The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (36 page)

“I'm sorry.”

He looked up and met her gaze, warmed by her genuine sympathy and moved to tell her more. “Found a place with the Sinners. Lots of ex-military, discharged 'cause of injury like me. Some just lost in the civilian world. Others unhappy with people's lack of understanding of the sacrifices we made for our country. Same core values of brotherhood, trust, and honor…”

“I can't believe I had to get shot to hear the story behind your scar,” she said as he wrapped the wound. “I should have made you get shot before I told you about the belt.” She flinched when he finished the wrap, and Jagger stilled.

“I hurt you.”

“No … you've been surprisingly gentle.”

He clasped her hand, twining his fingers through hers. “Surprisingly?”

“From what I've seen so far—Axle, the bar brawl, pounding Leo's face into the counter, putting your fist through the door—‘gentle' isn't the word I would have used to describe you.”

She was right about that. He wasn't a gentle man. And yet with Arianne, it was no effort to hold back.

“And this.” He brushed his thumb over the cut on her cheek. “I did this.” He cupped her jaw and stroked over the cut again as he fought back a wave of remorse. “I didn't want you to leave.” Jagger clasped her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “When we got to Peelers, all I could think about was that I might not see you again. I didn't want to care. I didn't want it to affect me, and I was angry at myself that it did. I took it out on you.”

A smile ghosted upon her lips. “You grovel well.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed each finger, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, breathing in her scent. It was as close to an apology as he had ever come, as open as he had ever allowed himself to be.

“You need to be held.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were for him, as much as for her. He checked the bandage, then pulled her onto his lap.

“I'm not a child, Jagger.” But her body softened when he put his arm around her, and she leaned against his chest with a gentle sigh. Perversely, the ease with which she gave up the fight increased his agitation. Whatever had happened tonight had taken the fight out of his fighter, and damned if he wasn't going to ensure that never happened again.

“What happened tonight? Who hurt you?”

She went rigid against him. “I don't want to talk about it right now. Please.”

Torn between the urge to hold her and the need to get the necessary information to hunt down and eliminate the threat, he enfolded her in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing and the rapid thud of her heart against his chest.

“I always tell the boys, you aren't a real biker until you get shot.” He kept his tone light, teasing. “I guess you're a real biker now.”

“Maybe I always was a real biker.”

“My biker,” he said. “And I'm taking you where bikers belong.”

She gazed up at him, and the defeated expression in those beautiful green eyes stabbed him in the heart. “No, Jagger. I just want to go home.”

*   *   *

Caught in the last remnants of her nightmare, Arianne sat up so fast, her head spun. But Viper wasn't beating her in the Black Jack clubhouse. And Leo wasn't pinning her to the bed with his heavy body. And Jeff wasn't in a parking lot, shooting her as she ran.

But she was alone for the first time in two days.

After reluctantly taking her home, Jagger had called the club doctor to come and check her over, and then he'd held her all night long, his arm around her, his body tucked against hers. He'd stayed with her the next day, hanging out in the shop with Sparky, fiddling with his bike, and shutting down all the gossip—to everyone's disappointment. And last night they'd made love for hours. But they hadn't talked. And it was clear from his unnatural silence and haunted expression, there were things he wanted to say.

Pulse racing, she walked over to the window and rested her forehead against the glass, looking out over the calm, still night. Peaceful. Moonlight filtered through the dark clouds overhead, chasing shadows across the street. Just as the nightmares chased her. She knew now she would never escape them. They were part of this world. A world where she could never be safe. She had to leave Conundrum to truly be free.

The front door opened and closed. She heard the whisper of leather and the rattle of steel out in her living room as Jagger removed his cut and the heavy chain he wore around his belt. What time was it? Three? Maybe 4
A.M.
? Where had he gone? But before she could ask, she felt his heat behind her, his body pressed against her own. Arianne's bones turned liquid.

