Cade tunnelled his hand through his thick, blond hair, his brow creasing. “How do you know it was the Jacks?”
Jagger pulled out his phone and showed Cade a picture he’d received from his contact in the police department. Someone had spray painted a crude outline of the Black Jacks’ patch on the side of the weapons shed that had been robbed. “They left a calling card. Most of the brothers who weren’t drowning their sorrows in some sweet butt’s arms last night have already been told.”
Cade didn’t react to the silent admonition. No doubt he’d spent the night just as Jagger had said. Cade was known for his ability to charm women into his bed. Sherry claimed his chick magnet appeal had to do with his appearance, likening him to some movie star who’d played the part of the Norse god, Thor. Jagger didn’t have time for movies. Or movie stars. Or brothers who spent the night buried between some sweet butt’s thighs instead of worrying about the loss of their clubhouse, the end of the feud, and a little Black Jack who couldn’t be touched.
“Gotta get back.” He gestured toward the house, and Cade fell into step, Max trotting beside them.
“I was wondering why Axle was gunning for Arianne to pay the price this morning,” Cade said, oblivious to Jagger’s annoyance. “Tensions are high right now and he’s already got a lot of support. The fire hit too close to home.”
“It was home.” At least for him and Cade, and a few of the unattached brothers who were out of work or needed a temporary place to stay.
“They need someone to blame.” Cade hesitated. “If they don’t get a focus for their anger, the club will explode.”
Was he seriously suggesting offering Arianne up as a sacrificial lamb? “And it’s Gunner’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” A burst of protective anger caught him off guard. “She said she wasn’t there to hurt anyone or cause any damage. I believe her.”
Although ultimately evasive, Arianne’s answer to that question had been delivered firmly and directly. No waver of the voice. No shifting of the eyes. He suspected deception wasn’t in her nature. Hell, she’d given it to him straight when he cuffed her. His lips quivered with a repressed smile. When was the last time anyone had dared speak to him that way?
Cade rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, then I hope you have a plan for retribution that might ease the pain of just letting her go.”
“I always have a plan.” Jagger whistled for Max. “And you’ll like this one. It involves runaway trucks, explosives, and destroying meth factories.”
“You’ll definitely need Axle on board, then. No one is better with explosives than him.”
“Axle’s done,” Jagger said. “For the sake of appearances, I’ll put the vote to the executive board later this morning, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s out of the club. He’s been pushing the boundaries ever since I took over as president, five years ago, and last night he went too far.”
“Guess I’ll let Zane know Axle won’t be trunking with us tonight.” Cade stopped walking before they came within earshot of the house. “You got a victim in mind?”
Jagger’s tension eased. “Zane got the goods on a dealer who seems to have forgotten about our zero-tolerance policy for drugs in Conundrum.” He finally allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “We’ll have a little fun, raise some cash to fix this place up as our new clubhouse, and damage the Black Jack supply chain all at once.”
“Almost as much fun as spending an evening with a coupla sweet butts in my lap.” Cade twisted his lips to the side, considering. “Or maybe not.”
“The feud is back on.” Jagger slammed his fist into his palm. “We’re gonna hit the Jacks hard and fast, and we’re gonna make justice personal. The men who torched our old clubhouse and shot Cole and Gunner are first on our list after Cole’s funeral. Then we hit the man who gave the order.”
“Viper.” Cade spat out the name. “And if the feud is back on, he’ll be gunning for you.”
“Not if I get to him first.”
And his pretty little Black Jack might be just his ticket inside the Viper’s den.
FOUR
Club rules and bylaws shall be strictly enforced. Penalties for breaking the rules include a kick-out or suspension, and always an ass-kicking.
“Up, bitch.” A sharp tug on her hair startled Arianne from sleep. She turned but didn’t recognize the man standing beside her bed. Although short in stature, he had a huge barrel chest and a belly to match.
