The Outlaw's Obsession

by Jenika Snow

  She turned slightly so she could face him. “He will. He’ll come for me, and he’ll kill me.” A fat tear slid down her cheek, and before Jagger could think about it, and because his bear had become pretty fucking protective of this human female, he reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheek. She sucked in a breath and stared at him wide-eyed, probably thinking the same thing he was: what in the hell was he doing?

  “Sonya, he won’t come for you. I’ll protect you, my crew will protect you, and the Grizzly MC will make sure no one ever hurts you again.” Slowly he saw her visibly relax.

  “I don’t know why I feel so safe around you. I don’t even know you.” She lifted her arms and brushed her tears away with the back of her hands.

  Her words were soft, and he let his eyes linger on her lips as she spoke. That sweet smell that came from her was even more powerful since he was so close to her. “You don’t know me, and have no reason to trust me, but if I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have to lift a finger to do so.” He didn’t say it to frighten her, but more so to solidify his words. “I won’t let him hurt you, Sonya. Not fucking ever again. If Trick is stupid enough to come here looking for you, then he’ll have to go through me to do so, and believe me,” Jagger leaned in another inch and heard her suck in a breath. “He will not get through me.” He held her stare with his, hoping to make her understand that yes, he considered himself a pretty bad fucking guy, but when it concerned his MC, his friends and family, or in this case, Sonya, Jagger could be a pretty fierce protector. And for some unexplainable reason, and one he wasn’t about to question because it felt too damn right, Jagger would protect this female with his life. She had been kidnapped as a child, tortured and abused by one sick motherfucker, and he swore to whoever was listening that he would hunt down Trick and make him pay with blood for what he had done to her.

  “Thank you, for everything,” she whispered, but kept looking at him.

  Jagger knew she couldn’t stay here. The clubhouse was not a place for her, but thinking about her leaving didn’t sit well with him or his bear. “Listen, I’m not going to keep you prisoner or anything, but I want to highly suggest that you stay here until your wound heals all the way.” He gently placed a finger on her shoulder where he knew the bandage was right beneath her shirt. “One of my guys is trained a little bit in the medical field, so he can keep an eye on it. After that I can help you get set up someplace where you will be safe.” Jagger had no idea where he could put her up, aside from another clubhouse because that was the only sure way she would stay safe if they hadn’t killed Trick by them, but he would think of something. Keeping her here with him was not a good idea, not with how turbulent his bear was around her, or the shit that went down within the clubhouse. Yeah, she had been around that for years, but why add salt to a not healed wound? But even thinking about her leaving made him pissed, and that was a very strange feeling for him to have about a female.

  “I don’t have any money to pay you back.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I can’t let you help me without me repaying you in some form,” she said almost hesitantly, as if she knew what those words would mean to him.

  Like the dirty bastard he was Jagger thought about some of the things she could do to pay him back, and they were in the form of having her naked and spread on his bed. He shook those filthy and totally inappropriate thoughts out of his head. Yeah, he was one big, dirty fucking bastard and made himself sick.

  “Maybe I can clean?”

  He shook his head and then ran a hand over his stubble covered jaw. “You need to rest so your shoulder can heal. I’m not going to have you do anything as payment. It wouldn’t feel right.” He leaned back on the couch. “I want to help you because it feels good and is the right thing, okay?” He looked at her.

  “Okay.” She said that one word very softly and smiled. Her gratitude covered her face.

  “Good, now come on, you must be hungry, and I know you’re in pain.” He stood and held his hand out for her to take. She looked at it for a moment but slipped hers in his after a prolonged second. The spark that traveled right up his arm when she touched him was powerful, and Jagger saw her reaction as she felt it, too. Her skin was so soft and warm, but once she was standing he let go of her and took a step back. He needed to get himself in control, and not let his bear take control like it normally did, and like it wanted to do right now. He led them out of the room, and although there was a party going on in the main area of the clubhouse, he needed to have Court look at her shoulder since she was up, get her some food, and also something for her pain. He stopped right before they entered the main room, and he looked at her. “You opposed to something a little stronger than Tylenol for the pain?” She didn’t answer right away. “It’s nothing potent, just some Percocet, but it’ll make you feel better a lot better than the over the counter bullshit. You trying to put on a brave front is good and all, but we need to get you relaxed and back resting so you can heal, okay?”

  “Yeah, I know. Can we just try the Tylenol first?”

  He smiled at that. “Sure. But you promise to let me know if the pain gets worse or the Tylenol doesn’t help, and we’ll get you something stronger.”

  “I will, thank you.” She smiled, and he was stuck there staring at her like some kind of damn hormonal teenager.

  “You want to come with me or go back to the room and wait until I bring Court to you? It’s kind of rowdy where I need to go and get Court, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Shit, he was growing all soft with this female, and she hadn’t even been in here for twenty-four hours. Her going back to the room was probably the best course of action, but this was her choice. He wouldn’t force her to do anything, at least not this soon. Even if he wanted her in the room, safe from everything, he wasn’t going to lock her up like Trick had done to her.

