The club will defend its own.
He couldn’t keep his eyes on the damn road.
Instead, all he could see was Arianne’s sweet ass as she bent low over her Ninja, burning up the road like she was desperate to get to the meet. Damn, that woman could ride. No fear. No hesitation. If she really wanted to get away, she could, and he almost wished she would just break and run. He still hadn’t thought of a way to uphold the honor of the club and protect her at the same time. And although she’d agreed to the exchange, there was no damn way he was letting her go.
Lost in thought, torn between duty and desire and the unfamiliarity of remorse, Jagger almost missed the turnoff to the vacant lot in the run-down north end of town.
He signaled to the brothers behind him to form a perimeter in case of trouble, and sent the second wave ahead of them to form a smaller circle around the meet site. Sparky was already in the parking lot with the cage, ready to take back the civilian Viper thought to pawn off on him. He’d already sniffed out the trap. Hell, he would have done exactly the same thing. No biker president would voluntarily give up one of his own men, and especially not for a woman. “Club first” meant brothers first.
Arianne slowed for directions and he motioned her toward the parking lot. She hadn’t spoken to him since they left the shop. Did she think he would have handed her over if she hadn’t volunteered to go? Despite his decision to become an outlaw, he was a man of honor. He’d said he would protect her, and he would. But he still had to put the club first. An impossible dilemma.
He pulled up beside Arianne and gave her the details of the meet. Three men to a side, unarmed, one hostage each. He’d laughed at Viper’s terms. As if either of them would send in a single unarmed man or show up without as many brothers as they could round up on short notice.
“He won’t be there.” Arianne combed her fingers through her hair. “He’ll send Leo or Bear, his sergeant-at-arms. He never shows at things like this.”
Jagger frowned. “You’re his daughter.”
“I’m a woman.” She didn’t need to explain. Misogyny was pervasive in the outlaw MCs, with women usually ranking lower than bikes, clubhouses, and sometimes pets.
But damnit, he didn’t need a reminder. Didn’t want to think about her soft curves beneath his hands, the brush of her lips, her sweet ‘n’ sassy mouth. His protective instincts were already stretched to breaking, and it was everything he could do not to bundle her up and hide her away where no one would hurt her ever again.
Damn. Damn. Damn. This was exactly why he preferred simple hookups to serious relationships. This is what he feared; the real reason he had stayed away from the safe house for four long days, although he ached every night to hold Arianne in his arms. He’d put her in danger, just as he’d put Christel in danger. And like Christel, Arianne would pay the price. He should have just let her go. But instead, he went on instinct. And instinct was telling him to keep her close.
With the perimeter established, Jagger signaled to Zane and Gunner to cover his back as he walked with Arianne through the garbage-strewn grass. A soft breeze ruffled the tendrils of Arianne’s hair, and he had to clench his fist against the urge to run his fingers through those silky strands just in case he didn’t get another chance.
By the time they reached the meet point, the lot had filled with bikes and bikers, primed and ready to fight if the handover didn’t go as planned. Leo was already waiting for him near a pile of rubble, accompanied by a huge bear of a man who had at least three inches on Jagger in height and maybe one hundred pounds in weight.
“Bear.” Arianne muttered under her breath. “Viper’s sergeant-at-arms. He almost never leaves Viper’s side. He’s Viper’s shadow, except he’s all brawn, no brains, and no mercy.”
Jagger swallowed a laugh. He doubted he’d ever heard a more suitable road name. With the dark, full beard, short curly hair, and thick furry forearms, Bear was a bear indeed. But it was clear from Bear’s posture and his position slightly back from the group that he wasn’t the one in charge.
A murmur rippled through the crowd of Black Jacks, and the temperature dipped as a cloud drifted in front of the sun. Half-lit in the gloaming, a towering man stalked toward them. Black Jacks scattered, deferential even as they stumbled away.
“Viper.” Arianne’s hand flew to her parted lips. “I can’t believe he’s here.”
He stalked directly to them, his cut worn and heavy with patches, swaying slightly over his barrel chest. His hair was black, fading to gray, and long, just brushing the top of his cut. A thick salt-and-pepper beard shadowed his jaw. Taller than Jagger. Wider than Bear. His arms were thick with ropy muscles, and covered in colorful tats. When the Black Jack president swaggered to a stop, Jagger counted six gold rings, three on each hand, the largest a snake’s head with ruby eyes.
Up close, Viper’s face was broad and scarred, his nose crooked and his expression one of pure brutality. Cold, dark eyes fixed on Jagger, showing no glimmer of emotion. Fierce and formidable, yes, but aging, too, as borne out by the lines of hard living etched into his face, and the slight rounding of his broad shoulders. And yet his sheer palpable presence cowed even the men standing closest to him. Power radiated off him, a storm, barely contained.
They studied each other, eyes locked on each other, neither willing to cede the power position by being the first to speak.
Finally, Viper gave an exasperated sigh. “Jagger.”
“Viper.”
“You got something belongs to me.”
