The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (44 page)

“They're gone,” she whispered. But when she looked down, Jagger's eyes were closed.

“Wake up.” She shook him. “Wake up, Jagger.”

Terror burst from her chest in a long, plaintive wail, and she grabbed the fallen bandanna and pressed it to his wound. “Please, wake up.”

Stay and staunch the bleeding or leave him and run for help
? Her brain froze with indecision and then she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I'm the one who is supposed to leave. Not you.”

Lips. Fingers. Mouth. Whistle. Max.

Max.

Jagger had said he could hear a whistle a mile away. Licking her lips, she stuck her two fingers in her mouth and blew. But her lips were quivering and tears were running down her cheeks and she couldn't take a deep enough breath to make a sound.

Calm. Stay strong
. She squeezed one of Jagger's hands and thought of the night he'd caught her as she tried to run away. She thought about his warm arms around her, his soft lips the first time he kissed her, his hard body against hers. She imagined his deep voice, his dry humor. Her heart thumped softly in her chest, and her body relaxed.

“I love you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then she whistled.

Loud and clear. Again and again. One perfect whistle after the next. Until she had no breath and the night grew still, and his cheek grew cold to touch.

 

TWENTY-FIVE

Property patches are optional for old ladies.

White.

Everything was white.

For a moment he wondered if he'd died, but when he glanced to the side and saw Arianne asleep in a chair, he knew he'd made it to heaven.

Unwilling to wake her, he looked around, taking in the bright, sterile room, machines beeping around him, wires protruding from his chest and arms. All the signs of a hospital.

Jagger's stomach clenched. He'd spent the last ten years blocking the memories of his last hospital stay: the IV that pulled at his hand; the cloying scent of disinfectant; the tubes in his throat, stents in his heart, and lungs; and pain so bad, they had strapped him to the bed and dosed him up with morphine and ketamine. Four weeks of agony. Four weeks before they'd told him it was too big a risk to remove the shrapnel from his heart and his career in the military was over. Of all the memories, that one was the worst.

“You're awake. I'll ring for the nurse.”

He looked over at the angel beside his bed. Deep shadows circled her eyes, and her face was pale and drawn, but he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Arianne.” His voice was a hoarse rasp, almost unrecognizable. She poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the table and held the straw for him to drink.

“I've been waiting so long to hear your voice.” Then her face crumpled. “You were supposed to wake up days ago … after the surgery … the doctors didn't know what was wrong.”

“Doc Hegel didn't—?”

She shook her head. “He couldn't. Not with the shrapnel. So I made a few arrangements—”

“What arrangements?”

Arianne patted his hand. “Shhhh. Nothing for you to worry about. It's all taken care of.”

“Shhhh?”

She laughed at his incredulous look and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You didn't hook up with a soft civilian princess, Jagger. You got yourself a badass biker chick, and there was no way she was gonna let her old man die. I found the best heart surgeon in Montana, arranged for an ambulance to take you out here to Helena, and Zane made sure the club paid your bills.”

He turned away to hide the emotion that thickened his throat. “I'm going to want a full detailed report and accounting—”

“Don't you want to hear the good news before you start bossing me around again?” She clasped his free hand between her own, and Jagger turned back to face her.

“You're here. Safe. I'm alive. Can't think of better news than that.”

“They removed the shrapnel.” Her eyes sparkled and she twined her fingers through his. “Your heart will be as good as new. You can get shot as many times as you want in the chest and not have to worry about dying of anything but the bullet itself or my anger if you put yourself in danger again.”

Shrapnel gone
. How many times had he wished to hear those words? And now he heard them from an angel. His angel.

“You saved me.”

“Actually, Max saved you. He heard me whistle and was on the road when Zane came by looking for us. And for the record, you saved me.”

Jagged laughed. “I protected you. Finally. Can't believe what it took before you let me keep my promise.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. “I won't make it that hard again.”

“What happened to the Jacks?”