  “Actually, I don’t want to be cooped up in the room. Besides, I don’t think there is anything in there that can shock me.” She tried to smile, but he grew pissed by her statement. Not because of what she said exactly, but because he knew damn well what she had suffered at the hands of Trick, both mentally and physically.

  He turned and led them into the main party room of the clubhouse, and even though she was clearly not unaccustomed to what MC life was like—at least a part of it since he knew how fucked Trick was in the head—he hoped she could handle what was she was about to see.

  Chapter Six

  Sonya followed Jagger down the rest of the hallway and into a very large room. Bikers were scattered all around, and she knew this was where the majority of them hung out. It wasn’t that much different from the Wolverine clubhouse, not with the pool table, bar, couches, and other things of that nature. The room was fairly smoky, and the scent of cigarettes and marijuana were strong. The music was also loud and the voices boisterous. There were several club whores either giving lap dances, BJs, or performing little stripteases. Yeah, not much different at all.

  “Stay right by me, Sonya.”

  She drew her attention from a huge breasted woman that was carrying a tray full of beers and shots to a handful of bikers sitting on a couch in front of a stripper pole. She recognized several of the MC members from when they had been at Trick’s. So this was how the Grizzly MC celebrated on their downtime? There was no slapping around women, slamming each other against the wall until all out fist fights broke free and blood covered the ground. At least right now there weren’t any of those things, but even though Sonya felt the danger and power that Jagger and his MC emitted, she knew they were nothing like Trick and his insane crew. She stayed by Jagger, but she was drawn in by the low lighting, the loud and filthy music, and the sexuality that poured out of every single body in this room. It was intoxicating, mesmerizing, and she couldn’t stop staring. The way she felt around these bikers was not even on the same level as the disgust she felt around Trick and the Wolverines. This atmosphere was energized with delicious he

at and lust, whereas at Trick’s it was pain and degradation.

  Jagger moved a few steps forward and started talking with someone whom she assumed was Court, the medically trained MC member. She looked around again but didn’t move away from Jagger.

  “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.” Sonya turned and stared at the man who had just spoken to her. The stark white patch against his black leather vest told her that he was a prospect. All these men were animals in their own right, grizzly bears and powerful enough to snap necks with a flick of their wrists, but they didn’t make her feel uneasy, at least not in the way she had for the last seven years staying with Trick.

  “Hi.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t really want to have a conversation with anyone. She still felt out of her element in this new clubhouse and surrounded by these hardened shifter bikers. Many things kept passing through her mind, mainly about Jagger and the strange yet intense effect he seemed to have on her. Even now she could still feel his thumb on her cheek as he brushed away her tear. She was mad at herself for being weak around such a strong guy, but he hadn’t made her feel ashamed of her emotions, and in fact she had seen a flicker of empathy come through his hard exterior. But then it had vanished as quickly as it had presented itself, and she knew Jagger was not the type of guy to go soft for anyone. In fact, she swore he had been angry at himself for being…vulnerable.

  The prospect eyed her up and down, and she covered her chest with her uninjured arm. She may have clothes on, but she had been eyed up and down enough times in the last seven years to know when a man did that to a woman it was like they could see right through her clothes.

  The prospect took a step closer. “I’m Lane.” He grinned, and there was a slight gap between his two front teeth. “Although, baby, if you want to get some action for that pussy of yours I’d suggest you wear something less homely and more slutty. These guys like to see tits and ass.” He reached out as if he meant to touch her.

  Before she could move, and before he could make contact with her someone grabbed her around the waist and very gently moved her behind them. But she knew it was Jagger before she saw his face. The scent of him filled her nose. He smelled like clean sweat, motor oil, and leather, and although those three smells may not have been the most appealing to a woman, to Sonya the combination made her wet, embarrassingly so, and very out of place given her history with Trick and his club. Sonya didn’t want to think too deeply on why this man, this Grizzly MC president, had this kind of effect on her. She took a step back when she saw Jagger take one forward. The heat that came from him was intense and powerful, and she could practically feel his rage fill the air. The hair on her arms stood on end. In the next second he slammed his fist into the prospect’s face, and before the other guy went down Jagger had his hand wrapped around the other man’s throat. He lifted him in the air until his feet dangled from the ground. God, Jagger made the other man look so small and weak. She didn’t know what was happening and felt helpless amidst all of the testosterone and anger suddenly pumping through the room.

  “I better never see you fucking put your hands on her.”

  Sonya heard the prospect gurgle, as if trying to say something after Jagger had spoken. Jagger tightened his hold on his throat. Several other men rushed up.

  Jagger held his hand out to stop them without taking his eyes off the man he held in a death grip. “Don’t look at her. Don’t speak to her.” Jagger leaned in so they were nose-to-nose. “Don’t think about her, and never, never fucking touch her. Do you understand me?” His voice was low and harsh.

  She found herself backing away, but didn’t get very far. She slammed right into a very hard wall, or should she say a chest that felt like a brick wall. Turning and looking over her shoulder, she had to crane her neck to see the man standing before her. His face showed no expression, and the jagged scar on his cheek had her swallowing the lump in her throat. The corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless sadistic smile. The way he looked at her seemed almost curious, but then he took a step back, looked over at Jagger, and then turned and disappeared down the hallway. A low growl had her looking back at Jagger, and she watched as the prospect clawed at the thick hand on his neck.

