Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(81)
“You okay, Jag?” Cade leaned back in his chair, dragging his eyes off a pretty brunette onstage, working the pole. Their booth, a feast of red velvet cushions around a sparkling silver table, was set back in the corner, affording them a clear view of the club without exposing them to public scrutiny.
“Yeah, good.” He surveyed the cheap, tawdry strip club, making sure T-Rex and Wheels were in position near the exits. A raised circular stage dominated the space, with chairs scattered in front and a DJ pounding out the tunes in a small booth in one corner. Dark and dingy, lit only by garish neon signs on the walls and the floodlights on the stage, the place was pathetic and depressing and suited his mood to a T.
Lifting his gaze, he focused on Arianne, who sat alone in a booth along the opposite wall of the club. His heart ached as he rehashed the conversation outside yet again. What the f*ck had he been thinking? Even if it was Jeff in the picture, did he really think she’d give him up? And did he really believe she was part of a plot to betray his club?
Two blond frat boys stopped at Arianne’s table, and Jagger glared and jerked his chin at T-Rex to shoo them away. Every f*cking bastard in the place was staring at her. Not only was she the sexiest woman in the club, but her distress was like a goddamn f*cking beacon. He could see her pain in the hunch of her shoulders, the tremble of her hands, and the smear on her cheek from where she’d tried to wipe away the blood. Even now he had to clutch the tabletop to keep from going over to her. No doubt he’d get another slap across the face for his efforts.
He tried to imagine what he’d put her through. How he would feel if she’d accused him of such betrayal. When had he ever lost control before? When had he ever let emotion cloud his judgment? When had he ever cared about anyone so much, the thought of losing them cut deeper than the shrapnel lodged in his heart? Not since he was seven years old, when his mom had walked away.
“That stripper’s been watching me ever since we came in.” Cade grinned. “I’m thinking I might be getting a private dance tonight.”
“Thought you’d hooked up with Dawn.” Jagger sipped his beer, letting the bitter liquid slide over his tongue, no worse than the sour taste in his mouth.
“Nah. She just wants me for sex.”
Jagger’s head jerked up. “Well, that’s a first. Usually it’s the other way round.”
Cade’s cheeks reddened. “She’s got issues.”
“Who doesn’t?” He checked his watch. Jeff was already half an hour late. A few more minutes, and they’d call it a night. He’d made sure the Sinners stayed out of sight, in case Jeff caught on to their plan. Of course, the plan hadn’t included Arianne trying to slap him again when he pointed her to the booth, or calling him a f*cking evil bastard, or telling him she would die before she let them touch Jeff. But here they were, and pain and regret were eating a hole through his heart.
Jagger stared at the stage, unseeing. He needed to get a grip. He was the president of the dominant outlaw MC in the state; the world was his for the taking. What did it matter whether she wanted to be with him or not? Or whether their time together had meant anything to her? She was his. He’d claimed her. He could do with her as he pleased. Not that he would ever touch her without her consent, but he could make her stay.
As if she knew what he was thinking, Arianne’s gaze flicked to him and then away, her lips pressing into a thin line. She leaned back in the seat and folded her arms under her breasts, pulling taut the thin material of her top and exposing the crescents of her breasts. Jagger couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Christ. She was driving him f*cking crazy. How could he still want her after she’d made it abundantly clear he meant nothing to her?
“You’re not being very inconspicuous.” Cade waved a hand in front of Jagger’s face. “Anyone looking at you would know exactly what you’re thinking. You look like a lion ready to pounce.”
“Fuck off.”
“You’re wrecked. I’ve never seen you wrecked before. Actually, ‘wrecked’ isn’t the right word. I think the word I’m looking for is ‘heartbroken,’ or maybe it’s ‘devastated.’”
“Fuck off again.”
“That’s why I keep it simple,” Cade said with a wry grin. “One night, maybe two, then on to the next. No emotional entanglements. No pain. No gut-wrenching decisions about whether to let the girl you claimed as a blood price go because that’s what she wants most in the world—more than you.…”
Damn Cade and his stupid insightful jokes. If they’d been outside, he would have punched him, wiped that smarmy grin off his face. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know everything about you.” Cade shoved another beer across the table. “We served together too long not to know each other inside and out, and right now, your inside is out, brother.”
Jagger had slid partway out of the booth, already committed to slamming Cade’s head into the table, when Arianne left her booth and walked toward them.
“I’m going to use the restroom.” Strained, quiet, her voice held none of her usual sass, and her eyes none of their usual fire. She didn’t wait for him to respond, just continued on her way. Jagger looked around for T-Rex to send him to watch the door. Where the f*ck was he? And where was Wheels? Jesus Christ. Had they learned nothing from their screw-up at the pool hall?