What belongs to the club, belongs to the brothers unless the president says otherwise.
She’d known he would come.
While her fingers stayed busy, twisting bolts and pulling wires on her Ninja, and her mind tried to sort through her tangled emotions, her body remained tense, alert, every sense heightened by the knowledge that you did not turn your back on a man like Jagger and walk away without paying a price.
And she had turned her back. After he accepted the cheers and commendations from his men for snatching Viper’s prize from under his nose, he’d dismissed her enraged declaration that she was nobody’s property with a simple, “You’re mine.”
Well … not so simple. He’d curled his hand around her neck, dragging her toward him, plastering her body against his. Then he had pressed his lips to her ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening growl, and repeated the word that set her teeth on edge: “Mine.”
So she’d walked away. The alternative was to slap him, and although she longed to do so, she couldn’t bring herself to challenge him in front of his men. Her lessons in respecting the authority of the president were too ingrained. Inside and out.
The door closed and she tensed when the dead bolt snapped into place. Still, she didn’t bother to turn around. Instead she carefully positioned the repaired fairing on her Ninja and inspected the result. Damn. The lacquer hadn’t dried evenly. She’d have to start again.
A draft of cool air made her shiver despite the coveralls she had thrown over her clothes, but not so much as the shadow she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. The shadow of a man who had defied Viper. A man who had protected her. The man who now called her “mine.”
“Leave me alone.” She swiped a grease-covered hand over her nose and grabbed a socket wrench from the set beside her. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“How about thank you?”
She pushed herself to standing and whirled around to face him. Jagger leaned against the tool bench, thick arms folded over his cut. Her gaze traveled down his muscular body, to the hand-tooled leather belt and the Harley-Davidson buckle shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun, which streamed through the window. And then her focus slid below his belt to the powerful thighs and the prominent bulge at his groin. Her cheeks heated and she looked away.
Mind out of the gutter.
“For what? For doing to me what Viper did? For treating me like a piece of property? You can’t own me.” Her voice rose in pitch and her body shook with the effort to contain her emotion. “This is the twenty-first century. It’s against the law.”
“Since when do one-percenters obey the law?” Although his voice was calm and even, there was no mistaking his tone. This wasn’t a discussion. It was a fait accompli.
Arianne shuddered. In the short time she’d known Jagger, she had come to realize he was far more dangerous than any of the Jacks, maybe even more dangerous than Viper. So cool. So calm. So utterly in control of everything and everyone around him. Nothing surprised him. He seemed to plan every move at least three steps ahead, enforcing his will before ever making a demand.
“What are you saying?” She squeezed her wrench so hard, her knuckles whitened. “I’ve paid for my life with my freedom? And now that you own me, you expect me to do your bidding?”
He held up his hands palms forward. “You’re upset. I understand that. But stop right there before you say something we’ll both regret.”
But she couldn’t stop. A lifetime of anger, pain, and humiliation bubbled over in her utter despair at letting her guard down only to see there was nothing on the other side except more of the same. She had trusted Jagger despite herself, only to have the freedom that had almost been within her grasp snatched away.
In frustration, she threw the small wrench at him and reached down to pick up another as he dodged her throw. “It’s not going to happen. I’m not property. Not for Viper. Not for Leo. Not for you. Not for anyone.” Her voice rose, to a shout. “How could you do this to me? All I ever wanted was to be free.”
“Stop.” Louder now, his voice cut through her rant but not through her rage.
“I’m leaving. If not on my bike, then on someone else’s, and if I don’t have a bike, I’ll damn well walk.” She threw another wrench and Jagger stalked toward her, ducking to the right to avoid the flying tool.
Her third wrench went wide, but by the time she picked up a fourth, he was bearing down on her too fast, an unstoppable force. She took one step back and then another, but he kept coming and coming until her back hit the wall and his hand clasped firmly around her wrist. Arianne turned her head to the side, squeezed her eyes, and steeled herself for his fist.
