Sin I Rise: Part One (Sins of the Fathers 1)

Night fell and the bird song died away. The howls from the biker party increased in volume and were joined by the sound of breaking glass on occasion. Exhaustion, more emotional than psychological but just as potent, took hold of me. Yet, I wouldn’t fall asleep until my body couldn’t take anymore. Not with these animals—dogs and bikers alike—so close.

Pebbles crunched. I tensed and sat up as a man in his twenties stumbled in my direction. He was drunk and couldn’t even walk straight but had his gaze fixed on me. He collided with the bars then clung to them, his forehead pressing into the gap as if he wanted to squeeze through the metal. My eyes darted to the door, which was locked, but what if he had the keys?

He gave me a wide grin. “There she is.” He sounded as if he was trying to be a snake, dragging the s grotesquely. “Pretty princess.” He undressed me with greedy, hooded eyes.

My hands shook even worse and so I clung to my knees. His eyes darted to the cage door. I prayed he didn’t have the keys. Maybe he was drunk enough so I could overwhelm him and get away, but maybe he wasn’t, and he was definitely stronger than me. He stumbled toward the door, and rattled it, lightly at first, then harder. I breathed a sigh of relief when his angry shaking at the door didn’t do anything.

“Pity. Maybe later,” he said with a stupid cackle. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. It took him two tries to get the fly down, and I jerked my head away in disgust. Was he going to jack off right in front of me?

But soon the sound of liquid hitting the the side of the hut inside the cage echoed through the silence. A few warm drops hit my hands and I let out a disgusted scream, pressing even closer to the wall. “You animal!”

Steps rang out. “Denver, you asshole!” Maddox roared and shoved the other man’s chest so hard he just toppled over and laughed drunkenly, then fell silent.

Maddox was in his baggy jeans, but without a shirt, and his boot laces dragged over the ground. In the soft glow from the porch, I could see that he had several tattoos on his chest, one of them, over his sternum, a skull spitting fire. The shadows accentuated the ridges of his muscled stomach right down to the V of his hips.

“Fuck,” Maddox growled and kicked an unmoving Denver whose head lolled to the side. “The asshole passed out and pissed all over himself.” He turned to me, eyes crinkling. “Are you all right?”

“What do you care? You locked me in a dog cage.” My voice had become nasal as I fought tears. I held my hand away from me, wondering how I could get rid of the pee. My stomach lurched just thinking about it.

“I don’t,” he said coldly and turned to go. “Good night.”

“He peed against the cage and I got some of it on my hands,” I rushed to say, hating the desperate note to my voice. I was never desperate, at least not in front of strangers.

“Stupid asshole,” Maddox growled in the direction of his biker buddy, who definitely didn’t hear him before he said to me, “I’ll get you a towel.”

He turned and stalked up the pebbled way leading to the clubhouse.

I eyed the passed-out man on the ground but he didn’t stir. A couple of minutes later, Maddox returned with a towel. He held it out to me through the bars. I hopped off the hut, making sure not to land in the pee, and grabbed the towel. It was cold and wet. I smelled it, not trusting anyone around here, but I only caught the barest hint of detergent.

“It’s water and soap, or did you expect me to give you a towel with more piss?” Maddox said. He actually sounded offended. What right did he have to be offended? Was he the one in the kennel?

I wiped my hands, muttering. “How should I know? That guy wanted to pee on me, and you probably think that’s what I deserve for being my father’s daughter.”

Dad evoked hatred in many people, and by merely sharing his blood, I reaped the same emotions. Dad’s power had protected me from the force of people’s viciousness, their fear always greater than their dislike. Now I was left unprotected.

“No. Just because you’re a captive doesn’t mean you should be treated like dirt. I want your father, not you.”

I kept rubbing my hand with the towel, but the stink of pee from the kennel floor clogged my nose, so I still felt dirty. “So a dog cage is your version of not treating me like dirt?”

“That was a club decision.”