Original Sin (Dark Saints Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read online

  It was why he'd never know anything of tonight.

  Following the pounding base of one of her favorite dance beats, Vicky made her way down the boulevard, joining the long line to get into Inferno, one of the most popular clubs on the strip. She'd been several times in the past month and, though Darren didn't know it, his name had saved her the long wait to get in more than a few times.

  “Hey, Vicky!”

  It was about to do so again.

  Spotting her at the back of the line, Li—the bouncer and a friendly face—motioned her forward, much to the annoyance of the fifty other people standing in line. With her sweetest apologetic smile, Vicky slid past them all to hug the burly Asian man warmly. “How's Darren doing tonight?”

  Though she knew that it was partly her charm and good looks that got her past the front door, she also knew that every business owner in Hollywood feared pissing off her brother—and for good reason.

  “He's fine.” Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Getting into trouble as usual.”

  No doubt most would cringe if they knew how much.

  “Well, we're always happy to make sure his sister is comfortable.” With that, Li opened the door for her, brown eyes twinkling with a warmth he usually hid when keeping the rabble from breaking out of line.

  With a nod of thanks, Vicky swept past him and into the ethereal interior of the club.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Inferno was lit by a combination of orange, red, and violet tinged black lights that flickered and made the entire space look like it was aflame. This, coupled with black chandeliers, plush leather seating, and a ten meter long bar built completely of onyx, added to the club's allure.

  Swaying her hips back and forth to the intoxicating rhythm of the music, Vicky made her way through the packed space carefully. Her first stop was the bar to obtain a double whiskey. There were few things in life that drove her to drink; but, at the top of them was her brother's possessive attitude and terrifying temper.

  As she took the first sip, Vicky felt the liquor burn its way down her gullet to pool in her stomach, warm and welcome. Her lips curving in satisfaction, she took a seat at the bar and surveyed the rest of the club.

  Though it was only Thursday, throngs of people her age were out in full force. A large number of girls ground away on the dance floor to Beyoncé—while their boyfriends and admirers watched salaciously from afar. Vicky had also attracted her own group of on-lookers, most of whom observed her in a manner that was all but discreet from different parts of the bar.

  As she sipped her drink, she pondered her intentions for the night.

  First and foremost, she wanted to strip all thoughts of her incorrigible brother from her mind. Though Darren had protected her for as long as she could remember, he was also headstrong and impulsive. It was surprising—the same actions that would have exasperated her won him acclaim from his fellow MC members in the Saints.

  When Darren had joined, they'd only been kids.

  She remembered working at an In-N-Out Burger and as a babysitter for some rich high-rise family; yet, they still barely had the money to make ends meet. Darren had come home to their exceptionally shitty apartment one day—all of twenty years old—and had announced that he had the answer to all their problems.

  But, he couldn't tell her what it was.

  And so, for months, despite the discomfort it had given her, Vicky had watched him disappear every day, all day. She assumed that he had gotten some secret high-profile job. However, with the piles of raw cash he'd brought home, part of her eventually suspected he was doing something unlawful. By the time she'd realized how deep Darren had worked his way into the Saints, she could only watch as he rose through the ranks.

  Drug pushing, hits, gang violence, and corruption—the Saints had their hands in it all. Since the 1980s, they had run LA from a comfortable throne of infamy, cushioned by silver-tongued attorneys and well-paid cops who never let them take the fall. Though their numbers had originally been small, the Saints now had more than three hundred members. At their head sat her stubborn, single-minded, terrifying brother.

  She'd never know how he'd done it. He'd joined the Saints with a few dollars in his pocket and little more than his reckless nature to his name. Of course, his shady past had garnered its fair share of curiosity. Plus, other members had quickly learned not to incur his wrath, lest they end up on the ground or, worse yet, six feet under it.

  It was astounding to think of how quickly Darren was ready to commit murder. Starting with the two men who'd invaded their house in the suburbs as children to petty robbers and those who told him little white lies—the man was ruthless. That alone was probably why he was so feared and respected, as well as a major impetus behind how he'd become leader of the Dark Saints at the tender age of twenty-eight.

  Vicky knew that there was some part of her that should be proud. Her brother protected her and took her from a dangerous situation. He supported them both when they should have been sleeping under a secure roof and worrying solely about their next exam in school. It was because of him that she was alive—that she couldn't dispute.

  But at what cost?

  Now, he was out with his brothers, making God knows what kind of a deal with whoever the customer was and slinging a massive amount of coke.

  He was walking a short path to a deep grave.

  As Vicky gazed around at the Inferno's patrons, she saw all ages, shapes, sizes and colors, and she envied them. They had probably been born and raised in Hollywood, never knowing the hardships of moving from empty house to empty house, working two jobs to make ends meet, and learning more of the real world at ten than most people knew at thirty.

