Sinner: Devil's Sons MC (13 page)

“Oh, really?” she said breathlessly, smiling shyly. “How do you plan on doing that, biker boy?”

“Dance first. I miss the way you move.”

He took Afia by the hand and pulled her with him back into the building, feeling a sense of excitement that hadn’t been there before. He knew, somewhere in the crowded bar, the rest of his crew was wondering where he had disappeared to. He knew Quentin would have words for him, and Kaleidoscope would have a disappointed look. However, Sam didn’t care what any of them had to say about it. Afia was his.

He pushed past a drunken gentleman who stumbled out of his way as Sam exuberantly made his way to the dance floor. Afia stopped short when she saw who the man was.

“Oh, no! Rayan,” she whispered in fear.

“What?” Sam couldn’t hear her above the music. He leaned in close, and she buried her face in his chest. Afia hurriedly snatched off her hijab to disguise herself, hoping Rayan hadn’t seen her.

“My brother. He’s here,” she whispered in terror.

“What? Where?” He looked around, but the place was too dimly lit to spot a face he had only seen once on a dark night in passing. He clutched Afia by the shoulders and put his arm around her, hiding the hijab that hung from her neck now like a scarf. He knew it had to be causing her intense discomfort to be so uncovered, but he also understood she was trying not to be recognized. “I’ll get you out of here.”

CHAPTER 12

Afia trembled, as she moved step by step with Sam shielding her. They moved toward the exit at a snail’s pace it seemed. There were too many people blocking their path, too many hang-ups along the way. She fought panic, trying not to look back. The door was within sight, and they had barely ten paces to get to it. They would’ve made it.

Except, Bionca spotted them and called out loudly, “Afia! Sam! Where are you guys going? I’m over here!” She waved her hands. Bionca shimmied around in a circle to the music. She was dancing with a sexy shirtless biker, and she didn’t even realize that she had written Afia’s fate.

Rayan’s head lolled forward and snapped back, as he struggled to straighten to his full height. He was leaning against the bar, but at the sound of his sister’s name, he gazed dazedly at Bionca, realized who she was, and followed the direction of her gesticulations. Afia froze on the spot, locking her knees.  

“He sees us.”

“Come on, Afia. We’ll take my bike. We’ll lose him.”

She wanted to scream in frustration and anger at the hopelessness of the situation! No one understood, least of all Sam. There was no running from what was expected. Her only hope was to mitigate the confrontation.

Rayan was drunk. Afia didn’t want to have to deal with her brother in front of the whole biker bar. She pushed past Sam and made her way outside, knowing this time her boyfriend would follow her. She couldn’t run off like the night Rayan had caught them kissing. Sam wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

She briskly walked into the parking lot and waited some distance away from the door of the biker bar. It was only ten-something, and there were revelers still filing into the establishment. Rayan forced his way through the line and stumbled in their direction.

“You don’t have to put up with his bullying, Afia. You don’t have to do anything he says.” Sam’s face was set in a fierce scowl, his fist balled. It would’ve been gallant if not for the fact his stance would definitely add fuel to the fire.  Afia gestured in the negative.

“Sam, I’m fine. I’ll take care of this.”

He breathed heavily, as adrenaline pumped through him. Never one to back down from a fight, he would very gladly put Rayan back in his place if Afia let him. He faced the approaching young man, shoulders squared. Afia put a gentle hand on his wrist, and Sam looked down at her, realizing she was getting upset. He took her hand in his and squeezed. She smiled shakily, gratefully. “I’ve got to diffuse the situation before anything gets out of hand. If you want to help me, stay cool. Do you understand?”

“Afia!” Rayan shouted her name furiously. He stepped closer, feet spread, and steadied himself. Rayan fumed and Sam bristled, but he held himself in check. Afia desperately stepped between the two men who stared at each other with unwavering eyes. She put a hand to Sam’s chest, and he backed down, but Rayan grabbed her by the other hand and pulled her away from Sam.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Sam growled, menacingly.

