Jax: Black Angels MC, #3

by Fisher, A. E.

  We hit it going faster than we should and Jax’s body flung to one side, dragging me along with him as the bike nearly fell flat to the left, my arm so close to the pavement that I could feel the slight heat of the tarmac. I felt the scream welling up inside me, but I didn’t have the breath to let it out. Instead the fear just shuddered through me as my grip became akin to a death grip on his sides.

  I should never have gotten on this death trap!

  We pulled up almost abruptly as the corner finished, and I couldn’t even bring myself to breathe, traumatized by what he was doing. All I could manage was to bury my nose into his leather and pray that I wouldn’t fall off.

  But the ride was over just as quickly when we pulled into the motel parking lot and screeched to a stop, burning rubber filling my nose. I realized I was panting but hadn’t quite the courage to move yet from my position, wrapping like a monkey around the only sturdy thing on this contraption. I wasn’t even entirely sure I could feel my legs enough to move them.

  When I did gain any kind of energy, I made sure I had my priorities sorted. “You’re a bastard.” My frown firmly fixed on my face and pointed at his back, I was ready to give him all the scoldings his mother never did.

  Said bastard ignored me, which I realized was starting to become a habit of his.

  He took breath and released it in an audible huff before he peeled my hands from around him. I was stiff and didn’t want to move, but I doubted Jax would appreciate a human backpack, especially coming from me, and, despite my reluctance, I let go.

  He was up off the seat fast and swift, clearly unaffected by his frightening driving, and waited while I slowly unhooked my boots from the pegs, and stood up, my muscles protesting as they were stretched beyond their tensed state.

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, damning my southern manners my pa had drilled into me with a firm hand, even though I was feeling everything but thankful for the ride. Not for the attitude.

  But my grouchiness was thrown aside when I stood from the bike a little too quickly and pain sliced up my side. I hissed under my breath as I fought to hide it from Jax’s keen ears and eyes. His eyes moved to me, but I already started to hobble away from him and toward my door.

  I was aware of the lack of the motorcycle engine as I pulled my keys out of my back pocket. Attached to them were my car keys and I fumbled around until I slipped off the key.

  “My car keys.” I said, turning and offering it out to him. He was still by his bike, but at my gesture, he walked over to me.

  As he took the key out of my hand, I saw he had lost a lot of his earlier vigor, the one he used to get me fired from my job and drag my ass kicking and screaming out the bar and onto the back of his bike.

  I wondered if the reason we had gone so fast, that we’d broken every speed law known to man, was to release that energy. Going for a ride had always been a way for him to let off steam. He’d never let me go riding with him because he was reckless and stupid and didn’t want me caught up in it.

  A familiar look crossed his face, and it hurt my heart and quelled whatever anger the adrenalin had brought forth. It was contemplative and frustrated, brows sewn together, eyes narrowed, and his pink lips made a straight line across his face. To others, he’d seem sullen, but I knew better. It wasn’t just a frown.

  “I’m sorry.” The words came out of my mouth without thought and the second Jax registered them, his eyes jumped up from the walls of the motel he was surveying and straight to my face. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here,” I explained, fiddling with the remaining keys on the ring. There were only two left, my room key and the key to my suitcase, but it made me feel better to distract myself rather than look at him. “I knew the way we parted wasn’t great, and I get you hate me for not going with you, but when you left… I couldn’t leave it behind. I couldn’t let your parents run the farm into the ground. I wanted to save it, but—”

  “Stop,” Jax interrupted me, his hand raised by the side of his shaking head. “I don’t need to know, Ronnie.”

  More like doesn’t want to.

  Even if he did need to know, or even if I needed him to know, it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t push Jax to hear my story. Or at least the parts I wanted to tell him. The parts I wanted to explain.

  I knew ever since I was determined to find Jax that I was secretly hoping for more from him, tricking myself into thinking maybe he’d want to get to know me again after all these years. But in Jax’s book, I committed the most terrible betrayal against him and there was nothing I could do to make up for that.

