Page 91 of Sinner's Malice

“Son of a bitch,” Bane cursed, flipping through pages of his life the club had acquired over the years.

The second Pippen broke into the ghost file, Bane ordered him to print his entire file. That alone took over thirty minutes to print, which shocked not only Bane, but me and Malice too.

“How the fuck is the first girl I ever kissed relevant to the fucking club?”

“What?” I asked, walking over to him as he handed me a sheet of paper. It was information on Bane at age seven, when he kissed a young girl named Sarah Malone on the playground at the elementary school he attended. There was even a picture attached.

Pippen walked into the main room carrying a box, placing it in front of Malice. “Here ya go, Malice. That’s all your information. Silver, yours is printing now.”

“Thank you,” I muttered as I watched Malice stare at the box like he was afraid to touch it. Walking over to him, I stopped and kneeled before him. Reaching for his hands, I stated, “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to, Malice. You lived that shit already. You don’t need to see a printed reminder of what you endured.”

“It makes no sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

Looking at me, Malice said, reaching for the top sheet, “How in the hell did the club get records of me from birth? I was a Safe Haven kid. No one knew who I was.”

“That motherfucker!” Bane roared, jumping to his feet, a sheet of paper in his hands. “That sick son of a bitch caused the accident!”

“What?”

“The accident that killed my sister. It wasn’t Montana’s fault.”

“What do you mean?” Malice asked, placing his paper back in the box.

“It was George!” Bane seethed, facing us. “He orchestrated the accident. The roads were clear. He hired a crew to wet the bridge, knowing that the frigid temperatures would freeze the road overnight. And to ensure the car went over the bridge, he tampered with the brakes in Montana’s car. That fucker wanted his sons and my sister to go into the cold water. He planned it all!”

“Does it say why?” I asked.

Bane shook his head, reaching into the box for the next sheet of paper. Reading it quickly, I watched as his face paled. Staggering back a few steps, he stuttered, “She was pregnant. My sister was pregnant with George’s kid. He tried to murder my sister to cover up for his mistake.”

Walking over to Bane’s box, I reached in and grabbed the next sheet. Scanning it, I looked at Malice. “According to this, after the accident, the Lansings whisked Amy away for treatment and to protect her. While in a coma, she delivered the baby. George showed up demanding the kid and paid the Lansings five million to keep quiet. Oh God,” I gasped, looking at Malice, who slowly got to his feet.

“What?” both men asked.

Gulping, I looked at both men and whispered, “George Stone sold the baby, but it doesn’t say to who.”

Twenty-Five

Malice

The clubhouse was in uproar.

The second Montana woke and found out what Pippen had done, he lost his shit, but it was Bane who calmed the irate fucker down, and when Bane explained why and showed Montana the files regarding the accident, Montana ordered Pippen to print hard copies regarding all current and past board members.

As it was now, everyone was sitting in the main room, going over their own boxes. Some were cursing, some sitting in shock, while others were already drinking heavily. For once, Bane wasn’t drunk as he scoured his box, looking for information on Iris, determined to find out why the club attached his name to the woman.

“Malice?” Arianwen whispered, taking a seat next to me as I stared at my box.

“I don’t want to open it.”

“Then don’t. Let’s get out of here.”

Facing me, he asked, “And go where?”

“I don’t care. Let’s just ride.”

Taking her hand in mine, we both left the clubhouse, ignoring everything and everyone around us.