All debts owing to the club will be secured by collateral and can be discharged only by the president.
Out of the frying pan …
Arianne’s lips pursed with suppressed fury as Sparky pulled his bike into the parking lot of a small warehouse at the edge of Conundrum’s commercial district, still seething over Jagger’s words: You’re mine. Until I let you go.
Who did he think he was? Only one person spoke to her like that—claimed her like a piece of property—and only because she was powerless to stop him. In many ways, Jagger and Viper were very much alike.
Too much alike.
Powerful and in control, dominant and unyielding, Viper wanted nothing more than her complete and utter obedience. She had never been able to get under his skin. But Jagger … she’d rattled him with a kiss. Maybe she should rattle him some more. She’d never find Jeff if she had Tank and Wheels flanking her wherever she went. Her brother was clearly in hiding, afraid to face the consequences for the botched raid on the Sinner weapons shed. And likely he’d stay hidden until he could salvage the situation by producing the missing weapons before Viper found him. Weapons that were now locked in the shed behind Sparky’s shop, or so she’d overheard.
She followed Sparky across the gravel and waited as he unlocked the door.
“Here she is.” He stepped to the side to let Arianne enter.
After her eyes adjusted to the light, she inhaled the familiar scents of grease and diesel, then looked over a shining sea of chrome, and smiled. “Nice shop.”
“Yeah, it’s like a second home.” Sparky led her through a row of bikes while Wheels made himself comfortable on a worn couch in the corner. Tank stood guard at the door.
“Got something over here I think you’ll appreciate.” Sparky whipped a drop cloth off a bike in the corner and grinned.
Arianne gasped. “That’s not—”
“My secret project. A Ducati 1098S. One of the fastest motorcycles in the world and manufactured only from 2007 to 2009. This one crashed in the Superbike World Championship in 2008, and the owner wanted to offload it for cheap. Didn’t take long to replace and fix up the fairing, but the engine is still running rough. It’s supposed to be able to do zero to sixty miles per hour in under three seconds and hit a top speed of a hundred eighty miles per hour, but I haven’t been able to get it anywhere near that.”
Arianne crouched beside the bike. “They have a few known problems like stalling on idle and leaking gaskets. And did you check the gas tank? The plastic one leaked ethanol, and the replacement is covered under warranty.”
Sparky grinned. “Feel free to tinker with it if you want a break from your Ninja. I’ll take it up to the work bay.“
Sparky’s shop was clearly the hub for club-related gossip, and over the course of the afternoon, at least a dozen bikers came in ostensibly to chat about mechanical problems, but for the most part to catch up on what was going on. No one seemed to notice Arianne in her coveralls, fixing up her Ninja in the corner.
So she heard about the two sweet butts Bandit took up to his room and how disappointed he was to find out they weren’t sisters after all. And that Axle had been getting it on with Gunner’s old lady before he’d been kicked out of the club. And how Cole’s funeral had been especially heartbreaking because, save for the brothers, he had no one to mourn his death.
Tank reported that Dex, the reclusive club torturer, had sneaked some weed into a party the other night but was caught by Zane. No one had seen Dex since. Did anyone try the weed? T-Rex had, and it was good-quality stuff. He thought Zane had kept it to smoke in his room.
A heated discussion ensued about whether Zane was the kind of guy to smoke weed. They concluded that a guy as reserved as Zane wouldn’t smoke weed, and how much did anyone really know about him aside from the fact he was Jagger’s best friend? Bandit and Wheels didn’t trust him. T-Rex wondered what it would be like to be Jagger’s best friend and whether it would be fun. Bandit didn’t think so. After all, Jagger rarely smiled or relaxed. Show of hands, anyone who had ever seen Jagger drunk or stoned. No hands went up. What about getting it on with the sweet butts during a party? Still no hands. Dancing or kicking back? Nope. Definitely not fun to be his friend.
Arianne dipped her head to hide her smile. She couldn’t imagine Jagger losing control, either through drugs or alcohol or even letting loose at a party. She’d never met anyone as self-contained. What would Jagger think if he knew they were gossiping about him like this? He’d probably think it was a good thing no one thought he’d be a fun friend. Leadership was lonely, as Viper had told her on numerous occasions. A leader couldn’t afford to be a friend, because someone close enough to know your mind was also close enough to stab you in the heart. Deep concepts for a ten-year-old girl to hear, but even then she’d gotten the message.
