The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (15 page)

“Arianne…” He pulled away, his chest heaving, body shaking as if he was fighting for control.

“Go,” she said. Because if he didn't leave, she wouldn't be able to turn him away.

Within a heartbeat, he was gone.

*   *   *

He was already on edge when she came down the stairs the next morning and entered.

Lack of sleep, thwarted desire, and the imminent bombing of the Black Jacks' ice house had wound him up tight. But nothing had caused him more emotional disquiet than the memory of Arianne's soft, sweet body in his arms, her warm lips pressed against his own. He ached with wanting her, a longing so fierce, he'd had to force himself to walk away. He knew the moment she kissed him, that he had to have her. And once he had her, he would never let her go. He had almost laughed at the paradox. Keeping her meant endangering her, and after Christel, that was a risk he couldn't take.

She descended the staircase, thick, dark hair fanned out over her shoulders, every curve of her lush body hugged by her skin-tight jeans and even tighter T-shirt, the swell of her breasts visible above the low, scooped neck. Jagger hissed out a long low breath and every sense he had sharpened as he walked across the now partially furnished living room to greet her.

Wheels tore his attention away from the football game on television and wolf-whistled. Gunner, seated beside him on the worn, brown couch, cuffed him on the head. “She's a guest. Have some fucking respect.”

“I thought she was a hostage.”

“Guest. Hostage.” Gunner grinned. “Same difference.”

“Go easy on him.” Sparky looked up from the table the executive board had used in their last church meeting. He had taken apart his Ruger MK III and was trying to beat Zane's time for reassembly. Zane leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He held the record for weapon reassembly in the club and from his bored expression, he clearly didn't think Sparky was a threat to his title.

“Coffee's in the kitchen.” Jagger gestured Arianne to the door behind them. “I made bacon and eggs. They're in the pan on the stove.”

“He cooks, too.” Arianne lifted an eyebrow. “Is there no end to your talent?”

Jagger chuckled. “He does many things. And I have talents I have yet to reveal.”

“But don't try to talk to him until he's had his first cup of coffee,” Sparky said. “Unless you want to be chewed out for doing fucking-dick-all.”

“Sparky. Language.” Jagger scowled. “We have a guest.”

Sparky threw up his hands in mock defeat. “For doing fucking nothing at all.”

“Better.”

Arianne smiled at their banter, then turned to Jagger. “Did you manage to save my bike?”

“It's at Sparky's shop. He'll take you there after breakfast. The safe house is in the apartment upstairs.” He hoped she understood his meaning. Once she went to the safe house, she wouldn't be leaving until he'd dealt with Axle.

“How bad is it?”

“Fairing is pretty badly damaged,” Sparky said, “but I didn't see any obvious mechanical problems. Course, I didn't give it a thorough check, but I could look at it—”

“I can do it.” Her eyes lit up, and Jagger fought back the urge to knock Sparky around the room. Arianne should be looking at him like that. She should sparkle for him and no one else.

“I've got my journeyman certificate, and if the fairing needs to be replaced, I can ride it naked.”

“Fuck. I want to see that.” Wheels jumped to his feet. “Do you ride naked all the time?”

“Wheels.” Jagger gritted his teeth against the mental picture of Arianne naked on her bike. Damn Wheels for putting the image in his head. “She's talking about riding without fairing. How about you go out and polish all the bikes so you learn something about them, and after you're done, you can draw a picture of your bike naked and label all the parts.”

Wheels paled. “I didn't know—”

“Even Arianne knew what it meant,” Zane admonished. “Now so do you. And after today, you'll never forget it.”

“
Even
Arianne?” Her hands found her hips.

Zane shrugged, stepping away from the wall. “You're a girl.”

“I'm not a girl. I'm a woman. And you think women don't know anything about motorcycles?”

“Generally, no.” He shot Jagger a puzzled look. “If you're telling the truth, you're an exception.”

She walked toward him and glared. “What else? I'll bet you think women are weak and in need of protection.”

Seemingly oblivious to Sparky's violent head shaking, Zane continued. “Generally, yes. Women need protecting. You needed protecting last night.”