  I nodded at him, his solemn dark figure at my doorstep, taking one last glance at him before turning away.

  “Goodnight, Jax,” I said, unlocking my door and stepping inside.

  I would have like to say he said goodnight back.

  But he didn’t.

  He left in the silence of the night, and I closed the door on him as he did, unable to watch him walk away. Again.

  Chapter Five

  Jax

  Snap.

  I sighed, looking over the open lands, my feet dangling over the edge of the cliff face, heels rubbing against the white limestone chalk. My hands tugged at the tufts of grass blowing over the sides, fearless in the rippling breeze.

  Crunch.

  I took off my Stetson, holding it on my lap as the sun’s heat cooled and the autumn evening set in.

  Crack.

  I sighed.

  “Even Australia can hear you, Veronica.”

  I didn’t even need to turn to look over my shoulder to know the wild child had stumbled out of the shrubs, twigs and sticks no doubt sticking out of her hair, mud all over her jeans and shirt.

  “You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” Ronnie grumbled, her footsteps coming closer to me. They slowed as she neared the edge, and I looked up the small distance to her face as she gave the steep edge a tentative look.

  “Your mother wouldn’t like to hear you say that,” I tutted. “It was your Grammy’s name after all.”

  “Grammy’s old. So’s her name.” Ronnie sank down in the grass behind me, her knees pressed into my arm as if I were a shield to protect her from the edge.

  I shook my head at her. This girl….

  The little smirk on my lips died, however, as I looked out over the open plains, the land that would all belong to me one day. My heritage. My burden.

  Not even a second of silence passed before I felt her fingers tug on the sleeve of my shirt. “Why you lookin’ like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re all wrinkly here.” Ronnie poked at my forehead, the creases under her fingertip ridged under the light pressure.

  I reached up and caught her little hand, my own palm swallowing her thin, tanned fingers, looking at the short stubby nails and dirt beneath them. “You’re not going to be attracting any men with these kinds of hands, Ronnie.”

  The little green eyes frowned for just a moment, and we both knew my conversation changer was a blatant attempt to drive her away from that topic. She opened her mouth, and I knew I hadn’t gotten away with it.

  “I don’t need to attract any other men…,” Ronnie grumbled, gaze cast to the ground.

  I couldn’t help the surprise on my face as I saw her look away, the lightest little blush on her face. She went along with it….

  I smiled, feeling that crease between my eyes relax for the first time this evening. My grip tightened on her small palm as I tugged it to me.

  “Why, little miss Ronnie,” I drawled. “Is there a fella you have your eye on?”

  That little blush turned tomato red as she turned to look me directly in the eye. “No!”

  She tugged on her arm, but I only held tighter as she fought against me. “Don’t tease me, Jackson!” she snapped, pushing at my lower back with flailing limbs.

  “When you show me a face like that, Ronnie, you know I can’t help myself.”

  Ronnie paused, as I admired the little face that was l
it up even to her ears and she turned shyly away from me.

  This little rebel acting shy?

  How cute.

  “You wanna tell me his name?”

  “Never!” she squeaked, and while I had been distracted, a hard pinch came at my side, and damn if I didn’t drop her like fire.

  “Ronnie!” I hissed as the girl scrambled to her feet and launched herself back into the shrubs.

  I jumped to my feet.

  “You’re gonna regret that!” I bellowed, grabbing my hat and jumping to my feet.

  “You’ll have to catch me first,” she squealed through the loud crunching and snapping of twigs.

  Trust me. I plan to.

  * * *

  “This thing is a piece of shit,” Hunter growled from beneath the body of Ronnie’s truck. He was clanking away on the underside while I manned the tools on the rolling stool.

  “Probably because it’s older than a dinosaur.” My hand was fiddling with the key to the archaic thing. “It was her mom’s car. Ronnie inherited it when she turned sixteen and has been replacing the broken parts for the last ten years.”

