The president shall defend club members, property (including chicks), and territory from outside threats.
“Where is she?”
Jagger trod over the broken door and glared at Banks and Dawn. Banks had a gun pointed at his chest and held Dawn protectively behind him.
“You said he’d find her,” Dawn muttered behind Banks back. “You didn’t say he’d kick down my door.”
“I thought he’d knock.”
“Where—is—she?” Jagger stalked toward Banks, disregarding the weapon. He hadn’t paid much attention to the bar owner before, but from his stance and the way he held the gun, it was clear he’d had military training. And that told him Banks wouldn’t fire on him because he wasn’t a threat. At least not if the man told him where to find Arianne.
“She’s asleep in my room.” Dawn gestured to the hallway behind her. “Two women brought her to to the bar in a cab. They said someone had been shooting at her and she’d fallen and hit her head while trying to escape. She wasn’t making much sense, but she was able to ask them to bring her to the bar. The women who brought her gave Banks the full story.”
Safe. She was safe. Jagger just managed to keep himself from sagging against the wall. “Appreciate the call.”
Dawn smiled. “Had a feeling you might want to know.”
“Word of warning.” Banks lowered his weapon when Jagger took a step toward the hallway. “She’s been roughed up a bit. Dawn and I looked after her, but you might want to prepare yourself. Try not to break anything else. I don’t pay Dawn enough for extensive repairs.”
His tension returned tenfold. Rubbing the back of his neck, he stalked down the hallway. But when he reached the bedroom door, he paused. What if she didn’t want to see him? He’d failed her. He had promised to protect her, and instead he’d hurt her, chased her away, and when she needed him most … He clenched his fists. Fuck it. He’d take his chances.
Jagger pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. Arianne lay asleep on the bed, her hair spread over the pillow in a chestnut wave. From his position in the doorway, she appeared okay. And then he saw the bandage.
With a growl, he flicked the lights on and slammed the door closed. Arianne startled and shot up in bed. “Jagger. God, you scared me.”
No. No. No. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he didn’t think he would be able to contain himself. Her face was bruised on one side, her eye black, a thick white bandage plastered to her temple. His lungs constricted, and although he tried to speak, no words came out.
Soft and sleepy, Arianne gave him a wry smile. “I guess I must look pretty bad. You look like you’re about to explode.”
He pointed to her arm, knowing from the size and shape of the bandage what she would say before he even asked. “What?”
“Bullet.”
A maelstrom of emotions threatened to rip him apart. Needing an outlet, he turned and punched his fist through the door. Could he have failed her anymore?
“Always with the drama.” Resigned amusement tinged her pain-ridden voice.
He whirled back around to face her, his heart pounding so hard, he feared he would break a rib. “Someone shot you?”
“Yeah. That’s usually how someone gets a bullet wound.” Her trembling hands belied her light tone and his voice rose almost to a shout.
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.…”
Doesn’t matter? He had only two thoughts in his head: first make sure she was okay; and second, make sure whoever had done this never hurt her again.
“It matters to me. Tell me. Now.”
“You can growl and shout and threaten me all you want tomorrow, but right now, I just want to be alone.” She scrubbed her hand over her face. “I should just have gone with Banks to his place. He’s got a triple steel door. No Jaggers would be able to get through.”
“You should have come to me.”
She lay back on the pillows, seemingly unaware that the flimsy piece of satin she wore had slid to the side, exposing the crescent of her breast. His groin tightened painfully, and he dug his nails into his palm. Damn. Not now. Not when she was injured and looking at him like he was the last man on earth she wanted to see. But with adrenaline still pumping through his system, he was almost overwhelmed with the primal need to take her, hold her, make her his again. And then he would hunt down and kill the bastard who had hurt her.
“After what happened outside Peelers, you weren’t on the top of my list.”
His shoulders tensed. Not just because he had hurt her, but also because he’d never even considered she would look to another man for comfort or protection. And what if she had gone to Banks’s house? What if he’d found her lying in his bed? He’d have killed the bar owner most likely. Just the thought of her with another man sent rage coursing through his veins. “It’s my job to protect you.”
“You took my phone. Oh … and you betrayed me. Accused me of betraying you. Hurt me. So forgive me if I didn’t think of you when I needed protection.” She shifted in the bed and winced.
