Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(11)
“Gotta get back.” He gestured toward the house, and Cade fell into step, Max trotting beside them.
“I was wondering why Axle was gunning for Arianne to pay the price this morning,” Cade said, oblivious to Jagger’s annoyance. “Tensions are high right now and he’s already got a lot of support. The fire hit too close to home.”
“It was home.” At least for him and Cade, and a few of the unattached brothers who were out of work or needed a temporary place to stay.
“They need someone to blame.” Cade hesitated. “If they don’t get a focus for their anger, the club will explode.”
Was he seriously suggesting offering Arianne up as a sacrificial lamb? “And it’s Gunner’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” A burst of protective anger caught him off guard. “She said she wasn’t there to hurt anyone or cause any damage. I believe her.”
Although ultimately evasive, Arianne’s answer to that question had been delivered firmly and directly. No waver of the voice. No shifting of the eyes. He suspected deception wasn’t in her nature. Hell, she’d given it to him straight when he cuffed her. His lips quivered with a repressed smile. When was the last time anyone had dared speak to him that way?
Cade rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, then I hope you have a plan for retribution that might ease the pain of just letting her go.”
“I always have a plan.” Jagger whistled for Max. “And you’ll like this one. It involves runaway trucks, explosives, and destroying meth factories.”
“You’ll definitely need Axle on board, then. No one is better with explosives than him.”
“Axle’s done,” Jagger said. “For the sake of appearances, I’ll put the vote to the executive board later this morning, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s out of the club. He’s been pushing the boundaries ever since I took over as president, five years ago, and last night he went too far.”
“Guess I’ll let Zane know Axle won’t be trunking with us tonight.” Cade stopped walking before they came within earshot of the house. “You got a victim in mind?”
Jagger’s tension eased. “Zane got the goods on a dealer who seems to have forgotten about our zero-tolerance policy for drugs in Conundrum.” He finally allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “We’ll have a little fun, raise some cash to fix this place up as our new clubhouse, and damage the Black Jack supply chain all at once.”
“Almost as much fun as spending an evening with a coupla sweet butts in my lap.” Cade twisted his lips to the side, considering. “Or maybe not.”
“The feud is back on.” Jagger slammed his fist into his palm. “We’re gonna hit the Jacks hard and fast, and we’re gonna make justice personal. The men who torched our old clubhouse and shot Cole and Gunner are first on our list after Cole’s funeral. Then we hit the man who gave the order.”
“Viper.” Cade spat out the name. “And if the feud is back on, he’ll be gunning for you.”
“Not if I get to him first.”
And his pretty little Black Jack might be just his ticket inside the Viper’s den.
FOUR
Club rules and bylaws shall be strictly enforced. Penalties for breaking the rules include a kick-out or suspension, and always an ass-kicking.
“Up, bitch.” A sharp tug on her hair startled Arianne from sleep. She turned but didn’t recognize the man standing beside her bed. Although short in stature, he had a huge barrel chest and a belly to match.
“I said up.” His hand in her hair, he yanked her off the bed. Arianne fell to her knees at his feet, getting a perfect view of the red patches lining the bottom of his cut. Her heart pumped spastically, and she looked quickly around the room. Where was Jagger?
“Let’s go.” With a snarl, he pulled her to her feet. Still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, exhausted sleep, Arianne stumbled after him, thankful Jagger had insisted she put on her clothes in the middle of the night.
“You don’t need to be so rough.” She clamped her hand on her hair, lessening his pull. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Shut the f*ck up.”
Curiously underwhelmed, she allowed him to pull her a few more steps, giving him a false sense of control. Like she hadn’t lived through this scenario on a weekly basis at home. She waited until they were near the door, then put both her hands up to her head. Holding her hair, she twisted and spun out of his grip. Using her momentum, she ran back at him, head-butting him in the solar plexus and knocking him against the wall. He staggered, short-winded, but with breath enough to curse.
Arianne didn’t wait to see the effects of her assault. Instead she ran at the open doorway—only to collide with a bony, redheaded biker with piercings in his nose and ears. He swore as he looked over her shoulder at the biker who lay groaning on the floor, but her attention was focused on his broad-shouldered companion who was wielding a knife six inches long.
She backed up and hit the wall as he advanced while regarding her with cool disdain. His face was thin and pale, but marred with recent cuts and bruises. Sharp, defined features were complemented by a thin, cruel slash of a mouth, and his dark hair was slicked back on his head, revealing a sharp widow’s peak. Dark eyes, totally devoid of emotion, sent a chill up her spine. Had Jagger changed his mind and ordered her execution?