The Sinner Within (L.A. Sinners MC Book 1)

  Copyright 2018. J.L. Leslie. All rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, promotions, authorized giveaways or teasers only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  I want to first of all, dedicate this book to my mom, like I do all of my books. She is who always supported me in my writing and I dedicate all of my words to her. I miss her each and every day!

  A special thanks to my husband and kids for allowing me to go into my writing cave and also for their love and support! Also, to my sister for listening to my ideas and never complaining! You’re the best! I love you all!

  A special thanks to my PA, Amber Feist, for being my friend and sounding board! For always helping me find the perfect cover and for reading my words!

  To my fan group, J.L. Leslie’s Lovelies, for being the best fan group an author could ever ask for! Thank you!

  To my street team, J.L. Leslie’s Pimpin’ Peeps, you are the most amazing street team! Thank you for always sharing my work!

  To my ARC team, thank you so much for reading my words! It amazes me each day that people take the time to read what I write and sometimes actually enjoy it!

  A very special thank you to my beta readers! I so enjoy your feedback and comments! You make this journey so much easier for me! Thank you!

  Last, but not least, a special thanks to Veronique Poirier with V Designs for making such an amazing cover for me! My vision for the cover was brought to life!

  THE SINNER WITHIN

  Prologue

  Lucien

  I stand quietly in the back, behind the crowd, paying my respects to the men who lost their lives only a week ago. I hadn’t planned on returning to Verdana so quickly, but loyalty runs deep in my veins. So many men lost their lives in a war that didn’t have to be fought. I’ve seen that happen too many times.

  Ford Taylor was a leech. He drained the Sinners dry, sucking their life force from them and nearly destroying them all. I couldn’t see it when I was with them. We were thriving, or so I thought, while under the leadership of Mack Jacobson. We were the motorcycle club everyone in L.A. feared. I’ve learned that sometimes fear isn’t always powerful. Respect is.

  That’s why I’m here in Verdana again. Why I’m at a funeral for club members that aren’t mine. These men weren’t Sinners. They were Ravens. They were killed by my own members. My own men.

  I’m the president of the L.A. Sinners.

  I wouldn’t say that I fought for that title in the usual way. I wasn’t vice president or even a member of the Sinners for over three years. I didn’t stand in line and wait for it like Ford did. A bullet to his skull took him out of his position, and I fucking took the title. I demanded that it be mine and no one objected. No one wanted to step into that role for a club that was dying.

  Blood was spilled by the man who was in charge. Both Mack and Ford. The men who were supposed to be our leaders. Ford was just as crooked as Mack, if not worse. He fucking ran my club into the ground. All he ever did was take from us. We barely have anything left.

  His personal vendetta against the Ravens cost us dearly. It cost them as well. So, I felt that I owed Dax Daughtry, the Ravens president, this much. I owed him and the men that he lost in our war my respect.

  Plus, I wanted to see her one last time. Just one more glimpse.

  Spencer Ellis.

  The redhead who invaded my dreams, my fantasies, for years while I was imprisoned stands only twenty feet away from me. Her fiery green eyes are fixated on another man. Her heart belongs to another man.

  I suppose I deserve that. She thought I was dead. I never told her otherwise. I never wrote her a letter. I never made one damn phone call to her. Instead, I watched as my best friend, the man who left me to burn to death, made her is. If Dax’s daughter hadn’t put a bullet through Ford’s head, I gladly would have.

  He took everything from me. My club. My old lady. My freedom.

  He ruined my name in the process, using my death as a reason to wipe out an entire club while I went to prison for the murder he committed. He would have done the same to the Ravens had he been given the opportunity. I suppose they have Spencer to thank for that. She helped them more than they know and put her own life on the line doing so.

  I clench my jaw as I watch her lean into Griffin Knowles. As I see the love she has for him. Damn it; she used to look at me that way. She used to be mine.

  He’s the fucking District Attorney of Verdana. He’s also the reason I’m free, no longer serving a life sentence. It’s hard to hate the man who made it possible for me to feel the sun on my face even if he’s the same man who fucks the woman that holds my heart. It’s not because of him that I don’t have her. That’s all on me, and I’ll accept that. I’ve told myself before that I am my own worst enemy.

  With a final farewell to Verdana and to the Ravens, I leave without saying goodbye. I leave knowing that I won’t be returning. I leave so that I can start my life again.

  Chapter One

  Lucien

  I read over the account numbers and addresses Ford has on our laptop. I know he got them from one of the Ravens’ old ladies. Apparently, Mack thought it was a good idea to hide intel in an old book and then gave the book to her. I doubt he ever thought she would leave him, although from what I heard, he beat the shit out of her on a daily basis.

  I still have no idea why he thought it was a good idea to write intel down in an old book. Then again, I don’t know why he thought it was a good idea to steal from his own club either. Every fucking deal we made, he took from it.

  I guess the one good thing Ford did as president was find out about it and try to recoup the money. Only I don’t see where anything was recovered. If he did find the money or the product, he kept it for himself and died with his secrets. Fucking piece of shit.

