Jump: Book 7 in the Vengeance MC series

by Natasha Thomas

  Tatum, a friend of Zara and Scarlet’s, appears next to Lucifer in the window, and the frown that mars his otherwise devilishly handsome face would be terrifying if I weren’t already scared shitless. Lucifer shakes his head at something she says, gesturing for Tatum to leave, but the stupid or amazingly brave – depending on how you look at it – woman she is, only digs her heels in and begins to jimmy the lock.

  With several well-placed twists and a fair amount of brute force, Tatum has the window pried open far enough to crawl through.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you said back there,” Lucifer snaps. “If you don’t get your gorgeous ass back out here, I’m punishing the shit out of it when I get my hands on you.”

  Tatum doesn’t miss the sensual promise in Lucifer’s voice, and neither do I. He may plan on punishing Tatum for disobeying him, but I’m willing to bet she will enjoy every second of the sexually explicit torture he has planned for her.

  “Shut up and start thinking about how I’m going to get them out of here,” Tatum retorts, for all intents and purposes, ignoring him. “That little distraction you instigated is only going to delay the psychotic bitches trip to crazy town a few more minutes at best.”

  “Hey,” Mathias breaks into their banter. “Do you think you guys can cut it out long enough to help Mia? She’s fucking bleeding over here.”

  Shuffling into the room, using the dining room wall as a shield, Devlin and Mathias come to a stop beside me. Both of them drop to their haunches to inspect the damage done to my leg, wincing when they take in the seared skin and torn flesh.

  “Step aside and let me take a look at her,” Tatum instructs as she removes her backpack and starts pulling out supplies.

  The peroxide stings as she liberally douses my wound, and I hiss in a breath when Tatum begins cleaning the deepest sections.

  “All in all, it’s just a graze, but I’d still like to take in. I doubt you’ll need stitches, but it’s up to a doctor to make that call, not me. Once the boys subdue the woman nuttier than a bag of Reese’s Pieces out there, I’ll have Sean bring the stretcher in and we’ll get you taken care of properly.”

  Covering the graze with sterile gauze, Tatum wraps a compression bandage around my lower leg and fastens it with tape.

  “So, I take it this is Devlin and Mathias?” She smiles, offering them her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you two, and all of it good.”

  “Hey,” Devlin mutters, politely shaking Tatum’s outstretched hand. Mathias is slower to reciprocate, but that’s only because he’s too busy admiring how beautiful Tatum is to be bothered with something as simple as manners.

  “Eyes up, boy. I’d hate to have to save your ass only to kill you,” Lucifer grumbles as he wedges his huge body through the small gap between the window and frame.

  “Oh shit,” Mathias curses when Lucifer finally stands up, brushing the dust from his jeans. I can see why Mathias would be worried because Lucifer is quite simply the most imposing man I’ve ever seen. It isn’t his build, which is impressive, but the aura of danger and darkness Lucifer exudes that makes him so intimidating. Not quite as large as Boss, but close, less friendly than Fury, and more mysterious than Cash, Lucifer isn’t what I would call soft and cuddly.

  Tall, with broad shoulders, thick biceps, and abs that Greek God’s would be jealous of, Lucifer belongs in a museum to be admired by the masses of women who would no doubt travel thousands of miles just to drool over him. The salt and pepper through his thick beard and the slight graying at his temples are the only hints at Lucifer’s age. I mean, Tatum told me hold old he is, but to look at him, you’d never guess the man is in his mid-forties.

  Tatum stifles a giggle as she looks over to see Devlin and Mathias sizing Lucifer up. Retrospectively, if my leg wasn’t hurting like a bitch and I wasn’t worried about where Patricia is and what she’s doing, I probably would have laughed too. The difference between the boys and Lucifer is that vast.

  Devlin and Mathias are both built like the track stars they are. Lean and streamlined, their bodies are made up of sinewy muscle, with none of Lucifer’s impressive bulk. At six-foot, they aren’t short by any means. However, they do fall a good five inches short of Lucifer’s six-foot-five.

