The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 by Sarah Castille Read Free Book Online Page B

him … them.” Her voice wavered. “But I got there too late. I saw the fire, drove to the back of the clubhouse, and then I don’t know what happened. Next thing I remember, I was here.” She narrowed her eyes and her features hardened. “And that’s all you’re getting from me.”
    â€œYou got names for us?” Axle scowled.
    â€œNo.”
    Christ. She had more courage than most of the men in the room. No tears or sobs. No breaking down. No names.
    Jagger didn’t need to look around to know Zane and their road captain, Sparky, had left their seats, too. Cade reached for his weapon. The room, rank with the stench of too many bodies packed into too small a space, stilled.
    â€œNot even to save your life?” Axle drew a line across his throat with his finger. Weasel’s knife flashed. Arianne gaped, and blood trickled into the hollow at the base of her throat.
    Jagger succumbed to the ferocity of his rage. Bloodlust that roared through his veins.
    He charged, carrying Axle along the front of the table, through the crowd, and straight into the adjacent wall with the power of a linebacker. In a maddened frenzy of blows and kicks, he pummeled Axle until the man sank to the ground, the knife falling from his grasp. Turning, Jagger saw Arianne, now free and leaning against the back wall, her hand to her throat while Gunner wrestled with Weasel. Around them, Axle’s supporters went down under the fists of his enraged executive board. Bones cracked. Shouts and yells. Someone screamed.
    â€œYou upset I damaged your fuck toy?” Axle panted against the baseboard and pushed himself to his feet.
    Cade pressed the barrel of his gun to Axle’s head and glanced over at Jagger. “You want him dead?”
    Jagger’s fist contacted Axle’s jaw, sending Axle into the crowd. “He hasn’t suffered enough yet.”
    Axle came up fighting, but in his current condition he was no match for Jagger’s speed and strength. Or his fury. Although he had restrained himself behind the old clubhouse, and told Zane not to work Axle over too hard last night, Jagger had no reason to hold back now. Axle’s days in the club were over. If Jagger didn’t deal most definitively with the man’s blatant disrespect, his ability to lead the MC would be called into question. But more than that, a surge of possessiveness had gripped him by the throat alongside a desire to avenge the woman under his protection.
    The room faded into silence as he knocked Axle to the ground. He lifted his boot for one last kick when Arianne placed a hand on his arm.
    Shocked out of the haze of bloodlust, he stilled, expecting her to tell him to pull back and not kick a man when he was down. Instead, she gripped his sleeve, drew back her leg and growled, “Leave a piece of him for me.”
    Although she wasn’t strong enough to do any serious damage, Arianne’s kick ripped a harsh groan from Axle’s lungs, and he rolled onto his back, clutching his side, a black stain on the threadbare carpet.
    Damn. What a woman.
    Jagger wiped his bloody hands on his shirt. “The meeting is adjourned. Axle and his supporters are hereby kicked out of the club on bad terms.” He met the gaze of each member of the executive board, paying lip service to the bylaws, which required a general vote and unanimous consent of the board to terminate a membership. Right now he didn’t give a fucking damn about the bylaws. If he didn’t kick Axle out, he would kill Axle, and he didn’t want Axle’s blood on his hands. As expected, he was met with no dissent.
    â€œSparky, get the prospects to clean up the mess.” He nodded at Axel’s supporters on the floor. “Strip their colors, throw them into a van, and dump them at the side of the road. Their bikes stay with the club as compensation.”
    The traitors sucked in a collective breath. Taking away a man’s bike