The Sinner Redeemed (L.A. Sinners MC), page 1
Copyright 2021. J.L. Leslie. All rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, promotions, authorized giveaways or teasers only.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The L.A. Sinners’ logo images were obtained at no cost from www.pngtree.com and www.freepngs.com and designed by J.L. Leslie.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Two | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Three | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Four | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Five | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Six | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Seven | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Eight | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Nine | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Ten | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Eleven | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twelve | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Fourteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Fifteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Sixteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Seventeen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Eighteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Nineteen | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-One | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Two | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Three | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Four | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Five | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Six | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Seven | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Eight | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Twenty-Nine | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-One | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Two | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Three | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Four | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Five | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Six | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Seven | Reid
Phoenix
Chapter Thirty-Eight | Reid
Epilogue | Phoenix
THE END
Dedication
I want to first of all, dedicate this book to my mom, like I do all of my books. She is who always supported me in my writing, and I dedicate all of my words to her. I miss her each and every day!
A special thanks to my husband and kids for allowing me to go into my writing cave and also for their love and support! Also, to my sister for listening to my ideas and never complaining! You’re the best! I love you all!
A special thanks to my PA, Amber Feist. I have no idea where this journey is going to take us, but I am so grateful you are on it with me.
To my fan group, J.L. Leslie’s Lovelies, for being the best fan group an author could ever ask for! Thank you!
To my street team, J.L. Leslie’s Pimpin’ Peeps, you are the most amazing street team! Thank you for always sharing my work!
To my ARC team, thank you so much for reading my words! I am humbled and honored to have you each on my team!
A very special thank you to my beta readers! I so enjoy your feedback and comments! You make this journey so much easier for me! Thank you!
Last, but not least, a special thanks to Veronique Poirier with V Designs for making such an amazing cover for me! I love it – as always!
Chapter One
Reid
I lean back in the booth, the familiar scents and sounds of the diner soothing after a long night on patrol. I absentmindedly run my fingertips over the carving of my handiwork in the table as I watch the news. There has been another drug bust.
Six weeks ago, our club went through some shit. A person we thought was a friend turned out to be an enemy, and he infiltrated our club. He completely fucked us over. Members lost their lives, and our product was stolen, right after we shut down one of the largest L.A. distributors and took over their territory.
Doesn’t do much good to be working with a Mexican cartel if we can’t even honor our first deal.
The whole damn club is falling apart. Lucien, our president, is barely around. I can’t say that I blame him. His seven-year-old stepdaughter is in the hospital in a coma — a casualty of an MC war she isn’t even a part of.
I guess we all have our casualties of war, though. I dig the photo out of my back pocket, smoothing out the rumpled edges. Bright blue eyes stare up at me. A smile I sometimes dream about.
I thought we would’ve found her by now. The longer it takes us, the more I fear she’ll either be dead or so far ruined that she will never be the same again.
Phoenix Williams.
She was the daughter of our enemy. Her mother waged hell on the Sinners and it’s because of her that a trusted friend nearly cost us everything. Her club, Hell’s Fury, wanted every single one of us dead. Now, we’re in an alliance with them with Warren’s old lady, Mackenzie, as their new president. How in the fuck did things turn out like this?
I glance up and listen to the news story, knowing the drugs being confiscated will go into our inventory. Help us make good on our deliveries. The drug busts happening are Hell’s Fury’s doing. Mackenzie is proving that the alliance with them is more worthwhile than killing all of them. She’s also making good on her connection with the DEA. Her club is trying to find the rest of our product, and we’re trying to find their dead president’s daughter.
I almost smile when I think of her. Her disappearance hasn’t been splashed all over the news. There are no ‘missing person’ flyers out there. No one else is looking for her.
Phoenix isn’t part of this war either. She was a college student, sweet and innocent. She was shy and quiet, but had this laughter that reached all the way to your bones.
She had this way of making me forget I was a Sinner and that the role I was playing wasn’t real. To her, I was just another college student. I wasn’t pushing drugs on campus. Wasn’t carrying out orders. I was different.
The news story goes off, and a commercial for erectile dysfunction comes on. I continue to rub my fingers over the table, tracing the letters of our club name and trying to force the images that always come to mind back out of my head.
I watched Phoenix being raped, tortured. Saw the video over and over so that I could look for something we missed. Anything. Those images are seared into my brain.