  She could put up a pretty front, smiling and laughing as she danced and drank all night; but, ultimately, she would have to wake up the next morning and deal with Darren and his unpredictable temper.

  Sighing, she emptied her glass and immediately ordered another. As the bartender slid it to her, another of the songs she'd grown to love started up and filled the club with its fluid rhythm. Her eyes roving over each and every man who watched her, Vicky rose from her seat at the bar and carried her drink with her as she wove her way through her fellow young bloods in the crowd. In minutes, she had reached the glowing crystalline dance floor.

  Beginning to undulate her body to the beat of the music, Vicky worked her way to the very center of the space. For the moment, she didn't care whose sweat mingled with her own, whose hands roved over her ass, or who gestured obscenely to her. She ignored them all, closed her eyes, and just focused on moving.

  As she gyrated her hips and shoulders, she felt what seemed like half of the eyes in the Inferno on her; but, when she opened her eyes, she only saw a single pair, glittering in the low light. Seven or eight meters away, past the edge of the dance floor, one of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen sat alone in one of the booths that lined the club.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The man was tall—incredibly tall— and his long, broad form folded into the velour seating area. Unlike the rest of the affluent young people surrounding her, this man wore no sleekly pressed slacks and silvery button-up—nor did he sport a five-hundred-dollar-suit. His long legs were poured into dark, weathered blue jeans, and a clean, simple white t-shirt was stretched over a broad chest. Over it, he wore a new leather jacket that looked as soft as butter. However, it was his eyes that caught her attention first. They were intense and green, and they were focused on her with such heat that she felt a rapacious desire spring to life in her lower belly.

  Around those eyes was an angular face with a nose that looked as if it had been broken its fair share of times. He had a strong jaw with a day's worth of dark stubble and a careless crop of rich, dark-brown waves brushed back from a wide brow. The man's mouth was sensuous and full, and upon registering that she was staring back at him just as relentlessly as he at her, it quirked slightly in amusement before he looked away.

  Intrigued, Vicky arched a brow as
her body stilled.

  A look that practically screamed molten lust and then...nothing?

  She could only take it as a challenge.

  Straightening her dress slightly, she smoothed her fingers through her up-do before gulping down the rest of her drink. She set the glass on an empty table as she passed, stepping up from the dance floor to stop right before the propped up feet of her mysterious and confusing stranger.

  Up close, he was even more devastating than she'd previously thought. She took a moment to take him in from head-to-toe, even as he looked up at her in return, arching a brow. “Can I help you?”

  Leaning against the edge of the booth, Vicky simply cast him a small smile. “I dunno, can you?”

  Chuckling, he shifted and put his feet down to allow her to enter the booth. Despite the intensity with which he'd gazed at her before, he now appeared only politely interested. He was planning on playing hard to get, she was certain.

  If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was strip a man of any preconceived notions of playing coy. It wasn't a behavior she often saw in the men she pursued, but when it did crop up, she nipped it in the bud—and fast. “Saw you watching me.” She ventured, jerking her head backward toward the dance floor. “Looking for a free show? You're not exactly dressed to impress.”

  “What, you don't like my jacket?” he asked, as the rich, deep tone of his voice washed over her. Despite its low volume, it seemed to drown out the music and the crowd; and, for moment, she was transfixed. “I'm pretty proud of it.”

  “The jacket's fine.” Leaning back against the plush seat, Vicky's lips curved slightly. “But it's hardly fitting for a place like this. The Inferno is all about class, style…”

  “Bullshit bourgeois?”

  Vicky couldn't help but laugh at his unadulterated interjection. The man was so out of place and so brash…he reminded her slightly of her brother. However, Darren wouldn't even know how to pronounce a word like bourgeois. “Yeah…something like that.”

  “And you would be…some hot Hollywood honey looking for some action, I'm guessing?”

  Vicky rolled her eyes. If only he knew how very wrong he was. However, it wasn't her place to tell him. It wasn't his business and never would be. What was his business was that she was about to work her way past his defenses. “Less so than you'd think.” Signaling to a passing waitress, she ordered two more double whiskeys, much to her new companion's chagrin.

  “Both those for you, heavyweight?”

  “No.” Crossing her legs almost primly, Vicky fixed him with a challenging look. “One's for you. That's if you're man enough.”

  Like lightning, the man was upright and indignant. “You questioning my drinking threshold?”

  “Well, anyone who's scared of a slip of a girl on the dance floor wouldn't hold his liquor very well, I'd imagine.”

  “Scared?” His expression incredulous, he laughed and shook his head. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

  “Well, there's the fact that you can hardly look me in the eye for more than a minute for starters.” Just when she thought she might have him, he'd break eye contact, glancing around the club or down at his restless fingers on the table in front of him. However, at her accusation, his fingers finally stilled, and he graced her with a look that was the straightest he'd given since she'd sat down.