“You should be in bed.” He swept her hair to the side and kissed the sensitive dip between her neck and shoulder, his lips whispering over her skin.

“I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about being shot at when I ran for the cab.” She shook herself, changing the topic. Enough she had to deal with the nightmares in her sleep. “What about you? It's late to be working.”

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and her stomach fluttered with awakening desire.

“T-Rex, Gunner, and some of the boys got ambushed by the Jacks on a protection run. Four men hurt, and we lost the weapons. T-Rex managed to get them help and rode to the clubhouse injured and alone. He just got back an hour ago and he brought this message.” He handed her a crumpled picture, but before she could open it, he covered her hand.

“Usually I lead the protection runs, but I wanted to stay with you, make sure you were okay, so I sent Gunner in my place. They'd been tipped off that I would be there, and Gunner took two bullets because they thought he was me. They didn't just want the weapons, they wanted me dead.”

Her breath caught. “Is Gunner okay?”

“Thanks to T-Rex's quick thinking, yes. He flagged down a trucker and had him take Gunner to a hospital. They left that picture in Gunner's cut.”

Hands trembling, Arianne unfolded the picture. She couldn't remember the last time she'd held an actual photograph. Even Jeff rarely used his darkroom. She stared at the photo, and her heart seized in her chest. Someone had taken a picture of her, beaten and chained in Bunny's basement. Although the light was poor, she was easily recognizable. She flipped it over, and written on the back was the word,
Traitor.

Her blood chilled as Jagger tensed behind her. Although she'd managed to put him off for two days, there was no way he would let this go. Not as a man. And not as president of the Sinner's Tribe.

“Tell me what happened. Who shot at you? I can promise it will never happen again.”

She recognized the fury in his voice from the night at Peelers, but this time every word was cold and calculated. Determined. He would not be so easily put off. And yet, she had to try.

“I told you before. I just want to forget about it.” Not only was she still reeling from Jeff's betrayal, or the fact he'd shot her with her own gun, but she also mourned the loss of the brother she had loved so dearly. Even the drugs were no excuse. Somewhere along the road, he'd become his father's son. And this picture—it had to be Jeff's picture—proved it. Viper would never do anything as childish. Or as personal. And she betrayed him, too. “Let's talk about something else.”

Wrong thing to say. Jagger fisted his hand in her hair and jerked her neck to the side, a shocking contrast to his gentle touch only a moment before. “You don't understand what it does to me, seeing you like this, Arianne—the cuts and bruises, the bandages, the fucking ropes and chains, knowing someone hurt you, shot at you, and I wasn't there to protect you.”

“Jagger…” She tried to pull away, but he held her firm and scored his teeth down her neck, sending a pulse of electricity straight to her sex.

“Tell me who it was. I need to find the bastard or I'll go fucking crazy.”

“Please. Let me go.”

“I let you go once, Arianne. I won't make that mistake again.” He grasped her breast in his broad hand, squeezing roughly until she gasped, more at the shock of his sudden change in demeanor than at the bittersweet pain that made her sex ache to be filled.

“What are you doing?” She tried to look back over her shoulder, but he gripped her hair harder, keeping her still. “Why are you being like this?”

He ground his pelvis against her, pressing his arousal along the cleft of her buttocks as his free hand tightened on her stomach, pinning her to his body. “I gave you time. I was patient. And while I was being patient, I sent my boys out to find out who hurt you. They came back with nothing.”

Was this his game? Seduce the information out of her? Well, no seduction needed. She could give him enough information to keep him satisfied. And then he could satisfy her.

“Jeff was at Peelers.” She scrambled to come up with a plausible story that wouldn't implicate Jeff. But not a lie. She couldn't lie to Jagger. “He saw one of the prospects when we arrived, so he hung around outside and caught me when I was in the restroom. He said he had given my passport to someone who was in his car. I couldn't let you take him, and you suspected me of betraying you anyway, so I went to get it. A guy in a cut came around the corner, so we jumped in the car and drove away.”

