Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(100)

Arianne froze. “I gave him what he wanted. If he hurts you again—”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

“Look at your face.” Her voice rose above the cacophony of sound. “Of course he hurt you. It’s just another reason why I’m leaving. Normal people don’t tie up your friends and beat them up to get information. They ask. And if the information isn’t forthcoming, they might get angry, but then they walk away.”

“He didn’t hurt me, Arianne.” Banks’s face softened. “What he did was all for show. If he really wanted information from me, he would’ve broken a coupla my bones. He woulda picked up that iron bar and used it first, or he would have used a knife. And he wouldn’t have done it in front of you. There’s a big difference between hitting someone to make a point and hitting with the intent to harm.”

“What point?” The bottle dangled from her fingers as her brain tried to process Banks’s words. “It was about the club, Banks. You don’t understand. He has to avenge the club.”

“I got that about the club.” Banks dropped his hands to the box and leaned toward her. “But he also had a duty to protect you, and he couldn’t because you wouldn’t let him. People were beatin’ on you, tyin’ you up, shootin’ at you, and you wouldn’t give him the information he needed to stop them. So what’s he gonna do?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Beat up my friend.”

“Nah.” Banks stepped behind the bar to avoid two workers carrying a plate-glass window. “I took down six of his guys in under five minutes. He got the message I wouldn’t be talking. He brought me in anyway because he had only one option left.”

Just as Wheels had said. “Make me leave town.” She slumped against the bar and covered her face with her hands. Why hadn’t she accepted it before? Jagger was capable of much more than bruises. She’d seen him with Axle and Leo, and she was intimately familiar with the difference between hurt and harm.

“He’s at Riders.” Banks pulled out another bottle of whiskey, then twisted off the cap and poured himself a shot. “He invited me to their party. They want me to join the MC.”

Wide-eyed, Dawn grabbed the bottle from his hand and poured another glass. “Seriously? They beat the crap out of you, drag you out of your bar, tie you up, beat you some more, and then invite you to join the club?”

Banks grinned. “Yeah. But I turned them down. Zane told me if I changed my mind, or wanted to get to know the guys, they’d be at Riders tonight.” He looked at Arianne and his voice roughened. “Thought you should know. Just in case you want to say good-bye.”

*

Jagger didn’t know how far he’d ridden, or for how long. He didn’t feel the cold, although his visible breath told him the temperature had dropped below zero. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and the only reason he’d had a drink was because at some point during his ride he had to stop for fuel. He knew only that the sun had set long ago, and he was being torn in two.

Life hadn’t equipped him to deal with divided emotions. Duty had defined his world since he was old enough to say the word. In an attempt to curb his rebellious nature, duty had been drilled into him by his military family over and over again until he knew only duty and nothing of desire. He had never allowed anything to conflict with duty. And yet, despite his best intentions, it had happened anyway.

Arianne.

He wanted her with an ache that burned into his soul. He wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. Desire was tearing him apart, mercilessly ripping through his body like the shrapnel that had pierced his heart. And still, he clung to duty, his life raft in the tumult of emotions that rocked his world.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he filled his tank. Would they never leave him alone? For once, he wanted to be free from duty. He wanted to ride until his body and brain were numb and Arianne was gone from his heart.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

He pulled out the phone, intending to turn it off until he saw Sherry’s name on the screen. With a sigh, he answered the call.

“Arianne came here looking for you.” Sherry shouted above the music at the bar. “Thought you might want to know.”

A wave of longing crashed through him, and he mentally patted himself on the back for leaving the party early. How much harder would it have been to see her again, knowing for certain it would be the last time? “I’m riding, Sherry. I’m not coming back.”

“I asked Zane to take her to the clubhouse. She’s waiting for you.”

“Why the f*ck did you do that?”

Her voice dropped so low, he barely heard her next words. “Club first. I loved you, Jag. I would have been proud to be your old lady. But the first time I saw you with her, I finally understood why you broke it off. It had nothing to do with Christel and everything to do with the fact that I wasn’t the right girl for you. But she is. And this whole thing is tearing you apart. I need you, but the club needs you more. This thing with Arianne is taking you away from us. You gotta settle it. Either say good-bye and finish it, or tell her how you feel and convince her to stay.”

“Sherry—”

“You can thank me later,” she said softly.

“I thought you were afraid of Zane.” He replaced the gas nozzle and straddled his bike.