“Drop it.” His forceful tone left no room for argument.
She dropped the wrench. But when he released her wrist, and the strike didn’t come, she slapped at his chest in a frenzy of blows. “Get away from me. You treated me no better than Viper ever did.” She cut herself off and glared. “This is why I hate bikers. I hate being part of this world where women are nothing but pawns in a game, property to be traded and used and abused and cast aside. The only way I ever got any respect was to be as good as or better at what they did. So I learned to shoot better and ride better and play pool better. And yet in the end, I’m still nothing. I’m a ‘girl.’ I’m the prize you snatched from Viper.”
Her chest heaved as she rasped her breaths, her breasts brushing against his cut. But when she looked up, she saw neither anger nor scorn in the depths of his eyes. Instead she saw concern, sympathy … and goddamn unyielding determination.
He hugged her face with his warm hands, even as he trapped her with his body. “The things that happened to you—and one day I want to hear everything—don’t happen in my club. I won’t deny that misogyny exists, or that women take on roles that might be looked down on generally by civilians, but in return for what they do for the club, they are given respect and protection and they know they won’t be harmed.”
“Why would you care what happened to me? That’s all in the past.”
Jagger bent down and touched his forehead to hers. “Because you’re mine. And ‘mine’ means you have my protection. ‘Mine’ means I’ll look after you. It means nothing happens you don’t want to happen and no one touches you without your consent. It means your life is in my hands and I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe and secure and your needs are met. It means something happened to you that twisted your perception so bad, you look at us and you see only them. I’ll make that right. I’ll give you justice. I’ll give you back whatever was taken from you.”
“Respect?”
His face softened and his lips quirked at the corners. “I remember someone telling me respect has to be earned.”
A violent, desperate tremble shook her body as she struggled against a deep-seated longing for what he offered. A gift she could never accept because the price was simply too high—freedom and control, the two things she had fought for all her life. “You can never give it back.” She pushed him away. “What I lost is gone forever.”
His hands slid to her shoulders and he pulled her toward him, his intoxicating scent of leather and autumn leaves confusing her senses.
“‘Mine’ means I’ll find a way, Arianne. It means I will do everything I can to make you happy, give you as much freedom as I can. But always, you will belong to me.”
“Please.” She twisted out of his grasp. “Don’t do this. You did what you had to do for the club. I get that. You get justice and a reputation as a kickass MC president for taking Viper’s daughter. And you could rationalize it on the basis you were helping me by sending a message to Viper that I wasn’t here by choice. It was a win–win situation, and we both received a benefit. But that’s it. There’s nothing else. There is no protecting me or looking after me or fixing a past that can never be fixed. There is no giving me back my life. There is no mine, Jagger. There’s only you, president of the MC, who lives and breathes for the club. And there is me, who lives and breathes for the day I get out of Conundrum forever.”
“There was no way in hell I was letting you go.” He leaned so close, her head dropped back, her mouth only inches from his.
“Do you understand?” His hand curled around the back of her neck. “This evening in that vacant lot. There was no way in hell I was letting you go. I will never let you go.” He threaded the fingers of his free hand through hers, joining them palm to palm.
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. “What does that mean? Are you saying you want me to be your old lady? Because I won’t do it. I don’t want to be a biker’s old lady. I don’t want to be a biker’s anything.”
“I want you, Arianne.” His voice dropped to a husky rumble. “More than anything I have ever wanted in my life. And no, not as an old lady. I won’t subject you to that kind of risk. So if this is the only way I can have you, then this is how it will be.”
He wanted her. Just as much as she wanted him. And although she hated him for what he had done, the part of her that understood wanted to take what he offered, even if just this one time.
“I want you to be mine in every sense of the word.” Stepping closer, he raised their twined hands and then thudded them against the wall above her head, pinning her in place.