She could feel the wave of anger ripple through his body as his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. “You got in the car because of me. You were going to leave.”

“I got in the car because I wanted the passport.” She trembled beneath his touch. “Not because I'd decided to go that night, but because I wanted the option. I wanted to have it in my hand so that I'd know if things went bad, I had a way out. You just … made it easier to get in the car.”

Her words inflamed him. With a growl, he spun her around, backing her up to the wall. She shivered as the cool surface pressed against her bare skin, her nightie providing no protection from the chill.

“I won't make it easy again.” He bracketed her wrists with one strong hand, lifting her arms and pinning them above her head. “What happened after you drove away?”

Anger and arousal roared through her blood. She writhed in his grasp, but her struggles only heightened her desire, her nipples hardening as they brushed over his solid chest. Jagger forced her legs apart with a thick thigh, the rough denim of his jeans scraping over her sensitive flesh as he held her in place. “Tell me.”

Ah God
. How could she save Jeff from Jagger's wrath? He was lost to her, but she couldn't be the instrument of his death. “Axle was in the car. Jeff owed him money. He was tweaking and needed a hit. We wound up at Bunny's.”

“Jesus Christ. Axle.” Jagger spat out the name. “I should have finished him when I had the chance.”

His eyes blazed so hot, she could almost feel the burn, and his pulse throbbed rapidly in his neck. With his gaze fixed firmly on hers, he brushed his fingers along her throat, feathering his way to the top edge of her nightgown.

Then, with a brutal yank, he tore it away.

“Jagger!” Vulnerable, inexplicably ashamed, she tried to turn, hide herself from him, but his hands kept her pinned against the wall, and his thigh held her immobile.

“I thought I made it clear: You don't go to see Bunny. Ever.”

She bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. “I didn't have a choice. Axle had a gun.”

He gave a satisfied grunt, then leaned down and nipped her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Confused by his unpredictable shifts between hot and cold, rough and gentle, she pulled away.

“Is he the one who hit you?” With his free hand, he cupped her breast, kneading it until she physically ached to have him inside her. He brushed his thumb lightly over her nipple, then gave it a rough pinch.

Her body heated, burned for him. And he was hard—so hard, she could feel his arousal against her stomach, smell his hunger thick and hot around her. She rocked her hips, grinding her wet sex against his thigh, hoping to distract him from his questioning, making him lose control.

“Answer.”

Her stomach clenched. He wouldn't kill Jeff for hurting her, but he wouldn't let him get away with it either. “They … both did.”

He reacted as she knew he would, his body going rigid, his face smoothing into an expressionless mask. “Jeff hit you, too?”

“I was trying to run away. He was tweaking.”

“Fuck.” He pounded his fist against the wall beside her head. “Jesus Christ, Arianne.”

Torn between fear and arousal, she tried to pull away, but he slid a hand between them, his fingers reaching inside her panties to stroke her wet curls. Arianne's body arched and trembled, but when she licked her lips, a bitter taste coated her tongue. “I don't want to play this game anymore—”

Her words choked off in a gasp as he lowered his thigh and pushed one finger deep inside her. Her inner walls clenched around him and she bit back a groan.

“What happened at Bunny's?”

“Bunny wasn't involved,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he drew his finger out, then thrust deep again. “He recognized me and let me go. He said he didn't want to get on your bad side.”

Jagger added a second finger, rubbing along her sensitive inner walls as he penetrated her. Moisture flooded her sex and she rocked shamelessly against his thrusts, seeking a release from the tension coiled through her body.

“I want you, baby,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart.” His deep, husky rumble reverberated through her body. “I can feel your heat. I want you, too. But I want something more.”

“What? What do you want?” Her hips pushed against his hand, but his rhythm didn't change. Too slow. Too shallow. He was in control, and his dominance served only to heighten her arousal.

“I want to know who beat you, tied you up, shot you, and chained you to the wall.”