The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (24 page)

Zane laughed. “If you kicked me out every time I said something you didn't want to hear, I'd have an ass the size of Montana.”

“Clear.” Gunner's voice carried through the darkness, and Wheels and Bandit scurried back to the field. At Jagger's nod, Gunner turned on the engine and put the truck in neutral. With the wheel locked in place, the truck took off down the slope, gathering speed as it neared the warehouse.

Jagger felt an unwelcome, familiar heaviness in his chest when the truck slammed through the barbed wire fence and hit the front of the building. A fireball consumed the vehicle, then sheeted over the warehouse, lighting up the darkness. Filled with flammable chemicals, the warehouse didn't take long to ignite, and within minutes the acrid scent of smoke clouded the air around them.

“Jagger. Look out!” Arianne's voice rang in the silence, just as the beam of a flashlight cut through the shadows.

Jagger dived behind a bush as the light skimmed over the plateau. Heart pounding, he drew his weapon and rolled back into the bush. More flashlights. Footsteps. He estimated at least ten men. Where had they come from? The rocky outcropping that concealed them from the road and warehouse below would have made them invisible to everyone except those who knew their exact location. And where the fuck was Arianne?

“Find 'em. Kill 'em. If you see Jagger, leave him to me.” The unmistakable rumble of Bear's deep voice echoed in the darkness.

Rage pumped hot through Jagger's veins. Was there a rat in the club? Wouldn't be hard to find out who it was, because the only people who knew about the job were the men with him now. And one woman. A Black Jack woman.

No
. From what he knew of Arianne, she wasn't deceitful. And yet … Bunny … and the paper—

A shot rang out, pinging off the rocks. A scream. Wheels?

He lay flat, heart thudding in his chest, trying to fight back the memories of another ambush, a hot desert, an enemy that felt they had nothing to lose with a fierce, open attack. Taking stock, he noted the positions of his men around the small plateau, concealed in the shadows as the Jacks hunted them blind. There had been no cover for his men in Afghanistan. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Darkness was their savior, along with the hope the retrieval copter would take out the enemy before they all died.

He caught a flash in the darkness and then another. Someone was foolish enough to run, making himself a moving target silhouetted by the inferno raging below.

Bandit
. Damnit. Too green. Too young. Too scared.

“After him.” The shout came from the darkness.

“No.” Arianne exploded from her hiding spot near Jagger's bike and shot at the Jacks chasing after Bandit.

Jagger took advantage of their confusion, leaping up and shooting into the shadows. From the other side of the clearing, Zane did the same.

He spotted Bear only moments after Bear recognized him. Too late. Pain seared across his arm and he stumbled, dropping to his knee. But when Bear took a step toward him, a bullet shattered the rock beside his feet. Bear turned with a roar.

“Vexy. You betraying little bitch. Thought you were claimed by the Sinners, made a prisoner, but it looks like it was all a fucking setup. You were with them all along. Well, no more.”

A shot. A thud. A whimper. Jagger's heart skipped a beat and he pushed himself up, searching in the shadows.

Doors slammed. Feet thudded. He heard Cade shout and then the rapid fire of automatic weapons. Cade and T-Rex had come well-armed. Screams in the darkness, and then the Black Jacks beat a hasty retreat.

He found her lying near a rocky outcropping. Motionless. Her gun still in her outstretched hand. For a moment he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart pounded in his chest. If she was dead … dead like Christel … dead because of him … because he hadn't learned his lesson the first time …

“She all right?” Zane clasped his shoulder and knelt down beside him. He knew. Zane always seemed to know when the PTSD kicked in and Jagger lost himself to the ghosts of his past.

Jagger knelt beside her, placing his fingers lightly on the artery in her neck, praying he would feel her pulse.

“I'm alive.” She turned to look at them, her eyes bright in the darkness. “Just hit my head kinda hard, so I thought I'd lie here for a few minutes until I stopped seeing stars. But it's night. So maybe that's why the stars aren't going away.”

Words failed him, so instead he lifted her into his arms, wincing when her shoulder brushed against his wound.

