Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(110)

“Clear. You two go. I’ll try to head them off. Sinners will be coming from the south, so we should have backup soon.”

Arianne staggered under Jagger’s weight as they crossed the gravel toward his bike, but when she slid onto the driver’s seat, Jagger waved her back. “My bike. My ride.”

“You’re shot. Bleeding. I’ll drive.”

“Man can’t ride. Man can’t live. No time to argue. Now, move back.”

She slid back in the seat and threw her arms around his waist. “Stubborn ass. You might just get your wish.”

He revved the engine and looked back over his shoulder. “We’ll head back to the clubhouse from the north, avoid the conflict.”

“Go straight to the hospital.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his ear. “Hospital.”

“No hospital. Doc Hegel will fix me up.”

“Jagger—”

But her protest was drowned in the roar of the engine as he pulled away.

Arianne looked back over the shoulder as they headed down the road. The Jacks had just crested the rise, and Zane was headed toward them, a lone soldier against an army.

“Zane.”

“He’ll be fine.” Jagger chuckled, then winced. “He rides almost as well as you.”

The world blurred past, and for a few minutes she thought everything would be okay. But only five miles into the ride, Jagger keeled to the side and the bike pitched. Arianne screamed and jerked him upright. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and kept driving, but a few miles later they pitched again. “Stop.” She yelled over the roar of the engine. “Stop. You can’t drive.”

Jagger glanced at her in the rear view mirror and dipped his chin. She looked back over her shoulder and spotted the flash of multiple headlights in the distance, still far away but slowly gaining.

“I’m fine. I can ride.”

After another two miles, the bike dipped again. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought she’d break a rib. Pressing herself against Jagger’s back, she tried to support him with her arms. Stubborn man. Would they have to crash before he would accept her help? “Please, Jagger. Please let me drive.”

The foothills gave way to flatlands, but as they descended the rise, Jagger keeled forward and then slowed the bike, pulling into a turnoff at the side of the road.

“I … can’t … ride.” He choked on his words as he looked over his shoulder. “Take the bike. You’ll be able to outrun them. I’ll wait in the bushes over there. Call the Sinners, and someone will come for me.”

“Are you serious?” She slid off the seat and shoved him back to the pillion seat as fear and anger flooded her veins, a potent cocktail that gave her a strength she’d never known she had. “I can drive your bike, Jagger. Probably better than you, as you just pointed out. And there is no way in hell I’m leaving you out here. So just get over your damn masculine pride and get on that f*cking pillion seat. I’m packing a Jagger package tonight.”

His lack of protest scared her even more than the blood seeping through his shirt. He eased himself back, and Arianne slid in front of him. “Hold on to me and prepare yourself for the ride of your life.”

He gave a weak chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, leaning his weight against her back. The thunder of motorcycles filled the valley, and she caught a sea of headlamps coming down the mountain toward them. “We’re going to a hospital.”

“No hospital. Take me to the clubhouse. Doc knows what to do. I promise you.”

Sweat beaded on her brow as she accelerated away from the turnoff and back on to the highway, trying to adjust her balance to accommodate his weight. The world flew past but she saw nothing except the road in front of her. Heard nothing but Jagger’s tortured breaths, felt nothing but his weight getting heavier and heavier behind her, his grip around her waist loosening.

“Hold on.” She turned a corner and recognized the road and forest. “Only a mile to go. And I don’t see them behind us, I think we’ve lost them.”

But although she was fast, she wasn’t fast enough. When his hands trembled around her waist, and slipped to her thighs, his weight almost fully coming down on her, she pulled off the road. By the time she’d come to a full stop, she was bearing almost his full weight against her back.

“Jagger.” She panted as she struggled to hold the bike upright and keep Jagger from falling, but it was too much. The bike dropped to the ground, and Jagger fell, rolling into the ditch.

“No.” Scrambling over the fallen bike, adrenaline coursing through her veins, she slid down the ditch after him. “Talk to me. Say something.”

She eased him onto his back and watched his chest rise and fall. Still breathing. Relief flickered through her.

With a soft groan, Jagger lifted his head. “Call Zane. Let him know where we are.”

“Well, that’s a problem, because Bear took my phone when I got to the clubhouse. Where’s your phone?”

“Wheels got it.”

“Bad planning on your part.”

“Don’t … make me laugh, sweetheart. Hurts too much. You go. Please. They’re not far away.”

“Not that I would ever leave you,” she said, her voice thick with derision. “But I can’t lift the bike on my own. It must weigh at least one thousand pounds. Your fault for buying American. Wait here while I go hide it.”