“Hurt her? I’m trying to keep her safe from the likes of you! You think I don’t know what you’re up to, infidel? I know what you want from my sister, and I won’t stand idly by and let you destroy her rep-reputation,” Rayan slurred. He wiped a thin stream of spittle from his mouth that had escaped with his outburst and pointed a shaky accusatory finger at Afia. “And, you! You gave me your word, you liar. You’ve continued to see him.”

“I haven’t, Rayan. I swear; I have not. We ran into each other here. Rayan, please!” Afia clutched at the collar of her brother’s shirt and tried to drag him away. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. I can explain.”

“Why are you here in the first place? More lies, lies, lies! I will never trust you again,
jende
! Harlot! I should’ve followed my first instinct and made your transgressions known, but no! I gave you the chance to redeem yourself. You are a weak woman and a schemer. This time I
will
tell Maman and Baba…after I teach this insolent
dool
what we do to bastards like him for defiling our women!”

A switchblade materialized in his unsteady hand. Afia let out a sharp sound of stunned disbelief. Rayan breathed through his mouth, appearing more focused the angrier he got. He blinked, and his blurred vision cleared.

“Put down your toy, Rayan. I’m not fighting you,” Sam sighed. Judging by the stench of liquor roiling off the man, Sam could take him out without breaking a sweat. Rayan was drunk, and the alcohol was making him brave but stupid. Sam was twice his size, in better shape and completely sober. Plus, Sam had a pistol in the holster at his hip, a knife in the top of his boots, and brass knuckles in his back pocket. All that was on top of years and years of fist fights and bar brawls. The idiot didn’t stand a chance.

Sam held up his hands and took another step back. “You don’t have a right to control Afia anymore, Rayan. And, how do you get off calling her names but jeer at me as if I’ve disrespected her in some way? How fucking hypocritical. Let her decide. Afia?” His blue eyes flew to her face. She shook her head subtly, and Sam bit back a frustrated retort. He had been about to ask her to choose whether she wanted to come with him or go with her brother, but he saw the decision in her defeated expression.

“Sam, I need to take my brother home. He can’t drive like this.”

As much as it galled him, Sam nodded understanding. Maybe it wasn’t the time. Her brother was clearly in no state for debate or driving. He conceded to Afia’s wisdom on the situation—despite the fact he wanted to break Rayan’s smug face just for the audacity of trying to step to him. That didn’t include what he wanted to do to the man for causing Afia distress.

Rayan chuckled dryly, yanking Afia behind him. She was thrown to the ground by his viciousness. Sam shouted in anger and went to her aid, but Rayan pushed him back. “She’s coming with me, and my retribution will be delivered.” Rayan abruptly lunged forward with the knife. Sam furiously and effortlessly chopped at the man’s wrist and sent the knife flying. In turn, Rayan doubled over, clutching his arm. “Ah!” he gasped in pain.

Resisting the urge to kick him in the gut, Sam knelt beside Afia and swiped her hair back from her face. She was crying silently. The look on her face made his heart clench. Sam shook his head, no longer siding with her decision to let Rayan intentionally or unintentionally control her actions. Let the prick find his own way home.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured, helping her up. “I’m not letting you go with him like this. He’s in no condition to be reasoned with, Afia. Please, take my advice and ride home with Bionca if you don’t want to ride home with me…because I can’t be held accountable for what I might do to him if he hurts you. Come on, love. Let’s get you back inside. You can talk to Rayan in the morning when he’s clearheaded.”

She conceded and started to limp beside him back to the bar entrance. But, Rayan wouldn’t be so easily deterred. He snatched at Afia with his uninjured hand, grabbing her hard by the shoulder and wrenching her from Sam’s handhold. At that moment, The Devil’s Sons exited the club in search of Sam. From their vantage point, to Kaleidoscope, Tokyo, and Brick, it looked like trouble and a good time. Rayan had regained the knife and was holding it threateningly at Afia’s throat. Her face was a mask of shocked confusion.