“I said up.” His hand in her hair, he yanked her off the bed. Arianne fell to her knees at his feet, getting a perfect view of the red patches lining the bottom of his cut. Her heart pumped spastically, and she looked quickly around the room. Where was Jagger?
“Let’s go.” With a snarl, he pulled her to her feet. Still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, exhausted sleep, Arianne stumbled after him, thankful Jagger had insisted she put on her clothes in the middle of the night.
“You don’t need to be so rough.” She clamped her hand on her hair, lessening his pull. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Curiously underwhelmed, she allowed him to pull her a few more steps, giving him a false sense of control. Like she hadn’t lived through this scenario on a weekly basis at home. She waited until they were near the door, then put both her hands up to her head. Holding her hair, she twisted and spun out of his grip. Using her momentum, she ran back at him, head-butting him in the solar plexus and knocking him against the wall. He staggered, short-winded, but with breath enough to curse.
Arianne didn’t wait to see the effects of her assault. Instead she ran at the open doorway—only to collide with a bony, redheaded biker with piercings in his nose and ears. He swore as he looked over her shoulder at the biker who lay groaning on the floor, but her attention was focused on his broad-shouldered companion who was wielding a knife six inches long.
She backed up and hit the wall as he advanced while regarding her with cool disdain. His face was thin and pale, but marred with recent cuts and bruises. Sharp, defined features were complemented by a thin, cruel slash of a mouth, and his dark hair was slicked back on his head, revealing a sharp widow’s peak. Dark eyes, totally devoid of emotion, sent a chill up her spine. Had Jagger changed his mind and ordered her execution?
Without warning, his hand struck her left cheek and sent her reeling across the floor. Her head hit the bedpost, everything fading to gray. With a bark of derision, he slowly walked to where she lay and prodded her shoulder with the toe of his boot, forcing her onto her back. He didn’t bother to crouch, merely towered over her, his face twisting in disgust. “Black Jack bitch. My name’s Axle. Soon to be President Axle. Should have killed you when I had the chance, but I’m about to remedy that now.”
With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for his pierced companion and his now-recovered friend to pick Arianne up off the floor.
Cheek stinging, still dazed from the fall, she didn’t struggle when the two men clamped a hand around each of her arms and yanked her upright.
Choose your fights. The words of the old Black Jack road captain drifted through her mind as she contemplated how she could get free. He had sheltered Arianne and Jeff from the worst of their father’s wrath, and it was because of him Arianne had developed her skills as a mechanic. She still took flowers to his grave, an unmarked mound north of town at the base of the Bridger Mountains.
But this was a fight she couldn’t win. Not through physical force and not with the two bikers holding her arms so tight, she had to grit her teeth against the pain. And wouldn’t her options be better downstairs?
“Does Jagger know about this?” She struggled to keep up with her captors as they dragged her down the hallway.
“He will soon enough.” Axle smirked. “We’re gonna take you to the meeting and give everyone a show they’ll never forget.”
Meeting? Her heart skipped a beat. Were they taking her to church? Outlaw MCs never allowed anyone other than full-patch
brothers to attend “church,” the monthly or extraordinary mandatory meetings required of club members. Bad enough dealing with these goons, but facing the entire full-patch contingent at once, knowing so many of them wanted her to pay for the attack—
She squared her shoulders and swallowed her fear as Axle preceded them down the stairs. If her father had taught her anything, it was that fear made people weak. And weak people couldn’t fight.
Her captors were either stupid or desperate if they thought they could drag her into church without causing a minor riot. But at least Jagger would be there. Hopefully, he would keep her safe. If not, she’d be kicking ass and taking names. Today was not a good day to die.
They stopped outside a set of double doors, the paint chipped and cracked and the once gold-colored handles now blackened with age. The redhead with the piercings lightly slid a knife across her neck. “Be a good girl while the boys are talking.”
Axle threw open the doors and her captor pushed her forward, the knife still at her throat.
“Justice for the Sinner’s Tribe.”
She had only a moment to take in the faded grandeur of what must once have been a massive living room, the sea of Sinner cuts, and Jagger sitting at the head of a table before the room exploded in chaos.
