Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(46)
She hesitated, then pushed to her feet, refusing his outstretched hand. “Okay.”
Still curious about her rejection, Jagger tried to catch her gaze as they jogged across the lot, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the road ahead.
“You’re on my bike.” He pointed to the pillion seat. “We’re meeting at Sparky’s shop. One of the prospects will bring your Ninja. Can’t risk losing you now.”
Not now. Not when she was finally his.
Jagger’s heart pounded as she mounted the seat behind him. He had claimed her under the biker code. Arianne belonged to him. No one would ever touch her again. No one would hurt her. And she wouldn’t run away. An almost primitive joy suffused his body, and a fierce primal instinct to claim her in the most carnal way tightened his groin.
Mine.
ELEVEN
What belongs to the club, belongs to the brothers unless the president says otherwise.
She’d known he would come.
While her fingers stayed busy, twisting bolts and pulling wires on her Ninja, and her mind tried to sort through her tangled emotions, her body remained tense, alert, every sense heightened by the knowledge that you did not turn your back on a man like Jagger and walk away without paying a price.
And she had turned her back. After he accepted the cheers and commendations from his men for snatching Viper’s prize from under his nose, he’d dismissed her enraged declaration that she was nobody’s property with a simple, “You’re mine.”
Well … not so simple. He’d curled his hand around her neck, dragging her toward him, plastering her body against his. Then he had pressed his lips to her ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening growl, and repeated the word that set her teeth on edge: “Mine.”
So she’d walked away. The alternative was to slap him, and although she longed to do so, she couldn’t bring herself to challenge him in front of his men. Her lessons in respecting the authority of the president were too ingrained. Inside and out.
The door closed and she tensed when the dead bolt snapped into place. Still, she didn’t bother to turn around. Instead she carefully positioned the repaired fairing on her Ninja and inspected the result. Damn. The lacquer hadn’t dried evenly. She’d have to start again.
A draft of cool air made her shiver despite the coveralls she had thrown over her clothes, but not so much as the shadow she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. The shadow of a man who had defied Viper. A man who had protected her. The man who now called her “mine.”
“Leave me alone.” She swiped a grease-covered hand over her nose and grabbed a socket wrench from the set beside her. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“How about thank you?”
She pushed herself to standing and whirled around to face him. Jagger leaned against the tool bench, thick arms folded over his cut. Her gaze traveled down his muscular body, to the hand-tooled leather belt and the Harley-Davidson buckle shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun, which streamed through the window. And then her focus slid below his belt to the powerful thighs and the prominent bulge at his groin. Her cheeks heated and she looked away.
Mind out of the gutter.
“For what? For doing to me what Viper did? For treating me like a piece of property? You can’t own me.” Her voice rose in pitch and her body shook with the effort to contain her emotion. “This is the twenty-first century. It’s against the law.”
“Since when do one-percenters obey the law?” Although his voice was calm and even, there was no mistaking his tone. This wasn’t a discussion. It was a fait accompli.
Arianne shuddered. In the short time she’d known Jagger, she had come to realize he was far more dangerous than any of the Jacks, maybe even more dangerous than Viper. So cool. So calm. So utterly in control of everything and everyone around him. Nothing surprised him. He seemed to plan every move at least three steps ahead, enforcing his will before ever making a demand.
“What are you saying?” She squeezed her wrench so hard, her knuckles whitened. “I’ve paid for my life with my freedom? And now that you own me, you expect me to do your bidding?”
He held up his hands palms forward. “You’re upset. I understand that. But stop right there before you say something we’ll both regret.”
But she couldn’t stop. A lifetime of anger, pain, and humiliation bubbled over in her utter despair at letting her guard down only to see there was nothing on the other side except more of the same. She had trusted Jagger despite herself, only to have the freedom that had almost been within her grasp snatched away.
In frustration, she threw the small wrench at him and reached down to pick up another as he dodged her throw. “It’s not going to happen. I’m not property. Not for Viper. Not for Leo. Not for you. Not for anyone.” Her voice rose, to a shout. “How could you do this to me? All I ever wanted was to be free.”
“Stop.” Louder now, his voice cut through her rant but not through her rage.
“I’m leaving. If not on my bike, then on someone else’s, and if I don’t have a bike, I’ll damn well walk.” She threw another wrench and Jagger stalked toward her, ducking to the right to avoid the flying tool.
Her third wrench went wide, but by the time she picked up a fourth, he was bearing down on her too fast, an unstoppable force. She took one step back and then another, but he kept coming and coming until her back hit the wall and his hand clasped firmly around her wrist. Arianne turned her head to the side, squeezed her eyes, and steeled herself for his fist.