Her smile faded. “They backtracked when they got to the clubhouse. I guess they figured we'd made it inside and they weren't prepared to take on the whole club. But a couple of miles up the mountain, they met the Sinners.” She swallowed hard. “The Jacks were outnumbered. There was a shoot-out and you lost a man, Tinker. I sent Cade and Gunner to get your guns out of the warehouse before the police found them, and they squared things away with whoever was meant to have them.“

“Jeff?”

A tremor ran through her, and she looked away. “I arranged a funeral. He's buried beside our mom.”

Jagger stroked her cheek, his throat aching when he saw her eyes tear up. “I would have liked to have been there to honor him for saving your life.”

“Zane and Cade stood in for you,” she said softly. “They said you would have wanted that.”

They sat in silence, and then Jagger brought her hand to his lips. “Are you still planning to leave?”

She ruffled her fingers through his hair, then smoothed it down. “You want me to leave Conundrum?”

Too tired for games or pretense, his head still fuzzy, he answered honestly: “No.”

“Then I'm not leaving.” She mocked a frown. “But I'm warning you, prepare yourself for the ass-kicking of your life when you get out of here. A man in your condition should not have put himself in the line of fire to protect me and then tried to ride with a bullet in his chest.”

He chuckled, trying to fight the exhaustion that threatened to take his angel away. “That's what men like me do.”

Arianne's face softened. “Good thing I like men like you.”

“How much?” He began to drift, but awakened when she kissed his cheek.

“Enough to stay. Forever.”

*   *   *

They waited in breathless anticipation.

Every brother, old lady, sweet butt, hanger-on, hood rat, and house mama had been ordered to show up at Riders Bar by 8
P.M
. Mandatory.

When the sound of a motorcycle engine outside cut the silence, a murmur rippled through the crowd.

Jagger frowned. “Shhhhh.”

“Don't
shhhh
them.” Arianne wiggled to rebalance herself on his lap. “He'll know something's up if he walks in here and everyone is staring at him. It would be better if they just do what people normally do at the bar.”

His eyes narrowed. “I said
shhhh
and I meant
shhhh
. Don't contradict your president.”

“You like it when I contradict the president.” She kept her voice to a whisper. “But only when no one else can hear.”

He stroked his hand through her hair. “Might have to rethink that concession. You're getting ideas.”

“I have lots of ideas. Naughty ideas. But right now the only idea I'm having is that if you keep everyone quiet, you'll tip him off.” She nuzzled his neck and Jagger growled, a deep low rumble that sent quivers of lightning straight to her core.

“I got club business to deal with, Arianne. Don't start something you can't finish.”

She jerked away and laughed. “I can't finish? You mean
you
can't finish. You're the one who had heart surgery.”

He tightened his grip around her waist and hauled her against her chest. “Nothing wrong with the rest of me, sweetheart. Thought I proved that to you last night and several times every night for the last coupla weeks. So like I said, you keep that up and I'll take care of you right here, right now, and I won't give a damn how many people are watching.”

Arianne licked her lips and looked over at Dawn, sitting beside her, who was studiously trying to ignore Cade's attempts to attract her attention. “Hmmm. My biker boyfriend has a kinky side.”

“I'm not your boyfriend.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “What are you, then?”

The door opened and the dull roar faded to a murmur as T-Rex entered the bar. Jagger eased her off his lap and motioned for T-Rex to join him at their table.

“You're gonna find out soon enough.”

Dawn leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Jagger loves this. Lookit him trying not to grin. You picked the only MC president with a wicked sense of humor.”

“I think it's cute.”

“Cute?” Dawn jerked back. “The man's a badass danger to society, just like Cade. That's why I told Cade we're done. I've had enough badass in my life. I need someone good. Someone who can help me straighten out my life. Clean, simple living. That's me.”

“That's not you.” Arianne lowered her voice as T-Rex approached the table. “You're as badass as him. That's why you're so good together.”

Jagger scowled and put his finger to his lips. Arianne turned her attention to poor T-Rex, making his way gingerly through the bar, his gaze sliding to the side as he passed the club members, unusually somber and quiet. Even Jill and Tanya, seated beside Tank and Gunner, managed to suppress their smiles.

