All Sinner No Saint - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,116

The way his words broke off told me he realized that there was nothing normal about Ama.

Not because she was a biker princess, and not because her father was a Prez of an MC that, according to the ATF, ‘terrorized’ this part of Texas, but because of her past.

“It’s okay, Granddad,” she soothed, and it amazed me that she did that.

Nothing about this messed up shit was okay.

Nothing.

She should be going.

Fuck, she should be soaring all the way to RISD. Instead, she was going to be stuck here…

I blew out a breath because the rage welling inside me was something I’d never be able to control.

In another world, another life, I’d have gone to therapy for what I’d seen and done that day.

A little girl, tied to a fucking chair, like she was a hardened criminal. Before I’d hurled myself through the window, I’d seen her. Seen what Aaron had done to her—he’d treated her like he was punishing an MC brother, not their daughter.

As I’d surveilled the bedroom, I’d seen what he’d done to her. Her eyes blindfolded and blood poured down her nose and face, and her ankles and wrists were fastened to the chair with rope, bleeding from where they’d chafed.

The only relief I’d felt coming across that scene? Her PJs were on and hadn’t been disturbed. If he’d messed around with her in that way, I wouldn’t have been able to just blow out his brains. I’d have made him eat his sick fucking cock.

Instead, he’d had a quick end, one that was too fast. One I’d forever regret, especially because I knew how Ama still suffered for that bastard’s actions.

“Ain’t okay,” Martin growled. “Ain’t okay, at all.”

She rolled her eyes at me, like he was wrong, but I shook my head at her and sighed because sometimes, despite her maturity level, she was so blind.

Reaching up, I pinched the bridge of my nose and flopped back onto the sofa. She stared at me with a furrowed brow, but to Martin, inquired, “Are you going to do something about Keys’ sister?”

“The second I saw them together, knew I was going to get this shit,” he groused.

“You shouldn’t have allowed her old man to treat her that way, Granddad. Shame on you!” she growled at him, and I had to hide my laughter again at the eighteen-year-old telling off the hardened Prez who’d served fifteen-to-twenty for armed robbery.

Lucifer had more than lived up to his road name during his years.

“Since when was my MC a—”

“A what? You rule over that place like a kingdom, Granddaddy. You’re the king, and if those plebs do stuff you don’t approve of, you’re supposed to behead them!”

“Okay, this analogy has gotten off track,” I interrupted. “Are you going to do something, Martin?”

She growled at me, but I let her. Ama needed to blow off some steam, and I was more than willing to be in the blast.

“Yeah. I’ll do something. But you know this shit ain’t so easy to sort out, Ink. I mean, fuck. She’s his old lady. That’s sacred territory.”

He wasn’t fucking wrong. It totally was.

And that was the most messed up aspect of this situation.

I reached up and rubbed my eyes, suddenly tired. It had been a long ass day already, and this moral debate wasn’t making the day disappear any faster.

A hand rubbed my shoulder, and I felt the whisper of Ama’s body against my knees. Opening my eyes again, I saw she’d rounded the coffee table and was standing in front of me. Her heart was in her eyes, and my own felt like it was stuttering in my own fucking chest.

“Being an old man is sacred territory too,” I rasped, aware that Martin was waiting on a reply from me. “He’s beating on her, Martin. We can’t let that shit slide. This ain’t the nineteen hundreds.”

To be fair to Martin, I was surprised he was even willing to talk to me about this shit. Sure, I was on the Rebels’ council, but I wasn’t on his.

He grunted at my reply. “I’ll see what I can do.” Another grunt. “Ama? Take me off speaker. I want to talk with you.”

Her cheeks flushed as she looked at me, but she reached for her phone and did as he asked. Whatever Martin said had her cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red than before, but it had her plunking herself on my lap without asking—and that wasn’t something I was going to complain about.

16

Saint

“Kenzie?”

Keys’ sister refused to

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