Jax: Black Angels MC, #3

by Fisher, A. E.

  I gave him a nod and walked back to my bike, making the one phone call to make what I needed happen, then shoved Ronnie’s black bag into my saddle bag. I didn’t usually ride with them, but somehow I knew it’d come down to this. The second I got that phone call that her room had been broken into, I knew.

  Boots resounded in my ears as Ronnie walked out the ground-story room, passed the ice machine, and came down the porch steps toward my bike with her pajamas in her hands, wearing the same clothes from yesterday. I could have let her change into fresh clothes from her bag, but I would have spent too much time arguing with her before we got anywhere.

  She was coming with me whether she liked it or not. Not that I liked it either. But this way was quicker.

  “Why. Where. And why,” she demanded, bundling her pajamas under one arm to prop her hands on her hips.

  “You said why twice,” I said, looking down the few inches between us. Ronnie was one of the taller girls that I’d met, even without the boot heels and the bun making her seem taller. It was nice not having to break my neck to look a girl in the eye, like most of the time.

  “Then you better answer me twice as fast,” Ronnie retorted, not moving from her spot a few feet from me. She was close, and I got a good look at her. The way her body was now slimmer, and although she didn’t have a lot of curves, there was still a subtle dip around her waist that made her stomach look even longer and flatter as it descended into the waist band of her long jeans. The old worn pair of jeans had seen better days. They came up a little at the heel where her cuff met her boots, but that was just one of the problems she faced being a size four with legs that went on for miles.

  A lot of the muscle she’d had back when she was seventeen had been lost, and the simple sight of that told me that she hadn’t been riding as much as she used to.

  I saw Ronnie’s skin grow red at the long looks I was giving her. She was quiet, waiting for my reaction to the now grown body of the dorky teenager I used to know.

  I didn’t give her one. I didn’t even let myself have one because that was territory I refused to step into to.

  “This place isn’t safe. I’m taking you to one where it is safe. Happy?” I replied.

  “No,” she scoffed, as if her answer wasn’t clear as day. One look at her was all I needed; her hands moving from her hips to across her small chest, her heel beginning to tap on the ground; it was obvious.

  “Just get on, Ronnie.” I turned back to my bike, not wanting to argue anymore, and dropped onto my Harley. My legs stood comfortably on either side, waiting to kick up the stand as Ronnie refused to move.

  The heat was scorching. Summer was bearing down on Fellpeak and the motel provided no shadows. My leather was beginning to get bleached under the light and my skin was starting to burn. My white shirt did nothing to help my arms either, but I wasn’t about to take my cut off when riding through my town. Not a chance.

  “Where are we going?” Ronnie persisted, green eyes squinting in the sunlight as she fought not to break the hold she had on my chest to shield her eyes. She was a Texan girl, through and through, both against the sunlight and the stubborn streak that reached down into her bones.

  It had pissed me off when we were kids. Looked like it still did.

  “Why do you have to know?” I retorted.

  “Because I’m the one going there.” Ronnie pouted. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because you’re wasting time. Now shut your mouth, sit the fuck down, and hold on before I leave without you.”

  “You could be throwing me off a cliff for all I know,” she growled, stomping her foot on the ground. “And don’t speak to me like that!”

  I could see she was getting more and more riled up, her boots kicking at the concrete, scuffing the already wrecked leather. I couldn’t do anything about it, however, because I kept meeting her level with each reply. We were getting louder and louder, and neither one of us looked like we were going to stop.

  “I’m tempted,” I replied, honestly. This was one of the many times I’d honestly been tempted to chuck her off a nearby cliff just to shut her off. “You want a repeat of your sixteenth summer?”

  “You bastard! I knew that was you!” She hissed. “You tied me to a fucking tree while I was sleeping! I didn’t even get to go to my own birthday party!”

  “That wasn’t your birthday party. It was mine, and you were being annoying because I didn’t invite you.”

