“I was the demon-possessed monster and she was the innocent, naïve angel. But none of that matters. She asks, I give and right now, I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me from giving this woman what she wants—me.”
Dirk lives in the shadows—performing hits, maintaining order, and upholding the no-holds-barred legacy of the Sinner’s Creed Motorcycle Club. A nomad with a restless spirit and a cold heart, the open road is his world. One of the few constants in his life: his desire for the one woman who has consumed his thoughts for years.
Saylor Samson grew up far from the harshness of Dirk’s world. But ever since she was seventeen she’s been drawn to this dark and mysterious man who always seemed to show up just when she needed him.
After years of fated encounters, he’s back. This time he’s taking her. This time she’s ready for the ride. But just when the darkness in Dirk’s life begins to fade, Saylor reveals a secret that puts them both to the ultimate test. Now, Dirk has to make a decision: submit to his destiny with the MC, or choose his own.
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I seriously needed to gather my thoughts on this read. I wasn't expecting what happened actually happened. I'm pretty sure I screamed "NO!" and then put my Kindle down for a bit.
Ok, despite what I just said, Sinner's Creed is a fantastic read from Ms. Jones. I'm a huge fan of Clubwhore and I just knew this book was going to be just as great.
Dirk is a nomad, and does jobs for the club and by jobs, I mean the killing kind! So Dirk is always on the road,b ut when he is around, he runs into the beautiful Saylor Samson. Over the years, he would bumped into her and help her out of a jam. He just seemed to be there to protect her and without them saying a word to each other.
I'll leave it like that. It's just a read that is a must (and don't forget tissues!). Looking forward for the next book and hopefully some revenge.
“Everything’s taken care of, brother. You don’t have anything to worry about for a while,” Jimbo informs me once I’m back outside. I look at him, and he knows I want answers. But, he don’t want to give me any. “It’s not for you to worry about. It’s handled and that’s all you need to know.”
I didn’t like being on a need-to-know basis, but if Jimbo thought it was best, then I guess it was. He was the man now and I had to respect that. It would take some getting used to, but eventually I would.
“Thank you, Jimbo.” He waves off my words and we drink in silence. Rookie comes to the porch to grab a handful of beers out of the ice chest, and when he leaves I know our silence won’t last long.
“Looks like we are gonna be getting a new brother down in Houston sooner than we thought. Rookie must have made a hell of an impression,” Jimbo says, opening the door for conversation. I just sit there, hoping he won’t ask too many questions. Roach and I had the type of relationship where questions weren’t necessary. If I said something, he believed it, respected it, and upheld it. No questions asked. Jimbo, wasn’t quite that easy. “Is there something special about him that maybe I should know?”
“Do you doubt my judgment?” I ask, wanting to know the truth and hoping he tells me.
“Not at all.” I look at him and he is telling the truth, but his curiosity is what gets the better of him.
“Then there is nothing you need to know.” I walk away from him but not before he smirks and shakes his head. Rookie would have his patch, and he would have his innocence. Carrie would have a good man and the club would have a good brother. And my word in the club was still influential. I missed Roach, but Jimbo would do just fine in his place.
“Dirk,” Jimbo calls out, and I turn to find him pulling something from his vest. I walk back and take the black bag from his hand. “Ain’t a man here that loves this club more than you. I brought these with me, figured today was just as good a day as any.” I look down at the bag, knowing what is on the inside of it. I remember the feeling of completion the day this bag was handed to me. This isn’t just fabric. It’s not just thread woven together to create a design. It’s not something you wear on weekends or something you do for fun. It’s a lifestyle. A passion. A love for something bigger than yourself. It’s proof that you are a part of that 1 percent that differs from everyone else.
“Rookie!” The thunder from my voice is loud and carries across the yard. Silence descends, and I stuff the bag in my cut before turning to find a wide-eyed Rookie staring at me. I could give him a hard time. I could drag this out. I could make him do stupid shit to prove that his pride still belongs to the club. But my emotions aren’t where they usually are. And I’m pretty sure the woman laying in my bed is responsible for that. I’ll have to remember to tell Rookie to thank her.
The crowd has gathered and word has already spread. Everyone here knows what’s fixing to happen. Everyone but Rookie.
“There are three things a patch holder doesn’t do. What are they?” I ask, my death glare on him making his hands shake and his brain kick into overdrive, trying like hell to remember anything he might have done to fuck up. Okay, so maybe my emotions aren’t that fucked up. I could still be a dick.
“Lie to a brother. Steal from a brother. Disrespect a brother.”
“What is Sinner’s Creed?”
“It’s the life of a man willing to sacrifice himself for his club. It’s the blood that flows through my veins, the steady beat of my heart, and the reassurance that I’m never alone. It’s loyalty at any cost, love in all forms, and respect in the highest. It’s what I was born for. What I’ll die for and what I want to be.” His lines are rehearsed, but they are sincere.
“It’s not what you want to be.” I let the confusion sit on his face for a minute before throwing him the bag beneath my cut. “Sinner’s Creed is who you are.” And just like that, a soldier is born.