Far from eliciting a fear response, his dominance aroused her. Her body arched to accommodate the stretch of her arms, her breasts pressing against his chest as he firmed his grip around her neck. Unable to stop herself, she tipped her head back and parted her lips in silent invitation.
Demanding, hot and hungry, his lips moved over hers, forcing her mouth open for the determined thrust of his tongue. Possessive. Dominant. Ruthless.
And then he was everywhere, searching and claiming, his hands sliding down her body, fingers digging into soft flesh, pressing her against the steel of his erection. Passion suffused his kiss, desire and need.
Arianne melted against him with a soft groan that only seemed to inflame him. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies so close, she could feel his heart pound against her ribs. Giving in to the tension that had been building since the day they met, she slid her hands over the broad expanse of his chest, and then froze when cotton gave way to flesh.
“You’re hurt.”
“Just a scratch.”
She circled a finger lightly over the wound, which was still raw and caked with dried blood. “It needs to be tended to.”
“I got something else needing tending that hurts a hell of a lot more.”
Arianne twined her arms around his neck, then pulled him toward her, the last of her inhibitions drifting away. “Ah, the dirty mouth again. Say something else. Your dirty talk makes me wet.”
“Christ.” He strained against her grip. “Don’t tease, sweetheart. I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” She leaned up and nipped his neck, then licked the wound, sliding her tongue down to the hollow at the base of his throat as his taste, hot musky male, seared across her tongue.
“Arianne…” His protest went unheeded as she ground against his hardened length.
“Take me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to see, smell, touch, taste, or hear anything but you. I want to pretend this evening never happened and just for now that this is real … that I’m yours and you’re mine and that I’m safe and happy and no one is going to take it away.”
“You are mine.” He unzipped her coveralls and shoved them down to her waist. “You are safe. And no one will take anything away.” Without pause, he lifted her shirt, reaching around to flick the catch on her bra. Her breasts spilled into his waiting palms and he cupped them, squeezing gently as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples until they hardened into peaks.
“So beautiful.”
Arianne trembled, arching into his touch. “More.”
He obliged by bending down and drawing her nipple into his mouth, hot, wet, and warm. He nipped and teased, flicking his tongue back and forth until her head fell back and she groaned his name.
“Say it again.” His deep rumble reverberated through her body. “I want to hear my name on your lips and nothing else.”
“Jagger.”
He knelt in front of her, first sliding her coveralls down, then opening the button on her jeans and easing them slowly over her hips. Arianne sifted her hands through his hair, letting the silky strands slip through her fingers.
“Like these.” He traced the lace along the edge of her red silk panties, following the crease of her thigh. So close, but not close enough to where she wanted him to go.
She moaned softly and he looked up and smiled. “Been waiting a long time to have you, sweetheart. I’m not gonna rush. I want to enjoy your body.”
“My body would be more enjoyable if you finished taking off my clothes.”
He laughed and steadied her while she kicked the clothes away, but he wouldn’t let her remove her panties.
“You take those off, and it ends right now.” He cupped her sex with his hand, pressing his palm firmly on the silk barrier covering her clit, and every nerve in her body flared in response. “When I take you, sweetheart, I want you so wet and so ready, you’re gonna come fast and you’re gonna come hard and you’re gonna squeeze me so I’m coming with you.” He splayed his fingers, forcing her legs apart. “Open for me. Let me play.”
Arianne yielded to the pressure, parting her legs as the warmth of his hand soaked through her panties and she thought she’d combust from the heat raging within her.
“Don’t I get to play, too?” She nuzzled his neck and then lightly nipped his skin, delighting when he growled. Her biker liked it rough.
“You want my cock?”
She smiled and licked her lips. “Yes, baby, I want your cock.” The term of endearment slipped out too fast for her to catch it. But it felt right, and from the warmth in his eyes, it felt right to him, too.
“Have at it. I did promise to give you what you want.” He stepped back, releasing her and she instantly felt bereft.
