Wayward Temptation (Wayward Saints MC Book 6) (2 page)

“Who is he?” Striker demands.
 

“Marco Cabrera,” I say quietly.
 

“You’re fucking joking right?” he asks, holding me far enough away that he can look at my face. I shake my head no, and I hear another knock at the door. Butch walks around us, and opens the door. At first I can’t see him, but his voice is rough, and I can only imagine what he looks like. When Striker turns to look at the guy too, he releases me.

Looking over Butch’s shoulder, I see a new face. A face that pretty much takes the breath right out of me with, his dark stare and intense persona. Everything about him screams to run away, but sometimes jumping head into something like that makes the trouble worth it all.
 

He was my biggest temptation, and as hard as we tried to stay away from each other, there was nothing we could do to stop the pull that brought us together.

Chapter One

Being sent down to Sacramento, California, is like a fucking punishment. My old man wanted to teach me a lesson after the last stunt I pulled. I went against his word, ended up making us some extra cash, but he was pissed nonetheless.
 

“Kid, it will be good for you to learn this part of the gig. Dom won’t always be able to get away from the club to handle this shit, and he’ll need you boys to help him out,” my old man says, as I kick a rock with the toe of my boot.
 

“Why the fuck do I have to go help bail their asses out? They got themselves into this shit, they can get their own asses out of it,” I grind out. The last fucking thing I want to do, is spend who the fuck knows how long out there in Sacramento.
 
There ain’t shit to do out there, and I don’t want to go and babysit fuckin’ grown ass men.
 

“Because that is our fuckin’ job. We are the ones that need to make sure all our members are taken care of, and if I need you to go down there and help out, then that’s what you’ll fucking do. Stop trying to fucking argue with me, and just do what I fuckin’ tell you, boy,” Prez grits out.
 

I can tell I’m pissing him off. If I cross the line too far, he won’t be afraid to put my ass back in on the other side of it.
 
He’s done it multiple times to me and my brothers over the years. Grabbing my beer off the bar, I make my way towards my room to pack. The last thing I want to do is go, but I know that I don’t have a choice. -

Typically Brant does this shit, but ever since my sister came back, he’s been attached to her fucking ass. Before I can get to my room, I see Bentley standing in the hallway.
 

“What crawled up your ass?” he snickers.
 

“Fuck you. You know exactly what he’s making me do,” I bite out.

“Yeah, but think of all the new pussy that you haven’t hit yet,” he grins, and I want to punch him.
 

“If you’re so interested in the pussy out there, you fucking go,” I grit out.
 

“You’re up. Plus, I have a few other ideas to keep me warm through the night,” he laughs.
 

Before I can say anything else, I see him run over to catch up with Dom and Brantley. I watch them for a few minutes, and I can’t for the life of me understand why my brothers would want to get shacked up with a bitch. Let alone have kids.
 

Opening my door, I get a stench of stale alcohol, and dirty clothes. Maybe I can con Anslie to come clean my room while I’m gone. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I send her a text asking her to clean up my room for me.

It doesn’t take her long to respond, and I’m pretty sure that’s because Brantley is here and she’s at home with the boys.

Anslie:
Sure, but you’ll owe me a few nights of babysitting.
 

Shaking my head, I write out a reply to her.
 

Me:
Two nights. No more than that. And you clean my bathroom too.

Anslie:
If you’re as bad at aiming as you were when we lived at dad’s no. One week and I’ll clean everything and wash your clothes.

Me:
Fine. Deal. I’ll be gone for a few weeks so you’ll have plenty of time.

Anslie:
Okay. Love you and be safe.

Me:
Love you too little girl.

Instead of waiting for her reply, I grab my bag, and start to stuff it full of the clean clothes I have left. If I need anything else, I’ll have one of their prospects wash them for me. Finishing my beer, I grab my bag, and make my way out of my room and lock it. I go in search of Brant, and hand him an extra key to my room so Anslie can get in there.

“What is this for?” he asks, looking at the key.
 

“You’re ole’ lady is cleaning my room while I’m gone. She needs a key. Can you give it to her?” He shakes his head.
 

“Please tell me she didn’t just volunteer to clean your room?” I shake my head no, and grin.
 

“Naw, she learned better than that living with us. I have a week of babysitting for you guys.” He laughs, and slaps me on the shoulder.
 

“Have a safe ride brother. See you when you get back,” he walks off. I walk out the clubhouse doors, and make my way to my bike. Starting the engine, I feel the rumble of it before I put my duffle and leather jacket in my saddle bags. Once I get everything packed and ready to go, I straddle my girl, and take off without even saying goodbye to anyone.
 