  “You want to know why I don't stare at you?”

  This ought to be good.

  As their drinks arrived, Vicky took both of them and set them in front of her obtrusively. “Do tell.”

  For a moment, his intense green gaze perused her from the top of her head to her stiletto clad feet and warmth pooled in her belly at his attention. When his eyes met hers again, they didn't waver. “Women like you are dangerous.” Reaching out, he plucked one of the half-full glasses from in front of her and downed the entire thing in one swallow. Placing the glass mouth-down on the table, he sat back once more, all cool allure. “And I'm smart enough to know it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the dim light of the club, Vicky gave no indication that he'd drawn any reaction from her. Instead, she merely feigned surprise. “Dangerous? Me? I'm half your size.” She sipped at her own drink, relishing the warm buzz settling in.

  “And beautiful…and obviously smart. A quite lethal combination.”

  A chuckle escaped her at his assessment. Around them, couples locked in heated embraces, lithe bodies ground against one another, and the music continued to pound; but, Vicky heard none of this. When she was on the hunt, she became single-minded. “Yet, you're still sitting here. If I were going to poison your drink, I would have done it already.”

  “No…” He appeared to muse for a moment, withdrawing a cigarette from the front pocket of his jacket to light up in a smooth motion. He took a deep drag before blowing smoke to settle above them in a hazy cloud. “A woman like you wouldn't use poison.”

  This one was interesting.

  Intrigued, Vicky leaned forward. “How would I do it, then?”

  Raising his hand to catch the waitress, he ordered two more double whiskeys. In response, the waitress arched her brow at them both. Vicky only gave her a winning grin, waiting with bated breath for her to move away so they could continue to discuss how she would murder her new companion.

  “Probably with a knife in the gut, face-to-face.” He considered her as he continued to puff away on his cigarette. “Poison is a coward's weapon. I can't see you being coward.”

  Vicky only laughed in amusement. “You don't know anything about me.”

  He smirked. “I know that you still came over here despite the fact that I broke our connection.”

  Connection? Connection?

  Forget being coy. This guy was one cocky son of a bitch. “Let's just say I took it as a challenge.”

  His green eyes glittered in intrigue, as he said, “My point exactly.”

  The second round of drinks came, and unwilling to let herself fall behind, Vicky swallowed the rest of her third glass with relish before stealing one of his—not unlike he'd done to her only moments before.

  It went on that way for a while. A couple of hours passed, patrons passing in and out of the club with frequency as they traded banter and went drink for drink. By her seventh, Vicky was well and truly toasted; but, she kept going, refusing to let this guy—whoever he was—get the best her. Sure, he was gorgeous; but, as they talked, she realized that he also had a keen wit and even sharper tongue. It was refreshing.

  She might not be the most upwardly mobile of the patrons at Inferno, but she could appreciate class in a man. Although class wasn’t an attribute she'd been overly strict about in her previous conquests, she was thoroughly intrigued.

  “So,” he said, slurring slightly. The green-eyed man finally began to question her on more personal subjects. By that point, the club had emptied apart from the most hardcore partiers—of which there were still at least twenty or thirty. As they went through the motions of their insane antics on the dance floor, Vicky only eyed her companion suspiciously. Drink usually made her more talkative, and this occasion was no exception.

  “My brother didn't send you, did he?” That would be so like Darren. Send some guy to lure her into liking him before taking her back home to be caught and berated for her carelessness.

  “Your...what? No...” He scowled before breaking into laughter. “How would I even know who I was looking for? I still haven't gotten your name.”

  Well, that was one thing she didn't mind giving him. “It's Vicky.” The alcohol had loosened her up to the point that she was sprawled back against the booth, the strap of her dress falling down about one shoulder, and her hair coming down; but, damn if she cared.

  “I'm Liam,” he said in return, raising his most recent glass to her in acknowledgment. “Nice to out drink you.”

  “Oh, fuck you.” Dipping her fingers into a glass of water Vicky flicked it at him, making him wince as he immediately brushed the tiny droplets from his lea
ther jacket.

  “Careful, careful with the leather.”

  She grinned. “Is that what you tell the ladies when you whip it out?”

  He gaped slightly for a moment in outrage; but, Vicky hadn't been able to help herself. He had left himself wide open, and with the seemingly endless number of potshots he'd made at her over the past few hours, she had to get even somehow.

  “Woman,” he finally managed, “I thought you came over here to seduce me. That is not how you seduce a man.”

  “Well, then, I guess you were mistaken.” Taking a small sip of her latest libation, Vicky gave him a small wink, reveling in the way hunger almost immediately flared to life in his gaze. Men could never resist a challenge. In that way, she was very much like one.