Hands trembling, Arianne stripped off his cut. Desperate to touch his bare skin, she was tempted to toss it to the side so she could get her hands under his shirt, but a biker’s cut was his heart, and although she was more determined than ever to leave this world after the encounter with Viper today, she couldn’t bring herself to throw Jagger’s heart on the floor.
Folding it carefully, she placed it on the seat of the bike nearest her and then looked up as she reached for his shirt. Jagger’s eyes flicked to his cut and back to her. Then his gaze softened and he nodded, his silent appreciation sending a warm tingle through her body.
Within seconds she had his shirt off, and her hands on his magnificent body. She traced her fingers over his massive chest, a perfect canvas for the Sinner’s Tribe tattoo, marred only slightly by that long scar, and then down over the ridges of his abs.
“Very nice.” Her voice came out in a husky rasp that made Jagger chuckle.
“Glad you approve.”
By the time she reached his buckle, she had lost patience with the game. Without hesitation, she tugged open his belt and undid his fly. Hands trembling, she shoved his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its restraint.
Huge and heavy, his shaft bounced in her direction.
“Touch me.” His voice came out in a strangled groan and Arianne wrapped her hand around him. So hot. So hard. But the skin over his shaft was soft and smooth as silk. She gripped him firmly, stroking down his length and then back up, ripping a second groan from his throat.
“Faster.”
“What happened to taking our time?” She quickened her strokes, cupping his balls with her free hand and giving them a squeeze.
“Time’s up. Fuck … gotta stop.” He clasped her wrist, drawing her hand away from his thick shaft, then reached between her legs and shoved her panties to the side. Before Arianne’s lust-soaked brain could process his intentions, he had thrust a thick finger into her sex. She gasped and stiffened at the delicious intrusion.
“Christ, you’re so wet, sweetheart. So fucking tight. We’ll have to take it slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He added a second finger, stretching her, filling her, making her shudder with need. She gripped his shoulder with her free hand and reached for his cock again, stroking him faster than before.
“Panties gotta go.” With a sharp yank, Jagger tore her panties away, discarding them over his shoulder.
“I liked those.” Arianne firmed her grip on his shaft. “Now you’ll have to pay.”
He jerked his hips, rocking into her palm as his fingers thrust deep inside her, gliding along her sensitive tissue. Arianne dug her nails into his shoulder determined not to give in to the raging need building inside her.
At least not before him.
“Enough.” He slid his fingers from her pussy, then tugged her hand away. “I want to come inside you. I want to fuck you hard and fuck you deep and fuck you until you come all over my cock.”
Arianne groaned. “Now would be a good time. There’s a condom in my purse.”
Jagger stilled. “Why? You gotta man?”
“You’re asking me now if I have a man?” Her voice rose in pitch. “First, I’m leaving town, so why would I get involved? Second, it’s called safe sex. And if you haven’t heard of it, then this is as far as we go.”
A pained expression crossed his face—so fleeting, she wondered if she’d imagined it—and then he scowled. “I don’t share, Arianne. Anyone touches you, tries to lay claim to you, he’ll answer to me.”
Her lips curled in a bemused smile. “Lucky for you, I broke up with my last boyfriend months ago.”
“Lucky for him.”
Jagger retrieved the condom and sheathed himself, but when he returned, something had changed. He seemed pensive, brooding, and more intense than he had been moments ago, all traces of his good humor gone. And when he kissed her, his lips were hard, firm, unyielding, as if he had a message he couldn’t say in words.
“Jagger?” Was it the mention of other guys that was bothering him? The condom? Or was it the fact she was leaving town?
He lifted her, his fingers digging into her ass, his cock pressed against her sex. Arianne wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders as he backed her up against the wall.
“Say something,” she whispered.
Jagger bent down and drew her nipple between his teeth, sucking and nipping until she was writhing against him. His hand slid down, skimming over her clit to stroke along her folds.