  Under Ford’s leadership, we negated on every single deal we made over the last three months. We lost alliances. We forfeited agreements. We have no one we can call for favors. No suppliers and no buyers.

  The general funds account is low on money, barely having enough in it to hold us over for the next few months. I’m certain Spencer did the best she could to keep it afloat. She was always good with money, and both Mack and Ford trusted her with the finances, but one can only do so much.

  When I demanded the title of president, I had no fucking idea the full extent this club was in. I wanted that role so that I could be the man I knew I was always supposed to be. I was never meant for a 6x9 cell. Never meant to spend my life in prison. I was meant for this position.

  If I can’t have my old lady back, I will have my club back. Be back where I belong. But damn it, it’s falling apart before I can even get started on rebuilding my life again. Before I even know who I am again.

  “Are you coming back to bed?”

  I roll my eyes at the blonde stretched out on my mattress. She was my welcome back gift. I suppose she did a good job, seeing as how she let me drill her in every fucking hole in her body.

  It didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t Spencer, no matter how tight her asshole was.

  “Yeah,” I answer, gruffly.

  I close the laptop, deciding that I’ll have to make a few phone calls when the sun comes up. We need to make amends with our supplier. Get back in his good graces so we can get some product in.

  I also tell myself I’ll have to do some digging. Find out about the families of the Hades Rid
ers. I have thought about the club Ford wiped out since I was imprisoned for the murder of their president over three years ago.

  It’s time I make amends to the families who were destroyed by my club. I may not have given the order, but all of those men were killed by Sinners. I at least have to try to make that right.

  The blonde purrs as I crawl back onto the bed. For a moment, it’s easy to imagine red hair and green eyes. To tell myself it’s Spencer as I flip her over and draw her up onto her knees.

  As I lean down to bury my face in her pussy, I lie to myself even more and tell myself I’ll have her back one day. Even I know that’s a day that will never come.

  Harper

  I grab the two plates of food and take them to the table in the corner. With a polite smile, I ask if they need anything else. I’ve been here since ten o’clock last night, and I’m ready for my shift to end. Unfortunately, Molly hasn’t shown up, so I don’t see that happening any time soon. I suppose she figures I’m new at the diner, so I’ll take her shit.

  “Donnie, have you heard from her?” I ask the cook, who is also the manager today. He shrugs and cracks another couple of eggs over the griddle.

  I came to work at the diner about a month ago when the coffee shop I was working at closed down. I think I’m definitely more of a morning person than a night owl. I’ve been working nights at the diner, and I’ve learned these shifts here are not easy for me. I will admit though…maybe I’m not really a morning person either. I hated my job at the coffee shop too.

  I check the time again and then fire off a quick text before I hear the chime on the door. I glance over my shoulder, shoving my phone into the pocket of my apron, and inwardly groan. Damn bikers.

  Los Angeles is swarming with them. I didn’t really think they would be out this early but here they are, and it’s not the first time I’ve served this group. Diners seem to be their go-to place to eat. This one is for sure.

  I allow them to take their seats, hoping that by some miracle Molly will show up for her shift. I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening though.

  When I finally do make my way over to them, one has lit a cigarette, despite the ‘No Smoking’ sign plastered on the wall right in front of him, another one is carving some sort of words into the table with his knife, and the last one is picking at his nails with a toothpick.

  “What can I get you?” I ask.

  They rattle off their drink orders and inform me they need a to-go order and also that one other is coming. Just great. I’ll have four of them to contend with instead of this usual three.

  I walk behind the counter and grab three glasses. Once I get those ready, I hear one call out to me to make another coke. I guess the fourth guy is here.

  I quickly fill another glass and add it to my tray. I pick it up and walk over to the table where there is another guy now seated, his back to me. His leather vest is the same as theirs, but I can’t see the writing on the back of it. I know who they are though. They’re infamous in L.A.

  Sinners.

  As I deliver their drinks, I notice this guy isn’t behaving like the others. He doesn’t burn the edges of the menu or pour salt into a pile onto the table. He sits there, almost brooding. His dark hair is mussed on top of his head, and he has a five o’clock shadow, indicating he needs to shave.

  I take my pad out of my apron and reach in to grab a pen. When he stares up at me, I fumble with it, and it drops to the floor. His dark eyes study me as I squat down to pick it up. His brows furrow as though he recognizes me somehow.

  I tear my gaze away from his. Away from those almost black eyes that are so dark, they’re nearly obsidian. It’s damn unnerving how he’s looking at me. Sort of pisses me off. I should ask Donnie to spit in his food or something.

  Then again, he could slit my throat in a matter of seconds. I know what these Sinners are capable of. They come in ordering eggs and grits and acting all generous leaving me a nice tip, but in reality, they’re heartless criminals. The money they pay with is probably drug money.

  I know all about that life. I’ve seen it up close and personal, and I refuse to allow it to take anything from me ever again. I’ve already lost enough to it. I’ll stick with waiting tables and being lousy at it.