Christopher Suggs betrayed us, was on a rival MC’s payroll. Donia, Phoenix’s mother, thought he was working for her. Thought he was doing her bidding and killing off our members.
He screwed her over, too. The Sicarios’ had him working for them the entire time. That much we know. But why take Phoenix? Why can’t we find her? More so, where the fuck is their president, Tonto? That piece of shit coward has gone underground.
The DEA has busted all of their warehouses, our stolen product taken in the raids. Sure, I’ve enjoyed tracking down their members, gutting those fuckers, and making the streets of L.A. run red with their blood, but I want Tonto.
I want Phoenix.
“Here you go,” the waitress says, placing my food in front of me.
I shove the photo back into my pocket and look up, noticing she’s still standing there.
“Yeah?”
“I see you in here all the time. I’m Molly,” she introduces herself. “You seem lonely tonight.”
She’s cute enough. Brown hair pulled into a high ponytail. Pouty lips. I’ve been on a destructive path for a while now, Lucien letting us all run rampant on our warpath against the Sicarios. My path has left a much wider wake of destruction. I am a Sinner in every meaning of the word.
I thrive on mayhem and chaos. Can’t sit idle for too long. I need the distraction, something to take my mind off the fact that Phoenix is probably dead, and I did nothing to save her. That I may never find her, never have the closure of laying her body to rest.
“I am lonely.”
That is the understatement of the century. She grins down at me and glances over her shoulder toward the kitchen. She pretends as if she gives a shit that she’s supposed to be working. We both know she doesn’t.
“There’s a storage room just over there.”
I shake my head and lean back slightly, unbuckling my pants. I’m the only customer in here right now, but I honestly wouldn’t care if the place was full.
“Get on your knees, Molly,” I instruct. “And suck my cock. Don’t leave a trace of that cheap lipstick. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you swallow.”
I see her nipples harden to tight little buds through the material of her uniform. She squirms a bit, pressing her thighs together, but she hasn’t lowered herself to her knees.
I roll my eyes and start to shove my dick back into my pants when she scurries down to the floor and underneath the table, sucking my dick into her mouth. She hums, her head bobbing up and down, and I eat my food while she blows me.
Phoenix
I open my eyes, praying I’ll see sunlight, but the window is still boarded up. I don’t know why I hold onto hope that one day it will be open. That one day, I’ll see a sliver of light shining through.
Because I can’t give up.
I’ve lost track of how long I have been held prisoner here — wherever here is. Weeks? Months? It feels like years.
Whenever I was taken, I thought I was in some sort of dream. Thought for sure that no one actually grabbed me while I was walking back to my dorm. I wasn’t really beaten and raped. That I haven’t grown accustomed to my master sticking a needle in my arm to keep me from fighting him.
I roll over on the bed, pulling the blanket over me and tucking it beneath my chin. I’m naked underneath, and no matter how often I’ve requested clothes, he won’t give me any.
I am given food and water, and I have this room, which consists of a full-size bed, a nightstand, chair, books, and a bathroom. No exits that I can access. Believe me, I have tried. The moment the drugs wear off, I try to claw my way out of here until my nails are bleeding and my throat is sore from screaming. The door is always locked. The windows are nailed shut. If someone can hear my screams, they ignore me.
I thought maybe I could appeal to his partner, the guy who took me. But I haven’t seen him since I was brought here. That idea is hopeless anyway. He was much crueler than my new master.
This master is different. He’s calm and collected, doesn’t have the same rage as the other guy. He’s gentle in some ways but has a demeanor about him that I know is sinister, deviant.
He likes to watch me when I eat and even when I shower. He loves seeing the panic in my eyes each time he drugs me, only so he can see it fade away once I have no control of my body. So I can blame the drugs when I’m writhing in pleasure.
And yes, I do writhe in pleasure. I didn’t know my own body could betray me. That my pussy could get wet when my mind is screaming no. It shouldn’t be possible.
I hate him with every fiber of my being.
As if he knows I’m thinking of him, I hear the door and I clutch the blanket tighter, pretending to be asleep.
“Are you awake yet, my pet?” he asks, tapping his fingers on the table − the skull tattoo staring back at me.
My stomach churns, bile rising in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down before slowly turning over and sitting up. He has my breakfast, and he delivers it to my nightstand, knowing I’m hungry.
“You may eat.”
He sits in the chair while I lower myself to all fours and crawl over to his feet. I’m trained well, only fighting to leave this place when no one is looking. Only desperate to escape when the door is locked. I’m a good little pet, terrified of the alternative. Besides, I’ve learned the consequences of being bad.