  Jagger tossed him aside as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll, and the prospect scrambled off the floor and out of the clubhouse. For several seconds it seemed all activity in the room stopped. The music still pumped loudly, and a look at the couch showed a few of the bikers sprawled out with almost amused expressions on their faces. A man walked up to Jagger, and she saw the patch on his cut that told her he was the VP. The vice president said something to Jagger, but he spoke too low, and the music was too loud for her to hear anything. Jagger nodded sharply and turned to face her. Sonya’s heart was beating fast as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes, something frighteningly possessive and animalistic, that had her feeling as if she might spontaneously combust right then and there.

  She felt other’s eyes on her as well, but they couldn’t be nearly as confused by the turn of events as she was. A too thin blonde—clearly not her natural hair color given her dark roots—moved toward Jagger and stopped right in front of him. Sonya should have looked away as soon as the other woman slid her hand over his chest, down his abdomen, and rested her open palm right on his crotch. But did she look away? No, of course not. She figured Jagger would tell her to go back in the room so he could have his fun with the blonde and burn off some of that intense rage and energy that even her weak and meager human senses were picking up. But what surprised her was he brushed the other woman’s hands off and stalked toward her. There was no other way to describe the way he walked toward her.

  Jagger stopped in front of her, and she watched as his nostrils flared out slightly as he inhaled. Another low rumble left him, and she glanced to her left and then to her right. Everyone was staring at them with stunned expressions. Yeah, that was probably how she looked right now. She faced Jagger again, but there wasn’t any fear inside of her, only this awareness that had her toes and fingers tingling and had her pulse racing like she had just run a marathon.

  “Court, come on,” Jagger called out but didn’t take his eyes off of Sonya. Then Jagger took hold of her hand, as if he had some kind of claim on her, and started leading her back toward the hallway.

  She glanced at the blonde that had just been rubbing up all over him, and the woman had her arms crossed under her huge breasts and her eyes narrowed right at Sonya. Okay, clearly she was a little miffed about the way the situation played out, and getting brushed off by Jagger, but Sonya was confused at what was going on, too.

  Jagger stopped at the bar but kept his hand tightly wrapped around hers. “Drevin, grab some food for her and a few bottles of water, and bring it to the back room by the exit.”

  She looked over at the man Jagger was talking to and saw on his vest that he was already patched in. Was every guy in this clubhouse built like Fort Knox? But then again these weren’t men at all, but grizzly bear shifters, and tough bikers at that.

  “Sure thing, Prez.”

  And then just like that everyone started laughing, talking, and carrying on as if nothing happened. Jagger didn’t say anything else as he led her back down the hallway and to the room she had woken up in. Her shoulder was throbbing, but fortunately Court was right behind them.

  “Sit.” Jagger issued out that one word like a command, and for a moment she couldn’t move. He was pacing the room but stopped and looked at her. “Please, Sonya.” She did as he asked and watched him pace once more, as if he were some kind of caged animal.

  Court stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He moved toward her and set the black nylon bag he held on the bed beside her. “I need to change your dressing. It’s been several hours,” he said without looking at her.

  “Okay.” She eyed the bag when he unzipped it and started pulling out gauze, ointment, and some sterile water. When the stuff was on the bed he took a step back and looked at Jagger.

  “Prez, I have to get to her dressing, and she has to take the shirt off.” Court spoke as if he was cautious of touching her, and as though he was asking permission.

  Jagger stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest, which had his thickly muscled arms bulging out under his golden skin.

  “Sonya, we’ll leave so you can take the shirt off,” Jagger said and gestured with a tilt of his chin for Court to get out, too. Jagger didn’t leave right away though and turned and walked to the dresser. He took out an oversized black button down shirt, and tossed it onto the bed. “You can wear this, that way you only have to pull the shoulder off so Court can get to the wound.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” She watched him leave and shut the door behind him. Getting the shirt off was just as difficult and painful as it was getting it on, and by the time she had on the black button-down—which went well past her knees—her shoulder was throbbing something fierce. Looking down she saw blood start to seep through the dressing. A couple hard knocks came through the door, and when she said they could enter it was pushed open. Jagger and Court strode back in. Jagger stopped right beside her, and Court moved back toward the medical bag. For a few minutes no one said anything, and Court was quick yet meticulous as he cleaned and redressed her wound.

  “I know you’re in a lot of pain.”

  She glanced at Court, but all she saw was his profile as he concentrated on her shoulder.

  “Jagger said you wanted some OTC meds, but I’m going to leave a few Percocets with you, too. Hopefully you’ll consider taking them because they’ll help you sleep, and you desperately need to spread the healing process along.”

  “She said she doesn’t want narcotics.” Jagger’s voice sounded just like his name implied: jagged.

  “Actually, it hurts a lot worse than earlier.” She was addressing Court, but had her attention on Jagger. “I think a few would really help, but I should probably eat something first.”

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