  “You guys ready to order?” I question, and the one with the knife jams it down into the table, making me jump.

  He wipes away the shavings from his work, and the word “Sinners” is carved neatly onto the surface. The dark-eyed guy glares at him, his jaw clenching. Without saying a word, the man pulls his knife from the table and closes it before shoving it into his back pocket.

  I suppose I know who the boss is. It’s clear this guy exudes power, and these other men follow suit. The one with the cigarette even puts it out without a word.

  I stare down at my pad, where I currently only have their drink orders written down, and impatiently wait on them to tell me what they’d like to eat. After taking down their order, I leave them to go turn it in to Donnie.

  While I’m clearing another table Molly comes in. Thank God. I finish cleaning up and hurry to the back to punch out. I tell her Donnie’s cooking her order for the table of bikers and then grab my purse.

  I don’t give her or the table of leather-clad men a second thought as I push the door open to leave. I certainly don’t glance back at the brooding man, even though I can feel him staring at me with such an intensity it makes me shiver under the hot California sun.

  Chapter Two

  Lucien

  One thing you learn in prison is that innocence is a rare fucking thing. The world we live in is full of hatred, violence, and soulless bastards. I’m full of hatred, having suffered at the hands of someone I called a brother. Violence runs through my veins. I know exactly how to inflict pain, and I don’t mind taking someone’s life. As for being a soulless bastard? I’ve been that person for a long time.

  So, when I see innocence? I recognize it instantly. And damn it, I crave it. It’s like a fucking light shining in the darkness I live in. Spencer was that light for a while and I know it was me that dragged her down into the darkness with me. She may have already been part of our club, but she still had this part of her that hadn’t seen all the horror that came with being an old lady. I showed her that.

  Hell, we had plans to leave the Sinners. We both wanted out. Wanted a new life together. But I guess that’s not really who I am. There’s a sinner within me that I’ll never be free of. I always screw things up for myself somehow.

  I know that’s exactly why I should stay away from the little waitress at the diner. I should leave that innocence alone. She probably won’t be as lucky as Spencer was. She won’t find her escape the way she did. I’ll fucking destroy her.

  I’ll use her, pretending that she’s the old lady I’ll never get back. I’ll resent her because she will never be Spencer Ellis. Her innocence, her light, will slowly fade and I’ll hate her for that. She will sure as fuck end up hating me.

  That doesn’t mean I can’t imagine what it would feel like to thrust my dick inside her. To have her pussy walls quaking around me as I fuck her. I have three years of celibacy to make up for, and although my heart is set on another woman, my cock still has needs.

  “I spoke with Jiminez’s right-hand man, and he said he can’t help us,” Soco says, digging into his eggs. “Said Ford fucked him over last month. Only paid for part of the shipment.”

  He’s my vice president and the member who has the closest connection to Jiminez. If he’s turned him down, I doubt I’ll have any luck changing his mind.

  “That’s fucking bullshit,” Reid mutters. “I went with Wiggie to make his payment last month, and we paid that fucker his dues.”

  Soco shakes his head, “Apparently Ford doubled the shipment without letting us know. We don’t even have the product to sell so we owe him another payment. I don’t have a clue where the fuck he put our shit, but it’s gone.”

  Ford doubled his usual order a
nd then didn’t pay for the goods. Not only that, he pissed away the product. No one has any idea where it is, and we’re left with a debt we barely have the money to pay.

  “Set me up a meeting,” I tell Soco. “We’ll make good on what we owe, and maybe I can work out something with him.”

  “I could possibly contact the supplier we used before. As far as I know, Thad had already paid for the shipment before the DEA raided our warehouses,” Warren speaks up. “He’s kind of a dick, but his product is good, and the transport is safe.”

  Warren is my newest prospect. When I left Verdana three months ago, he came with me, not looking back. He’s a former Ryker, and honestly, his heart is still with them. Hell, the Ryker “R” is tattooed on his wrist. They brand their members when they patch them in.

  I know there’s a part of him that wants to be back in Verdana, where his club originated. He had the role of a leader, at one time being their vice president. Now, he has been bumped down to prospect, and I’m sure that’s frustrating, to say the least.

  Unfortunately, the Ravens and the Sinners saw to it that the Rykers wouldn’t have a pot to piss in. Their president at the time, Thad Harrelson, may have paid their dues but before he stepped into that role, his son made some bad calls and betrayed his own members.

  Their product was taken by the DEA and several members lost their lives. When Warren was released from prison, he had an uphill battle rebuilding the club after losing all of their product, and it took him some time to convince the members to join up again. He trusted the wrong person and Ford saw to it that the Rykers would never rebuild. He was an expert in arson, and those assholes didn’t stand a chance.

  I envy them in some ways. I know what it feels like to have fire consume you, flames eat away at your flesh. They didn’t live through the pain of skin grafts and months of wound care. They probably died of smoke inhalation before the fire even got to them.