Chaos Bound (36 page)

“T-Rex” needed Tank. In the alley, he needed Tank’s arms around him, Tank’s strength to hold him, Tank’s friendship to endure. Before the dungeon T-Rex needed Tank and Tank needed T-Rex.

Did Holt need Tank, too?

Tank knocked on Jagger’s office door, and Jagger called out for them to enter. Over the years, Jagger had transformed the once lavish office—decorated in old-world style with floral wallpaper, a massive cherry desk, matching built-in bookshelves, thick carpets, and a crystal chandelier—into something more fitting of a biker president. He’d kept the desk and bookshelves, but he’d had the prospects rip off the paper and paint the walls white. Now framed prints of motorcycles and scenic bike routes decorated the walls, and the patio doors leading out to the shooting range had been stripped of their heavy brocade curtains, allowing the light to flood in.

“I’ll hear you out,” Holt said to Jagger, without preamble or hesitation.

Jagger lifted an admonishing eyebrow, glanced over at Zane who lounged in the chair in front of his desk, and then back to Holt.

“You and I have some things to discuss, T-Rex. I’ll speak to you alone.”

“I’m staying.” Zane folded his arms, leaned back in his chair. He always had Jagger’s back, even when Jagger didn’t want him. There was nothing Zane wouldn’t do for Jagger. He was Jagger’s rock, his shield, and his support. Where Jagger went, Zane followed, protecting him so he could focus on the important business of running the show.

Holt had it in him to be a leader. Tank had seen it in the clubhouse and in the bar and in Hacker’s office. A leader needed a man at his back. A man he could trust. Holt might not realize it now, but he needed Tank, just as Jagger needed Zane.

“I’m staying, too.” Tank folded his arms and leaned against the wall, just like Zane. If that’s what Holt needed, that’s what he would be.

Jagger and Holt shared a look—not the look a biker president would give to an upstart junior patch who had stormed into his office demanding details of his plan, but the look of an equal. Jagger nodded, and Tank pulled the door closed.

“You coming back to the club?” Jagger nodded at Holt’s cut folded neatly on a table beside his desk.

“No.” Holt took a seat beside Zane, although Jagger hadn’t asked him to sit. Tank tried to hide his discomfort. It was going to take a while to get used to the new Holt who no longer shared the awe and reverence Tank held for Jagger and the senior patch members of the club.

“But we may be able to work together to bring Viper down. I have other things needing my attention at the rally, and I can’t be everywhere at once.”

Jagger studied Holt for a long time, assessing, considering while Tank sweated it out at the back of the room. What would happen if Jagger pulled on Holt? Or decided to beat him up and toss him out of the room? Where would his loyalties lie?

“This is my club,” Jagger said. “I’ll share our plan, but I will not be second guessed. I will not be challenged. I will not be questioned. You are in or you’re out. If you’re out, you stay out of the way.”

Holt shook his head. “I’m not after your club. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to wear a cut anymore.”

“I’m beginning to think you shouldn’t wear it,” Jagger drummed his fingers on his desk. “There can only be one leader.”

In that moment, Tank knew what would happen if Jagger pulled his gun.

There was only one man he could follow.

And it wasn’t the man who had given him his cut all those years ago.

TWENTY-SIX

Naiya squeezed the trigger on the Colt Defender Series 90 semi-automatic pistol. Her first shot missed the target. But the next two shots hit not too far from the center. She turned to Shaggy, standing a few feet behind her, and grinned.

“You were right. It does have a smoother trigger pull, and it’s easy to shoot multiple rounds quickly. When you first offered me a gun, I went for a .22 because it’s small, but this is slim and lightweight and it packs more of a punch.”

Although it was afternoon, the air was still cool and damp, fragrant with the scent of pine. Naiya fired another shot, and groaned when it went wide. She’d been practicing with Shaggy for almost two hours at the paper target handgun and small-caliber rifle range behind the Sinners’ clubhouse, but she couldn’t get any consistency with her shots. And it wasn’t for lack of trying or even need for a better teacher. Shaggy had been nothing but patient and helpful, although the intensity with which he watched her put her on edge.