“Are you ready for me?” There was an edge to his voice that made her heart skip a beat, and she briefly considered slowing things down, finding out the reasons for his sudden fierce intensity, but her core ached and her clit throbbed and she was close—so close, she could almost taste the oblivion of release.
“Yeah, baby. I’m ready for you.”
Jagger closed his eyes, buried his face in her neck, and groaned. “Fuck, sweetheart. Just … fuck.”
Impatient, she shifted against him, levering herself up to position herself where she wanted him to go. Jagger took over in an instant, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance.
“Relax for me.”
She gritted her teeth and locked her legs around his hips, forcing him in farther. “Relaxing is not what I want to do right now. It’s been a while, but I’m not going to break.”
With a low moan, he thrust inside her, his size, the sense of fullness, the erotic sensation of being stretched to the point of discomfort so intense she shuddered with desire.
“You promised me hard and fast.” Her breaths came in short pants and Jagger gave her a slow, sensual smile.
“Yes, I did.”
Then he lifted her and thrust in deep, withdrawing and then pounding into her sending her arousal skyrocketing. When Arianne moaned, he slid one hand between them and spread her moisture up and around her clit. Awash with sensation, the tang of his blood on her tongue, she was totally unprepared when he pinched her clit and sent her over the edge.
Her orgasm hit in a fierce, violent wave of intensity, crashing through her body and rippling out to her fingers and toes. As she throbbed and pulsed around him, Jagger hammered into her, finally coming with a roar, the heated jerks of his cock against her sensitive inner walls sending a shock wave through her body as she writhed against him.
“I think we skipped numbers one and two from your list and jumped to number three.” She leaned against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her chest, as she came down from the ride.
“Lots of time for one and two,” he murmured.
“But—”
Jagger pulled away abruptly before she could tell him again she was leaving, easing her to the floor before he went to dispose of the condom. By the time he returned, Arianne had put on her clothes and hidden her torn panties in the pocket of her coveralls. She ran her hands through her hair, smoothing down the loose strands. Why was he being so cold?
His eyes hardened when he saw her dressed. Without a word, he tugged on his jeans and reached for his shirt.
“Jagger? What’s wrong?”
He looked back over his shoulder and yanked on his shirt, heedless of the laceration on his chest. “You’re mine,” he said simply.
“Okay.”
“Not okay.” Jagger whirled to face her, then closed the distance between them in two long strides. “You don’t get it.”
The skin on the back of her neck prickled in warning, but she pushed on. “Then explain it to me.”
He twined her hair in his hand and tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You aren’t leaving Conundrum. I claimed you.”
A chill shot down Arianne’s spine. “I thought you claimed me to help me get away from Viper and for all the political reasons that go with it. Not for real. Not for—”
“Yes, for real.” He cut her off so abruptly, she startled.
“I claimed you as a biker and now I claimed you as a man. You are mine, Arianne. No one will fuck you but me. No one will touch you but me. I’ll kill any man who hurts you and hurt anyone who makes you cry. If you need something, I’ll get it for you. If you’re sad, I’ll make you happy. If you want to go out, you ask. Every night you will sleep in my bed. And you will not leave Conundrum.”
Shocked, speechless, she could only stare. “Seriously?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Do you seriously think I belong to you because we had sex? Or that you can stop me from leaving if that’s what I want to do?”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Not with me. I fought too hard for too long to wind up in the exact same situation I was trying to escape.”
Gravel crunched outside, and Jagger released Arianne, spinning to hide her as she zipped up her coveralls. She had just smoothed down her hair when the door opened and Sparky stepped inside.
“We’ve got a lead on Axle. He knows she’s here and he’s in the neighborhood, likely at one of the local bars.”
Jagger waved him back. “Gimme five.”
“What’s out there for you?” Jagger pulled on his cut after the door closed. “Aside from just getting away from Viper, what is it you’re looking for?”
