he’s trying to trip me up. Another interrogation. I’ve had enough of that shit tonight.
Our relationship has always been a little icy.
We may be half siblings, but Axe never warmed to me.
I’m Jimmy’s kid and Jack’s sister, but not his.
He blames me, I think. The consequences of Jimmy’s secret love affair and the subsequent child with his VP’s old lady were pretty severe.
When two men fight over a woman, it never ends well, especially when those two men are at the head of a one-percenter bike club.
But once Rick was out of the picture, Jimmy stepped up.
Took my mom as his old lady, finally claimed me as his kid.
I took his last name, and with that, the title of his daughter.
As well as all the other shit that last name brings. All the trouble.
After that, Jimmy’s priorities shifted. We all learned quickly who he’d show up for when push came to shove. I don’t think he did it on purpose, but when things got violent, he made a choice. Me and my mom over his son and his club.
A man like Axe could never understand that kind of sacrifice. His dad gave up his empire for his new family. Though sometimes I think Jimmy regrets it. The quiet little existence he created on the East Coast wasn’t easy for him. Or me.
The Sinner life might have been dangerous and chaotic, but it was all we knew. It was family. Community.
Leaving the club behind was like cutting off a limb.
“Just a friend,” I say.
“This late?”
“What’s it to you?” I snap.
“Gracie.” Jack’s voice is low, his focus on his beer instead of me.
Why can’t he look at me?
“I’m tired, Jack. Okay? Let’s wrap this up.”
Axe moves his hand over his mouth and leans back in his chair, his scowl deepening. “Careful how you throw that attitude around, Grace. You’re not a girl anymore, and I’m not as patient as I used to be.”
Right. Axe expects obedience. He’s the Sinner prez, and I’m just the estranged half sister who showed up uninvited.
But I’ve had enough. It’s almost four a.m. and I smell like I haven’t showered in three days.
And my body hurts from being on my bike for so damn long.
I need sleep. Preferably in a bed a little more welcoming than a dirty motel mattress.
“I want this night over,” I grit out. “I’ve been in a cell for hours and I’ve already answered all your questions. Can’t you just respect?—”
“Respect?” Axe tilts his head. “You ain’t been back here in ten years, Gracie.
What makes you think you get my respect?
Maybe you don’t remember how things work around here, or maybe you think that last name you’re wearing gives you some clout.
It doesn’t. This isn’t our daddy’s club anymore, it’s mine. ”
Jack sighs. “Forgot you two used to do this. How about we dial back the hostility a little?”
“I will if he will,” I say curtly.
Axe’s jaw ticks. “You want respect , you earn it. You can start by dropping the attitude and answering my questions.”
I open my mouth, ready to retort?—
“Don’t.” Jack points at me in warning. One brow cocked, he turns to Axe, who only shrugs, his glare firmly in place.
Jack’s right. It’s always been like this with us.
Arguing, bickering, a sprinkle of aggression.
Jack somewhere in the middle. Only now, it’s missing the playful undertone that used to come with it.
The teasing. Knowing exactly how far I could push.
The familiarity is all gone. It disappeared when I did a decade ago.
“A cop put his hands on you,” Jack says. “Bruised up your face. It was a message. We need to respond.”
I blink at him. “You mean retaliate.”
He takes a sip of his beer. “Like you said. Let’s wrap this up.”
I throw Axe a look, but his glare only hardens.
Like our father, the current Sinner prez has always been intimidating.
It’s a reminder of who he is and the kind of men he leads.
And in the last ten years, he’s only grown colder.
Harder. Scarier. Probably because he spent six of those years in prison.
Despite my desire to go toe to toe with him like I used to, I’m gonna have to be the one who backs down.
Axe doesn’t let up. I don’t think he knows how.
With a sigh, I tamp down my attitude and start again.
Flashing lights. A bit of a speed chase. I considered not stopping but thought better of it. Decker. Sergeant Allen. Punch to the gut. Handcuffs. Face meets cruiser door.
“That guy is fucking dead,” Jack growls out.
“Easy, brother,” Axe says. “No one’s killing anyone.” He runs his hand over his mouth, brows pulled together like he’s deep in thought. “And this other cop, Murphy. He’s OPP too?”
Fingers twisted in my lap, I nod. I didn’t mention the interrogation part.
That part feels… private. Decker might have stopped it, but my skin is still crawling.
The unwelcome hands, the rough fingers digging into my arm, the vileness of his words.
I can’t shake any of it. It’s like a physical mark on my skin, much like the bruises on my wrists and face.
“They mention why they’re here?” Axe asks.
Sighing, I shake my head.
“Not leaving anything out, are you?”
A huff escapes my nostrils. “No. That’s everything. Like I said before.”
Ignoring the bite in my voice, he turns to Jack. “Have Preacher’s PI look into this Allen prick. I’ll deal with Decker.”
I raise a brow. “Deal with him how?”
“Club business is on a need-to-know, Grace.” Axe’s eyes glint and a wicked smile curves his lips. It’s the promise of violence.
They’re all the same, these men. It’s all blades, fists, and blood. Like Jack said, the Sinners need to respond. That means someone’s about to wind up bruised, bloody, or dead. For Decker’s sake, I hope it’s not the latter.
Jack pulls out his phone and pushes up, eyes still not meeting mine. “Hang tight, Gracie. Got some quick business, and then I’ll have Triss drive you to our place.”
Once Jack disappears into the stairwell and it’s just me and Axe, I glare at him.