Shaggy leaned against the metal railing running the full length of the field. “You got lots of practicing to do before you can approach a target without thinking through everything from your stance to your grip to the position of your arms and your sight. You got too cocky. Maybe it’s in the genes.”

“What genes?” She lowered the gun and sighed. “I never saw my mother fire a gun. My dad was a Black Jack, but I have no idea who he is. Maybe he was their top shooter or maybe he was a strung-out druggie like my mom. I’ll never know.”

Shaggy opened his mouth and closed it again. “Yeah, that’s tough.”

“I used to think he was watching over me when I lived with my mom,” she said. “But I gave up that dream when Viper…” She cut herself off, reluctant to share that very personal information with someone she barely knew.

“When Viper what?” His face tightened and his hand closed in a fist. “What did he do? If that bastard…”

“Nothing. Just forget I said anything.” Just what she needed. Yet another overprotective male in her life. Well, she was here learning how to shoot because she was tired of running and hiding, tired of looking for a man to protect her when she should have been looking for ways to protect herself.

“Christ.” Shaggy turned and fired four bullets in rapid succession into the center of the already decimated paper target. He fired another round, lay the weapon on the table, picked up another and did it again. Was he angry she hadn’t told him about Viper? Or was he tired of teaching her? Were they done for the day? He was the most enigmatic man she’d ever met and even after two hours she couldn’t figure him out.

“Well, it’s not like you gotta run out tomorrow and start shooting people.” He raised his weapon, his body quivering like he wanted to punch someone. “You got lots of time to practice.”

Naiya studied him as he fired at the shards of paper floating in the breeze. Despite the gray beard, he was younger than she’d originally thought—probably in his mid to late forties at the most—and no slower or any less capable than the junior patch from what she’d seen. As far as she could tell, he was an “old timer” through experience only, and maybe because of something in his past that had left him bitter and alone.

“I don’t, actually. I’m going to the rally. I want to be there when Holt takes Viper out.”

Shaggy laughed. “I thought you’d spent some time with the Jacks. If you did, you’d know there is no chance in hell you’ll be going with Holt if he goes with the club. Women are not involved in club business. Women don’t go on the road with the club. Women stay home. We don’t put our women in danger.” He cleared his throat, looked away. “At least the brothers that got women don’t put them in danger. And Jagger takes care of the sweet butts and house mama, makes sure they stay behind.”

“Club women,” Naiya corrected him. “I’m not part of the club, and I’ll do what I damn well please.” She walked down the shooting lane to change the paper target, and Shaggy called after her.

“It’s too dangerous. Holt’s not gonna let you go. Jagger’s not gonna let you go. And I’m not gonna let you go.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” she threw back over her shoulder. “I hardly even know you.” This is what she’d hated most about the Jacks, and all bikers, really. Misogyny at its finest.

“Not even Arianne is allowed to go,” he countered, his tone dropping to something close to a plea. “And she probably has more reason than anyone else to want revenge. Viper killed her mother and her brother.”

Naiya shuddered as she changed the target. She’d heard rumors that Viper had killed Arianne’s mother, and that he’d had a hand in Jeff’s death. She felt a pang of sadness at Jeff’s loss. For all that he’d abandoned her that night of the party, he’d been a good friend to her after she’d gone to live with her mother. So how did Arianne reconcile her role as a woman in the club with the fact she could probably outshoot and outride most of the men here? How did she sit in the clubhouse and watch Jagger ride off to take out Viper on her behalf?

“I’m not Arianne,” she said walking toward him. “And I’m not going to pull the trigger. But I want to be there. I want to see his face. I want him to know what it feels like to have your life and innocence brutally ripped away, to be totally and utterly helpless, to scream for help knowing that no one will come for you because your mother is high on crack and your father abandoned you.” Her voice rose to a shout, the words coming thick and fast, words that she had never dared to say, emotions that she had been afraid to truly feel or express, a desire that had burned inside her for seven long years.

Shaggy stared at her, stricken. Like somehow he was responsible for what Viper had done to her. Like he was responsible for her life. She shouldn’t dump on him like this. He was a stranger. And yet, she couldn’t stop. The words kept coming, so she let them go.