By the time T-Rex reached Jagger's table, sweat had beaded on his forehead and he'd picked up a noticeable tremble.

Jagger held out a hand. “Package.”

T-Rex paled. “I went to the address you gave me on the other side of town, but the building was empty. I walked around, checked with the neighbors, but no one was there. I called and texted you and Cade and Sparky. No one answered. I'm sorry, Jag. Maybe the guy pulled a runner.”

“So you didn't bring the package?”

“No, sir.”

Jagger leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, raising his voice to be heard by the crowd. “I think we have a serious problem here, T-Rex. You don't seem to be able to follow simple instructions.” He reached under the table and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. “Our contact got tired of waiting for you when you didn't show up at six o'clock and dropped the package off here.”

T-Rex's mouth dropped open. “Six? I thought you said seven.”

Admirably maintaining a stern expression, Jagger looked over at Arianne. “You were there. Did I say six or seven?”

“Six. Definitely six.”

Jagger slapped the package down on the table. “So you were late. And this was time sensitive. What the fuck kind of prospect are you? Do you think we'd patch in someone who can't tell six from seven?”

Arianne looked around the bar at the sea of smiling faces poor T-Rex couldn't see. Prospect hazing aside, she still wasn't used to the Sinners' teasing or the jokes they played on each other. MCs were supposed to be serious, no-nonsense, and all about sex, drugs, violence, and women. Or so she'd thought.

T-Rex's shoulders slumped. “No, sir. I guess not.”

“Hand in your cut.”

Shoulders sagging, T-Rex shrugged off his prospect cut. “I'm sorry I let you down.”

Arianne dug her nails into her palm. How could Jagger do this with a straight face?

Jagger took T-Rex's cut and threw it on the table. The crowd drew in a collective breath of anticipation.

“Open it.” Jagger pointed at the package. “I want you to see firsthand the consequences of what you've done.”

He was a master performer, Arianne decided as her gaze traveled over his impassive, slightly annoyed face. But not with her. She already knew to look for the softness in his eyes that would tell her he was teasing. And he enjoyed teasing her. Maybe too much.

Hands shaking, T-Rex tore away the paper. Then he stilled and looked up at Jagger. “Is this—?”

“Your cut. Three patches on the back. Welcome to the club, brother.”

T-Rex's eyes moistened and he cleared this throat several times as he stroked his hand over the patches on his new cut. “Well, damn.”

“You showed real courage and bravery in that ambush. A man who would do what you did to save his brothers is deserving of that patch, but you also showed good judgment when you came to warn us about Arianne. You've done a hell of a lot for the club over the last year. That patch is long overdue, and I'm proud to call you brother.”

The bar erupted in cheers as Jagger unfolded the cut, then stood to slide it over T-Rex's shoulders. After a manly hug and a thump on the back, he released T-Rex into the crowd all primed and ready for a nightlong patch-in party.

“You're not supposed to be jumping up and down,” Arianne said as he settled on his chair and pulled her onto his lap. “Slow and easy. That's what the doctor said.”

He brushed the hair away from her neck and feathered kisses along her throat. “Good plan. I'll do you slow and easy first when we get home tonight. Then hard and fast. After that I'm gonna spank you for contradicting me.” He slid one hand between her thighs. “And you're gonna like it 'cause I know what makes my girl wet.”

“Jagger.” She slapped his hand away, but not before he managed to slide his finger up the skirt he had insisted she wear, and flick a finger along her slick folds.

“Good girl.” His breath was hot and moist in her ear. “Wasn't sure if you'd gotten my message about not wearing panties.”

Arianne pressed her lips together and glared. “How could I miss it? You texted, left a message on my phone, sent Bandit with your message in a sealed envelope, and then used my best lipstick to write ‘No panties tonight' on my bathroom mirror. It was almost like a scene from a horror movie. When we move into our new house, I'm going to remove all the mirrors.”