* * *
Justice?
Jagger grimaced as shouts and yells echoed around the room. Axle wasn’t here for justice. He wanted Jagger’s position, pure and simple, and knowing he was facing a possible dismissal, he’d decided to risk a stunt like this. Arianne was a pawn to him. Unnecessary. Expendable.
In danger.
He forced his gaze away from Arianne—the bright red mark on her cheek, the bruise on her temple, and the knife gleaming at her throat—and focused on the men seated at the table beside him. The executive board consisted of the president, vice president, secretary, treasurer, road captain, and sergeant at arms, as well as two members at large. He had served with the same board for five years, the only change being to the members-at-large, now Tank and Bandit. None of them would support Axle’s bid for power. But he wasn’t so sure that they were as convinced of Arianne’s innocence as he was. All Axle needed was a seed of doubt to set in motion a chain of events that could topple Jagger from his throne.
A seed he wasn’t going to sow on Jagger’s watch.
Feigning weariness, Jagger raised his voice. “Stand down, Axle. Let her go.”
“Someone’s going down.” Axle sneered and gestured to Arianne, who was standing stiff, the knife against her throat. “And it won’t be me.”
Rage pumped through Jagger’s veins and every instinct screamed at him to protect her. But Christel’s death had taught him to show no emotion when women were involved; reveal no weakness. So he focused his attention on the real threat: Axle. His eyes were bruised and swollen after the beating Zane had given him last night, but they gleamed victorious nonetheless. Not since Christel died, had he wanted to kill a man more.
“You do it or we do it,” Axle shouted. “No more of this bullshit. The executive board will do what you tell them to do, but no one really wants to let her go. They’re just afraid to tell you. Viper wants a war. Let’s give it to him.”
A few of the brothers dipped their chins in assent. Jagger leaned back in his chair, affecting an air of indifference while inside he seethed. Axle wasn’t helping himself by making a mockery of their bylaws, despite the kernel of truth in his words. Cold, cruel, ruthless, and incredibly cunning, Viper wouldn’t hesitate to kill Arianne if he were in Jagger’s position, no matter that she was a woman.
Gunner pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he stood. As sergeant at arms, he was responsible for keeping order in the meeting, and right now the room pulsed with tension, a powder keg ready to explode.
“Penalty for going against anything the board has voted on is suspension or dismissal.” Gunner folded his thick arms and glared. “Penalty for disrupting a meeting is eviction. Penalty for bringing a woman and a non-patch member into a board meeting is suspension. Penalty for threatening a woman the board has just decided to release is a personal ass-kicking from me.” He drew his Springfield XD-S .45ACP from its holster and placed it on the table in front of him. “You got a problem with any of that, Axle?”
Taking advantage of Gunner’s diversion, Jagger rose slowly from his seat, his focus now back on Arianne. Her face was taut and her hands were fisted by her sides. But damned if she didn’t look angry rather than afraid.
“Before this goes any further,” Jagger said, struggling to keep his voice level. “The executive board reviewed the surveillance tapes before church began. We are satisfied that Vexy was not involved in the arson or the theft of the weapons. She arrived after the fire had started and Cole and Gunner were down. However, there are four Black Jacks whose lives are forfeit as soon as we identify them and all the Jacks will feel our wrath for what they have done.”
The crowd cheered, but Axle cut them off with a bark of anger. “Why was she there? It’s an obvious question that everyone seems afraid to answer. Was she too late to help out? Well, I’ve brought her to you. Ask her.”
“Far as I can recall, you don’t have the floor.” Gunner thudded his fist on the table. “Penalty for talking without getting the floor from the president is eviction and an ass-kicking. Guess I get to take my boot to your ass more than once. I still got one good leg, and it packs a helluva kick”
“I’ll accept the question.” Lips pursed with suppressed fury, Jagger rounded the table and walked toward Arianne and her captor, a skinny rat of a man aptly nicknamed Weasel. “Vexy?”