“I want him to know what it feels like to be betrayed, beaten, violated, used, marked, and discarded like a piece of property.” She tugged down her sleeve and bared the Black Jack tattoo for him to see. “He didn’t just do this. He carved his initials into me, too.” She yanked down her waistband just enough so he could see the top edges of her scar: “V” for Viper. “He scarred me inside and out and I am going to take back my life. No more running and hiding. No more looking for jobs in faraway states. Whether Holt wants it or not. Whether the Sinners want it or not. I am going to that rally. I will be there when they catch Viper. I will watch him die. And I will shoot anyone who gets in my way.”

Shaggy drew in a ragged breath, his face dark with emotion. “You won’t be going alone.”

*   *   *

Curiously calm after his meeting with Jagger, Holt made his way through the clubhouse to the shooting range. Everything was familiar and yet something had changed. He hadn’t felt awed to be sitting in Jagger’s office beside Zane, instead of standing in the hall, guarding the door, as was usual for a junior patch member of the club. They were just men, their mystique now wiped away by the brutal reality of what living beyond the law really meant.

He’d listened to Jagger’s plan. Made comments and suggestions based on his intimate knowledge of Viper and the Jacks. Helped them revise. Insisted he take point. And they’d listened. With respect, even deference. They’d treated him as an equal. It felt good. Right. And when he walked out of the office, he knew he would never answer to another man. Whether it was a result of his time with Viper, or perhaps because it had always been inside him, he knew he needed to lead, not follow. Even if it meant he would die putting Viper to ground.

He’d hadn’t shared the last part of his plan with Jagger because he needed the Sinners to bring the plan to fruition. But in the end, there would only be two people on the roof where Viper would have to flee the fire they were planning to set in the hotel. And only one of them would leave alive.

Tank walked by his side, unusually quiet, as if he knew Holt needed time to process everything that had happened during that meeting. Did he realize Holt would never return to the Sinners? Holt felt a pang of regret at the thought of leaving Tank alone again, either through death or voluntary exile as a nomad biker. Until he met Naiya, he’d never been as close to anyone as he was to Tank, never had a bond as strong. He didn’t share the same intimacy he did with Naiya, and yet he needed them both to feel complete. Tank who knew him before and Naiya who knew him now. Naiya who had his heart and Tank who had touched his soul.

“Dunno why Naiya wants to shoot a gun so bad.” Tank pushed open the back door leading to the shooting range and preceded Holt through. “I told her there’s no way she’ll be going with you.”

“Naiya’s got her own mind.” Holt chuckled. “She’ll do what she wants regardless of what I say. Short of tying her up, I won’t be able to stop her.”

“You want me to stay behind with her?” Tank offered over his shoulder. “I can lock her in a room.”

“I need you alive, preferably uninjured.” Holt clasped Tank’s shoulder. “But if you could watch over her…”

“I’ve been watching out for her since the moment I knew she was yours.”

Holt choked back a wave of emotion. If he survived the confrontation with Viper, he would have to leave Conundrum. And yet, he couldn’t imagine going anywhere without Tank.

“What the fuck? He’s touching your girl.” Tank muttered under his breath as they rounded the corner to the shooting range where Shaggy stood behind Naiya with his arms around her, helping her aim her weapon at the paper target in the distance.

Holt took in the scene and gave Tank a calming pat. “I’m not worried about Shaggy. He’s too old.”

“He’s not that old.” Tank gritted out. “He’s mid-life crisis age, which means he goes after the young honeys when we go out to the bars, trying to relive his fucking youth with twenty-year-old pussies.”

“Well, right now he’s touching her like he’s someone’s dad,” Holt pointed out. “He’s keeping a lot of space between them. But you keep an eye on him for me. The minute he steps out of line…”

“Yeah.” Tank slammed his fist into his palm. “I always wanted to lay one on old Shag.”

Holt tapped Shaggy on the shoulder, and the old timer stepped out of the way. After collecting his weapons and ammo, Shaggy took his leave, muttering something about leaving lovebirds alone. Tank followed behind him, clearly just waiting for him to step out of line.

Holt wrapped his arms around Naiya and pulled her against him. She fit perfectly in his arms, her head coming to rest just below his chin, her sweet ass at his belt. “I’m thinking you’re planning to do something I won’t like,” he murmured in her ear.