23 hours sacred sinners.., p.1
23 Hours (Sacred Sinners MC- Mother Chapter Book 1), page 1
23 HOURS
SACRED SINNERS MOTHER CHAPTER
BINK CUMMINGS
THE SACRED SINNERS MOTHER CHAPTER
23 HOURS
Ebook Edition
Copyright © 2019/2023: Bink Cummings
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contact the Author:
Email: BinkCummings@yahoo.com
Editor: Mary Sittu-Kern
Cover Model: Alfie Gordillo
Photographer: Reggie Deanching
Cover Designer: Bink Cummings
CONTENTS
Author Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Playlist
Social Media
Also by Bink Cummings
For my readers, my true Sacred Sisters, who’ve been with me through it all. From loss to happiness and everything in between. So many of you have been there to lend an ear, give support, and show your love. I appreciate you for sticking it out and believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. This book, Gunz’s book, is for you. I hope you love it.
AUTHOR NOTE
This page is for those who need access to possible reading triggers. If you have none, please skip this page.
This book contains the following elements in varying degrees.
Rape.
Sex Trafficking.
Suicide.
Murder.
Cheating (mild).
Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse.
CHAPTER ONE
A string of blood splatters across the toe of my leather boot. An old grease rag that’s been promoted to a gag muffles a shriek of agony. The head of a hammer clinks against the concrete as it lands on the floor of our shed, an omen of what’s to come.
Welcome to the party.
I’m Gunz, your chaperone this fucked-up evening… the sergeant-at-arms of the Sacred Sinners MC, mother chapter. Ya know, the home of where it all began.
Before I break you in, we need to go over a few ground rules.
One—don’t fuck with the Sacred Sinners. Two—if you neglect rule number one, your ass gets strung up naked in the middle of our prez’s fun zone—the place men get taught lessons the hard way.
Pretty damn sure you don’t want that now, do ya?
Three—Prez’s old lady is off-limits.
Her name’s Bink.
She’s ours.
The daughter I never had.
If you haven’t met her yet, she’s the short, big-breasted blonde ‘round these parts, who makes our lives run smoothly on the SS compound. She’s also the mother to my grandbaby, Leech, whose first birthday is just around the corner. You touch either of ‘em and you become worm food, no questions asked. Capiche?
Reaching into my cut, I extract a root beer Dum Dum and pop the sweetness into my maw before tucking both arms across my chest. With my back propped against the wooden wall, I watch Big Dick, our six-foot-eight, long-haired, bare-chested national prez, lose his last shred of sanity. If it were any other day, I’d stop him. Hell, I’d step in to take care of what needs done. Today’s not that day.
“You think you can come to my home and fuck with my family!” Upper lip curled over his teeth, Big’s fist slams into the skinny captive’s stomach. He’s been working him over for hours—breaking bones, making him bleed—reveling in his cries for mercy.
Happy to watch the torture unfold, I smile around my sucker stick. It’s better this way. Someone’s gotta pay.
“You think you can take away my old lady’s innocence and there won’t be consequences? Make her kill people! You think I’m a pussy? That I won’t retaliate? You’re gonna die. Your prissy-bitch friends are gonna die. I’m gonna kill every last one of you motherfuckers!” Each sentence is punctuated with the beautiful thud of fist meeting flesh. Air is torn from the man’s body. His knees buckle, leaving his over-stretched arms to support his weight as Big pummels his torso, turning his innards to soup.
We’re at war, if that much isn’t clear. Ground zero for the latest attack. The first we’ve had here in close to thirty years. Big’s taking it personally, as he should. We all are.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, a crew was sent to take us out by the infamous Remy Whitaker, sex trafficker extraordinaire, a sicko we’ve had beef with for ages. We’ve got ourselves an assassin on the side who takes his brand of disgusting off the streets and frees his merchandise. Remy ain’t keen on us fucking with his business, and we’re not down with the sex trade. Seems we’re at an impasse. A bloody one that’ll end one of two ways—us dead, and there’s a fuckton of Sacred Sinners, or him and his crew buried six feet under. I’ll let ya guess which one we’re bankin’ on.
Somebody pounds on the shed door from outside. It bounces on its hinges. “We good in there?” It’s Kai, the new VP of our chapter. We added the oversized blond to our local brotherhood ‘bout a month ago. He might be green here, but he’s been running with the SS for half a decade. Before that, he was special ops in the Army. Real hardcore, classified shit. Stuff nobody’s supposed to know about… besides me, ’cause I can find anything on the web, dark or otherwise. You wanna know about the bitch your husband’s been texting? I’ll find out in thirty seconds. Think I’m joking? Does it look like I’m laughing? Give me a day, and I could corrupt the entire US military system. Forty-eight hours and I could sell nuke launch codes to the highest bidder. It’s a good thing I’m a goddamn patriot. Some would use the term hacker. I call myself a tech guy, ’cause I go beyond the coding, hacker crap anybody with half a brain could do in their brother’s bug-infested basement.