Getting serious now, Tank needed some advice. He’d met a girl. Not his usual type: college grad, rich parents, fancy clothes. But he thought she was sweet. Did she want him because he was a badass dangerous biker or did she just want him for his body? Sparky threw an empty soda can at his head and told him he was the least dangerous biker he’d ever met, and had the personality of a wet fish, so she must have been after his chunky, unwashed body. Wheels suggested he get a girl’s advice. Why not ask Arianne?
Suddenly under scrutiny, Arianne froze, a piece of broken fairing in her hand. “What do you want to know?”
Tank stroked his chin. “What do women go for: body, brains, or biker?”
Arianne glared at Wheels for dragging her into the discussion and then said, “Confidence.”
Confidence? No one understood. Arianne was asked to come out from behind the bike and explain herself. After several failed attempts, she lost her patience. She told them she’d meant women always checked out the package. The bigger, the better. Jill, who had come on Tank’s bike, agreed. Much package checking and comparison ensued. Bandit told Tank he might as well forget about ever getting laid for the rest of his life. Tank took offense and punched Bandit in the nose. Sparky pointed to the door and told them to take it outside. His eyes widened. Everyone turned around.
Arianne’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Jagger in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb as if he’d been there for a long time.
He surveyed the room, his gaze stopping at each of the miscreants now terrified into silence. “I thought we had a clubhouse to rebuild, businesses to run, and contracts to fulfill.”
The room sobered in an instant.
“Like I said”—Bandit brushed past Arianne on his way out—“no fun.”
Over the next few days, Arianne worked on her Ninja and helped Sparky with the repairs to the members’ bikes. She was drawn into more than one relationship discussion with the Sinners and quickly got to know them. Right away, she’d recognized that T-Rex, the club’s senior prospect, was definitely full-patch material, but she still wasn’t sure about Wheels. Although he was always pleasant enough, he was very careful when he spoke and self-aware to the point where she wondered if he was hiding something.
On her fourth day at the safe house, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Assuming it was Dawn, who had been calling to check up on her at least five times a day, she excused herself to go to the washroom and then took the call after she closed the door.
“Ari. You okay? I heard the Sinners got you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Jeff’s voice, and then choked on the cloying fetid scent. The first time she’d asked about the ladies’ room, Sparky had laughed and pointed to the dingy door at the end of the hall. Apparently ladies rarely visited the shop, so no point wasting space for a separate bathroom. And he’d given her fair warning; it was only ever cleaned when the sweet butts came to visit, which was almost never.
Still, she was relieved to know Jeff was okay. She’d called in every favor and asked every friend she knew to check out Jeff’s regular haunts for her. Maybe someone had flushed him out.
“No. It’s okay. I’m good.” She explained about Axle and how Jagger felt duty-bound to keep her safe until he had hunted Axle down.
“So you can leave?”
She gritted her teeth. Jagger’s edict that she was not allowed to leave the safe house without guards still grated on her, but except for that one afternoon when he stopped by to make sure she’d made it to the shop, she hadn’t seen him. She spent her days in the shop and her nights in the small one-bedroom apartment upstairs. Basic, functional, and decorated in stark white and blue, it was cold and lonely, and she often found herself back downstairs chatting with the bikers Jagger had posted as guards for the night.
“Not alone.”
“Fuck.” Jeff grunted, and she heard the thud of his fist against the wall. Oh God. Was he high? He was violent only when he was high or tweaking on crank.
“I need the rest of those guns, Ari. If I show up at the Black Jacks clubhouse without them, Viper’s gonna kill me. And it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t shown up that night, I would have had time to take them all.”
Arianne bristled. “If you’d just come with me when I showed up, you wouldn’t need the guns. We’d be in Canada starting a new life, where we wouldn’t be worried about Viper. You could have gone to rehab. It’s what we always wanted, and—”
“It’s what you always wanted.” He cut her off abruptly. “And I went with you every time, not because I really wanted to leave, but because I love you and I wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want you going to a strange city or country alone. But Viper finally offered me what I always wanted the night of the fire. He said he’d patch me into the Jacks if I did a good job. I could have made him proud. I was going to bring you the passport when I was done. I thought you’d understand, but you messed it up.”
A sudden coldness hit at her core. But really, was she surprised? If she was honest with herself, she’d sensed his lack of commitment from the start, but she just couldn’t bring herself to believe he wanted to stay with Viper. Endure Viper’s abuse. Join the biker gang that had been the cause of such heartache in their lives.
“I know you want the passport,” he said. “And I need those guns. So here’s the deal: You find out where they are and how to get in. Provide a distraction. I’ll be in and out before those damn Sinners know what hit them. You do that, I’ll leave the passport with Dawn and you can go have your happy Canadian life. I’m sorry I can’t go with you, but I’ll be a Black Jack, Ari. A full-patch. I’ll be the son Viper always wanted.”