I devour the food with my fingers. I’m never granted silverware. I suppose he believes I could stab him with a plastic spork. Can’t say I wouldn’t try it.
He rubs my hair while I eat, his fingers occasionally drifting over my cheeks. My fingertips are sore from scratching at the window and door. It’s become a daily obsession, thinking one day I’ll somehow dig my way out with my bare hands.
After I eat, he orders me to shower. I know his routine already. He never wavers from it. Eat, shower, drug, fuck, repeat.
It’s become monotonous. Then again, my whole life has become monotonous. It was monotonous long before this.
It was difficult for me to make connections as a kid, more so as a teenager. My two brothers were always in trouble when I was growing up, and their lifestyle scared off would-be friends and suitors. I was an outcast.
After they were killed, my mother sent me away to live with my cousin. Claimed she wanted to keep me safe. I always felt like she just wanted me gone. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Didn’t even tell her I was attending school at UCLA.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to finish school, get married, have kids. I see this kind of thing on television, movies, and the news, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to me.
I was your average college kid, making friends and going to parties in between studies. Everything about me is average. Why me? This isn’t supposed to be my life.
I always imagined my first time having sex would be sweet, gentle. With someone I loved. Someone who loved me. But I never even got to fall in love.
I try not to think of my nonexistent love life while I shower because those thoughts only make me cry, and he doesn’t like it when I cry. He watches, like usual, and despite trying not to, the tears come. I manage to keep my face averted so that they’re quickly washed away. I bathe quickly, scrubbing myself with the bar of soap and rinsing the suds clean. If I try to take longer than five minutes, I’m punished.
Sometimes I think he wants me to take too long, delights in taking a belt to my backside. I know there have been times he accused me of taking longer when I was certain I didn’t. How can I argue, though? How can I escape this hell?
“You don’t have to do that this time,” I say when he pulls the needle from his pocket.
Even as I utter those words, a part of me would rather be drugged than lucid while he fucks me. At least this way, I can blame the drugs on why he’s able to draw such pleasure from me.
“Oh, my pet, we both know it’s easier this way,” he says and inserts the needle into my arm. “And I have a surprise for you. You’ll be leaving soon. You’ll be someone else’s pet. Your training with me is finished. You’ve done well.”
Alarm bells go off in my head as he kisses my forehead, fear of the unknown making me beg him not to send me away. I know this hell. As much as I hate it, I can handle this hell.
My pleas fade as the drug takes hold, and he lifts me in his arms. Any fight I have in me is gone as he restrains me to the bed, my legs spread eagle as he settles in between them.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, trailing his fingers over my body.
My nipples perk in response, and I mentally curse them, hating my body for betraying me. I wish he drugged me enough to knock me unconscious.
“Always so responsive,” he murmurs. “So wet for me already.”
He dips his fingers between my folds, stroking and massaging until I arch off the mattress. A moan escapes my lips, and I bite down on my tongue until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.
“You don’t have to grant me permission,” he says. “But I like to hear you beg. You know that.”
He positions his cock at my entrance, coating his tip with my juices. I clench my jaw, refusing to plead with him. I’m ashamed of the way my body trembles with need. His large tip disappears inside, and he pulls it back out, torturing me.
“Please,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“I will miss you, my pet,” he says and thrusts inside me.
Chapter Two
Reid
Holding church in the hospital chapel seems sacrilegious. Ib don’t profess to be a religious man — I know the sins marring my name will forever bar me from entering the gates of heaven — but my gut tells me there’s more to this life than the crimes we commit.
“Any update on Layla?” I ask Warren, and he shakes his head.
According to the doctors, she’s stable and will wake up when she’s ready. The kid may know now isn’t a good time, and she’s safer in whatever realm she’s wandering. I sure as fuck don’t want her getting caught in the crossfire again.
The two of us walk in and go take a seat up front beside Harco and Wiggie. Harco is bragging about nailing some chick last night. I’m happy for the guy. Glad to know his dick still works after getting it stabbed. We were all taking bets.
“Wait a minute. Are you talking about Shelly-Ann?” I ask. “Big tits, more hips than ass?”
“Sounds like her,” he replies with a grin.
I nod. “Yeah, but she’s a butter face, man.”
Warren and Wiggie both burst out laughing while Harco sits there dumbfounded. Not so sure if he wants to brag on banging her now.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls out.
