Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(40)
Arianne dipped her head to hide her smile. She couldn’t imagine Jagger losing control, either through drugs or alcohol or even letting loose at a party. She’d never met anyone as self-contained. What would Jagger think if he knew they were gossiping about him like this? He’d probably think it was a good thing no one thought he’d be a fun friend. Leadership was lonely, as Viper had told her on numerous occasions. A leader couldn’t afford to be a friend, because someone close enough to know your mind was also close enough to stab you in the heart. Deep concepts for a ten-year-old girl to hear, but even then she’d gotten the message.
Getting serious now, Tank needed some advice. He’d met a girl. Not his usual type: college grad, rich parents, fancy clothes. But he thought she was sweet. Did she want him because he was a badass dangerous biker or did she just want him for his body? Sparky threw an empty soda can at his head and told him he was the least dangerous biker he’d ever met, and had the personality of a wet fish, so she must have been after his chunky, unwashed body. Wheels suggested he get a girl’s advice. Why not ask Arianne?
Suddenly under scrutiny, Arianne froze, a piece of broken fairing in her hand. “What do you want to know?”
Tank stroked his chin. “What do women go for: body, brains, or biker?”
Arianne glared at Wheels for dragging her into the discussion and then said, “Confidence.”
Confidence? No one understood. Arianne was asked to come out from behind the bike and explain herself. After several failed attempts, she lost her patience. She told them she’d meant women always checked out the package. The bigger, the better. Jill, who had come on Tank’s bike, agreed. Much package checking and comparison ensued. Bandit told Tank he might as well forget about ever getting laid for the rest of his life. Tank took offense and punched Bandit in the nose. Sparky pointed to the door and told them to take it outside. His eyes widened. Everyone turned around.
Arianne’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Jagger in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb as if he’d been there for a long time.
He surveyed the room, his gaze stopping at each of the miscreants now terrified into silence. “I thought we had a clubhouse to rebuild, businesses to run, and contracts to fulfill.”
The room sobered in an instant.
“Like I said”—Bandit brushed past Arianne on his way out—“no fun.”
Over the next few days, Arianne worked on her Ninja and helped Sparky with the repairs to the members’ bikes. She was drawn into more than one relationship discussion with the Sinners and quickly got to know them. Right away, she’d recognized that T-Rex, the club’s senior prospect, was definitely full-patch material, but she still wasn’t sure about Wheels. Although he was always pleasant enough, he was very careful when he spoke and self-aware to the point where she wondered if he was hiding something.
On her fourth day at the safe house, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Assuming it was Dawn, who had been calling to check up on her at least five times a day, she excused herself to go to the washroom and then took the call after she closed the door.
“Ari. You okay? I heard the Sinners got you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Jeff’s voice, and then choked on the cloying fetid scent. The first time she’d asked about the ladies’ room, Sparky had laughed and pointed to the dingy door at the end of the hall. Apparently ladies rarely visited the shop, so no point wasting space for a separate bathroom. And he’d given her fair warning; it was only ever cleaned when the sweet butts came to visit, which was almost never.
Still, she was relieved to know Jeff was okay. She’d called in every favor and asked every friend she knew to check out Jeff’s regular haunts for her. Maybe someone had flushed him out.
“No. It’s okay. I’m good.” She explained about Axle and how Jagger felt duty-bound to keep her safe until he had hunted Axle down.
“So you can leave?”
She gritted her teeth. Jagger’s edict that she was not allowed to leave the safe house without guards still grated on her, but except for that one afternoon when he stopped by to make sure she’d made it to the shop, she hadn’t seen him. She spent her days in the shop and her nights in the small one-bedroom apartment upstairs. Basic, functional, and decorated in stark white and blue, it was cold and lonely, and she often found herself back downstairs chatting with the bikers Jagger had posted as guards for the night.
“Not alone.”
“Fuck.” Jeff grunted, and she heard the thud of his fist against the wall. Oh God. Was he high? He was violent only when he was high or tweaking on crank.
“I need the rest of those guns, Ari. If I show up at the Black Jacks clubhouse without them, Viper’s gonna kill me. And it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t shown up that night, I would have had time to take them all.”
Arianne bristled. “If you’d just come with me when I showed up, you wouldn’t need the guns. We’d be in Canada starting a new life, where we wouldn’t be worried about Viper. You could have gone to rehab. It’s what we always wanted, and—”
“It’s what you always wanted.” He cut her off abruptly. “And I went with you every time, not because I really wanted to leave, but because I love you and I wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want you going to a strange city or country alone. But Viper finally offered me what I always wanted the night of the fire. He said he’d patch me into the Jacks if I did a good job. I could have made him proud. I was going to bring you the passport when I was done. I thought you’d understand, but you messed it up.”