Jump: Book 7 in the Vengeance MC series

by Natasha Thomas

  “Watch it, Boss, or you and I are going to have a problem where there’s never been one before,” I warn. And for the most part, that’s true.

  Vengeance MC and Satan’s Sons don’t have the same kind of bad blood Satan’s Sons and Devil’s Spawn do. While the rivalry my old club had with Devil’s Spawn is long dead, the animosity between the two clubs’ still remains.

  Bluntly put, my dad was a pathetic fucking excuse for a human being, who took great pains to make sure everyone he crossed paths with was as miserable as he was. Thank God the sick bastard dropped dead of a stroke nearly a decade ago, or I would have helped him on his way.

  That might make me a shitty son, but I couldn’t care less if I was dead myself. Dear old dad deserved every ounce of pain and humiliation he suffered before he took his last breath; I just wish there had been more of it.

  Boss nudges my shoulder with his, and I have to fight not to hit the man I actually have a hell of a lot of respect for.

  “I’d recommend you back the fuck off, Boss.”

  “I get it,” he sighs. “Beth drives me fucking insane on a daily basis, so I get your need to protect her, but you’ve got to give Tatum some space, Lucifer. Let her come to you. Let her ask you to help her, instead of you jumping in to save the day before she needs you to.”

  “Do you remember what happened to her the last time I gave Tatum her space? Because if you don’t, I can jog your memory since I remember it fucking vividly.”

  “She’s not nineteen and naïve anymore, Lucifer. Tatum’s a grown ass woman now, and she’s more than capable of looking after herself.”

  “Wow! I don’t know whether to thank you for the compliment or smack him for being a colossal dick,” Tatum muses, coming to stand beside us.

  Winking at Boss, she throws her arms around him like they’re best fucking friends. My jaw aches at how hard I’m gritting my teeth, and my fists twitch as I think about planting them in Boss’ smug face. He knows its pissing me off to see my woman in his arms, which is why he hugs her back far longer than necessary.

  Eventually unwrapping his arms from her, Boss smiles down at her.

  “Looking good, Tate. How’s your old man?”

  Trace O’Neil, Tatum’s dad, is only a handful of years older than Boss and me, which is one of the many reasons he would like nothing more than to kick my ass. Another, and probably the more important one, is because Trace is my business partner.

  Before he knew I was in love with his daughter, and just after my wife died, Trace approached me to see if I was interested in coming on board with him to expand his friend Chase’s business. He knew I was in a bad place, that I needed focus before I lashed out and did something monumentally stupid. Something that would end up starting a war. I had nothing against Devil’s Spawn MC, just one man and his wife in particular, and for what I considered to be a fucking good reason.

  Because I loved Savannah – and don’t for a minute doubt that I did, despite how I feel about, Tatum – I reached out to Arrow and his wife, Veronica, Savannah’s twin sister, a few months after we were told it was unlikely she would survive another five years. My wife’s kidneys were shutting down. Dialysis and medication could only do so much to prolong her life expectancy, but with it bringing more than its fair share of suffering.

  I wanted to prove to my club, the little remaining family that I had left, and to my wife that I genuinely loved her, that she wasn’t leverage anymore as she had been at the beginning of our marriage. Because while that’s how it had started out – with me giving Savannah an ultimatum that she could marry me or her son would be used to pay her debt to the MC – our relationship progressed, and we came to care deeply about each other.

  Emotion drove me to make a decision that I hadn’t given enough thought to the ramifications of. The stress of my wife’s diagnosis, the twice weekly trips to the hospital for treatment, and the woman who I couldn’t have but wanted desperately visiting daily to help take care of Savannah eventually took its toll. My wife deserved better than to die with the knowledge that her only child hated her, or that her entire family wholeheartedly believed she was the devil incarnate. I can’t lie and say that deep down Savannah was a good person, but she wasn’t the monster they made her out to be, either.

  My one and only attempt to give my wife peace of mind as she lay wasting away to nothing was met with scorn and derision. Arrow didn’t give a fuck about Savannah’s suffering, and neither did Veronica. As far as they were concerned, Kellen was safe and happy, they had all moved on, and his mother’s reappearance in his life would only confuse him for no good reason.

