Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(80)



She turned her head to the side and bit her lip as a chill seeped through her bones. No wonder he’d taken her phone. If she’d had it in her hands right now, she would be texting Jeff to run.

Jagger leaned so close, his breath scorched her cheek. “You are not going anywhere, Arianne. You’re mine until I release you. And when Jeff shows up, he isn’t going anywhere either.” He pulled his phone from his inside pocket, flicked to a picture, then thrust it in her face. “That’s him isn’t it? That’s Jeff at my old clubhouse.”

Nausea roiled in her belly as she stared at the blurry photograph of Jeff standing near the Sinner weapons shed, his blond hair gleaming against the dark background. Although the camera had caught him in profile, she would know her brother anywhere. But clearly Jagger wasn’t so sure about the identification.

“I can’t believe you would ask me that.” She gave the picture a disdainful sniff and pushed the phone away. “And I’m not even going to bother to answer.”

“Don’t play games with me, Arianne.” His eyes darkened, almost to black and his upper lip curled. “Did you make up the story about your birthday? Trying to play my sympathy as you tried to play me? Are you spying for the Jacks? Now that I see how easy it is for you to walk away, I think you just might be.”

Her hand flew up before she had even considered the consequences of her actions, and she slapped him across the cheek, the crack of her hand echoing in the alley. “Bastard. I can’t believe you think I would lie about something like that. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jagger, or why you suddenly think I’ve betrayed you or why you’re so angry. I’ve been nothing but open with you. I’ve told you things about my life I haven’t even told Dawn.”

Jagger grabbed her hand and twisted her arm up behind her back, spinning her around and forcing her cheek painfully against the rough brick wall. For the first time since they’d met, she was truly afraid.

“You’re not planning to leave Conundrum at all, are you?” He pressed his lips to her ear, his voice a sinister snarl. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it. You haven’t packed anything. You haven’t given up your apartment or stored your stuff. Even your bike. Sparky said you fixed it good as new, but you never put it up for sale.”

“Viper would have found out.” She shuddered under his touch. What the hell had happened in Jagger’s meeting with Zane? “Everything I wanted to take, I put in my duffel bag. I never lied to you.”

Desperately, she tried to breathe through the tightening in her chest, the thunder of her pulse in her ears. Jagger won’t hurt me. He promised he would never hurt me. But already she could feel the cold sinking in her emotions giving way to the armor she had built to survive Viper’s wrath. Except this time it wasn’t Viper that threatened her, but the one man she had thought would keep her safe.

“I didn’t want it to be like this.” He shoved her harder against the wall, trapping her arm between them. She tried to turn her head, and the exposed mortar sliced across her cheek.

“I wanted you to want to stay.” Jagger’s voice rose to an agonized shout. “I wanted you to trust me, to believe in me. I wanted you to accept that I could protect you. I wanted you to—”

“Please … Jagger. You’re hurting me.” She fought back the panic flooding through her veins. He’d said he didn’t harm women. But already her cheek burned from the cut and her arm screamed in pain.

“I’m hurting you.” His bitter words were poison to her heart, and the last of her hope withered and died.

He released her abruptly, dropping her arm. Even though instinct screamed for her to run, she didn’t move, resting her forehead against the cool brick wall, indifferent to leaving her back exposed. She’d exposed so much already, and besides, nothing could hurt more than the pain slicing through her heart.

“Turn around.”

She turned slowly, no longer recognizing his handsome face, twisted now by pain and anger. His eyes dropped to the cut on her cheek, following the blood trickling down her cheek.

“Fuck.” His voice rose to a pained shout as he scrubbed his hands over his face as if to wash away the sight of her. “Fuck.” He slammed both fists on the wall on either side of her head and she finally screamed, her hands shooting up instinctively to protect herself.

Jagger jerked back, eyes glazed, body trembling. He reached for her cheek, and Arianne flinched before slapping his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” His voice was cool, devoid of emotion. “I can walk away just as easily as you.”

*

Christ.

He didn’t do emotions. And he most definitely didn’t do emotional wreck. He’d lost it out there. Totally lost control. When he saw her dressed to kill, all cool and calm and about to walk out of his life forever, his longing had given way to fear, anger, and a determination to exert the control he hadn’t had when his mother walked out the door so long ago. To stop the pain.

And he’d hurt her. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. He would never forget the look of devastation in her eyes.

He pounded the table with his fist as he cursed silently under his breath. He’d hurt her and he’d scared her away. Had she seen that potential in him? Was that why she’d decided to leave? Was that why his mother left? Because of some trait he shared with his father?

Sarah Castille's Books