Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(111)

With one last look back at Jagger, she climbed up the ditch and gathered branches to cover the bike. She had just thrown the last few boughs over the top and slid into the ditch when the Black Jacks raced past in a thunder of dust and metal.

“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.“