“You need medical treatment.” Jagger pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Doc. Take you back to the clubhouse.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Goddamn it. Didn’t she understand she needed proper medical treatment and not a waitress and a bar owner fumbling with her wound, no doubt leaving her with an infection or a scar or worse? His hands fisted at his sides as he fought back the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out the door. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice softened. “Dawn had a full first aid kit that she brought from the bar after the fight. And Banks knew what he was doing.”
But she wasn’t fine. He’d never seen her so pale, bruised, beaten. Even now, her hands shook and the spark was gone from her eyes. But instinct warned him not to push. He was lucky she was talking to him at all.
“I’ll check to make sure.” He found the bathroom down the hall and washed his hands, barely recognizing the strained, anxious face that looked back at him in the mirror. When had he last been so emotionally volatile? Not since Christel died.
When he returned to the room, Arianne had pulled the covers around her. She edged away when he sat on the bed and winced when he lifted her arm.
“What does a biker know about treating bullet wounds?”
“Field training in the army. Everyone was taught how to treat a bullet wound.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You were in the army?”
“Fourth Infantry Division. Two tours of Afghanistan.”
When she didn’t respond, a niggle of doubt worked its way through his mind. By way of distraction, he carefully removed the bandage and examined the wound, testing the edges with his thumbs for tenderness or infection. “I’ve rendered you speechless.”
“Why did you quit?” She blurted out. “How did you go from the army to being an outlaw biker?”
“I didn’t quit.” He felt a familiar heaviness in his chest. Although he had never regretted his decision to join the Sinners, the circumstances that led to the end of his military service still pained him. “I was honorably discharged. Shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade got lodged in my heart during a raid. Doctors said it was too risky to take it out and an even bigger risk to have me in the field. Couldn’t handle a desk job, so they booted me out.”
Concern replaced her curiosity, and she lightly stroked his forearm with her free hand. “You have shrapnel in your heart? Aren’t you worried that one day—?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Only a problem if they have to open up my chest. That’s when there is a risk of it dislodging. Otherwise, there isn’t anything I can’t do. But despite all the medical reports, the army didn’t see it that way. They thought it was too much of a risk.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked up and met her gaze, warmed by her genuine sympathy and moved to tell her more. “Found a place with the Sinners. Lots of ex-military, discharged ’cause of injury like me. Some just lost in the civilian world. Others unhappy with people’s lack of understanding of the sacrifices we made for our country. Same core values of brotherhood, trust, and honor…”
“I can’t believe I had to get shot to hear the story behind your scar,” she said as he wrapped the wound. “I should have made you get shot before I told you about the belt.” She flinched when he finished the wrap, and Jagger stilled.
“I hurt you.”
“No … you’ve been surprisingly gentle.”
He clasped her hand, twining his fingers through hers. “Surprisingly?”
“From what I’ve seen so far—Axle, the bar brawl, pounding Leo’s face into the counter, putting your fist through the door—‘gentle’ isn’t the word I would have used to describe you.”
She was right about that. He wasn’t a gentle man. And yet with Arianne, it was no effort to hold back.
“And this.” He brushed his thumb over the cut on her cheek. “I did this.” He cupped her jaw and stroked over the cut again as he fought back a wave of remorse. “I didn’t want you to leave.” Jagger clasped her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “When we got to Peelers, all I could think about was that I might not see you again. I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want it to affect me, and I was angry at myself that it did. I took it out on you.”
A smile ghosted upon her lips. “You grovel well.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed each finger, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, breathing in her scent. It was as close to an apology as he had ever come, as open as he had ever allowed himself to be.
“You need to be held.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were for him, as much as for her. He checked the bandage, then pulled her onto his lap.
“I’m not a child, Jagger.” But her body softened when he put his arm around her, and she leaned against his chest with a gentle sigh. Perversely, the ease with which she gave up the fight increased his agitation. Whatever had happened tonight had taken the fight out of his fighter, and damned if he wasn’t going to ensure that never happened again.
“What happened tonight? Who hurt you?”
She went rigid against him. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please.”
Torn between the urge to hold her and the need to get the necessary information to hunt down and eliminate the threat, he enfolded her in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing and the rapid thud of her heart against his chest.
“I always tell the boys, you aren’t a real biker until you get shot.” He kept his tone light, teasing. “I guess you’re a real biker now.”