“I'll take her,” Zane said. “We'd be at least two men down if not for her, and you need to get that arm checked.”

Arianne twisted to look at his injury, but he passed her over to Zane and headed for his bike.

“Jagger? Where are you going?”

He kept walking. Zane would explain without giving too much away, and he would look after Arianne. No doubt he would also check her phone. If Jagger had suspicions now, then Zane would have had them from the start.

Jagger mounted his bike and started the engine. He needed to clear his head before returning to the clubhouse for the party that would invariably follow the successful operation.

Before ending it with Arianne.

And it had to end. By bringing her with him tonight, he had not only broken a club rule about involving women and outsiders in club business, but he had also put her in danger.

Unforgivable and totally unacceptable. There was no reason for her to be there. He could have dropped her off, called a cab, or sent one of the brothers to pick her up, but he hadn't been thinking straight.

He had wanted her with him every minute of every day, in part because she had been so adamant about leaving, but mostly because he enjoyed her company. She was smart, sharp, and savvy with a dry sense of humor and good sense of fun. They'd gone to the shooting range together, shot some stick at Riders Bar, and spent an afternoon racing through the mountain pass. For the first time in his life, he'd let his guard down. And now he had to pay the price.

Frustration speared through his heart as he peeled away from the hill. He was supposed to be holding her in his arms, stroking her sweet curves, burying himself deep inside her, listening to her moan as he made her his in every sense of the word. Instead, he was driving through the dark streets of Conundrum. Alone. Wondering how the hell he would let her go.

The party was just getting started.

While Wheels and T-Rex hauled crates of beer into the kitchen, telling the story about the ice house explosion yet again, Arianne helped Jill and Tanya unload the snacks from the cage. She'd assured Zane she was fine except for a headache, and although reluctant, he'd agreed not to call the club doctor who had been out of town the night she'd been knocked off her motorcycle.

When the beer had been opened and the snacks laid out, everyone gathered in the living room for a toast. First, they toasted Bandit, who had taken one in the ass when he panicked and ran and had to be saved by a girl. With all due respect to Arianne and no offense intended, of course.

Then they toasted Sparky and Cade, who had taken Bandit to the hospital. They toasted Zane for staying outside to guard so they could party without his wet blanket presence, and Gunner for going out to find them some girls. Again, no offense to the ladies, but it was a party and there wasn't enough pussy to go around.

Only slightly offended, Arianne joined Jill and Tanya on the porch while the inebriated bikers texted Gunner with their specific requests.

“So, how do you like being a blood price?” Tanya handed Arianne a beer and grinned. Her golden-brown hair swung over her shoulder as she settled on the porch steps beside Jill.

Small and slender, with a heart-shaped face and wide green eyes, Tanya had quickly established herself as the dominant sweet butt in the club, with a mouth unfettered by social norms of politeness. Her friend Jill, a tall Nordic blonde, was more reserved, and unlike any of the sweet butts Arianne had ever met at the Black Jack clubhouse, who were all gregarious by nature.

“I'm no one's property.” She sipped the beer, cringing as the bitter liquid slid over her tongue. Part of her wanted to belong to Jagger, but only in the same way he would belong to her.

“Seriously?” Tanya's eyes widened. “If Jagger wanted me, I'd be over the moon. He's sex on a stick, and president of the MC, although he's pretty damn terrifying. Except for Sherry, he's always been a one-night-stand kinda guy, probably because he scares most of the girls away. At least, that's how it's been since I joined the club.”

“How did you wind up here?” Arianne couldn't hold back her curiosity. What kept the sweet butts coming back, aside from the promise of power and prestige if they were chosen as a biker's old lady?

Tanya looked past them and down the driveway to where Zane stood, keeping watch. “I was married. My ex was abusive. I ran away but he kept finding me. One night I was at a bar and I saw the Sinners beating up some guy 'cause he'd tried to rough up one of their sweet butts. They were real good to her after, and I decided I wanted some of that. So I started hanging around. Did some things I wasn't proud of, but generally tried to be helpful, if you know what I mean. Eventually, Jagger said I could stay.”