Gunner gave a loud, indiscreet cough that sounded suspiciously like “shut the fuck up” or maybe it was “run away.” Jill and Tanya, two new sweet butts, emerged from the kitchen, drawn by the raised voices. Jagger vaguely recalled seeing them at the party last night. They must have spent the night with two of the brothers. No wonder there hadn't been a spare room to crash.

“I needed protecting?” Arianne's voice rose in pitch, and Jagger folded his arms, amused. The boys had never encountered a woman in the clubhouse who stood up to them as an equal. Not only that, she wasn't the least bit intimidated or afraid, although all three men stood at least five inches taller than her. She may have had a tough life with Viper, but it had given her the kind of backbone he wished he could see in the prospects that came knocking at the door. Wheels included.

“I didn't need protecting last night,” she said. “I had successfully evaded Leo, and Dawn and I were headed to her place. I also had a .45 in my jacket, and this.” She bent down and pulled up her jeans, revealing a holstered LadySmith .38.

“Christ.” Gunner licked his lips. “She rides, she fixes bikes, she's hot, and she's packing. She's every biker's wet dream.”

“She's also Viper's fucking daughter.” Zane's lips curled in disgust, giving Jagger a first insight into his odd behavior. “What do you think Daddy Dearest would do if he caught someone playing hide the salami with his little princess? I'm guessing he'd slice off the guy's balls. Maybe make a sandwich for lunch.”

“Ouch.” Sparky grimaced. “Don't hold back there, Zane. Lay it on the line.”

Zane folded his arms and stared at Arianne. “Just sayin' … girls who carry usually do it just for show. Or did your daddy teach you something other than trying to wiggle your way into a man's bed?”

Jagger was across the room before he even realized he had moved, momentum carrying him forward until he had Zane by the collar. With a growl, he slammed Zane back against the wall. “You are so fucking out of line, I don't even know where to begin.”

“Well, I'll tell you where's it's gonna end,” Zane muttered, his voice so low only Jagger could hear. “With you bleeding in a fucking ditch. And I won't stand around and watch it happen. She's the enemy. Plain and simple. We can't—”

Jagger cut him off with a glare and the word, “Don't.”

They stared at each other, eyes locked, and then Zane looked away. “Whatever happens, you know I've got your back. But it would be better if I didn't have to be there.”

Christ
. He couldn't fucking hit him now. But shoving Zane against the wall wasn't enough punishment for his disrespect. Everyone was watching, waiting to see what Jagger would do, but he didn't want to strain their friendship. He'd never hit Zane before, and he had no idea how his friend would react.

“Do I get a chance to defend my honor?” Arianne placed a cool hand on his arm.

Her touch calmed him, grounded him. His mind cleared and he released Zane and rasped in a breath.

“What are you talking about?”

Arianne stepped closer to him, angling her body between him and Zane. “Viper didn't care much for me, but he taught me the three things he thought were most important in a biker's life: how to fix a bike, how to shoot pool and how to fire a gun. And when Viper teaches a lesson, you don't forget it. Zane accused me of packing for show. I'd like the chance to prove him wrong. Could be he apologizes and this all goes away.”

Words failed him. In a few short minutes, she had neatly defused the tension, saved a friendship, and helped him save face. Did Viper realize what an incredible asset he'd lost when he alienated his daughter?

With a curt grunt of assent, he turned to Zane. “Your call.”

“Let's see what she's got.”

Jill and Tanya swooped in on Arianne as they traipsed outside. Women were few and far between at the club, and they tended to stick together. He rounded the corner and caught up to Zane as he mused over what the females might be talking about. Arianne didn't seem the type who would be into the usual girly stuff.

Zane looked over at Arianne and twisted his lips to the side. “Smart.”

“Very.”

“Don't know if we would have survived that punch,” Zane said quietly.

Jagger's throat constricted. “I would have found another way.”

“You always do, but this time you had help.”