“Yep,” I reply to Kai ’cause Big’s too busy unleashing his rage to answer. Sweat glistens across his blood-splattered skin. For what these assholes did to our Bink, there’ll be hell to pay. Lucky for us, we’ve got two more of these bastards locked in the clubhouse basement whenever Big’s gotten his fill with this bitch.
“You need anything?” Kai double knocks on the door, makin’ sure we’re straight.
“Kai! You talkin’ to Gunz?!” a brother hollers over loud rock music. It’s coming from inside the clubhouse, through the shattered front doors they’re workin’ on fixing. Lots of glass and debris to clean up after last night’s shootout. We’re lucky nobody got dead on our side.
“Yeah, why?” Kai replies.
“Is Big in there, too?” Ah. I recognize that voice. It’s Malcolm, the prospect.
Side-eyeing Big, I wait for my brothers to work out whatever needs to be handled on their end.
“Yes,” comes from Kai.
“One prisoner wants a word,” our prospect explains.
’Course they do. Bet I know what they want.
Our new VP ain’t happy with the news when his usual laid-back tone lowers to a growl. “A word of what?”
Bein’ new and all, there’s no need for him to get mixed up in that shit. Not yet, anyhow, considerin’ he’s got a torso full of bruises. The idiot got himself shot half a dozen times yesterday. Good thing he was strapped with a vest. “I’ll handle it, Kai. Just give me a minute!” I holler, then turn to the big guy, checkin’ to see if he’s worn out yet, or able to talk. By the firm set of Big’s jaw and determination cast like granite in those blue eyes, I’d say he ain’t stoppin’ before sunrise. A bloody evening it shall be.
Take all the time ya need, brother—all the time.
When our VP doesn’t respond, I check to see if he’s left to deal with the fuckers. “Hey, Kai, you still out there?”
“Yeah.”
I push off the wall and tidy up the floor with a random rag. Bi
“Keep an eye on wh—”
Not in the mood for questions, I cut him off. “Clean up his messes, keep Bink out, make sure he drinks water… shit like that.” Double checkin’ the place is half presentable, I skim over the shed, bypassing Big’s form and the fresh blood beneath our captive’s feet. It runs down his legs in rivulets, thanks to the small holes Big inflicted. Kai hasn’t been in here yet. Might as well give the man a good first impression. Torture has a way of making even the strongest men queasy. Let’s hope Kai’s military background has toughened his gut.
Satisfied with the presentation, I flip the eye-in-hook lock open and kick the door wide on its hinges for Kai to get his ass inside so I can handle the men in the basement. I gotta check on Niki anyhow, my favorite club whore. She’s in my room. Been there a while and is probably pissed at me for making her wait so long for dick.
Liftin’ my chin at Prez, I gesture to our VP. Not that Big’s payin’ a lick of attention. He’s too busy snarling at the hanging cunt. “Big, Kai’s gonna stay here. You get tired or need somethin’, ask him.” Bet he didn’t hear a damn thing I said.
I look at Kai. Gaze meets gaze, so he knows I mean business. This ain’t a joke or some immature game. “If he starts to act weird or anything, you call me or get him to bed. No matter what comes outta his mouth, you don’t take him home tonight. He can sleep in his bed in the clubhouse. Got it?” Almost all of us brothers got our own houses in the back half of our compound, plus rooms at the clubhouse. For you newbs, I’ll explain the finer details later. Ain’t got time for that now.
Kai glances around me to eye Big and frowns. “Can’t he make his own choices?”
What did I just say?
“No.” I lay a hand on Kai’s shoulder and squeeze, hopin’ to imbue some sorta brotherly wisdom. “You’ll learn this real quick. When Big gets in this mode…” I gesture to my best friend with a head tilt. “Where all he wants to do is kill, especially for his old lady, he’s gonna need to wind down. If not, he’ll worry her more by smotherin’ her, and she don’t need that.”
Sometimes you gotta handle our prez with kid gloves. Ya stand back and watch him do his thing, violent or otherwise, and clean up the mess when he’s through. Sometimes, you gotta step in and save him from himself. That’s what brothers do.
Kai offers a single nod. “What I gotta do, then?”
“You take him to his room without his phone. Make him drink water. Get him into the shower and wait for him to finish. Then put him to bed. Club whores are always sniffin’ ‘round, so you gotta post someone outside his door, or one’ll end up in his bed.”
