Sins of the Father (Ravens Ruin MC 1)

“Anything else?” My eyes roam over every man at the table, watching as each of them shake their heads.

“What do you want me to do with the cuts?” I follow Boston’s gaze to the pile of leather left by the previous council.

“Burn ‘em.”

“Even Manic’s?”

“Even his,” I say.

My gavel meets the sturdy table, and chairs immediately scrape over the floor.

“Let’s get the drinks and pussy flowing,” TJ shouts on the way out of the chapel.

I follow behind them, even though fatigue fills my bones like a lead weight.Chapter 2Candi

“Could you possibly add any more?”

I smile in the mirror, my hand applying more eyeliner to my top lid.

“You said these guys like the sultry look.”

When I’m done, I recap my makeup and look over at my best friend.

“I said they like the slutty look,” she corrects before turning her attention back to the road as the light turns from red to green.

“Same thing, right?” Pulling out my lipstick, I add a second application of dark, red tint to my lips before snapping the visor back up.

She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m more concerned that you’re in jeans, a unicorn shirt, and ratty tennis shoes,” I grumble as I reposition the strap of my tank top for the hundredth time since we left the hotel we stayed in last night.

“I’m not the one wanting to fuck a biker,” she responds, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you ever going to tell me about him?” She’s hinted about someone in her past but was adamant that it would never happen, and she’s been reluctant with the details.

“Never,” she answers and changes the subject. “Who do you have your eye on?”

“The President of course.” I give her a quick smile as I watch her nose scrunch up.

“Do you even know anything about the Ravens Ruin MC?”

I shrug, smacking my painted lips. “Not a fucking thing, but I figure if you’re going to get laid you shoot for the top, right?”

“Believe me the President of the Ravens Ruin is the last person you should be interested in.” Staring at her as she maneuvers the car around a curve before turning down an almost hidden gravel road, I wait for her to add to her statement. She doesn’t.

“I’m not looking for love, Mols. I just want to experience some bad boy for once in my life.”

“You’ll definitely get that with the president. My advice would be to steer clear of him at all costs. He’s a devious bastard.”

“How do you know so much about them?” I keep my eyes focused outside of the car. I learned long ago that Molly is more likely to talk when she doesn’t feel cornered.

“Your dad still pushing you to find a decent man and settle down?” And she’s the one always changing the subject also.

“I haven’t spoken with him in weeks, but per our last conversation.” I drop my voice low in an attempt to imitate my asshole dad’s tone. “Good boys don’t want a girl who wears shorts that short.”

We both laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Every girl I know wears short shorts, and my dad stepping in at random times in my life with no consistency is the biggest joke of them all.

“Well the guys you’re about to meet will love the length of your shorts,” she says as she pulls onto another dark road.

“You told me my vagina was in danger of falling out,” I remind her.

“And they’d love that even more,” she says as she slows to a stop, rolling down the window to speak with a guy that’s standing on our side of a massive privacy fence.

“What are you doing?” I snap. The cool spring air rushes in the window, and I regret not having brought a light jacket.

My pulse pounds in my ears as the leather vest wearing guy bends down to look inside of the car. His bright blue eyes and well-trimmed beard are the last things I expect to see standing outside of a notorious motorcycle club. He doesn’t even come close to the scarred, dirty-bearded men I anticipate meeting tonight.

“Hey, Pete,” Mols says as he smiles in her direction.

“Princess,” he responds.

My friend grumbles as he turns his attention in my direction. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Z—”

I clear my throat, reminding her of our agreement.

“This is Candi,” she corrects, “My friend from school.”

“Hey, Sugar,” he purrs almost too seductively.

Jesus, he’s potent. Now I fully understand why so many of the girls from school wanted to come here. He’s not intimidating at all, oozing sex and charm. I wasn’t exactly on board with bedding some filthy biker but was resigned to it. I can’t be the only one who has a sex bucket list. Fucking a biker has always been in my top five. Sometimes it hits number one, depending on how much of an ass my father is being. He hates bikers, and I’ve always liked off-limit things.