“I get it.” Arianne said softly. The Jacks had had a revolving door of women that turned so fast, she hadn't even bothered to learn their names. Had any of them been like Tanya—just needing a safe haven? She hoped not because they would have found themselves in hell.

“Most of the other sweet butts want to be a biker's old lady.” Tanya gave her a shy smile. “Me? I'm just happy to be safe. No way will my ex be able to touch me now. And the guys here are fun and good to us. Suits me fine.”

“How about you, Jill? Did you—?” She turned to Jill, but cut herself off when Jill's eyes teared and she looked away.

“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” Arianne reached out and squeezed Jill's hand. Tanya leaned in, scooting closer.

“She just can't talk about it. Jagger found her beat up in an alley outside a bar one night. Took her to the hospital, but she wouldn't go in 'cause she had no insurance. He got the club doctor to look after her and found out she had no place to go and no one to look after her.” Tanya put an arm around Jill's shoulders. “So, here she is. Our little stray.”

Jill laughed and wiped away a tear. “I'm not a stray.”

“You looked like one that night he brought you in.” Tanya winked, and the tension between them eased. Arianne smiled. The Jacks' sweet butts were constantly in-fighting, trying to show each other up. But Tanya and Jill clearly had a close friendship, one that warmed Arianne's heart.

Gunner showed up with a van full of women, and they all headed inside to join the party. Arianne had never socialized with the Black Jacks, never chatted with the house mamas or sweet butts, never been accepted as a member of the club. But the Sinner's Tribe welcomed her as one of their own. Gunner introduced her around as the “girl who saved Bandit's ass,” T-Rex kept her glass refilled, and Wheels shadowed her wherever she went.

Not that she needed a minder. As far as the Sinners were concerned, she belonged to Jagger, and that was enough to ensure they kept their distance. So she wasn't pinched or petted or stroked. No one joked with her or made suggestive remarks. Wheels even urged her to put on his hoodie when she stripped down to a T-shirt because of the heat. Having had no respect in the Jacks' clubhouse, she found their deference stifling, and she almost wished someone would slap her ass just so she wouldn't feel like a pariah.

Still, she'd never really felt like she had a family after her mother died. Certainly not with the Jacks and not with Viper and Jeff. The bonds of brotherhood that held the Sinners together meant they were never alone. They were there for each other through thick and thin. “Club first” meant brothers first.

And that was the problem.

Although the Sinners were a different breed of biker than the Jacks, in their attitude toward women, they were all the same. Women were house mamas, sweet butts, hood rats, lays, or old ladies. Not equals. And when she had imagined her life outside Conundrum, equality had always been part of her dream.

 

FOURTEEN

Do as you say or walk away.

An angel in the darkness.

Jagger slowed his steps as he approached the clubhouse, his resolve to release Arianne from his claim waning when he saw her on the porch.

Leaning against a pillar at the top of the steps, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Max's head in her lap, she hadn't noticed his approach. From his vantage point in the shadows, he could see her face clearly in the moonlight, soft, unguarded, vulnerable.

Arianne without the armor. So beautiful, he was transfixed, an agony of desire coursing through his body.

Ever alert, Max looked up and Jagger was sure the damn dog smiled when she stroked his head. He couldn't begrudge Max her touch, but his hackles rose just the same. Until that moment, he had never realized how desperately he longed for that easy intimacy—the unguarded softness she tried so desperately to hide.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he drew near, barely audible as The Sheepdogs' “Feeling Good” blasted through the windows. The party was going strong. So why was Arianne outside?

Her head lifted and her lips pressed together as he approached. He could almost see the walls slamming into place, her vulnerability hidden behind an iron fortress.

“You're back.”

He sat down beside her. “You shouldn't be out here. You'll get cold.”

“Max is keeping me warm, and I'm partied out. I should have paced myself. I didn't realize the Sinner celebration would go on all night.”

“An ice house for a clubhouse. And justice is always worth celebrating.”