  “Oh shit is right boy. You keep looking at my woman like that, and you and I are going to have a problem,” Lucifer’s rumbles. Devlin slaps Mathias on the back of the head and fumes,

  “We’ve got enough to worry about, what with mom finally losing her fucking mind, without you starting shit with the natives, don’t you think?”

  “Mom lost her mind years ago, man. The fact that she showed up and did something this fucking stupid shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone,” Mathias imparts, flipping his brother off.

  “Quiet,” Lucifer barks, which effectively silences all of us. Snatching his phone out of his pocket, he dials and lifts the handset to his ear.

  “We’re in. Mia’s got a bullet graze on her leg, and she’s lost a fair amount of blood, but she’s good,” he relays tersely to whoever’s on the other end of the phone. “Look, I’ll get her out of here safely, then we’ll discuss the favor you owe me but until then, make sure PD is ready to cuff this bitch when I hand her over. Fuck knows how she expected this to play out, but I’m willing to bet when it doesn’t work out the way she planned it all hell is going to break loose.”

  Shuffling and scratching at the back door has Lucifer’s head snapping around. Before I can blink, his gun is drawn, and he’s telling the person he’s talking to that he’ll call them back. Moments later, Lucifer shoots Tatum a warning glare, telling her to stay put and then disappears into thin air.

  “Holy shit, I need him to teach me how to do that,” Mathias gapes, breaking the tension. Or he did until Patricia steps into the living room with her gun drawn and her face contorted in a mask of anger.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy?” She sneers, waving the arm holding the gun between us. “And who might you be?” Patricia asks, referring to Tatum.

  I feel Tatum tense beside me, but as her fear ebbs, steely resolve takes its place.

  “I’m Tatum, a friend of Mia’s, and I work for the Waterfield Fire Department as a paramedic. I’m only here to make sure that everyone’s okay. Are you all right? You’re not injured in any way, are you?” She questions, cocking her head to look Patricia over.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would believe that Tatum actually cared about Patricia’s well-being, but I know that’s not the case. I assume she’s distracting Patricia until Lucifer can get in position to take her down. I’ve been around the MC long enough to have a general idea of how these things work, and after hearing Avery, Beth, and Kennedy’s stories, keeping your attacker talking it paramount in what amounts to a hostage situation.

  “It’s not me you should be worried about,”

  Patricia snaps, her face twisted with rage. “The little slut next to you, however...well, let’s just say, she has plenty to fear from me.”

  “Mom, don’t do this,” Devlin pleads, trying to reason with the unreasonable, highly unstable woman. To that, Patricia scoffs.

  “I knew it was a mistake to hire her. The day she walked into our home, both of you were so taken with her that I knew one day it would come to this.”

  “Jesus, mom. You hired Mia to take care of us. I thought we were supposed to like her, or would it have made you feel better if we hated her and were miserable all the time?” Mathias hisses.

  “Do not speak to me that way. I am still your mother, and you will address me with the respect I deserve.” The situation is deteriorating quickly, so I can only pray the Lucifer makes his move soon because Patricia is only becoming more agitated by the second.

  Tatum clears her throat and says,

  “Excuse me,” drawing Patricia’s attention away from her sons. “I think it’s safe to say that there’s obviously history here, but I don’t think it’s something that will be solved today, and definitely not like this.”

&nb
sp; “You know nothing about our circumstances, so I suggest you be quiet,” Patricia snarls. But not one to be dissuaded by a little thing like a crazy woman with a gun, Tatum forges ahead. Regardless of the danger she’s putting herself in.

  “Look, lady, you’re right. I don’t know the first thing about you, where you came from, or what you intend to do next, but I can assure you this will not end well for you if you don’t put the gun down and turn yourself over to the police.”

  “I will do no such thing. If anyone should be arrested, it’s her.” Shaking her head sadly, Tatum laments,

  “You just don’t get it, do you? Right now, the way I see it, you have two options. One ends with you being taken into custody, yet nevertheless, you walk away from this alive. The other, well, that option is significantly messier and culminates in you being taken down in a hail of gunfire and ending up six-feet under.