Arianne sagged against the door of the filthy bathroom. How could she betray the Sinners after all Jagger had done for her? “Don’t ask me to do this.”
“Please help me,” he pleaded. “You know what Viper will do to me if I show up without the weapons. I just want to make him proud. It’s all I ever wanted, and he finally gave me a chance. Once I have that patch, I know I’ll be able to kick the drugs because I’ll know I’m not a failure.”
“The patch won’t solve the problem.” Arianne scrubbed her free hand over her face. “You need rehab, therapy, someone who can figure out why you started in the first place and why you can’t quit. And you need to get away from Viper. You’re an artist, not a biker.”
Jeff huffed his annoyance. “I need guns, and if you aren’t going to help me take them from the Sinners, then you’ll need to go see Bunny. He works out of his pool hall at the corner of Forty-seventh and Main. He’s a man who can get things, but he charges a premium and he only deals in person. I can’t break cover to meet him, ’cause Viper’s got spies everywhere.”
“What about payment?” Jeff had no job. No source of income other than what he earned working for the Jacks. How the hell would he finance the purchase?
“I’ll come up with something.”
“Fine,” she said in a resigned monotone. “I’ll see what I can do.” Meet with Bunny or steal from Jagger? Her only other option was to work and save for a year to buy another passport. But a year was a long time to wait when she wanted to start her new life now. Sure, she could cross the border as a tourist, but eventually the immigration authorities would find her and kick her out. She wanted everything legit and the passport would allow her to live and work without fear of having her new life ripped away.
“Whatever you do, make sure it’s fast.” Jeff’s voice rose in warning. “Viper’s coming for me—and if he finds me, it won’t be pretty.”
After ending the call, Arianne sank to the floor, heedless of the filth around her, and buried her head in her arms. For a long time, she just stared at the dusty grey tiles. Her insides churned, her head throbbed, and a black hole had opened in the center of her chest. She wanted to call Dawn, but it was three o’clock and she knew her bestie never answered her phone between three and four in the afternoon and eight and nine in the morning. Her “sacred hours,” as she called them.
What the hell was she going to do?
Bang.
The door bowed with the force of a blow, and her brain finally registered that the thumps and shouting outside had been going on for a while. Before she could get up, the door splintered and crashed to the ground.
“What’s going on?” Jagger stood in the doorway, the scowl on his face softening into concern when he met her gaze. Sparky, Tank, and Wheels stood behind him. She tried to imagine how she looked, curled up in the corner of a filthy bathroom in her coveralls, tears and grease streaking her face.
“Nothing.” Thoughts scrambling, she pushed herself to standing. One thing she’d learned from Viper was never to show her weakness, and right now, it was all hanging out. “I’m good. Just taking a break.” She brushed past him and stepped into the hallway, but before she could walk away, he grabbed her shoulder and waved the brothers away.
“I’ll ask again. What’s going on?”
“And I’ll say again,” she said. “Nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bike to fix.”
He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “This isn’t nothing. I heard you talking. Who was on the phone?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” She snapped at him, mindful of keeping her voice low, but needing an outlet for her frustration. “I haven’t seen you for four days. No one will tell me what’s going on, whether you found Axle, or how long you expect me to stay here. I have a life to get on with. I have a job. Banks has been understanding, but—”
He cut her off with a kiss, soft and sweet. The tears she’d been holding back leaked from her eyes and she pulled away. “Don’t.”
But he didn’t listen. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, this time starting with the tears.
“Jagger.” And then she was kissing him back with four days’ worth of longing, and half an hour of heartbreak, tasting the salt on his skin and the coffee on his lips, soaking in the heat of his strong body, wishing she could drown in him until all the pain went away.
“Been thinking about you every minute of every day since I dropped you off.” He backed her up to the wall, leaning his forearms on either side of her head. “I just spent the afternoon beating the crap outta one of Axle’s men, and I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“That’s sweet in a twisted, outlaw-biker kinda way.” She slid her hands over his broad chest, placing them on his shoulders. “Did you catch Axle?”
“No, but we know where he is.”
She leaned up to nuzzle his neck, inhaling the sharp tang of his cologne and the earthy scent of leather. Always leather. “Shouldn’t you be out there, chasing after him?”