  Hunter snorted, his boots pushing him a little further under until he completely disappeared underneath.

  He worked in silence as I surveyed the garage Hunter recently purchased. It wasn’t new, that was for sure. The cracked walls, plastered in dust, oil, and paint showed the years of work that had gone into it. There was a slight dent in the metal hangers; one worked, and the other didn’t. The two bays allowed access to concrete slabs with a couple old pieces you’d expect to find a mechanics shop, car lift in need of new electrical wiring, blow torch, tire changer, tool boxes, etc. He was still missing about a dozen other things before this place got operational, but it was a place to start.

  In my perusing, I hadn’t noticed Hunter wheel himself back out from under the truck. Not until I felt the steel-capped boot kicking me in the shin.

  “Shit, you bastard!” I hissed, running my leg. “That hurt!”

  “I said spanner ten fucking times,” he grunted back, green eyes glaring. His face was more of a frown than the pissed-off snarl that took resident on his face most days of the week. I swear this dude was more laid-back, but with his youngest daughter’s sleeping patterns still not fixed, he wasn’t getting a lot of sleep, and I decided not to poke the huge bastard with a stick.

  Which wasn’t like me.

  “My bad.” I picked out the spanner and slapping it into his hand. He didn’t flinch, his hand taking the extra weight with ease.

  “This girl has really riled you up,” Hunter observed, scooting back under the car.

  “Don’t go there with me, Hunter,” I replied, not wanting to talk about it. I’d been unsettled since Ronnie arrived and ever since she tried talking to me last night, I felt the urge to run hard and fast in the opposite direction.

  “Fine, but be careful what you do with her. The blowout from Ash and her father hasn’t blown over yet. We’ve still got rogue Black Jacks to keep an eye out for.”

  It had been eight months since we’d gone to war with one of the evilest motherfuckers in Europe. All over Anna’s best friend who had fled the second she was safe, leaving us to deal with the aftermath. She might not have been an enemy of the club, but she wasn’t welcome as far as I was concerned.

  The real enemy of the club was her father, and an underground kingpin of Europe. He had once used a bad group of Russian mercenaries on his payroll to cause us some trouble. Even going so far as to attack Anna. After we were done with them, the few that survived ended up scattered across the country. Even so, we stayed wary; a scorned man could hold a grudge for a long while, and we guessed we hadn’t seen the end of them yet.

  “She won’t be here long,” I replied, kicking my foot against the concrete and spinning on the rusty stool until I came to a stop next to the cooler. At the pop of the lid, I heard Hunter’s tired sigh as he came rolling back out from under the car.

  He sat up, cranked his neck, and then steadily rose the six feet up onto his feet.

  I passed him a beer, and he twisted off the lid with ease. I took my own off, watching him take a mouthful of the cold Corona while I tipped mine back and chugged it until my air ran out.

  Hunter watched me idly from where he sat. “You really think she’s going to be fixed that quickly?”

  I glanced at his huge figure before turning back to my empty beer. I reached down and took another out from the cooler, popping off the lid. “Ronnie’s problems aren’t mine to fix.”

  “I was talking about the horse.”

  I froze, beer to my lips and for a second, the smell of it didn’t taste as nice as I expect it to. “Shit,” I growled, setting the beer on the floor next to my feet. I looked down to my arm and the red, raw skin that was beginning to heal over it. The tribal tattoos I had down my arms, representing pride, dignity, and decision hadn’t been damaged as bad as I thought from the rope burn. Although it was noticeable, it wasn’t disfiguring. Still, the idea that the skin could’ve ended up scarring had me unnerved. I didn’t want to look down at my arms and be reminded of Ronnie. I’d see her every time I grabbed a beer, drove my car, or had my hand wrist deep into a girl’s pussy.

  I let out a growl of discontent, annoyed at the tension building in my body. I needed to go for a hard, fast drive.