“Maybe I always was a real biker.”
“My biker,” he said. “And I’m taking you where bikers belong.”
She gazed up at him, and the defeated expression in those beautiful green eyes stabbed him in the heart. “No, Jagger. I just want to go home.”
* * *
Caught in the last remnants of her nightmare, Arianne sat up so fast, her head spun. But Viper wasn’t beating her in the Black Jack clubhouse. And Leo wasn’t pinning her to the bed with his heavy body. And Jeff wasn’t in a parking lot, shooting her as she ran.
But she was alone for the first time in two days.
After reluctantly taking her home, Jagger had called the club doctor to come and check her over, and then he’d held her all night long, his arm around her, his body tucked against hers. He’d stayed with her the next day, hanging out in the shop with Sparky, fiddling with his bike, and shutting down all the gossip—to everyone’s disappointment. And last night they’d made love for hours. But they hadn’t talked. And it was clear from his unnatural silence and haunted expression, there were things he wanted to say.
Pulse racing, she walked over to the window and rested her forehead against the glass, looking out over the calm, still night. Peaceful. Moonlight filtered through the dark clouds overhead, chasing shadows across the street. Just as the nightmares chased her. She knew now she would never escape them. They were part of this world. A world where she could never be safe. She had to leave Conundrum to truly be free.
The front door opened and closed. She heard the whisper of leather and the rattle of steel out in her living room as Jagger removed his cut and the heavy chain he wore around his belt. What time was it? Three? Maybe 4 A.M.? Where had he gone? But before she could ask, she felt his heat behind her, his body pressed against her own. Arianne’s bones turned liquid.
“You should be in bed.” He swept her hair to the side and kissed the sensitive dip between her neck and shoulder, his lips whispering over her skin.
“I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about being shot at when I ran for the cab.” She shook herself, changing the topic. Enough she had to deal with the nightmares in her sleep. “What about you? It’s late to be working.”
He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and her stomach fluttered with awakening desire.
“T-Rex, Gunner, and some of the boys got ambushed by the Jacks on a protection run. Four men hurt, and we lost the weapons. T-Rex managed to get them help and rode to the clubhouse injured and alone. He just got back an hour ago and he brought this message.” He handed her a crumpled picture, but before she could open it, he covered her hand.
“Usually I lead the protection runs, but I wanted to stay with you, make sure you were okay, so I sent Gunner in my place. They’d been tipped off that I would be there, and Gunner took two bullets because they thought he was me. They didn’t just want the weapons, they wanted me dead.”
Her breath caught. “Is Gunner okay?”
“Thanks to T-Rex’s quick thinking, yes. He flagged down a trucker and had him take Gunner to a hospital. They left that picture in Gunner’s cut.”
Hands trembling, Arianne unfolded the picture. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held an actual photograph. Even Jeff rarely used his darkroom. She stared at the photo, and her heart seized in her chest. Someone had taken a picture of her, beaten and chained in Bunny’s basement. Although the light was poor, she was easily recognizable. She flipped it over, and written on the back was the word, Traitor.
Her blood chilled as Jagger tensed behind her. Although she’d managed to put him off for two days, there was no way he would let this go. Not as a man. And not as president of the Sinner’s Tribe.
“Tell me what happened. Who shot at you? I can promise it will never happen again.”
She recognized the fury in his voice from the night at Peelers, but this time every word was cold and calculated. Determined. He would not be so easily put off. And yet, she had to try.
“I told you before. I just want to forget about it.” Not only was she still reeling from Jeff’s betrayal, or the fact he’d shot her with her own gun, but she also mourned the loss of the brother she had loved so dearly. Even the drugs were no excuse. Somewhere along the road, he’d become his father’s son. And this picture—it had to be Jeff’s picture—proved it. Viper would never do anything as childish. Or as personal. And she betrayed him, too. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Wrong thing to say. Jagger fisted his hand in her hair and jerked her neck to the side, a shocking contrast to his gentle touch only a moment before. “You don’t understand what it does to me, seeing you like this, Arianne—the cuts and bruises, the bandages, the fucking ropes and chains, knowing someone hurt you, shot at you, and I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“Jagger…” She tried to pull away, but he held her firm and scored his teeth down her neck, sending a pulse of electricity straight to her sex.