  That day, I looked at a man I once thought better of and turned my back on him. If Arrow thought him, his son, or his wife were going to show up at Savannah’s funeral due to a change of heart, they had another thing coming because once I washed my hands of someone, there was no redemption to be had.

  Four years, three months, and one week after Savannah was told she had less than five years to live, she died in the arms of a man I’m grateful to now call a friend. Austin may not have planned to be there when she passed, but he was, and I will never be able to repay him for making sure Savannah felt comfortable and safe in her last moments.

  Austin also played a big part in my decision to partner with Trace. He insisted that even though I didn’t want to leave Waterfield permanently, the time and distance this job could give me would help. And he was right.

  Chase had been the only bounty hunter this side of the Rocky Mountains for close to a decade, but as a man with morals, there were plenty of jobs that came his way that he had no choice but to turn down. Trace and I, on the other hand, had no problem with delivering scumbags who skipped bail to even bigger scumbags with the means to pay whatever we wanted to charge them.

  The job fit the man I had become. There are no attachments, no promises to deliver, the money is good, and I work when it suits me. Jumping in my truck to chase after a high bond skip isn’t the same as getting on my bike and riding the highway for hours, letting the wind clear the cobwebs and order my thoughts, but it was close. Or as close as I was going to get these days.

  The sweet cadence of Tatum’s voice washes over me as she answers, Boss, and I can’t help thinking if that’s what she’d sound like when I’m buried balls deep inside her tight little body. That thought alone has my cock raging, straining the inseam of my jeans, and I make no move to hide it. She knows what she does to me, so if Tatum wants to continue to play games with me, then let her see what she can look forward to playing with.

  “Dad’s good,” she smiles brightly. “Busy with work, but since Levi and Wyatt started helping this past summer, he’s been able to slow down a little.”

  Forgoing anymore small talk, Boss asks, “What can you tell me about where we’re at?” Tatum’s back straightens as she slips seamlessly into work mode. I’ve always admired that about her. Her ability to move between friendly banter and all business.

  “I’ll give you a run down, but if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.” Jump sidles up beside Boss listening intently, but his head doesn’t once turn from his inspection of Mia’s bulletriddled car.

  “Whatever you say, Tate,” Boss agrees, motioning for her to go on. “The initial reports say that a middle-aged woman, tall, slim, with dark hair that is impeccably dressed pulled up in that Mercedes half an hour before the first shot rang out,” Tatum states, pointing at the dark blue Mercedes CLA parked parallel to the curb four houses down.

  “There was a lot of yelling back and forth between the woman in question, and two men, who the neighbors confirm have been staying with, Mia. After getting nowhere with the woman, the two men, Devlin and Mathias, I believe their names are, shut the door and refused to answer it when the woman came knocking again.”

  Shaking her head, Tatum sighs.

  “We see this kind of thing often, domestic disturbances

  gone wrong, but this feels different. More personal somehow. That might not
make a lot of sense since domestics are always personal, but this woman isn’t hurt or upset; she’s furious.”

  “And?” Jump probes, knowing there’s more to the story. “Then, according to eyewitness statements, the woman, who the police have now identified as Patricia Richards, estranged wife of Duncan Richards, the real estate developer, and mother to both Devlin and Mathias Richards retrieved a handgun from her vehicle and began to shoot at the house. By the spray of the bullets, none of them hitting their mark, it’s easy to tell she’s a relative stranger to guns. If this doesn’t turn out to be the first time she’s fired one, that is.”

  Jump’s eyes narrow on one of the front windows on the second floor when he sees movement there. The curtains part slightly, but it’s impossible from this angle to make anything out.

  “The most important part is that they’re okay, Jump,” Tatum reassures him, resting her hand gently on his forearm. “I’m only here because Derek called it in thinking it was better to be safe than sorry. Once the police clear the house and take her into custody, Sean and I will look everyone over just to give them the all clear and then you can go in and see her.”

