Page 52 of Sinner's Malice

“Me too,” Vicious said.

“Popeye has something on me,” Bane spoke up.

“What is it?” Storm asked.

Bane shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. Malice, did Popeye give you anything?”

Before I could respond, the boardroom door opened and in walked the intern, Pippen, looking a little worse for wear. The young brother looked like dog shit, and he was sporting an impressive black eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Montana asked, taking notice. “And where the fuck have you been?”

The intern grumbled. “You should know. You gave me to him.”

“Intern, now is not the time to be flippant,” Mercy cautioned, shaking his head. “Montana is threatening brands.”

“Well, since I don’t have one yet, that point is moot,” the kid snarked, standing his ground. “I am here to inform you I am withdrawing my application for membership.”

Sitting up straighter, I looked at the kid.

Was he joking?

From the moment Pippen walked into this club, all he cared about was obtaining the Soulless Sinner brand. The kid was methodical, single-minded, driven to achieve that goal. Now he was just going to walk away from all his hard work.

I called bullshit.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Montana growled angrily.

“Excuse me?” Storm slowly said, getting to his feet. “The last time we talked, all you cared about was what it would take to become a brother. If you walk, there is no coming back, Pippen. You know that.”

“I know, Storm,” the kid whispered. “I wanted to come tell you in person and thank you all for everything. It has been mypleasure getting to know all of you and working with you, but I have seen the error of my ways and need to move on.”

Narrowing my eyes, I took a really good look at the kid.

He was hesitant, scared, distant.

He didn’t want this any more than I wanted to be in the same room with Montana.

No.

Something else was at play with this kid.

Someone else was pulling his strings.

“Is this because of your brother, Silas Sharp?”

Now, that got my attention.

I should have known.

Fucking Sin would never just let me go.

Smirking, I shook my head and asked, “You’re Dante?”

How did I miss that? Of course, Pippen was Dante Sharp. The little brother to Silas Sharp. The resemblance was uncanny. Pippen was the spitting image of his older brother.

I could clearly see that now.

The intern nodded.