When I hit the outskirts of Las Vegas, I open her up, and fly by the other cars. Feeling the wind on my skin makes the ride worth it, but what I’m about to deal with doesn’t. I hate cleaning up other people’s messes. But I know that if I don’t fucking do it, we are going to lose a big partnership down here.
 

When I finally pull up to the clubhouse seven hours later, I can’t help but be pissed the fuck off. I'm fucking hungry and tired.
 
But I have to find those fuck heads that fucked this shit up, and find out the details before I can relax.
 

Walking into the clubhouse, I see Mac. When he sees me, his scowl turns into a grin, and he makes his way towards me. “How the fuck are you kid?” he asks, slapping my back, and pulling me in for a hug.
 

“I’m good. Pissed that I had to come all this way, but it’s good to fucking see you. It’s been too fucking long,” I slap him on the back, and get down to business. I want to get out of here as soon as I can.
 

“Where are Butch and Striker? I need to find out what happened before I go meet with those bastards in Elk Grove.” He points to a hallway, and tells me the third door on the left.

Making my way down the hall, I see Striker walk into a room, so I follow him. He walks into the room before I reach him, and he closes it behind him. Standing in the doorway, I listen to the conversation before I knock, and let them know I’m here. I’m going to get down to the bottom of this shit, and I don’t care who I have to take down to make sure the reputation of the Saints isn't tainted. My grandfather and father built this fucking club, and I’ll be damned if I let these fucks destroy it.

Knocking on the door, I wait for someone to answer it. When I see Butch standing in the doorway, I’m relieved that I don’t have to go and find the fucker. Striker looks back at me, and I see this dirty blonde staring at me. Her blue eyes dig deep into me, and I swear it’s like she can read my mind. I can barely see her over Butch’s shoulder, but what I can see is turning me the fuck on. She has the girl next-door look, and I’m a sucker for it every damn time.
 

Striker goes to stand in front of her as well, and I tell them that I need to talk to them. “You can play with your little fuck buddy later,” I spit. I see her face scrunch up into a cute little scowl, and I can’t help but wink at her. I’d definitely take that one for a ride, if she wanted.
 

When they both agree, I lead them into their church, and wait for them to take their seats. Striker is the Sergeant at Arms, and a fucking bad ass. Butch on the other hand, is just a member. He doesn’t have any power, and part of me is curious to know why he was involved in this deal anyway. Typically anything gun related is Striker’s forte.
 

“So what the fuck happened on the run?” I grit out.

They look at each other before they look at me. “Same as every other time,” Striker says. “We got there on time with the money, and they never showed. Then those fuckers called, and told Prez that we didn’t hold up to our end of the bargain,” he puts his hands on the table, and I can’t figure out what he’s trying to do.
 

“They never showed?” I ask, watching Butch. If I’m going to figure out if they are lying, then he’s my best bet. He isn’t used to being on the hot seat, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it my all to find out the truth.

“No. We waited for two hours, and nothing. We came back here, and told Prez what happened. He told us that he would find out what happened,” Butch stutters out.
 

I wonder what is making him so fucking nervous right now. Watching him, I can see his eye twitch, and I know for sure he isn’t telling me the whole truth. “You got somewhere else you rather be?” I yell, slamming my hands on the table.
 

Both of their heads look up, and I see the fear in Butch’s eyes. Striker doesn’t really seem affected, but I have a feeling that he’s just trying to protect his friend here.
 

“Butch, you’re dismissed. I need to talk to Striker alone.” He looks over at Striker, and Striker nods his head, letting him know it's okay to leave the room.
 

When the door closes, I turn my attention to Striker. “Who’s the bitch?” I can see the anger cross his features. He almost looks like he wants to say something, but he thinks better of it. “It’s Butch’s sister. She’s in some trouble, and I’m going to help get her out of it.” He doesn’t give me any more details, and I have a feeling he’s got a thing for her.
 

“She your ole’ lady?” I ask, watching him for any tale.
 

“Naw. We had a thing long time ago, but that ship sailed along ago.” He almost looks sad that things with her ended, and as much as I want to call him a pussy, I don’t. I see the way my brothers are with their ole’ ladies. I’m sure if I found the right one, I would lay down my life for them. Hell, I watched Brantley already do it for my sister. That stupid fuck.
 

“Why didn’t the deal go down as planned?” I tap my fingers on the table, as I wait for an answer.
 

“Don’t know. We were ready, but they never showed. We did everything the same way we always do, and nothing.” I nod my head, but I still don't think he's telling the truth.

“Bring the girl in here. I want to talk to her.” Striker goes to say something, but one look, and he stops himself.
 

Chapter Two