MC Sinners Boxed Set #1-7

~PRESENT~

I tuck my dark brown hair behind my ears, and lift my sunglasses to stare at the large three-story house, surrounded by barbed wire, that’s situated right on the side of the highway. This is the address I was given. Apparently, this is where my father spends most of his time. I see a lineup of shiny Harley Davidson’s out the front, all sitting together like they’ve been perfectly placed. I can hear music booming from the large, red-brick home that looks like it’s seen better days. Is that a smashed window? This should be fun. I walk to the gate and rattle it – padlocked – of course it is. I look to my left and see a bundle of old stacked pallets. Grinning, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and saunter over.

When I reach the pallets, I climb on top of them and grip the fence with one hand, using the pole beside it to hoist myself over. I end up in the dust, on my ass, but completely proud of my breaking and entering efforts. After I pull myself to my feet, and dust off the light brown specks of dirt covering my jeans, I walk towards the large house. When I get to the oversized front door, I knock loudly, but nobody answers. Giving up on the house, I walk around the side until I find an old shed that voices are trailing out of. When I get close enough, I see a small door to the left. Taking a deep breath, I walk over and grip the metal handle, opening it.

When I step inside, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to my surroundings. When I am able to focus more clearly, I turn my gaze to four men sitting around a wooden table. Two are smoking, all are drinking beer. One of the men stands as soon as he lays eyes on me, and I realize as he begins walking towards me, that he’s my father. I know because I see myself in his face, and I quickly realize where I got my dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. He’s tall and muscular. I’m tiny and petite – that seems to be the only difference between us. His arms are covered in tattoos and his dark hair is tied in a long braid that hangs over his shoulder. He also has a well-groomed goatee covering his top lip and his mouth.

I’m not sure what I expected when I saw my dad again. I don’t remember him, so I had no idea what it was I actually thought would come from this moment. I guess knowing he is a biker, I expected a fat, ugly, smelly man with a beer belly. Not the handsome, well-groomed man sauntering towards me. My mother, God bless her trashy heart, had such poor taste in men that I have to wonder how she snagged him. I am sure my mother was once beautiful, but all I remember was the scraggly haired woman with rotting teeth and a foul temper.

“Addison?”

My father’s voice is husky, deep and...well...fatherly. I’m pissed at him though, I mean, how can I not be? He never tried to contact me. He never tried to see me. He never made an effort to pull me from the life I was stuck in. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. He left me to live in hell. He doesn’t know what my life was like, with those men she used to bring home. The dealers, the junkies, the trash off the streets. His life...the biker life...would have been a damned walk in the park. When he stops in front of me, I meet his gaze. For a moment, we just stare at each other, taking each other in, figuring out what we can say.

“Jackson,” I say. It’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His mouth twitches. Did he really expect I’d call him Dad?

“You look just like your momma,” he breathes as he takes me in.

My eyes widen and I feel a pinch deep in my chest. Forcing the feeling away, I cross my arms and snap, “That’s an insult, you do know that right?”

He tilts his head to the side, and his gaze narrows. “How so?”

I ignore him, I refuse to spell it out for him. Instead, I turn, looking around the large shed. “This is your life, huh? Very...interesting. Where’s my room?”

“How’d you get in?” he asks.

I raise my brows at him. “Jumped the fence. My room?”

“This your girl, Jacks?”

I turn to see an older man with a bushy grey beard and steely-colored eyes staring down at me with an almost sexual look on his face, yuck. I give him my best ‘if you look at me like that again, I’ll punch you’ smile, and turn back to my father.

“You jumped the fence?” he says, completely shocked.

“Girl’s got guts, jumpin’ the fence into a biker’s lot,” Old grey says.

I spin back around to give him another glare, and that’s when I notice him . It’s surprising that I missed him, because he’s sitting there, looking utterly perfect in his black jeans, black shirt and black leather vest. He has the face of a dark angel. Dark messy hair, green eyes so emerald they’re piercing, and a set of lips that, well, are downright kissable. He has a piercing in the lower left corner of his bottom lip as well as two in his ear. I let my gaze travel down his body, thick silver chain around his neck, tattooed arms, thick skull rings on his fingers, and some swanky black boots with silver chains on them. He also has a chain hanging from his jeans. The man likes chains.

“I have to agree with you, Curly,” he drawls in a voice so deep and husky, my panties become soaked in seconds thinking about how sexy that voice would sound while he was fucking a girl senseless. “Girl is brave jumpin’ into a biker’s lot.”

I tilt my head to the side and give him a curious look. “Why is that?”