“Tell me who it was. I need to find the bastard or I’ll go fucking crazy.”
“Please. Let me go.”
“I let you go once, Arianne. I won’t make that mistake again.” He grasped her breast in his broad hand, squeezing roughly until she gasped, more at the shock of his sudden change in demeanor than at the bittersweet pain that made her sex ache to be filled.
“What are you doing?” She tried to look back over her shoulder, but he gripped her hair harder, keeping her still. “Why are you being like this?”
He ground his pelvis against her, pressing his arousal along the cleft of her buttocks as his free hand tightened on her stomach, pinning her to his body. “I gave you time. I was patient. And while I was being patient, I sent my boys out to find out who hurt you. They came back with nothing.”
Was this his game? Seduce the information out of her? Well, no seduction needed. She could give him enough information to keep him satisfied. And then he could satisfy her.
“Jeff was at Peelers.” She scrambled to come up with a plausible story that wouldn’t implicate Jeff. But not a lie. She couldn’t lie to Jagger. “He saw one of the prospects when we arrived, so he hung around outside and caught me when I was in the restroom. He said he had given my passport to someone who was in his car. I couldn’t let you take him, and you suspected me of betraying you anyway, so I went to get it. A guy in a cut came around the corner, so we jumped in the car and drove away.”
She could feel the wave of anger ripple through his body as his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. “You got in the car because of me. You were going to leave.”
“I got in the car because I wanted the passport.” She trembled beneath his touch. “Not because I’d decided to go that night, but because I wanted the option. I wanted to have it in my hand so that I’d know if things went bad, I had a way out. You just … made it easier to get in the car.”
Her words inflamed him. With a growl, he spun her around, backing her up to the wall. She shivered as the cool surface pressed against her bare skin, her nightie providing no protection from the chill.
“I won’t make it easy again.” He bracketed her wrists with one strong hand, lifting her arms and pinning them above her head. “What happened after you drove away?”
Anger and arousal roared through her blood. She writhed in his grasp, but her struggles only heightened her desire, her nipples hardening as they brushed over his solid chest. Jagger forced her legs apart with a thick thigh, the rough denim of his jeans scraping over her sensitive flesh as he held her in place. “Tell me.”
Ah God. How could she save Jeff from Jagger’s wrath? He was lost to her, but she couldn’t be the instrument of his death. “Axle was in the car. Jeff owed him money. He was tweaking and needed a hit. We wound up at Bunny’s.”
“Jesus Christ. Axle.” Jagger spat out the name. “I should have finished him when I had the chance.”
His eyes blazed so hot, she could almost feel the burn, and his pulse throbbed rapidly in his neck. With his gaze fixed firmly on hers, he brushed his fingers along her throat, feathering his way to the top edge of her nightgown.
Then, with a brutal yank, he tore it away.
“Jagger!” Vulnerable, inexplicably ashamed, she tried to turn, hide herself from him, but his hands kept her pinned against the wall, and his thigh held her immobile.
“I thought I made it clear: You don’t go to see Bunny. Ever.”
She bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. “I didn’t have a choice. Axle had a gun.”
He gave a satisfied grunt, then leaned down and nipped her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Confused by his unpredictable shifts between hot and cold, rough and gentle, she pulled away.
“Is he the one who hit you?” With his free hand, he cupped her breast, kneading it until she physically ached to have him inside her. He brushed his thumb lightly over her nipple, then gave it a rough pinch.
Her body heated, burned for him. And he was hard—so hard, she could feel his arousal against her stomach, smell his hunger thick and hot around her. She rocked her hips, grinding her wet sex against his thigh, hoping to distract him from his questioning, making him lose control.
“Answer.”
Her stomach clenched. He wouldn’t kill Jeff for hurting her, but he wouldn’t let him get away with it either. “They … both did.”
He reacted as she knew he would, his body going rigid, his face smoothing into an expressionless mask. “Jeff hit you, too?”
“I was trying to run away. He was tweaking.”
“Fuck.” He pounded his fist against the wall beside her head. “Jesus Christ, Arianne.”