With a roll of his eyes, he snags a bottle of whiskey from a neighbouring table and splashes a couple ounces into the empty glass beside me.
“Easy, Gracie,” he says as he pushes it towards me. “Business is done.”
“Not going soft on me, are you?”
“Never.” He clinks his glass against mine.
We both drink, and as he pours me another, he eyes my cheek.
“You all right?”
I force a smile. “You let ’em rattle you, you let ’em win.”
Axe hums. “He know you’re here?”
Jimmy had one rule for me when we left this place—no going back. Not to the life, and definitely not to South Bay. I’ve managed to do both those things.
Coming back home is one thing. Jimmy would forgive that.
But all the other shit I’ve done these last couple years, the trouble I’m in, the people I’m running from?
He finds out what I’ve been up to, and I’ll be dead to him.
He might’ve left the Sinner life behind, but the doctrine he lived by is carved into his bones.
Loyalty to the patch. Jack and Axe are the same.
I arch an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
He stares into his glass, then brings it to his lips. “He won’t be happy.”
“You gonna tell him?”
He shrugs. “Not my place to stir shit up between you and him. But he’ll find out, one way or another. He had a knack for that—knowing shit you didn’t want him to know.”
We’re quiet for a beat as he pours more whiskey into my glass. More than necessary, but I drink it anyway.
“So? You gonna tell me how you been living your life?” he asks.
I swirl the amber liquid, my lips twitching. “More questions?”
“It’s called a conversation, Grace.”
I sigh. Right. “I’ve been… you know… hopping from place to place, I guess. Calgary’s interesting. Big. It’s been an adjustment.”
“Calgary,” he repeats. “Surprised Jimmy cleared that.”
“I’m twenty-six years old, Axe. Jimmy doesn’t clear anything. I tell him how it is.”
Axe gives me a reproachful look. “If that’s the case, then the man you’re talking about ain’t my father. No one’s telling Jimmy Donovan anything. It’s not safe out there for someone like you.”
Not safe. The understatement of the century.
There’s a boundary. A thick line splitting the country in two—east to the Sinners, west to the Raiders.
A border stained in blood from a war that Jimmy put an end to well before I was born.
The wrong man crosses it, it’s unlikely he’s coming back.
But it’s a boundary I’m depending on now.
One I’m praying keeps the men at my heels at bay.
“There’s no patch on my back.” I down another shot and set the glass on the table with a thunk.
Axe keeps pouring. I’m too tired to drink this much, but god, it feels nice to relax a little after the month I’ve had.
“No,” he says as he sets the bottle down.
“But the wrong man finds out you got Sinner blood, and you won’t like what happens to you.
Tell me you at least dropped the last name.
Being a Donovan in the wrong city out there will get you killed.
” His throat works as he tips back his own shot of whiskey.
“Got any friends out that way? Boyfriend?”
Eyes narrowed, I study him as he pours more liquor into my cup. “You know, I think this is the longest conversation we’ve had in ten years.”
“Suppose it is.”
“So why do I feel like I’m still being interrogated? And why are you trying to get me drunk?”
He angles closer, his elbows on the scarred table. “Maybe I’m just trying to get to know my sister.”
Snorting, I sit back. “You haven’t ever called me that. What is this, Axe? What do you want to know?”
He leans back in his chair. He’s quiet. Assessing.
Like he’s trying to read me. Or like he knows something and he’s waiting for me to say it.
But I can’t do that. He’s like Jimmy. He’ll see it as a betrayal.
To him and the Sinners. Betray the patch, you pay with your life.
I’m not sure my blood ties could save me from that fate.
I’ve been around men like Axe my whole life. I know what he’ll do if his way of life is threatened. But I’m not here to threaten anything. I came here hoping that scary, cold, Axel Donovan reputation would keep the threat away .
None of this was intentional. One night, I was riding into a city I didn’t know, looking for a job, the next I was serving drinks at a biker bar that belonged to the only MC in the country that could give the Sinners a run for their money.
And now that MC has got me running. Now that I’m back in Sinner territory, I’m hoping to god they’ll stand down.
Much like the Soldiers of Sin, the Road Raiders are not to be fucked with. Unfortunately for me, I have done exactly that.
And in their minds, what I did is unforgiveable. They want payment, and they want it in blood.
“Why you really here, Grace?” he asks, the coldness back in his voice.
“I told you. The first three times you asked. I needed a change of scenery,” I lie. The silence stretches, and the knot in my stomach does an uncomfortable flip. “Anything else?”
He shakes his head slowly, suspicion and doubt still marring his face. “Welcome home, I guess. Keep out of trouble while you’re here, understand? Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much of a handful you used to be. That shit won’t fly with me.”
Jack’s booming voice carries back into the room as he pushes through the far door, his phone jammed between his ear and shoulder as he tugs on his leather jacket. “You ready, Gracie?”
“Yes.” I push to my feet. “We’re done here.” I zip up my jacket and move past him towards the door.
Axe only tilts his head, watching me the whole way.
This might have been a mistake. Taking refuge in enemy territory was a last-ditch effort to save myself.
I’m just not sure it’s enough. I need the full force of the Soldiers of Sin behind me.
But with the way Axe is looking at me? Suspicious, untrusting.
I’m an outsider. This man is no more my family than the ones I’m running from.
I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do or where I can go. All I know is I need to lay low, stay out of trouble, and not give Axe any reason to doubt my loyalties.
And I need my damn bike back, before someone finds out what’s in it.