He grins, showing me two perfect dimples in his cheeks. He stands, walking over. I see the patches on his vest now, one that says Vice President and a few other stand out patches that he’s earned over the years. I can now see the other man sitting at the table, with his back to me. He has a large patch of a bike surrounded in flames with big, bold letters saying “Hell’s Knights”. That must be the club name! Very original. When hot stuff stops in front of me, and lets his gaze rake me, I do the same, letting my gaze rake him. What is it about men, that makes them think they can check out a woman openly, but she’s expected not to do the same? Well, news flash, this little black duck does not follow rules, in fact, she likes to break all those rules.

“I told you to call me,” Jackson says, stepping in front of me and forcing hot stuff to step back.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Jackson, but I don’t need your help.”

“Funny that, ‘coz you’re here and we don’t let many girls in our compound, so you must need some help,” hot stuff says from behind Jackson.

I step around Jackson and glare at him. “Fine, give me some money, and I’ll leave. I certainly have better things to do then stand here with a bunch of scummy bikers.”

Hot stuff smirks, crossing his large arms over his chest. “Girls’ got an awful big mouth, Jacks, best you put her in her place...”

“In my place?” I growl, crossing my arms too. “What am I? Some sort of dog?”

“If that’s what you want to be, sugar, then so be it.”

“You mother fucking...”

“Enough!” Jackson yells. “Addison, Cade, enough.”

Cade, that’s his name? Well, it’s a sucky name. I turn to Jackson and give him a look.

“Where can I stay, if I can’t stay here?”

“You can’t stay here, it’s the rules. I have a house just down the road. It has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, enough for you to have your own space. I’m hardly there, so it should do you for now.”

For now. Why does that tug something deep down inside me?

I shift my backpack and nod. “Where can I find it?”

“Not safe for a girl walkin’ round here alone,” Cade drawls.

“I can take care of myself,” I retort.

“What’s a little girl like you gonna do to a big man on a bike if he tries to have a little bump and grind with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cade,” Jackson growls. Ha! My old man has some fire.

“Can you tell me how to get there, or not?” I say, glaring at Cade.

“Out the gate, to the left, number ten. It’s about a five-minute walk,” Jackson answers for Cade, thrusting some keys at me and not once moving his eyes from mine.

“Thanks, I’ll be on my way. I won’t be staying long. I just need to earn some money and then I’ll leave.”

“You need a job, girly?” Old grey asks.

“Yes, I do.”

“We got one goin’ at the bar, here at the compound.”

“No,” Jackson says. “She ain’t workin’ there.”

“Why not?” I say, crossing my arms.

“You’re too young.”

“I’m twenty-one, and last time I checked that is the legal age.”

“You don’t need to be put in front of a bunch of drunk, dirty old men lookin’ for a fuckin’ bang.”

I raise my brow. “I’ve dealt with far worse.”

“Oh yeah, sugar, like what?” Cade drawls.

I turn towards him. “Like pimps, drug dealers, junkies, and there were always the men that tried to rape me in my sleep because my mother had brought them home for a good time, but she passed out from whatever high she was on, and of course, they weren’t leaving until they got what they were promised. You learn real quick how to defend yourself when you’re thirteen and a forty-year-old junkie tries to climb into your bed and put his fingers in places his fingers shouldn’t be.”

“What. The. Fuck?” Jackson snarls.

I turn towards him. “You didn’t think my mother raised me in a nice neighborhood with rainbows and lollipops, did you?”

He looks shocked. The big, bad-ass biker looks shocked. “Yeah, I fuckin’ did.”

“Well, she didn’t.”

When I glance back at Cade, he’s watching me with a look I don’t quite understand. Is that...pain? He blinks a few times and the smirk returns.

“I say give her the job, make her put her money where her mouth is.”

“No,” Jackson snaps.

“Aww, come on boss,” Old grey says. “We need a girl.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Well, least you can keep an eye on her if she’s in the compound.”

Jackson sighs, and then turns to me. “Fine, we’ll give you a run.”

“Good,” I say walking towards the door. “Later.”

“Oh and Addison?” Jackson calls.

I glance over my shoulder at him.

“Ever disrespect me in my club again, I’ll punish you. Your Momma might have let you get away with that behavior because she was clearly a worthless piece of shit, but I ain’t. Don’t fuckin’ speak to me like that again.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You’re a bit late to play daddy now, Jackson. In fact, I am pretty sure you lost that chance the day I turned thirteen and got raped by a man nearly three times my age.”

I walk out to the sound of his strangled gasp. I hold my head high though; I have to take care of myself. Feeling means losing, and I can’t lose. My mother might have fucked up my life when I was younger, but it doesn’t mean I have to live like that forever. I’m free now, and I plan on doing everything I can to fight for the life I know I deserve.