  If the decision were up to me, I know which I’d pick, but ultimately the choice is yours. A word of advice, though. Whatever you do, if you ever loved your sons at all, think twice about your next move. Your relationship may be strained, you might think they don’t care about you, but I can see, and you can too if you’d just look at them, that they love you.”

  Tatum manages to distract Patricia long enough to give Lucifer the opening he needs, triggering a series of events that are better suited to a big budget Hollywood movie than a small town in Colorado.

  With agility a man his size shouldn’t possess, Lucifer flips over the couch, narrowly missing the end table, and lands on his feet behind Patricia. In one smooth motion, he has her arms pinned behind her back, both of her hands restrained in one of his as the toe of his boot connects with the back of her knee. Patricia’s high-pitch wail can probably be heard three blocks away, but Lucifer ignores her, pulling a cable tie out of nowhere and securing it around her wrist

  “I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth. You got something to say, then wait till you find someone who cares that will listen to your psychotic ass,” Lucifer growls, giving Patricia a none to gentle shove so that she’s lying prone on her side.

  “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Tatum huffs, offering me a hand up off the floor. “I was expecting more drama, more tears, and an epic fight scene or two before this was all said and done.”

  Devlin is smirking when he asks the room at large, “Is she always like this?” “No. Usually, she’s worse,” Lucifer grins, moving out of the way just in time to miss the cushion flying toward his head.

  With and exaggerated pout, Tatum says,

  “I resent that. And for what it’s worth, don’t listen to him boys. My default setting is actually sweet.

  Apparently, my crazy doesn’t play well with others. Especially, Lucifer.”

  “I don’t care how crazy you are. You’re still hot,” Mathias unwisely adds. Lucifer takes a step forward but doesn’t make it any further before the front door bursts open, and my living room is filled with police officers, my friend’s husband’s and several men in Vengeance cuts I’ve only met once or twice. All of their faces are assessing, some tight with concern, but two, in particular, catch my eye as they stand side by side radiating fury.

  CHAPTERSIXTEEN ~ Jump ~

  “Doyouknowhowlongit takes tenbikers to ride twentymiles in peak hour traffic?The answer is,it depends onwho’s buying the beer.”

  –Jump answers life’s important questions

  “Back off, Derek. I told you I’ll get her statement, and I will,” Austin growls at his partner. “You’re too close to this. You can’t be objective, Austin and you know it. Let me interview her. I’ll take it easy on her, and if she needs a break, I can come back tomorrow and finish up.”

  “Not fucking happening,” I second, voicing what Austin is thinking. After seeing Mia covered in her own blood, and not being able to get to her, there’s no way I’m leaving her side. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. It will be a fuck of a long time before I feel comfortable letting her out of my sight, so this asshole can accept that and let Austin get on with questioning Mia or not. Either way, I don’t give a shit because his window of opportunity is quickly closing.

  The doctor who examined Mia agreed with Tatum’s initial assessment; the bullet merely grazed Mia’s leg. He wasn’t too concerned about the blood loss, explaining that extremities, especially lower limbs bleed more than other parts of the body, with the exception of head wounds. He prescribed a broad spectrum antibiotic and re-bandaged Mia’s leg, telling her to keep off it for a few days and that she would need someone to stay with her until she could get around okay on her own. Aside from avoiding strenuous activity for a couple of weeks and refraining from driving until the skin no longer pulls when she extends her leg, Mia was cleared to go home.

  Mia didn’t say a word when the doctor mentioned that she would need help for a while, probably because she assumed Devlin and Mathias would be at home waiting for her. Unfortunately for her and luckily for me, Boss took the boys back to the clubhouse with him and has arranged for them to stay at Jonas and Blaine’s place for a few days.

  I didn’t ask him to; Boss just instinctively knew I needed some time alone with my girl to make sure she’s okay and to finally have the conversation we’ve been putting off for months.

