Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(42)
“That’s sweet in a twisted, outlaw-biker kinda way.” She slid her hands over his broad chest, placing them on his shoulders. “Did you catch Axle?”
“No, but we know where he is.”
She leaned up to nuzzle his neck, inhaling the sharp tang of his cologne and the earthy scent of leather. Always leather. “Shouldn’t you be out there, chasing after him?”
Jagger growled, the sound vibrating through her body. “No. I should be here, stripping off your clothes and running my hands over your body, worshipping you with my mouth, and f*cking you till you scream.” He curled his upper lip, baring his teeth. “But we got a bigger problem than Axle, which is why I came. Viper knows you’re here.”
A wave of dizziness struck her and her legs trembled. Of course he knew. No matter where she went or what she did, he knew. It was why she’d never been able to run away. Somehow he always found out where she was going before she even arrived.
She pushed Jagger away and headed out into the shop. “My bike isn’t looking pretty, but I think it’s mechanically sound. I’d better get going.” Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket, and she reached for the zipper on her coveralls just as Jagger held up his hand.
“He’s offered a trade to get you back.”
Shock fuzzed her brain. Viper didn’t trade or negotiate or even ask. He took. “What did he offer you?”
Jagger stiffened, and for the first time, she noticed the determined set of his mouth and the creases in his forehead. Wary, she bit her lip and took a step back. Her phone buzzed again.
“He offered me the guy who burned down the clubhouse and killed Cole.”
Arianne grabbed the handlebar of the nearest bike to steady herself. Jeff? Had Viper found him? She immediately dismissed the idea that Viper would offer him up. For all that Jeff was a disappointment to Viper, he was still Viper’s son. His possession. His property. No way would Viper hand him over to the Sinners. Which meant it was a trap.
“You okay?” Jagger took a step toward her, but Arianne waved him away.
“I’m fine. Just … surprised he found me so fast. Or, maybe not.” Part of her wanted to warn him, and yet, how could she betray the Jacks or give Jeff up? Although she had turned her back on the club, the biker ethos stayed with her—duty, honor and loyalty. And fear. Always, the fear. “What are you going to do?”
Jagger scraped his hand through his hair. “I have a duty to find Cole’s killer and the arsonist and obtain justice for the club.”
“You’re handing me over?”
“I didn’t say I was handing you over.” He scowled, deepening his tone. “I made a promise to keep you safe, and protect you. I’ll find a way to meet both obligations.”
“Seriously?” Arianne couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “There is no way to get what you want without handing me over. I know how it works: Club first, club last, club always. You’re stuck, Jagger, and there’s no way I’m offering myself up like a lamb for slaughter. I just need to stay off his radar for a few more days, take care of a little business, then I’m gone.” She unzipped her coveralls and shrugged them off, then walked over to her bike. She hadn’t had time to test out the engine on the road, but anything was better than staying here.
“Arianne…”
As she made one last quick check of her bike, she marveled at Viper’s genius. No doubt whomever he handed over would be so badly beaten, he wouldn’t be able to tell the Sinners they had the wrong man, and whoever he was, Viper wanted rid of him. So he saved himself the time and energy of killing the poor soul while forcing Jagger to give her up because he would know Jagger would choose the club over anything else.
“I know the biker culture, probably better than you.” She ran her hand over the recently repaired fairing. “But I also know something else: Unless you’re prepared to tie me up and hand me over to him, I have a choice. And if I didn’t believe that, I’d still be at home, being beaten by Viper and molested by the Jacks because that is the lot of women in the club.”
“Not here,” Jagger began, but Arianne held up a hand to stop him as the words poured out of her.
“When I was sixteen, I made a choice. I wanted safety. I wanted happiness. I wanted freedom. I wanted to give my body, not have it taken. So I put a gun to my head and told Viper if he didn’t agree to let me leave, I’d kill myself. And you know what? He let me go because he knew I would do it. I left with only the clothes on my back and got a room in a house with an old lady who waived the rent in exchange for the company and some chores.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna f*cking kill him.” Jagger took a step toward her, but stopped when she backed away. “We’re not Jacks, Arianne. Yes, the club is first, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another solution.”
Instinct screamed at her to run. Jagger was just throwing words around. In the end, his choice was no choice at all. Her phone buzzed yet again, and she pulled it out of her pocket, hoping it was Jeff. But the moment she looked at the text from Viper, she knew she’d been trumped.
He’d sent her a picture. A man. So badly beaten, she couldn’t make out a single distinguishing feature on his face. And a message. Time to come home.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and a tremor coursed through her body. He knew her that well. If she didn’t go back, he’d kill the patsy he’d picked up to take Jeff’s place. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Guess I’ll make it easy for you,” she said. “I’ll go.”