She shot him a look of gratitude, which quickly faded into resignation. “I was trying to stop him … them.” Her voice wavered. “But I got there too late. I saw the fire, drove to the back of the clubhouse, and then I don’t know what happened. Next thing I remember, I was here.” She narrowed her eyes and her features hardened. “And that’s all you’re getting from me.”
“You got names for us?” Axle scowled.
“No.”
Christ. She had more courage than most of the men in the room. No tears or sobs. No breaking down. No names.
Jagger didn’t need to look around to know Zane and their road captain, Sparky, had left their seats, too. Cade reached for his weapon. The room, rank with the stench of too many bodies packed into too small a space, stilled.
“Not even to save your life?” Axle drew a line across his throat with his finger. Weasel’s knife flashed. Arianne gaped, and blood trickled into the hollow at the base of her throat.
Jagger succumbed to the ferocity of his rage. Bloodlust that roared through his veins.
He charged, carrying Axle along the front of the table, through the crowd, and straight into the adjacent wall with the power of a linebacker. In a maddened frenzy of blows and kicks, he pummeled Axle until the man sank to the ground, the knife falling from his grasp. Turning, Jagger saw Arianne, now free and leaning against the back wall, her hand to her throat while Gunner wrestled with Weasel. Around them, Axle’s supporters went down under the fists of his enraged executive board. Bones cracked. Shouts and yells. Someone screamed.
“You upset I damaged your fuck toy?” Axle panted against the baseboard and pushed himself to his feet.
Cade pressed the barrel of his gun to Axle’s head and glanced over at Jagger. “You want him dead?”
Jagger’s fist contacted Axle’s jaw, sending Axle into the crowd. “He hasn’t suffered enough yet.”
Axle came up fighting, but in his current condition he was no match for Jagger’s speed and strength. Or his fury. Although he had restrained himself behind the old clubhouse, and told Zane not to work Axle over too hard last night, Jagger had no reason to hold back now. Axle’s days in the club were over. If Jagger didn’t deal most definitively with the man’s blatant disrespect, his ability to lead the MC would be called into question. But more than that, a surge of possessiveness had gripped him by the throat alongside a desire
to avenge the woman under his protection.
The room faded into silence as he knocked Axle to the ground. He lifted his boot for one last kick when Arianne placed a hand on his arm.
Shocked out of the haze of bloodlust, he stilled, expecting her to tell him to pull back and not kick a man when he was down. Instead, she gripped his sleeve, drew back her leg and growled, “Leave a piece of him for me.”
Although she wasn’t strong enough to do any serious damage, Arianne’s kick ripped a harsh groan from Axle’s lungs, and he rolled onto his back, clutching his side, a black stain on the threadbare carpet.
Damn. What a woman.
Jagger wiped his bloody hands on his shirt. “The meeting is adjourned. Axle and his supporters are hereby kicked out of the club on bad terms.” He met the gaze of each member of the executive board, paying lip service to the bylaws, which required a general vote and unanimous consent of the board to terminate a membership. Right now he didn’t give a fucking damn about the bylaws. If he didn’t kick Axle out, he would kill Axle, and he didn’t want Axle’s blood on his hands. As expected, he was met with no dissent.
“Sparky, get the prospects to clean up the mess.” He nodded at Axel’s supporters on the floor. “Strip their colors, throw them into a van, and dump them at the side of the road. Their bikes stay with the club as compensation.”
The traitors sucked in a collective breath. Taking away a man’s bike was the ultimate humiliation, but under the bylaws of all outlaw clubs it was the appropriate penalty for members kicked out on bad terms.
“Out. Now.” Heart hammering in his chest, muscles still twitching, Jagger grabbed Arianne’s hand and dragged her from the room.
* * *
“Slow down.” Arianne wriggled her wrist, trying to get free.
Jagger stalked across the grass, pulling her behind him as they headed toward the shimmering glow of motorcycles, parked in neat rows along the vast gravel drive.
The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 Page 4