Torn between fear and arousal, she tried to pull away, but he slid a hand between them, his fingers reaching inside her panties to stroke her wet curls. Arianne’s body arched and trembled, but when she licked her lips, a bitter taste coated her tongue. “I don’t want to play this game anymore—”
Her words choked off in a gasp as he lowered his thigh and pushed one finger deep inside her. Her inner walls clenched around him and she bit back a groan.
“What happened at Bunny’s?”
“Bunny wasn’t involved,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he drew his finger out, then thrust deep again. “He recognized me and let me go. He said he didn’t want to get on your bad side.”
Jagger added a second finger, rubbing along her sensitive inner walls as he penetrated her. Moisture flooded her sex and she rocked shamelessly against his thrusts, seeking a release from the tension coiled through her body.
“I want you, baby,” she whispered.
“I know, sweetheart.” His deep, husky rumble reverberated through her body. “I can feel your heat. I want you, too. But I want something more.”
“What? What do you want?” Her hips pushed against his hand, but his rhythm didn’t change. Too slow. Too shallow. He was in control, and his dominance served only to heighten her arousal.
“I want to know who beat you, tied you up, shot you, and chained you to the wall.”
Dazed, on the precipice of orgasm, her body pulsing and throbbing with need, she almost gave the game away. Almost. “It doesn’t matter. I got away.”
“It matters.” He added a third finger, filling her, stretching her, pounding inside her with an exquisite, brutal intensity. “It’s killing me, sweetheart, because I wasn’t there, and if you don’t tell me who did it to you, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
“Please … don’t do this, Jagger. Not now.”
“Who?” His voice rose to a shout and he pressed the base of his palm against her clit, sending her arousal spiraling out of control. “Was it Bunny? Axle? Who else was there? Jeff?”
“I was in an alley and then I was tied up.” Her head pounded with the effort of trying to skirt over the critical piece of information that could end Jeff’s life and destroy what she and Jagger had together while at the same time, endorphins flooded her brain and her body quivered with need.
“How did you get away?” He renewed his assault, his thumb flicking over her sensitive bundle of nerves as he drove his fingers deeper inside her, his lips a feather-light contrast as he pressed tiny kisses along her jaw.
“Bunny made them untie me. We went outside. Axle had a gun. They were talking about how Jeff could get Axle’s money. I disarmed Axle and ran.”
“Who shot you, Arianne?” Clearly at the end of his patience, his words came out in a sharp bark, and her brain fuzzed, no longer able to separate fear and arousal, torn between pushing him away and begging him to make her come.
“I can’t—”
“I need to know like I fucking need to breathe. I. Need. To. Know.”
Her heart sped up double time. Despite everything Jeff had done, she could never give him up, especially not to a man she suspected would kill him. She hated her brother, but she didn’t want him dead. She owed him for the night long ago when he had saved her, and for the past they shared.
This has to end. Now.
Drawing on the skills she had learned to survive Viper’s wrath, she allowed her anger to rise sharp and fast burying her emotions in a protective burst, burning away her confusion. “Don’t do this, Jagger.”
“Tell me.”
Bastard. How could he use their intimacy as a means to get information from her? His actions were as much a betrayal as her failure to tell him that the bullet Banks had pulled from her arm was a .22, the gun Jeff had taken from her. Axle had the .45.
“The bullet came from behind, and that’s all you’ll get from me.”
Jagger pulled away, releasing her wrists as he slid his fingers from her dripping sex. Arianne staggered back at the sharp pain of abandoned arousal. And then shame washed over her in an acid wave. Shame at having let the game go so far. Shame at leaving herself so vulnerable and exposed. Shame at wanting him so much, she had forgotten the most basic rule: Do not trust.
Nausea roiled in her gut. She took a step toward her clothes, and Jagger stepped in her way.
“I want you so bad, I fucking ache with wanting you.” His voice shook with emotion. “I would do almost anything to have you right now. But more than that, I want you to be safe. I can’t honor my duty to the club or honor my promise to you if you don’t give me a name. I know you know who it is.”
Fury scoured away the shame. She took a step into his space, determined to get her clothes, silently daring him to stop her. “No one is going to die because of me.”
Jagger stood firm. “No one touches what is mine, Arianne. No one hurts my girl. No one shoots a woman under my protection and lives. And no one fucks with the Sinners or what belongs to us. I will get that name, and when I do, I will show no mercy.”
“You did this for a name?”
He turned and headed for the door. “I did this because I love you.”