  Sean the piss-ant takes that as his opportunity to push his way into a conversation he wasn’t invited to participate in and puts his two cents worth in. What I’d really like to do is punch the cocky motherfucker that touches Tatum with too much familiarity, making my blood boil.

  “PD wants us with them at the command tent,” he says, pointing to the huddle of uniformed officers standing beside two squad cars.

  “Give me a minute, Sean. I’ll be right there,” Tatum replies softly, but with a thread of frustrated dismissal in her tone.

  As Sean walks away, I pull Tatum aside away from prying eyes and ears and give her the sternest expression I can muster.

  “That’s three, little one.”

  “Three what?” She asks breathlessly. The heat of her body as she slams into me, the way she leans closer without recognizing what she’s doing, and the feel of her soft breasts tipped with diamond hard nipples pressed into my arm is enough to shred the last of my restraint. I want to push her up against my truck and kiss her. I want to own every inch of Tatum as I prove how good we can be together. But for now, I have to settle for simple touches such as running my hand through her hair to satisfy my need to be near her.

  “Three times that you owe me, little one,” I reply with a lascivious smirk that hints at how I expect my payment. Tatum startles at my blatantly sexual response and takes a step away from me. Then another. And then another. The distance between us is only a foot, maybe less, but I’ve never felt more disconnected from her. Something about the way Tatum looks at me has changed in the last few months, but up until now, I’ve chosen to ignore it.

  Glancing over her shoulder at the members of Vengeance and beyond them to her co-workers, Tatum appears to be struggling with something. It’s written in the taut lines of her body and the way her breath leaves her in choppy pants. When her eyes, finally, meet mine and in them I see a depth of sadness so profound that it almost brings me to my knees. Her expression is so lost, so torn, that although my desire to reach for her, to pull her into my chest and hold her is stronger than ever, I force myself not to.

  After hesitating for long, painful silent moments over what she wants to say next, Tatum murmurs,

  “There’s so much I don’t know about you, Lucifer, but I what I do know is that you’re a good man. A little amoral at times, bossy, arrogant, and you don’t seem to understand the word, no, but all of that is easy to overlook when you allow people close enough to see the real you. Savannah spent years coaxing you out of your shell, only for you to retreat straight back into it the day she died. I understand your reasoning for latching onto me, Lucifer. Honestly, I do, but I’m not her. I can’t sit at home waiting for you to come home, I would drive myself insane. I can’t spend my life worrying if you’re going to get hurt chasing after a dangerous skip. I’ve watched my dad walk out the door too many times, not to know that there’s a chance one day he won’t walk back in it, and I refuse to do that with you too.”

  Tatum reaches out to cup my face in her delicate palms and presses a chaste, heartbreaking kiss on my lips. The gutwrenching realization that she’s slipping through my fingers pummels me like the waves on the hull of a ship. Relentlessly. Brutally. Unforgivingly.

  “I don’t know what you want from me other than to tell you I don’t have it in me to give.” I yearn to rally at her and tell her she’s wrong – both my head and heart in complete agreement for once – but I know that’s not what Tatum wants.

  “I’m twenty-seven next month, Lucifer. I have two brothers that would forget to put gas in their cars if I wasn’t there to remind them to. My sisters still can’t fend for themselves at nineteen, twenty, and twenty-two because my dad is happy to treat them as if they’re toddlers.

  Thankfully, one of them has found a man willing to put up with their childish tantrums and pouting when they don’t get their own way, but with that comes a whole other host of issues. Kristina’s wedding has drained my bank account, and even though dad promised to cover the costs, I’m still yet to see a cent.”

  “To make matters worse, my boss has threatened to fire me eight times this month because a certain somebody is stalking the firehouse and refuses to leave when asked. My life is a mess, Lucifer, and that’s before you waltzed in and complicated things.”

  Shaking her head ruefully, Tatum’s thumb brushes over the scar beneath my left eye, making me shudder at the gentleness of her touch. It is at war with the heat of her words, which has me lending the gesture more weight than I should.

