Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(13)
“Penalty for going against anything the board has voted on is suspension or dismissal.” Gunner folded his thick arms and glared. “Penalty for disrupting a meeting is eviction. Penalty for bringing a woman and a non-patch member into a board meeting is suspension. Penalty for threatening a woman the board has just decided to release is a personal ass-kicking from me.” He drew his Springfield XD-S .45ACP from its holster and placed it on the table in front of him. “You got a problem with any of that, Axle?”
Taking advantage of Gunner’s diversion, Jagger rose slowly from his seat, his focus now back on Arianne. Her face was taut and her hands were fisted by her sides. But damned if she didn’t look angry rather than afraid.
“Before this goes any further,” Jagger said, struggling to keep his voice level. “The executive board reviewed the surveillance tapes before church began. We are satisfied that Vexy was not involved in the arson or the theft of the weapons. She arrived after the fire had started and Cole and Gunner were down. However, there are four Black Jacks whose lives are forfeit as soon as we identify them and all the Jacks will feel our wrath for what they have done.”
The crowd cheered, but Axle cut them off with a bark of anger. “Why was she there? It’s an obvious question that everyone seems afraid to answer. Was she too late to help out? Well, I’ve brought her to you. Ask her.”
“Far as I can recall, you don’t have the floor.” Gunner thudded his fist on the table. “Penalty for talking without getting the floor from the president is eviction and an ass-kicking. Guess I get to take my boot to your ass more than once. I still got one good leg, and it packs a helluva kick”
“I’ll accept the question.” Lips pursed with suppressed fury, Jagger rounded the table and walked toward Arianne and her captor, a skinny rat of a man aptly nicknamed Weasel. “Vexy?”
She shot him a look of gratitude, which quickly faded into resignation. “I was trying to stop him … them.” Her voice wavered. “But I got there too late. I saw the fire, drove to the back of the clubhouse, and then I don’t know what happened. Next thing I remember, I was here.” She narrowed her eyes and her features hardened. “And that’s all you’re getting from me.”
“You got names for us?” Axle scowled.
“No.”
Christ. She had more courage than most of the men in the room. No tears or sobs. No breaking down. No names.
Jagger didn’t need to look around to know Zane and their road captain, Sparky, had left their seats, too. Cade reached for his weapon. The room, rank with the stench of too many bodies packed into too small a space, stilled.
“Not even to save your life?” Axle drew a line across his throat with his finger. Weasel’s knife flashed. Arianne gaped, and blood trickled into the hollow at the base of her throat.
Jagger succumbed to the ferocity of his rage. Bloodlust that roared through his veins.
He charged, carrying Axle along the front of the table, through the crowd, and straight into the adjacent wall with the power of a linebacker. In a maddened frenzy of blows and kicks, he pummeled Axle until the man sank to the ground, the knife falling from his grasp. Turning, Jagger saw Arianne, now free and leaning against the back wall, her hand to her throat while Gunner wrestled with Weasel. Around them, Axle’s supporters went down under the fists of his enraged executive board. Bones cracked. Shouts and yells. Someone screamed.
“You upset I damaged your f*ck toy?” Axle panted against the baseboard and pushed himself to his feet.
Cade pressed the barrel of his gun to Axle’s head and glanced over at Jagger. “You want him dead?”
Jagger’s fist contacted Axle’s jaw, sending Axle into the crowd. “He hasn’t suffered enough yet.”
Axle came up fighting, but in his current condition he was no match for Jagger’s speed and strength. Or his fury. Although he had restrained himself behind the old clubhouse, and told Zane not to work Axle over too hard last night, Jagger had no reason to hold back now. Axle’s days in the club were over. If Jagger didn’t deal most definitively with the man’s blatant disrespect, his ability to lead the MC would be called into question. But more than that, a surge of possessiveness had gripped him by the throat alongside a desire to avenge the woman under his protection.
The room faded into silence as he knocked Axle to the ground. He lifted his boot for one last kick when Arianne placed a hand on his arm.
Shocked out of the haze of bloodlust, he stilled, expecting her to tell him to pull back and not kick a man when he was down. Instead, she gripped his sleeve, drew back her leg and growled, “Leave a piece of him for me.”
Although she wasn’t strong enough to do any serious damage, Arianne’s kick ripped a harsh groan from Axle’s lungs, and he rolled onto his back, clutching his side, a black stain on the threadbare carpet.
Damn. What a woman.
Jagger wiped his bloody hands on his shirt. “The meeting is adjourned. Axle and his supporters are hereby kicked out of the club on bad terms.” He met the gaze of each member of the executive board, paying lip service to the bylaws, which required a general vote and unanimous consent of the board to terminate a membership. Right now he didn’t give a f*cking damn about the bylaws. If he didn’t kick Axle out, he would kill Axle, and he didn’t want Axle’s blood on his hands. As expected, he was met with no dissent.