“Rayan, what are you doing?” she hissed.

“Looka here!” Brick shouted with a rebel yell. “Looks like we got us a fight, boys!”

Quentin and Brick, the biggest of the crew, closed the distance from the door to Sam, coming up to flank their leader as reinforcement. “What’s the problem, Shank? I’m in a problem solving mood.” Q popped his knuckles and flexed his rippling mahogany muscles in a cutoff shirt. He towered over everyone except Brick, and the two of them combined was like staring down a semi and a monster truck.

Kaleidoscope, sexy in red tights and a black t-shirt, strutted forward, a small gun in her hand. She smiled with sultry red lips and added, “
C’est dans mes cordes
. A nice tumble in the dust is right up my alley tonight.  Is this
cacaboudin
fucking with you, baby?”

Rayan took a step back. “If you love her,
bishour
, American idiot, tell your friends to stay out of this. Afia’s coming with me.”

The knife nicked Afia’s throat, and Sam shot forward, but Afia screamed at him to get back. “Alright, alright, Rayan! I’m coming with you! Enough of this!”

Sam gestured for the motorcycle club to stay back. “This isn’t over between us, Rayan,” he promised.

Rayan wrestled Afia to his car, parked near the front of the lot. He pointed to the driver’s side and made her climb in. He slumped into the passenger seat. Sam was grateful for that. At least Rayan wasn’t at the wheel.

He stood behind, helplessly watching the woman he cared about get carted off like property. He could understand her religion and respect her values, but he couldn’t understand that. Sam swore violently, wanting to hit something. He spun away from the scene and marched to his bike after the car drove away. Quentin and the rest of the crew followed.

“What’s going on, Sam?” Brick called after him.

Tokyo ran up beside him, enthusiastic to be a part of something with a little hint of danger. “You gonna follow them?” the biracial youth asked. “We got your back, man. That mothafucka is toast!” Sam shook his head.

“I’m gonna go blow off some steam,” Same said. Kaleidoscope volunteered to ride with him, but he declined. “I need to be alone. You guys hang out without me tonight.”

Quentin parked his booted foot on the rear wheel of the bike and stared at Sam. “Don’t do anything crazy, man,” Quentin warned. “We talked about this. I thought you were letting her go.”

Sam threw a leg over the seat and settled on his Victory Cross Roads. “I tried, Q, but I can’t lie to myself or to you. This shit is personal, separate from the motorcycle club and anything else in my life. Afia is my business. Man to man, if it doesn’t have anything to with The Devil’s Sons from now on, stay out of it.” Quentin pulled back, stung. Then, Sam continued, “And, that goes for all of you. I don’t expect you to come fight this fight for me. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way like that. I can’t shake her. I care about her. So, don’t ask me to choose between the gang and my girl. I’m with you guys til the end, no doubt about it. But, I will have her.”

Q held up his hands and smiled tightly. “It’s your call…I’m going back inside before last call. You guys with me?”

The Devil’s Sons trudged back into the biker bar like the dejected end of a messy breakup, and Sam felt like shit, but what he had said was something that had to be said.

He ripped out of the parking lot, sending up a spray of gravel into the night. He nosed his bike in the direction of the desert. It was the only place he could be alone with his thoughts. Sam still had hope. Afia hadn’t given him any indication she was backing down from renewing their relationship. However, the fact Rayan was aware they were together might throw a monkey-wrench into the plan.

How could loving someone cause so much pain? He gripped the handlebars, feeling conflicted. He was also letting down his crew. It wasn’t like him to put anything, aside from his career, in a place of priority over his friends. He knew he had plugged a hole in Quentin with his request that his friend steer clear of his relationship, but he couldn’t see any other way of keeping them from getting rolled up in the conflict. 

He tore down the road and disappeared in a cloud of dust.  Sam was aware Afia wasn’t exaggerating the hardship they would face to be together. If he had any control of the situation, the gang would have to stay out of it. Boundaries had to be put in place for everyone’s sake.