Sons of Sin MC
The Sons of Sin Motorcycle Club are a force to be reckoned with. Led by Saint and his twin brother, Sinner, their bond is unbreakable. They run the Cheyenne Chapter with respect and unwavering allegiance.
Excerpt:
“Hello, there,” came a butter-smooth voice. “Haven’t seen you before.”
Kira turned. The man who talked was tall and ruggedly good looking. Not as handsome as Sinn, but she figured there weren’t too many men that could hold a candle to him. Not that she cared or anything. Why did this club have so many good-looking guys?
“And you’ll not likely to see me ever again. Can you point out where Sinn would be?”
The man narrowed his eyes as he studied her. She made sure to not blink as she stared him down, making sure not to show any weakness. Never again would she show any sign of fear or compassion to a man. Two things that had once been her downfall.
As if making up his mind, the man tilted his chin toward a door behind him. “He’s in the office with his brother.”
Cautiously, she followed him, maintaining an arm length between them. She didn’t like the clubhouse, didn’t like the feel of it. It reminded her too much of that night. Kira didn’t shy away from thinking about all the pain and suffering she had endured because it was a reminder not to trust anyone.
The man stopped in front of a door, knocked, then opened it when he was given permission. Kira stepped into the room, twisting a little to make sure her back wasn’t left vulnerable. At first glance, she saw that Sinn sat behind a desk, only…
“You’re not Sinn,” she stated.
The obvious clone raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”
They looked the same, sounded the same, and yet the look in his eyes was completely different. Ruthlessness lay in the arctic freeze of his gaze that held a hint of ugliness. Or perhaps the menacing glare was simply disdain. He perused her up and down, turning her blood cold. If they tried to get the drop on her, she’d be more than happy to show she was no longer a damsel in distress.
Then a toilet flushed, and a moment later a door behind the clone opened. Sinn patted his hands on a paper towel when their gazes met. His dimples flashed when he smiled, obviously thinking she came to take him up on his offer.
“There you are.”
He tossed the used paper towel into the trash then opened his arms wide. “Here I am. Although I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I was sure I was gonna have to start stalking you at work.”
“Don’t,” she said emphatically. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”
“Somebody sounds grumpy.” He nudged the clone. “Just like you, actually.”
“Fuck off,” Not-Sinn said, then he addressed her. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” she countered.
Sinn laughed. “Kira, this is my brother, Saint. Saint, this is Kira.”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I read that on her uniform, but who is she?”
Her thought earlier that no man could hold a candle to Sinn disappeared into the ether. “Saint and Sinn?”
“Sinner, actually.” He seemed to smile a lot, if the crinkles by his eyes were any indication. “Mom was either stoned or drunk, or possibly even both, when she named us. She had a flair for the dramatic. Brother, this is the young lady I told you about from the diner.”
“Yeah, again, I got that from her uniform.” Saint studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “Are you here to become club ass or something? You saw Sinn and thought he’d date you?”
She should’ve known that was what they were going to assume. “I’m here to return your money.” She pulled the duffel out of the shopping bag.
The humor fled Sinn as he and Saint’s gaze zeroed in on the duffel.
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