  “It was both of our birthdays!” Ronnie tossed her pajamas at me, the cotton hitting me square in the face before falling to my lap.

  “No, it was my birthday. I was born a whole four years before you, which makes it mine.”

  “That doesn’t count!” Ronnie threw down her hands and stomped her foot.

  She winced for a split second and I wondered just how hard she’d thrown down that leg.

  “It does. Now get on.” I hadn’t really raised my voice as much as Ronnie had. I quickly realized we were gathering attention; attention that we really didn’t need in a town with a population of six hundred. It prompted me to put her pajamas in my saddle bag and pull out her helmet—

  The helmet. The. Not her helmet.

  Ronnie looked like she wanted to argue with me, but I saw the moment she heard a few of the tenants of the motel begin whispering from the balcony above. If I remembered anything from high school, I knew Ronnie detested gossip.

  As the memory passed through my mind, she snatched the helmet out of my hands, tugged out her bun with force that I’m sure hurt her, and put the helmet on over her head.

  I braced my foot against the ground as Ronnie all but dropped down onto the bike, making the thing bounce slightly as her pussy came to grind against my back. The heat between us reappeared in an instant and if Ronnie’s stillness and sudden quietness was anything to go by, she noticed it as well.

  I was trying not to remember or acknowledge anything about the ride home I gave her last night. I had been pissed off and having her pussy riding against my back and her breasts pressed against my leather cut only made it worst. Speeding up, which scared the absolute shit out of her, had somehow been a vindictive revenge; punishing her for making me touch all the parts of her that separated the seventeen-year old girl of my past and the sexy, all-woman rubbing up and down behind me.

  I squeezed the throttle, the bike giving a tremendous roar that had the attention of every single tenant within a five-mile radius, and kicked off my stand.

  This was a bad idea. I knew it. She knew it. Fuck, I’m sure even Hunter had already known it when he warned me yesterday.

  But I did it anyway.

  Just like every bad idea I had.

  Chapter Six

  Ronnie

  I knew where we were heading by the third turn. What I didn’t know was why.

  This was my single most traveled route within the town of Fellpeak. We turned onto the dirt road, and I closed my eyes and mouth as dust was spat up in our faces, leaving a storm of sand clouds behind us.

  “You awake back there?” Jax turned, his muscles shifting underneath my grip. His dark eyes, covered by the almost impervious black sunglasses shielding his face, stared down at me with a near-mocking brow. Jax would have to have a sense of humor for that to happen; however, it was something I’d yet to see.

  I glared, prying my hands loose from the skin-singeing black leather. The experience of holding onto his leather apparel had been night and day for me. The sun had long since been down when Jax gave me my first ride the previous night. When I had my hands on his cut, the cool night air had made me feel the soft warmth of body heat radiating from Jax. Under the glaring sunlight, however, the material felt like a hot plate. My guard had been lowered and I had forgotten how hot leather under the sun got; my hands would have dropped it like a hot potato, had I had the chance.

  The chance was torn away from me when Jax had released his throttle and we shot forward into three-digit miles per hour.

  If only I hadn�
�t heard of his club’s connection to the sheriff, I would still be holding out hope for the day he got pulled over.

  “Yes, I’m awake,” I grunted. The bitterness about being dragged this way and that like a ping-pong on Jax’s every whim was also setting in for the foreseeable future. One minute he acted like he wanted nothing to do with me, but within the short week of my stay, it was beginning to seem more and more like he wanted to control every aspect of my life. Whether it was his persecution of my truck, or presently, my living conditions, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was because he was a nice enough guy to care. Maybe I’ll start asking his permission to breath the air or will he rather I just hold it until I shut up forever?

  “You’re quiet,” he uttered in response, turning away from the frown I was sure grew heavier the longer he looked at me.

  “Momma told me if I had nothing nice to say, I shouldn’t say it at all.”