They walked through the overgrown grass, skirting around bushes badly in need of pruning, until they reached the vast expanse of the back lawn. Jagger filled his lungs with fresh air and exhaled his tension. He only ever felt relaxed outdoors, and at this property there was more than enough space for his rapidly expanding club.

“Got word back from our men on the street early this morning,” Zane said. “Rumors are goin' around that we snatched Viper's daughter in retaliation for the fire. It's given us some serious street cred. We might be able to secure a coupla contracts we couldn't get before, make some of the gangs think twice before messing with us.”

Jagger bristled. “She's not a prisoner this time.”

“No one knows that but us.”

They stopped in the middle of the lawn and Zane looked over at Wheels, dutifully polishing the bikes at the side of the house. “Might as well have some fun with this.”

“You wouldn't.”

“I'm in that kind of mood.” Zane waved at Wheels and yelled. “Prospect. Under that tree. Now.”

Ever the obedient prospect, Wheels jumped up and ran toward the large fir tree at the edge of the forest, about twenty yards away.

“You got a nasty streak, Zane.” Jagger fought back a smile as he glanced over at the shivering prospect. “Think he'll piss himself?”

“Nah. I'm beginning to think a lot of his bumbling around is an act. When the chips are down, he outperforms even some of the senior patch. He's got balls; he just doesn't want anyone to know.”

“What do you want me to do?” Wheels' quavering voice betrayed his anxiety.

Zane raised his weapon and pointed it at the trembling prospect. “Stay still. Arianne and I are having a shoot-out, and we need a target.”

Jill and Tanya shrieked, but Arianne only rolled her eyes. Jagger chuckled. Although he could never fully participate in the high jinks, he enjoyed prospect hazing as much as his men did.

Zane grabbed a stick and threw it on the ground as a marker. Arianne stepped behind it and made a show of positioning her weapon. Jagger almost felt sorry for Wheels, but the kid would be asked to do worse things than act as a living target during his prospect year. And he should know by now that Jagger wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

“Smile, Wheels.” Arianne pointed her gun at Wheels, and he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a thin whine.

“Wait.” Arianne dropped her gun. “He's too white. The glare is throwing me off. You want to draw some circles on his face, or should we use a target instead?”

Everyone laughed. Gunner led a shaken Wheels away, and Arianne and Zane took turns shooting a makeshift target Sparky quickly fashioned from an old dartboard. Jagger leaned against a tree, entranced by Arianne and her ability to shoot. Most of the old ladies in the club knew how to use a gun, but none could handle a weapon with such ease, or skill. She radiated confidence and calm as she squeezed the trigger again and again, hitting the target every time.

Jagger wondered if he could make the shower any colder than it had been this morning. And when she walked over to him, all sexy confidence and cheeky smiles after Zane had offered a stilted apology, he wondered if a man could die from being too hard.

“Good shooting.” He drew her around the west corner of the house, out of sight of his brothers, desperate to touch her but painfully aware that a show of affection would be inappropriate, especially if he wanted to foster the rumors she was there against her will.

“I held back. Didn't want to show Zane up.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. Before he could stop himself, he cupped her jaw and traced the curve of her plump lips with his thumb. “Never seen you smile like this.”

Her smile broadened and his heart surged in response.

“Bikers are a discriminatory bunch,” she said. “Nothing I like better than to show them how wrong they are when it comes to their attitudes about women.”

His fingers tightened, the pressure forcing her to open her mouth, and he eased his thumb inside, stroking over the softness of her tongue.

Dominant, yes. Possessive, definitely. And yet he wasn't trying to take away from what she'd accomplished. Far from it. Her power drew him in, intoxicated him; he wanted it as he wanted her.

Arianne met his gaze, her green eyes heated, intense. She licked his thumb, working it with long strokes of her little pink tongue until all his blood had rushed to his groin and he was so hard, he had to grit his teeth against the pain.

And then she turned her head, loosening his grip, and pulled away.

“I'd better get going. I've got a bike to fix so I can go looking for Jeff and get to work this evening.”

His mind still fuzzed with lust, it took him a moment to process her words. “You won't be going to work. You'll stay in the safe house until we've dealt with Axle.”