“Happiness is out there.” She tried to keep her voice even despite the ache in her throat. “Normal is out there. I’ll have a normal life, where every day I get to decide how to live. No one will get shot or threaten to kill me. No one will hold a knife to my throat or claim me as a blood price. I’ll feel safe when I go to bed and safe when I walk out the door. I’ll be a person and not a piece of property. I’ll have a house and a husband and kids and a dog and a nine-to-five job and—”
“You gonna trade the Ninja in for a minivan?” He gave her an incredulous look. “Drive the speed limit down the highway? You gonna tone down the attitude that makes a man so hard, he can’t think straight?”
“Some things will stay the same.”
“Is that really what you want?” He softened his tone. “You’re not normal, and you never will be. You were born into this world. You adapted, survived. The skills you have, you don’t need out there. But the skills you need out there, you don’t have.”
“There won’t be any bikers around. That’s all I need to be happy.”
“Happiness is in here.” He tapped her chest just above her heart. “Not out there.”
Arianne brushed his hand away. “There’s nothing left in there. Everyone I loved is gone, and everyone I trusted betrayed me. And now Jeff…” Her throat constricted, cutting off her words. “But I’ll find it again once I leave Conundrum. I know I will, and I won’t let anyone stop me—not Viper, not Leo … not you. I don’t give up when I want something. Even at the worst of times, I never gave up. “
“Neither do I.”
“Jagger—”
“Later.” And then he turned and walked away.
* * *
The Sinners found Axle at a bar only a few blocks away, and sharing a table with Mac “the Blade” Lombardo, one of Montana’s most infamous hit men. While Cade and Sparky took the Blade outside for a “chat” and Zane cleared out the civilians, Jagger settled himself at Axle’s table and sent Wheels to scrounge up a couple of drinks.
He said nothing while the bar was being locked down, the owner paid off, and the lights dimmed, enjoying Axle’s increasing discomfort and the fear only silence could bring. Instead, he checked out the pictures on the walls: Harleys mostly, and women, and women on Harleys, so scantily clad, his mind wandered to the little Black Jack he’d left behind in Sparky’s shop.
Arianne. On his bike. Naked. Now that was something to lighten his dark mood.
The bar was small—fifteen worn wooden tables—and narrow, smelling of yeast and stale beer. Just enough room for Cade and Sparky to walk on either side of the Blade as they dragged him to the back door. The bar counter was scratched and the walls covered in Giants’ pennants. But that’s what happened when you lived in a state with no professional sports teams.
By the time Wheels returned with the drinks, the civilians were gone, and sweat beaded on Axle’s brow. Axle reached up to take the beer from Wheels, and his trembling hand made Jagger smile. He could see Axle’s fear, smell Axle’s guilt, and by the time the night was over, his knife would taste Axle’s blood. But first, a little fun.
“Wheels, we need some tunes for this happy occasion.” Jagger forced a smile. “Not every day we meet up with a long-lost ex brother.” He took a beer from Wheels’ outstretched hand, and motioned to the speakers in the corners. “Find the sound system. Put on something fitting.”
Ever the obedient prospect, Wheels headed for the back while Tank and Gunner took up guard positions near the doors. Zane joined Jagger at the table, a smirk on his face. He loved interrogations. Maybe too much.
“Heard you’d issued a vendetta against me.” Jagger took a long sip from his bottle then reached behind his hip and pulled his knife from its sheath. “And against Vexy.” He toyed with the knife, holding it up as if inspecting the blade under the light.
“Don’t know anything about a vendetta.” Axle’s voice rose in pitch as he stared at the knife. “Never made any threats against you or that little Black Jack wh—”
Jagger slammed his knife through Axle’s hand, pinning it to the table just as George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone,” blasted through the speakers. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Axle’s screams to die down.
“Also heard you were looking to patch in to a new club.”
Axle gritted his teeth, his entire focus on the knife in his hand. He would be desperate to remove it, but he knew if he touched it before Jagger gave him permission, the consequences would be severe. “You kicked me out, so there’s no reason I can’t patch in to a new club.” He grimaced and looked up. “Who’s been talking about me?”