  “Your momma sure had a nicer mouth than you’ve ever had.”

  Asshole.

  With that comment, I took no time in getting up off my ass and stretching my leg. Though the trip was short, and my sleep even shorter than I’d have liked due to a certain traumatic ride home, both seemed to have rejuvenated my strength a little and I felt sturdier on my feet than I had in a while.

  The moment I opened my eyes this afternoon, I had hoped for a better day, until I had hit the bathroom and saw the destruction.

  I should have stayed in bed.

  “Don’t talk about my momma,” I punctuated with the clip of my helmet. The strap sprung loose along with my hair before I handed it back to him.

  Jax didn’t apologize.

  He stood up from his seat, the bike’s suspension giving a little breath, being released from his weight. He placed the helmet on the vacated seat before Jax moved over to the saddle bags where he stuffed all of my things.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Unpacking your shit,” he turned with a puff of dust around his ankles and holding the bag out to me.

  I looked at him, then at the bag. Then back at him. “Why?”

  He frowned at me like I was a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

  “Whole words would be preferable than letters, actually. You know I was never good at literacy,” I chirped, earning an annoyed glare.

  “You’re staying here.” Jax shoved the bag into my arms.

  “What?”

  I looked from him and to the ranch house—Mr. Jenkin’s ranch house to be exact.

  Max, I knew, was in a stable in the empty barn. She had it all to herself since there were no other animals on the property, and all the expensive vehicles and equipment used for harvesting the corn field were stored in a safer, sealed, and alarmed facility on the other side of the land.

  My gaze then shifted to the house, whose occupant I had yet to meet face-to-face.

  Then at last, I looked to Jax.

  He raised a brow above the lenses of his glasses. “You sure you don’t want letters? How about I write it down?”

  “I can’t stay here!” I exclaimed, ignoring his rhetorical and sarcastic question.

  Hugging my bag to my chest, I looked between Jax and the house. The old, dreamy home that was now filled with charm, having remained untouched by time. “It’s Mr. Jenkins’ house.”

  “The old man went into hospital yesterday for hip surgery,” Jax replied, fishing a key out the other saddle bag. The thing was big, clunky, and looked heavy as Jax pulled it out. It suited the house. “Nothing major,” he added as an afterthought. “He’s just going to be out the house for a while. Told me to look after it, but I also got to be at the club. This makes it easier.”

  Well, he made sense; I couldn’t deny that.

  “How long will he be gone for?” I asked as Jax turned away from me, his hot cut displayed over his shoulders. I trailed after it, watching as the skull rippled with each twitch of his muscles carrying him up the porch steps.

  The door swung wide. I expected a slow and steady creak but was met with smooth silence. I followed Jax through the door and onto a porch cushioned by a welcome straw mat, which was threadbare and crying with homemade style. I paused with my dusty boots on the mat.

  Momma loved those….

  Jax’s heavy footsteps resounding ahead brought me back as I knocked the dust from my soles before following him.

  Trailing behind him, I noticed the way Jax’s large body seemed to shrink the beloved home. The ceilings were taller than the typical eight feet, but the doorframes were a contrast. They were small and built for people narrower and slimmer built than Jax, whose hair brushed along the top of each frame. Walking through them without hesitation told me that he’d been working on this farm for a long while, enough to become familiar with how he fit through each archway.

  The hall led me to a similar hallway on the top of the stairs, and on this floor a beautiful arrangement of more recent photos covered the wall. They showcased a grey-haired couple, smiling in full color. The scenic and beautiful views surrounding the couple were from different parts of this land and town.

  The landing was small and Jax had already turned into a bedroom by the time I had finished gazing at the photographs. I followed him past the white door and into a simple guest bedroom. The bed was pushed up against the wall on one side, a vacant vanity table and wardrobe and plain tartan sheets of the bed matching the curtains. A complementary floral wallpaper decorated each wall, and a whitewashed window overlooked the dirt path that backed up to the main road.

