Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(86)

“You never told me where you were all those years I was in the army, or where you went that day after you came to see me in the hospital.” Jagger rubbed at the back of his neck, trying not to let his disappointment show. “You asked me to let you go, and you never came back.”

“I’m here now.”

“I needed you then.”

“You wanted me to help you die,” Zane said. “And God help me, I would have because I couldn’t watch you suffer like that. We all thought it was only a matter of time. That’s why I asked you to let me go. I knew if I did what you wanted, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but it was the best decision I ever made.”

He pushed himself to standing, his voice thick with emotion. “I kept tabs on you, brother, and I came back as soon as you had yourself sorted out. I came when I knew you wanted to live again. I came back ’cause you’re like a f*cking blood brother to me.”

“Then help me find her,” Jagger pleaded. “The Arianne I know wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”

*

Arianne awoke with a headache.

No, not just a headache. Her skull was splitting—the pain so intense, she could barely think. She took in the dark, cold room, her body lying haphazardly on the concrete floor, one eye swollen shut, and was that a chain?.

Startled, she tried to move, and the chain rattled, jerking her leg as she pulled away. Her arms, tied behind her back, encountered similar resistance, and she opened her mouth to scream, then closed it again. Why let her captors know she was awake? Whoever they were.

“Don’t waste your breath. They won’t hear you. And even if they do, they won’t care.”

She craned her neck in the direction of the voice—a female voice. Light filtered through the bottom of the door, and in the darkness she could make out two distinct shapes. Both women. Both tied and chained as she was.

“Where are we?” Arianne’s voice was no more than a croak but they understood her.

“Basement of Bunny’s pool hall.” The woman—no, girl—who answered was small and slight, no older than eighteen, her long blond hair matted and stuck to her cheek. She wore a light-colored dress, soiled and torn, and a pair of four-inch heels.

Memories flooded back. Axle. The alley. And Jeff. Pain sliced through her heart at his betrayal. She was here because of Jeff.

“Did they process you yet?” The second girl was all harsh planes and angles, her sparkly silver dress torn away from her chest to reveal the crescents of her breasts. She looked to be about the same age as her friend, but her voice was that of a much older woman.

“I was in an alley. Then I was here. I don’t know why.”

“She doesn’t know why.” The girl in the silver dress gave a bitter laugh, and her companion admonished her with a nudge.

“Ease up on her, Sheila. She just woke up.”

Arianne pushed herself with her feet until she was sitting, facing the women. “Why?”

Sheila shrugged. “Bunny.”

“What about him?”

“This is what he does.” Sheila stared at Arianne, but when Arianne gave her a blank look, her face softened. “You never walked the streets? You never heard of Bunny?”

“I met him. I thought he sold things.”

“He sells people. Women, mostly. He runs the biggest human trafficking ring in Montana.”

Her blood chilled. “In Montana? Seriously? Does that kind of thing really go on here?”

The girl with the heels leaned forward. “You don’t look like his usual type. Usually he grabs girls off the streets, around our age or younger. Homeless kids … hookers. People who don’t have anyone to ask after them. Usually the pimps pay him to leave us alone, but our man, Walker, took a bad hit and wound up in a ditch. He wasn’t dead more than an hour before Bunny sent his people to find us.”

“Sometimes, though, he has special orders. You must be one of them.” Sheila sucked in her lips. “Worse for you. Buyer will expect more. Mostly we’ve heard the girls are sold to brothels around the country. Some shipped overseas.”

Her friend let out a sob and dropped her head to Sheila’s shoulder.

A sickening wave of terror welled up in Arianne’s throat. For all the abuse she had suffered at Viper’s hands, under no circumstances would he have done anything like this. She was his, and he never let her forget it.

The door slammed open, flooding the room with light. She craned her neck over her shoulder, freezing when she saw three men silhouetted in the doorway. She recognized Jeff at once. And Bunny from his girth. The third man had to be Axle. She shuffled around to face them and straightened her back. No way would she let them see her fear.

“So what did you bring me that’s worth eighty grand and a kilo of meth?” Bunny flicked on the light and leaned against the doorjamb. Axle entered the room, grabbed Arianne by the shoulder and pulled her to her knees.

“This. Jeff’s tied her up and chained her. She’s a bit of a hellcat.”

“Don’t touch me.” Rage, fierce and unexpected, shot through her veins. She tried to shake him off, heedless of his hand swinging—until pain exploded across her cheek.

“Shut the f*ck up.”

“Don’t damage her anymore.” Bunny joined Axle and then crouched down in front of Arianne. “I can’t sell her if she’s marked up too bad, and you’ve already lowered her price by giving her all those bruises.”