Jagger could almost feel the cords twanging in his neck. “You got the bastard who burned down my clubhouse and shot my brother?”
Viper looked back over his shoulder. “Bring the fucking prisoner.”
Motionless by Jagger’s elbow, Arianne sucked in a sharp breath. Although curious about her reaction, Jagger didn’t dare take his gaze off Viper. This was a game he was playing to win.
A few minutes later, a young blond biker joined them, his cut worn but patch-free and hanging off his rail-thin body. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, his bottom lip split, one eye swollen shut, and his left ear swathed in bandages. He carried himself awkwardly, as if every breath pained him, and from the beating he clearly had taken, maybe it did.
Viper dropped his gaze to the blond biker, and his lip curled in a snarl. “I told you to bring the fucking prisoner.”
“He can’t walk.”
Viper cuffed the lad and he staggered to the side, stumbling over a discarded soda can. Arianne growled—a sound so soft, only Jagger could hear it. Was that her brother? He looked nothing like Arianne and bore no resemblance to Viper either.
“Bring him anyway. Leo, give him a hand.”
They waited in silence until Leo and the blond dude returned, dragging a man behind them, his face badly battered and his thick red hair matted with blood. Arianne’s barely audible sigh of relief gave Jagger pause, but this wasn’t the time for questions.
“There you go,” Leo said as they lowered the unconscious man on the ground.
“This the guy who torched our clubhouse?”
“This is him,” Bear interjected, his voice thick with derision. “Acted without authorization. You can see what Viper thought of that.”
“Did he shrink over the last few weeks?” Scenting victory, Jagger licked his lips.
A puzzled Bear shot a glance at Viper and then his lips pressed into a white slash. “What the fuck?”
Jagger’s hand slid into his cut, and his fingers closed over cold steel. “We have video surveillance. Not great, but he doesn’t resemble any of the men we caught on camera.”
“This is fucking bullshit. We held up our end of the bargain.” Leo gestured to Arianne. “Hand over Viper’s property.”
Arianne bristled. “I’m not property. I don’t belong to anyone.”
Viper’s eyes glittered with malice as they slid to Arianne. “You belong to me.”
Christ. Jagger couldn’t imagine a young girl growing up with a father like Viper. Or a boy, for that matter. At the very least, the children would be starved for affection, and at most … well, he’d seen her scars. Some of them.
“You don’t accept him?” Viper gestured to the prisoner on the ground, and Jagger’s throat constricted. The man was in serious need of medical attention, but Jagger couldn’t take him when he clearly wasn’t the perpetrator of the crime. To so do would make him look weak not just to the Jacks, but to his own men as well. No doubt Viper would abandon him here, and they could call an ambulance after everyone had gone.
Jagger barked a laugh. “Some random dude who’s likely pissed you off? No.”
“Jeff.” Viper’s bark drew the blond biker to his side. So this was Arianne’s brother. She hadn’t lied when she said he was the opposite of Viper, nor had she lied about the drugs. He had the same sunken eyes and gaunt look he’d seen in the brothers he’d kicked out when they hadn’t been able to beat their addiction.
“Kill him.”
Jeff blanched and his voice rose to a whine. “You told me I just had to beat him up.”
“Now I’m telling you to kill him.” Viper gave an irritated snarl “We have no use for him. Sinners don’t want him.”
“Jeff. No.” Arianne stepped forward. “You’re not a killer. You don’t have to do this. Once you cross that line—”
“Shut it, girl.” Viper cut her off, then glared at Jeff. “You wanna be a Jack? Then act like one. Not one of my boys would hesitate to pull the trigger. Hell, your sister would do it. Wouldn’t blink an eye. You ever wonder why she got patches and you didn’t? ’Cause you don’t have her balls. Show me you’re better than a fucking girl. Make me proud. Earn your colors, or prove you really are the pussy I always thought you were.”
“But…” His pleading glance sliced through Jagger’s heart, but Viper was unmoved.
“Pussy.”
Jagger’s skin crawled with loathing as Jeff raised his weapon with a shaking hand. Fucking bastard goading his own son. And the innocent on the ground.… But what could he do? He had rejected the prisoner, so by rights the man belonged to Viper. What happened to him was Black Jack business, and if Jagger got involved, the Jacks could retaliate. With everyone armed and already on edge, interference on his part could lead to a fucking disaster. He would be putting his men at risk.
Viper snarled. “Three seconds, boy, or you’ll never get those colors.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t let an innocent man die. Jagger drew his weapon and pointed it at Jeff. “Let him—”
Crack. The sound of the bullet tore through the silence, sending crows squawking and flapping in the air. Jeff’s hand dropped, the gun hanging from his finger, his face contorted in anguished despair.
“No.” Arianne shrieked and took a step forward, but Jagger held her back. Too late. They were both too late. And if she went to Viper now, the poor soul on the grass would have died for nothing.
“Problem solved.” Viper glanced over at Arianne. “Come, girl.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground beside him.
Arianne didn’t move, her gaze fixed on Jeff, her face reflecting his despair.