  “Can I talk to you outside for a second?” Austin asks. Glancing down at Mia who is resting peacefully in the middle of her hospital bed, I nod and push out of my seat. My lips brush across Mia’s forehead as I whisper,

  “Back in a minute, baby,” and follow Austin out into the hall. Austin leans his back against the wall, one foot propped up, bent at the knee and crosses his arms over his chest. The play of muscles under the tight black T-shirt he’s wearing draw my eyes to his broad chest as my cock starts to harden at the thought of removing it and running my hands over the hot, smooth skin underneath.

  Something innately sexual, a heat I haven’t seen directed at me for years’ flashes through Austin’s eyes, and I can’t help but recall the last time he looked at me like this. It wasn’t the first time we’d touched each other intimately, and neither of us knew it would be one of the last, but it was the day things changed between us, and we both knew we’d never be the same again.

  ***** We were a tangle of limbs on Austin’s bed, our shirts were on the floor, and his hand was firmly wrapped around my shaft as he stroked my cock leisurely, driving me out of my fucking mind.

  Austin’s parents had taken his sister to Denver for the weekend to visit their aunt, but Austin had opted to stay at home, claiming he had an assignment due on Monday. The truth was, we rarely got any time together alone, and this was the perfect opportunity to rectify that.

  My voice was laced with gravel when I instructed Austin to get up stand beside the bed. At first, I thought he was going to argue with me, but he reluctantly let go of my cock and did as I asked.

  Austin’s face was flushed, his cock was a steel rod, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. But more than I wanted to take him in my mouth, to taste the salty pre-come leaking from the head of his dick, I needed his hands on my bare skin. I needed to see his lips part as I eased my cock past them and buried myself in the back of his throat.

  “Take off your clothes,” I ordered. He complied immediately, rushing to rid himself of his socks and jeans, and then finally pulling his boxer briefs down his bronzed muscular legs. The sight that awaited me when his erection sprang free almost had me coming all over my stomach. Austin’s cock was long, thick, and heavily veined. It was goddamn perfect, and it belonged to me.

  “On your knees,” I rasped, continuing where he left off stroking myself firmly as I watched him lower himself onto the floor.

  See, this is the thing about Austin; if I told him what to do at any other time, he’d tell me to go and fuck myself. But here, when we’re alone together, and I have full access to his body, Austin willingly hands over control to me. Not because he has to, I’m happy giving or receiving direction, but because he wants to.

&nb
sp; Austin is controlled in everything he does. He weighs things carefully making sure his decisions are well informed because it’s expected of him. Austin’s dad has drummed it into his head that he’ll never amount to anything if he doesn’t start planning for his future now. And while he rarely physically disciplined Austin, Bill Masters was the king of guilt trips and emotional manipulation.

  Bill had both of his kids convinced that they owed him something for putting food in their mouths and a roof over their heads as if it wasn’t his job as a parent to do just that. Austin and Dallas – yeah, no need to guess where good old Bill originally hailed from – refused to view their father as anything other than a decent man that just wanted the best for them, where I and everyone else saw him for what he truly was; a controlling asshole.

  Knowing how his dad was with him – watching Austin struggle to meet the unrealistic expectations Bill placed on him and seeing the look of defeat on his face when he couldn’t – it came as no surprise that Austin turned the reins of our sexual relationship over to me.

  He needed that outlet, a place he was safe to let go and enjoy, rather that hold himself back and deny all of the things he felt. And, I for one, was more than happy to give that to him. I would have given him anything just to see him relax and smile genuinely for a change.

  Sitting up, I ease myself to the edge of the bed with my knees spread and motion for Austin to move closer. His broad shoulders are heaving with the effort it takes for him to draw a deep breath, and his pupils are dilated as his eyes glaze over with lust. I take the time to let my eyes roam his hard sculpted body, honed by hours spent in the gym, openly lingering on his washboard abs and the thick erection slapping against them.

  When Austin is within reach, one of my hands works its way into his shaggy blonde hair as I jerk his head back so that his eyes are locked on mine.