One thing about Axle, he’d never lacked balls. Not many men would be throwing questions back at him, but Jagger, now secure in his claim over Arianne, was in a mellow mood.
“Weasel. True to his name.”
“Fucking bastard.” Axle balled his free hand into a fist. “I don’t know why he would fucking lie, but since he’s a disloyal, dishonorable, lying scumbag, I’m not surprised. If you want to have a talk with him, he’s staying with his mom. Blue house on Fir Street.”
“Not interested in Weasel right now.” Jagger took another swig of his beer. “I’m interested in you and only you.”
Axle shuddered. Clearly, he knew what was coming. He’d been with the Sinners before Jagger had joined the club. And he’d seen just how ruthless Jagger could be.
“Look, Jag. You know Weasel. Never said an honest word since the day he was born. I was always about the club. What happened at that meeting, I was doing it for the club.”
“You were doing it for yourself.” Jagger placed his index finger on top of the knife, and Axle stilled.
“No man.” He whined. “I’m still about the club. I got a good thing going now. Cock fighting. Easy money. I’ll let the club in on it, just to prove it to you. The brothers are still my brothers.”
Jagger briefly rocked the knife, and Axle shrieked. Sweat trickled down his temples, and his complexion turned three different shades of green.
“Club’s got enough money.” Jagger flicked the knife again. “But what we don’t have is information. For example, I’m interested to know why you’re having a drink with the Blade only three blocks from Sparky’s shop.”
Axle’s voice dropped to a pathetic whimper. “Just a casual acquaintance. Bumped into him when I stopped in for a drink.”
“Really?” Cade appeared at Jagger’s side and tossed a cell phone on the table, then leaned down to wipe away a drop of fresh blood from the screen. “The Blade offered to give us his phone. He’s got something on there that makes me think Axle’s not telling us the truth.”
Now standing behind Axle, Zane leaned over and stared at the screen. “Well, isn’t this a coincidence? The Blade knows Vexy. Even has a picture of her working at Banks’s Bar.” He wrapped his arm in a stranglehold around Axle’s neck. “How did the Blade know where she worked?”
“Don’t know.” Axle’s eyes bulged as he struggled for breath.
“You knew she worked there.” Zane tightened his grip. “You were coming for her the night the Jacks were there.”
Axle clawed at Zane’s arm with his free hand. “Yeah, I knew she worked there.”
“So maybe you set the Blade on her? Told him to go check her out, maybe make your job easier when you got to the bar.”
“No.” Axle’s rasped, his face turning purple.
Jagger took the phone from Cade and stared at the picture of Arianne. She was smiling at someone, clearly unaware of the threat only a few feet away. His stomach lurched and it was all he could do not to pull out the knife and drive it into Axle’s heart.
But that would be too easy.
“Axle’s looking a little pale, Zane. Let him go. I’m thinking he needs some air.” Jagger yanked his knife from Axle’s hand. Axle wheezed in a breath and slumped in his chair.
“Up and at ’em, cowboy.” Cade tugged on Axle’s shirt to help him up and then gawked in mock disbelief. “Uh-oh. Someone forgot to remove his Sinner’s Tribe tattoo.”
Jagger fixed Axle with a frigid stare. Kick-outs had seven days to remove their tattoos and hand in anything bearing the Sinner’s Tribe mark. Although he had intended simply to teach Axle a lesson about making threats against club members, his flagrant breach of the rules of his banishment was a much more serious matter.
“I’m sorry.” Axle babbled as Zane and Cade pulled him out of his chair. “I meant to have it covered, but the guy in my local shop was booked solid. He said he could do it next week.”
“Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood.” Jagger finished his beer and thumped the bottle on the table. “I’ll just remove it for you myself. There’s a room in the basement of the new clubhouse. No windows. Nice and quiet. You can choose … fire or acid. No one will hear you scream.”