  I shoved myself off the stool, the creaky thing giving a screech as it tumbled back and fell. I tossed Ronnie’s keys back at Hunter.

  He caught them in a single paw and didn’t stop me as I headed to my bike. I slipped my leg over the black Triumph Rocket III Harley and started her up.

  “Brother,” Hunter called from his place by the cooler. “Be careful.”

  He wasn’t talking about my riding.

  He was talking about her.

  I pulled down my glasses perched on top of my head and rode out the garage, hopeful my engine would take me as far away from her as I could get. All the while trying to forget the fact she’d been at my back only hours before.

  * * *

  I didn’t think it could get worse. Honest.

  But when Jeremiah called Wolf, who called Hunter, who called me, I realized it had.

  And here I was, staring down at the shards of glass scattered across the bathroom’s linoleum floor, wondering if it could even be called a window anymore.

  “I was out all last night. When I did get back, I went straight to bed. I didn’t notice it until I went to use the bathroom half an hour ago,” Ronnie said to Jeremiah, our old but eager sheriff, who was writing down notes in a crinkled leather notepad. “I don’t think they took anything—not that I have much anyway.”

  “So long as you’re all right.” Jeremiah gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder before casting a look in my direction. He said something else to her before wandering down the path and over to the property where the owner of the motel was currently standing.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Ronnie said, pushing her brown hair behind her ear. Her hair was a ruffled mess on the top of her head, corroborating her story. Although it was three in the afternoon, I could tell Ronnie had just woken up, and from the drained look in her eyes, she didn’t seem to be fully functioning yet.

  “We get a call from Jeremiah if anything suspicious happens. Prez sent me to check it out,” I mumbled, stepping away from the glass as Ronnie approached me. I was aware she didn’t have anything on her feet and her toes were poking out the bottom of her loose pajama pants. Her nails weren’t painted, and her middle toe stuck out the furthest, reminding me that I used to joke about her toes being universally pissed off at the world.

  Ronnie caught me looking at her toes and I could see the nostalgic smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. The same one that had almost got me. But she suppressed it like I had, and we pretended it never happened.

  “I see,” Ronnie replied and I almost forgot what I had said to her which wasn’t necessarily a lie. I didn’t come because I was told to. I came because
I couldn’t bring myself not to.

  I hated it. Despised that part of me that had turned my wheels around and had them heading back from the state line I had almost hit on my drive and coming straight back to this motel.

  Back to the very thing I had been trying to forget about.

  “Well, I’ll be fine now. I’m being moved to another room. A safer one I hope.” She shrugged, gesturing to the door. “I’ll be at the farm at the same time later today.”

  I doubted that there would be a safer room. Not with the only form of protection the old motel had was the fat basset hound laid flat across the owner’s porch, snoring so loudly that the stones on the ground rattled.

  “I still have your truck,” I replied, fiddling with the bike key that was in my pockets. I swear I’d done more fiddling with keys this week than I had with girls.

  “Then I’ll get the bus.” She shrugged at me, turning to grab the trousers she’d had on last night, which were currently in a pile on the floor, and started digging through them until she pulled out the hair tie from last night.

  With expert ease she grabbed handfuls of her wild brown hair and had it up in a messy bun, leaving only tendrils to brush her deeply tanned nape. The afternoon light coming through the window lit her face up with slight jagged lines, and for a moment they looked like scars on her face, but when clouds came over and the light was gone, it was as if I could still see them, sitting there, underneath the surface.

  I stopped looking.

  “Dammit,” I hissed. I turned toward the black bag on the bed, picked it up and put it over my shoulder, the lightness of it bringing forth too many questions. I walked out the door. “Get changed and meet me outside.”

  I heard Ronnie yelling something or other after my exit. I chose to ignore her, favoring to meet up with Jeremiah, who was speaking into his radio scanner.

  He stopped as I approached, putting the speaker back through the window of the car as he took one look at me and the bag in my hand and said, “I’ll tell the owner he doesn’t need to set up a new room.”