The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (11 page)

“At least you remember my favorite drink,” Leo said, after his first sip.

As if she could forget—the smell of Scotch on his breath as he threw her on the bed that awful night had ruined her for Scotch forever.

Leo turned thoughtful as he threw back the rest of his drink and shoved toward her. “Viper's looking for Jeff, too. He might show you some mercy if you give him up. You know where he's at?”

“I haven't seen him, and I have nothing to say to Viper.” A sliver of relief shot through her heart. At least Jeff had the sense to stay hidden. She held up the bottle, offering a refill. Maybe if he was drunk, he wouldn't notice when she slipped out of the bar. “I got there after the fire started. Then someone knocked me off my bike. The Sinners took me. They let me go. End of story.”

“You forget how well I know you.” Leo reached across the counter and squeezed her fingers around the bottle so hard her eyes watered. “And I can tell when you're lying.” He released her with a satisfied smirk. “You always thought you were better than me, Vexy. That was always your problem. Too much thinking, not enough fucking.”

She didn't know why she felt so bold. Maybe it was because she knew that within the next few days she would be leaving Conundrum for good. Or maybe it was because Jagger was in the corner and he'd almost sliced off a Devil Dog's fingers for pinching her ass. Whatever the reason, she met his gaze full-on. “I fuck, Leo. Just not with you.”

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she would pay a heavy price. And she did. He backhanded her so fast she didn't have time to defend herself. She staggered back, her head hitting the shelf so hard, bottles crashed to the ground, splintering on the wooden floor in a cacophony of sound.

“Fucking bitch. I was trying to be nice, letting you finish your shift, having a little talk. But clearly I was wasting my time. Just 'cause you don't ride with the Jacks doesn't mean you aren't bound by the rules. You're coming with me now, even if I have to drag you out of here, screaming your little ass off—”

And then he was gone.

Arianne blinked, trying to clear her vision as people scattered—Was that … Jagger with his hand around Leo's neck? Pounding Leo's head on the counter?

“Fucking cowardly piece of shit, beating on a woman.” Jagger's deep growl reverberated through her body. “Let's see how you like it.”

Wham. Wham. Wham.

“Coupla Jacks on their way over.” The heavily muscled blond biker helped Arianne up, then gestured toward the door. “They seem to be takin' offense to the way you're treating Leo.”

Arianne wasn't surprised they knew who Leo was. The top brass of all the clubs knew each other, if not by sight, then at least by name.

Jagger scowled. “Clear the bar, Cade. I'm not done yet, and the civilians will go crazy when they see blood.” With one hand still around Leo's neck, he wrenched a .45 from the holster under his cut, then waved over a tall biker with thick chestnut hair and eyes a deep, almost azure blue. Arianne recognized him from the meeting, too. Did the Sinners have a good-looks requirement for patching in new members?

“Sparky, go help Cade get the customers outta here. Pay off the manager for the rest of the evening. Me ‘n' Leo need a little alone time.” Jagger thumped Leo's head on the counter again and then jerked him to standing.

“Heads up.” Cade shouted from beside the window. “It's a fucking ambush. Jacks comin' in from the front. I count at least ten bikes. They got a support club with 'em too.”

The front door slammed open. People screamed. Pulse racing, Arianne edged toward the till as the bar erupted into chaos around them.

Banks and the mouth-watering Sparky wove their way through the tables, yanking people from their seats and herding them out the side door to the beat of Jay-Z's “On the Run.” Shouts and the tinkle of broken glass peppered the air. Sinners and Devil Dogs launched themselves at the Jacks who had come in the front door, heedless of the customers racing for the exit. Dawn shot her a worried glance, then held up her keys and mouthed “outside” before Banks hustled her through a fire exit.

Arianne reached for the drawer beneath the till, and Jagger froze her with a glare. “Don't even think about it.”

“I'm not with them. I left the Jacks a long time ago.” She held up her hands so he could see she wasn't armed, and he nodded, his free hand still pinning Leo, cheek to the bar.

“So … did you wind up here by chance, or because I invited you?” Heart hammering in her chest, Arianne contemplated her escape route as she tried to keep Jagger distracted. Her safest bet was the stockroom exit to the parking lot, but with a biker brawl on the premises and Jacks no doubt on patrol outside, she couldn't risk going unarmed. She still had the gun she'd strapped to her leg, but it wasn't so easy to retrieve in a pinch. The gun under the till was her best option. But if she had to pull the gun on Jagger, was she prepared to use it?

“Man rescues a woman, usually expects a little gratitude before being interrogated. But since I'm in a good mood, I'll let it slide. You owe me a drink, sweetheart.” He casually banged Leo's head again, and Leo slumped forward on the counter.