  “You’re a puzzle, Marcus Givens. And out there somewhere there’s a lady who is going to be lucky enough to put all of your pieces together, but that woman isn’t me. I already have enough trouble holding myself together most days, let alone trying to work out the complexities that make you, you,” Tatum admits sadly.

  “Then let me do it for you,” I say hoarsely. “Lean on me, Tatum. Let me be there for you when you need someone to hold you up.”

  “I wish I could,” she whispers against my cheek. “I wish the reality of us together was as good as the promise, but it isn’t, and we both know it. You and I want different things out of life, and this is our crossroads. It’s time to say goodbye, Lucifer, no matter how much it will break my heart to do it.”

  “No! Fuck no!” I bark, clutching her small hand in my much larger one. “I can deal with you telling me you don’t want me. I’ll even learn to accept it if you say that you don’t love me and you never have. But what I won’t do is let you go. Don’t you see, Tatum? I fucking need you in my life. Not seeing you every day would destroy me.”

  “And that’s the problem, Lucifer,” Tatum sobs, pulling her hand from mine. “Need and want are two totally different things. I know you need me, but I want you to want me more.”

  My heart stops beating as I watch Tatum walk away, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, that it won’t start again until I can touch her again.

  CHAPTERFIFTEEN ~ Mia~

  “Peoplemakeall kinds of assumpt ions because I’mquiet.Truthfully,if I’mnot saying anything it’s because I’msilently

  tryingtodeterminehowstupidyoureally are.”

  –The truth aboutMia

  “Devlin,” I whimper, clutching my calf. “Devlin, where are you?”

  “Over here, Mi-Oh-My,” he replies from the direction of the kitchen.

  “You okay, Mia?” Mathias’ asks, his voice filled with fear and worry for me. Looking down at the blood pooling in my sock, having already soaked through the cushion cover I was able to strip off in my haste to stem the bleeding, I assess my injuries. My hip hurts where I banged it on the counter trying to shove the boys out of the way, and my knee aches from hitting the floor after being grazed by a stray bullet, but aside from that, I’m otherwise fine.

  “I’m good,” I say somewhat unevenly. I’ve lost a lot of blood
, which I’m relatively sure is what’s causing my hands to shake and the sweat that has broken out on my forehead. I know I have to stop the bleeding, and for the last few minutes, I’ve been trying to tighten my belt that I pulled from the loops of my jeans around my thigh. But it’s useless. My hands just aren’t cooperating.

  Movement at the far side window of my apartment has my heart hammering in my chest. Patricia has been pacing the length of my ground floor patio for the last hour. Between wringing her hands together and waving her pistol around, she mumbles to herself incoherently, low enough that neither Devlin, Mathias, or I can make out what she’s saying.

  What started out as a beautiful day, quickly turned into a nightmare. Devlin and Mathias have been asking for weeks to visit the clubhouse and meet so that they can meet my friends, but I managed to put them off until today. Today they weren’t taking no for an answer.

  The first shot rang out as I opened the door, laughing at something Mathias had said. The dull thud of the bullet lodging into the wall beside my head had me diving for cover, practically crash tackling the boys who stood gaping at the figure holding the gun less than twenty feet away.

  I’ve always known that under her reserved exterior lay a batshit crazy woman, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Patricia was capable of this. Well, the abusive screaming, yes. But actually shooting at us? That would be a big, fat, no. Truthfully, I didn’t even realize she knew how to hold a gun, much less fire one.

  Patricia shrieked at us, claiming that I was trying to steal her family, that I had poisoned her sons against her. She ranted about me paying for my mistakes, and was adamant that by the time this was over, I wouldn’t be alive to do this to anyone else. That wasn’t what scared me, though. No. The knowledge that Devlin and Mathias were here and could possibly be hurt is what frightens me the most.

  Eyes so dark they are almost black peer through the sheer curtains at me, wordlessly communicating that I stay still and quiet. Lucifer isn’t a stranger to me – I have seen him in town several times, and once, he even stopped and said hello – but he is the very last person I expected to come to our rescue.