  A muffled huff made me turn as the puffy bed sheets depressed under my duffle bag where Jax tossed it. He moved across the floor, avoiding a faded blue rug peeking out from under the bed, then dipped his head into the adjoining bathroom. I could see it was small without going in it, but either way, this was so much better than the motel room, and every other room I had been in on my road trip.

  With a satisfied nod, he turned back to me, folding his arms defensively across his chest. He stayed on one side of the rug and I on the other.

  “The old man doesn’t do freeloaders,” he interrupted my stare, leading my eyes from his chest to his face.

  “What’s the catch then?” I replied on a sigh. I dropped onto the bed, making sure not to cross the invisible line he had drawn between us.

  I almost forgot to listen to his reply as I sunk into the depths of the fluffy bed, my arms spread wide across its length. My body cried at the comfort and joy it offered. It was old but was the softest thing I had ever laid on, with the most intricate decoration above it. The plastered ceiling had detailed, delicate designs carved into it where the roof line met the walls.

  God, this room was amazing.

  “There’s a list of jobs you need to do. I’ve left it downstairs on the table, but I want everything done by tomorrow, then I’ll write you a new list for the day after.”

  I sighed.

  There was no doubt it’d be physically tough on me, I expected nothing less than a list written from Jax, but with every other facility in the rest of Fellpeak barred from my employment, I guess I’d just have to let him have his way.

  “Fine,” I huffed, not looking at him.

  It was quiet for a long time while I sat on the bed. I inhaled a long, deep breath of the sweet vanilla fragrance wafting from the sheets. My heart throbbed inside my chest as it rose and fell, falling into a soft lull that time seemed to wash away. I had long thought Jax had left.

  “That day…,” he spoke, scaring the shit out of me.

  I jerked in the bed, flicking my head in his direction. His eyes were focused on me, not flinching, not wavering. Not… anything. They just looked at me, gentle and curious from his stance in the doorway. But his arms were still wrapped around his chest, and his voice had paused, both actions telling me exactly what day he was referring to.

  “The day you left?” I answered.

  He nodded, a strand of dark hair moving over one eye.
He didn’t move it.

  Silence once again fell between us, but I waited. Waited and watched until I saw Jax’s mouth move once more.

  “Why didn’t you come with me?”

  “You know I couldn’t, Jackson,” I whispered, my heart feeling that same pain it did on the very night I saw him walk away. “I couldn’t leave the ranch behind. I still wanted to make a change. I thought I could do it. I thought I could make it better.”

  Thought. Past tense.

  I wondered if Jax would pick up on it, but the next sounds I heard weren’t his voice, or mine, but his boots walking out the room, down the stairs and out the door.

  I was left on the bed, quiet. My voice was anchored deep in my throat, weighed down by the guilt I’d been carrying for years. It grew with the lingering sound of his motorcycle driving away from me as fast as it could.

  Maybe there was no room for apologies between us, after all.

  * * *

  Every morning started with the usual list of household chores, or patrols around the fields, checking the rodent traps, fixing holes in fences, changing the oil in the quadbikes, mucking out Max’s stable, and the ten thousand other things I had to do to keep this place running.

  It wasn’t unfamiliar work, but it was work I hadn’t done in a while. Even so, I didn’t complain. I just got on with it like I was expected to do. And although I found it tiring, it was nice to do a full day’s work again instead of sitting around the house all day long like I was once told to do. Like I had done for years. I had been so naïve….

  But with each tiring day that passed, the thoughts of the past came less and less, and my karmic rewards where coming to me in the best way possible. Max’s training was progressing leaps and bounds, and I couldn’t stop the feeling of hope beginning to burn brighter in my chest. It came in throbbing waves of warmth through my body with each step Max let me closer, and the simple smell of her beside me almost made me weep in joy. Such a simple thing, and yet I had missed it for so long that it had now become an irreplaceable need in me.