Jagger growled, the sound vibrating through her body. “No. I should be here, stripping off your clothes and running my hands over your body, worshipping you with my mouth, and fucking you till you scream.” He curled his upper lip, baring his teeth. “But we got a bigger problem than Axle, which is why I came. Viper knows you’re here.”
A wave of dizziness struck her and her legs trembled. Of course he knew. No matter where she went or what she did, he knew. It was why she’d never been able to run away. Somehow he always found out where she was going before she even arrived.
She pushed Jagger away and headed out into the shop. “My bike isn’t looking pretty, but I think it’s mechanically sound. I’d better get going.” Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket, and she reached for the zipper on her coveralls just as Jagger held up his hand.
“He’s offered a trade to get you back.”
Shock fuzzed her brain. Viper didn’t trade or negotiate or even ask. He took. “What did he offer you?”
Jagger stiffened, and for the first time, she noticed the determined set of his mouth and the creases in his forehead. Wary, she bit her lip and took a step back. Her phone buzzed again.
“He offered me the guy who burned down the clubhouse and killed Cole.”
Arianne grabbed the handlebar of the nearest bike to steady herself. Jeff? Had Viper found him? She immediately dismissed the idea that Viper would offer him up. For all that Jeff was a disappointment to Viper, he was still Viper’s son. His possession. His property. No way would Viper hand him over to the Sinners. Which meant it was a trap.
“You okay?” Jagger took a step toward her, but Arianne waved him away.
“I’m fine. Just … surprised he found me so fast. Or, maybe not.” Part of her wanted to warn him, and yet, how could she betray the Jacks or give Jeff up? Although she had turned her back on the club, the biker ethos stayed with her—duty, honor and loyalty. And fear. Always, the fear. “What are you going to do?”
Jagger scraped his hand through his hair. “I have a duty to find Cole’s killer and the arsonist and obtain justice for the club.”
“You’re handing me over?”
“I didn’t say I was handing you over.” He scowled, deepening his tone. “I made a promise to keep you safe, and protect you. I’ll find a way to meet both obligations.”
“Seriously?” Arianne couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “There is no way to get what you want without handing me over. I know how it works: Club first, club last, club always. You’re stuck, Jagger, and there’s no way I’m offering myself up like a lamb for slaughter. I just need to stay off his radar for a few more days, take care of a little business, then I’m gone.” She unzipped her coveralls and shrugged them off, then walked over to her bike. She hadn’t had time to test out the engine on the road, but anything was better than staying here.
“Arianne…”
As she made one last quick check of her bike, she marveled at Viper’s genius. No doubt whomever he handed over would be so badly beaten, he wouldn’t be able to tell the Sinners they had the wrong man, and whoever he was, Viper wanted rid of him. So he saved himself the time and energy of killing the poor soul while forcing Jagger to give her up because he would know Jagger would choose the club over anything else.
“I know the biker culture, probably better than you.” She ran her hand over the recently repaired fairing. “But I also know something else: Unless you’re prepared to tie me up and hand me over to him, I have a choice. And if I didn’t believe that, I’d still be at home, being beaten by Viper and molested by the Jacks because that is the lot of women in the club.”
“Not here,” Jagger began, but Arianne held up a hand to stop him as the words poured out of her.
“When I was sixteen, I made a choice. I wanted safety. I wanted happiness. I wanted freedom. I wanted to give my body, not have it taken. So I put a gun to my head and told Viper if he didn’t agree to let me leave, I’d kill myself. And you know what? He let me go because he knew I would do it. I left with only the clothes on my back and got a room in a house with an old lady who waived the rent in exchange for the company and some chores.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Jagger took a step toward her, but stopped when she backed away. “We’re not Jacks, Arianne. Yes, the club is first, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another solution.”
Instinct screamed at her to run. Jagger was just throwing words around. In the end, his choice was no choice at all. Her phone buzzed yet again, and she pulled it out of her pocket, hoping it was Jeff. But the moment she looked at the text from Viper, she knew she’d been trumped.
He’d sent her a picture. A man. So badly beaten, she couldn’t make out a single distinguishing feature on his face. And a message. Time to come home.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and a tremor coursed through her body. He knew her that well. If she didn’t go back, he’d kill the patsy he’d picked up to take Jeff’s place. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Guess I’ll make it easy for you,” she said. “I’ll go.”
Jagger’s brow wrinkled. “What was that message?”
“Family business.”
“Family business mean you’re gonna get hurt?”
She turned away. “Why do you care? You were going to hand me over even if I didn’t want to go.”
Her heart sank when he didn’t refute her words. She’d been wrong about Jagger. He wasn’t like Viper. He was Viper. All over again.