Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(20)
Banks scowled. “Fired.”
Dawn laughed, her throaty voice warming the room. “Seeing as you fire me at least three times a night, honey, I’ll just keep countin’ bottles and get ready for work.”
Arianne’s tension eased with their familiar banter. She grabbed her apron off its hook and tied it firmly around her waist. “For the record, I don’t wear blush. Blows off when I’m riding.” Banks knew about her bike but not about her biker family. No one knew about them. Not her friends or coworkers. No one except Dawn.
But Dawn hadn’t been so forthcoming about her own past, the night Arianne shared her story. Whatever pulled Dawn into the biker world had scarred her so deep, she refused to talk about it.
“Good thing. Got enough trouble with the guys drooling over you two.” Banks hoisted a crate onto a nearby shelf and then stepped to the side to let Arianne pass.
She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek as she reached for the door to the bar. “Thanks for giving me the week off. And for caring.”
“I don’t care.” He turned and shoved the crate to the back of the shelf. “Just need to make sure my girls aren’t being harassed. Got a business to run, and now I got a f*cking motorcycle club breathing down my neck, demanding protection money.”
Arianne stopped short, her hand on the door. She had taken the job at Banks Bar for the simple reason that it was one of the few bars in Conundrum not owned, managed, or under the “protection” of any gang or motorcycle club. Banks was tough enough to keep those wolves at bay.
“Which club?”
He pried the lid off another crate. “Don’t know. They’re all the same to me. They came in here this morning when I was taking a delivery. One of them pulled a gun on me while the others cased the joint. I told them where to go, but these guys were different from the usual suspects. They asked for the protection money as an afterthought, and when I told them to go f*ck themselves, they went.”
Arianne’s pulse kicked up a notch. Good thing she was leaving anyway. If one of the MCs decided to shake down Banks, she would have had to quit. She couldn’t take the risk of being recognized by any of the Black Jacks’ enemies. “Do you think they’ll be back?”
“They didn’t say.” Banks scowled. “But I do know I’m not playing that game. They come back, I’ll burn down the bar, take the insurance money, and start up somewhere else. I don’t have a sentimental attachment to this place. Won it from a guy in a poker game my first night out of the joint.”
“Well, if that happens, you won’t have to worry about staff. As long as I’m in town, I’ll follow you wherever you go. And I know Dawn and the other staff will, too.”
His face hardened with emotion. “Don’t know if I’ll need a bartender who wears too much lipstick.”
“And I don’t know if I’d follow a guy who fires me at least three times a night.” Dawn gave him a warm smile.
“You two don’t get onto the floor right away, you’ll both be fired.” Banks turned away, his voice rough. “Doors open in ten minutes.”
*
“Hey, sugar. You okay?” Sherry smoothed her hands over Jagger’s shoulders, her breasts brushing against his sweat-slicked back. “The boys said you were all wound up. You want me to take care of you?”
Jagger’s muscles bunched at her touch. Axle and his supporters had declared a vendetta against the Sinners and, according to new intel, were trying to patch over to a midsized rival club to get support to carry the vendetta through. As if having to deal with the Black Jacks wasn’t enough.
After an afternoon closeted with the executive board, discussing whether to strike first or wait it out, and a long run through the forest with Max, his body still thrummed with anger. The last thing he needed right now was having to deal with Sherry’s attempts to get back together. “Not now, Sherry.”
She backed off, her voice wavering. “Sorry, Jag. I just thought … you know … maybe I could help. It’s been such a long time.…”
Instantly contrite, he motioned for her to sit on the front step beside him. Yes, he’d cut her loose. Although Sherry didn’t spark his heart, she was warm and sweet, and it had become too easy to fall into bed with her. But when people started treating her like his old lady, he’d had to draw the line. He was not willing to go down that path again, and even if he were, it wouldn’t be with a woman who needed his constant attention. He didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with someone who couldn’t stand on her own two feet.
“Got a lot on my mind.”
“Sure.” She settled beside him and Jagger bit back a sigh. She just didn’t get it. Sherry lacked the political savvy necessary for the role of a president’s old lady. Jagger couldn’t afford to indulge in the usual give-and-take or friendly banter that were a natural part of a normal relationship. He couldn’t be questioned or challenged in public. Perception was everything. His power must appear absolute. A public disagreement, a sarcastic remark, or even disobeying an order, if done in public, could erode the foundation of a president’s power. And that was something he could never allow.
“Do you miss me?” She propped her chin up with her elbows, her question confirming yet again that he’d made the right decision to let her go.