One of Kai’s brows arches to his hairline. “Doesn’t his door lock?”
Smartass.
I punch him in the shoulder, my eyes rolling. “Yes, genius. But there are keys, and bitches have their ways of gettin’ what they want. You know how it goes.”
Pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down, Kai nods again. “Yeah. Just didn’t think they’d be so stupid.” A hand drags through his long locks.
“They are.” All of ‘em wanna piece of Prez, even more so now that he’s with Bink. The behind-the-scenes club whore stories Niki tells me are hilarious. Big finds them amusing, too. We won’t tell Bink about ‘em, though. Don’t want her any more pissed than necessary.
“Right. Think I got it.”
“You’d better. Later.” Delivering a final thump to Kai’s shoulder, I exit the shed. It sits behind the brick clubhouse. Our treasurer, Blimp, is pissing in the blackened firepit as I pass by. We exchange chin lifts as I head to the only door out back—a steel-enforced fucker that opens into a rear hallway of the clubhouse where the bedrooms are.
Malcolm’s waitin’ on me inside, wearing his signature cowboy hat. The man used to be a drug dealer. Now he rolls with us. Sometime, in the next century, when Big gets over his snit, Mal will become a full-fledged brother. Until then, he’s our bitch.
“Lead the way.” I follow Mal through the halls lined with closed doors—each belonging to a brother. We’ve also got ourselves an infirmary and three offices—one for Big, one for our VP, and the other’s mine.
Passing Mickey, he lifts a hand in greeting as his shadow, Gypsy, carries two overflowing plates of food behind him. They’re probably going back to their bedroom for dinner. When we brought Malcolm on, we needed the extra space. Since they already housed together, sharing a room wasn’t a big deal. Mickey’s real fucked in the head. Got himself an eviler sexual deviant livin’ in that skull of his than I do. Gypsy’s his anchor. Been that way for years. That’s why we don’t make ‘em go anywhere without the other.
I greet them with a shallow nod as Malcolm reaches the far door that leads to the basement. Catching up, I gesture for him to stay here while I take my time descending the steps. Every thud of my boot heel hitting an old wooden step sends an omnipotent echo through the hellhole, alerting the prisoners of my presence. This ain’t a place you wanna be strung up.
In the center of the old, dimly lit room are two naked men. The twenty-something, skinny bastard has a bullet hole through his side that we didn’t bother stitching up. It still oozes blood. His eyes are closed, his body swaying on piss-covered feet. The ancient, fat fucker beside him stares straight at me. Those deep-set brown eyes shoot venom with little effort. There’s no doubt about it, this is the one who wanted to talk. His comrade’s too busy dying to ask for anything but a bullet through the brain to ease his passing.
I stop close enough to feel the surge of anger from the big, hairy asshole. He’s larger than me in both size and height. Got more hair than I do, too. Not that it takes much. I’m bald. My beard’s better, though. More kempt, less gangly. Not like any of that matters. I’m biding time, waiting for him to speak first. I’ve got all day.
Seconds twist into minutes as we stare the other down.
Bullet Boy moans in pain, and I crack a closed smile, chewing on my empty sucker stick.
Fatty growls low in his throat, not liking my response.
Seems this dipshit doesn’t know who I am. He must’ve expected Big to come barreling down here and fuck him up. Guess it’s a good thing I’m a patient man. Always have been.
Tossing the stick on the floor, I pull another Dum Dum from my pocket, remove the waxy wrapper, ball it between my fingertips, and toss it at the man’s feet, hitting a yellow toenail.
His nostrils flare, and his lips thin into an unpleasant line. Somewhere under that fat, his jaw might be set. Who knows?
’Cause I’m a dick, I smile at him, then wink, savoring the delicious mouthful of peach. It’s that or light a cigarette, and I haven’t smoked in God knows how long. Twenty years? Twenty-five? Shit, I can’t remember the last time. The urge still lingers. That’s what ya get when your mother got you and your brother hooked on nicotine even before you were a teenager—another long story.
Biding time, I check my phone for any messages I might’ve missed. He’ll crack eventually.
Niki: Where the fuck are you?
Head shaking in amusement, I chuckle to myself, hearing her voice inside my head jump a dozen octaves. Niki can be demanding when she doesn’t get her way. I think I spoil her too much. Can’t help it. I’ve got a soft spot for her. She gives me sex the way I want it, whenever I want it, without the added complication of a relationship. ’Cause I don’t do romantic entanglements. Haven’t in my fifty-plus years on this earth. Won’t do it in death, either.