“Jesus, bitch. You never listen.” Viper took two quick strides toward Arianne, fingers outstretched as if to grab her. Arianne stepped back, closer to Jagger, her hand flying to Jagger’s arm to rest at the crook of his elbow.
And in that second, everything changed.
Mine.
Her small, unconscious gesture, a statement of trust that he would keep his word, keep her safe, roused in him a protectiveness so fierce, he was powerless to stop his reaction. Shifting his stance, he positioned himself between Arianne and Viper, shielding her with his body as he met Viper’s furious glare.
“Black Jacks broke the truce,” Jagger snapped. “I lost a clubhouse and a good man.” He looked back over his shoulder and lifted his chin in Arianne’s direction. “Now I got compensation. Since she’s your daughter, I’ll call it even. I claim her as the blood price for the debt you owe us.”
Beside him, Zane hissed his disapproval, but Jagger had made his decision. He had, in fact, made the decision when he’d first received the call from Viper about the meet. But the part of him that put duty above everything else, coupled with Arianne’s insistence that she was going to the exchange, had almost convinced him he would be able to give her up.
Growls and a buzz of anger rippled through the Black Jacks.
Leo’s brow furrowed and he scratched his head. “Viper’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“You’re taking Viper’s daughter as a blood price?” His voice rose in disbelief. “You gonna kill her?”
“She’s mine. If I want to kill her, I will. If I want to keep her as a house mama, I’ll do that, instead.” And then, because he knew Leo wanted Arianne, and Viper was already bearing down on him, he said, “And if I want to use her, I’ll keep her chained to my bed.”
Arianne clutched his arm, anger radiating off her in waves, but she stayed silent. Jagger let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She understood he was saving her from whatever punishment lay in store if Viper thought she’d gone with him of her own volition. And he was giving her a way out. They had both been aware of the risk that night on the roadside. As she’d said, she had a choice. And she’d chosen him.
“Take her.” He shoved her back toward Gunner and was ready when Viper struck. He had already braced himself for the blow. But he hadn’t anticipated the flickblade Viper had concealed in his palm. The blade sliced through the front of his shirt, leaving a gash four inches across. Jagger grunted at the pain in his chest and grabbed Viper’s wrist, twisting it back and away until the knife dropped and they faced each other man-to-man.
“She’s dead to you.” Jagger spat out the words as Sinners and Jacks threw themselves into the fray. “You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You don’t call her. You don’t hunt her. She belongs to me.”
Viper jeered. “You’re thinking with your dick, boy. Are the lives of your men worth a bit of pussy?”
Shaking with rage, Jagger slammed his fist into Viper’s face, following the punch with a kick that sent his opponent staggering back.
In the distance a siren wailed. The shrill sound of a whistle cut through the smack of flesh on flesh, grunts and groans, and the crack of bone. A warning.
“Jag, gotta go.” Zane raced toward him, his cheek cut and bruised. “Wheels is on lookout. He says there’s at least ten cop cars on the way. Maybe more. Not sure how they found us. None of our lookouts reported cars or people in the area, and I’m sure the Jacks had lookouts of their own.”
Gritting his teeth, Jagger turned back to his opponent, but Viper was already on the move, the Jacks swarming around him as they headed for their bikes.
“Arianne.”
“Over there.” Zane pointed to the pile of rubble where Arianne knelt beside the fallen man.
“Grab Gunner and go round up the stragglers.” Jagger said, as he raced over to join her. Arianne looked up when he knelt down beside her.
“He’s still alive.”
“We gotta go.” Jagger tugged on her arm. “Cops are on the way.”
She pulled away. “I can feel his pulse. We need to call an ambulance, and his family…”
Still alive. Jagger’s head fell back in relief. “The police are only minutes away. They’ll take care of him. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I don’t want to leave him alone.” She looked up, her eyes glittering with tears. “He’s hurt because of me.”
Jagger stood, tugging her to her feet. “He must have done something pretty bad to the Jacks or they wouldn’t have caught him in the first place. And it was Jeff who hurt him and Viper who pulled the strings. Not you.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead, puzzled when she pulled away. “You know what happens if the cops catch you here,” he continued. “Either you walk or I’ll carry you, but you’re coming now. We can watch from the hill, where it’s safe, to make sure they find him.”
She hesitated, then pushed to her feet, refusing his outstretched hand. “Okay.”
Still curious about her rejection, Jagger tried to catch her gaze as they jogged across the lot, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the road ahead.
“You’re on my bike.” He pointed to the pillion seat. “We’re meeting at Sparky’s shop. One of the prospects will bring your Ninja. Can’t risk losing you now.”
Not now. Not when she was finally his.
Jagger’s heart pounded as she mounted the seat behind him. He had claimed her under the biker code. Arianne belonged to him. No one would ever touch her again. No one would hurt her. And she wouldn’t run away. An almost primitive joy suffused his body, and a fierce primal instinct to claim her in the most carnal way tightened his groin.
Mine.