“A drink?” She waved her hand vaguely around the bar, where the Jacks and Sinners were now engaged in a full-out brawl. “Didn't you notice there's a fight going on? Or that there is a very dangerous man attached to your hand?”

And then, because Leo was semiconscious and no one was within hearing distance, she leaned forward and said what she'd wanted to say when the Devil Dog had pawed her ass. “I had the situation under control. Am I supposed to be grateful you caused a scene, terrified the customers, and started a wholesale destruction of the bar?”

Jagger's eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sweetheart. You had it under control. I picked that up when he sent you flying into the cabinet.” He reached out with his free hand and ran his finger lightly over her cheek, his touch lingering on her skin. “You're hurt.”

Coming from a man who had almost just cracked open Leo's head, Jagger's concern unnerved her, as did his sudden switch from fierce to kind. Pulse racing, she dropped her hand back to the till. “You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?”

“Had a meeting. Needed neutral ground. Couldn't get your pretty face outta my head, and since you invited me, I brought everyone here.” He glanced down at Leo, who was moaning on the counter and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “You with him?”

“Will he live if I say no?” Arianne's fingers curled around the bottom drawer, and she tugged on it ever so slowly.

Jagger's eyes glittered fever bright. “You want him to live?”

Did she want Leo to live? She'd wanted him to die since the night he'd tried to rape her. She'd dreamt of his death every time he looked at her or touched her since. Sometimes she even fantasized about pulling the trigger. But she had no doubt if she said yes, Jagger would kill him, and she couldn't live with his death on her conscience.

The lie dropped from her tongue. “Yes.”

“Then he'll live.”

She couldn't help but smile, not just because he was being perversely sweet, but because her fingers had finally touched cold steel. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure, sweetheart. But I should let you know, he will suffer. I have zero tolerance for violence against women.”

Too late, she saw the danger in their intimate exchange.

Leo pushed himself up, dislodging Jagger's hand, his eyes narrowed and his face twisted into a mask of fury. “What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? You got something going on with the fucking president of the enemy, Vexy? You would dare betray Viper and the Jacks?”

Arianne wrapped her hand around the grip of the gun and gritted her teeth. “There's nothing between us, Leo.”

“Doesn't look like nothing to me.” He wrenched himself away from Jagger, then staggered back, out of reach. “Daughter or not, Viper's gonna show you no fucking mercy. Nothing he hates more than betrayal, and you've dished him up a double dose.”

“Daughter?” Jagger stilled, his face smoothing to an expressionless mask. “You're Viper's daughter?”

“Unfortunately.” Arianne slid her finger through the trigger, her gaze now fixed on the bigger threat—the man who had gone from kind to killer in a heartbeat.

“No fucking way in hell.”

“You got the ‘hell' part right,” she said.

“Wait until Viper hears about this.” Leo cast a quick glance behind him, where the Jacks now outnumbered the Sinners two to one, then turned back to Arianne, his eyes black with rage. “All that fuss about putting out for me, and after one night, you're spreading your legs for the damn Sinners.”

Arianne's lips curled in disgust. He felt no remorse for what he'd done to an innocent sixteen-year old girl, only regret that he hadn't finished the job. Her free hand closed around an empty glass, and in one swift movement, she lifted it and threw it at his head. “Go to hell.”

And he almost did. With a bellow of rage, Jagger let loose. He smashed his fist into Leo's face, and within minutes, they had joined the brawl.

Wood cracked and glass shattered. Chairs and tables splintered under heavy bodies. Jacks and Sinners fought without restraint and totally without mercy.
Poor Banks
. He'd only just finished with the renovations. This was all because of her.

Another crash. A scream. A mug sailed across the bar.

Goddamn outlaw bikers
. No respect for people or property. She'd managed to live almost a normal life for the last three years, and suddenly she was in the thick of it again—all because she'd tried to stop Jeff from making the biggest mistake of his life. And failed.

Through the frenzy of fists and the maelstrom of violence, she could feel Jagger's gaze on her, whether out of concern or anger she didn't know. But she couldn't stay. Not now. Not when Leo thought she'd betrayed the Black Jacks. Not when Jagger knew the truth about who she was and would likely try to capture her again.

For the briefest time, desire, so fleeting, had danced on the tip of her tongue. Hope had burned bright in her soul. She should have known it wouldn't last. Her father's taint destroyed everything good in her life. Even the promise of something that could never be.

She yanked the gun from the drawer and backed up to the stockroom door. Then she turned and ran.

 

SEVEN

The president is the sole representative of the club in all matters of public relations.

Fuck.
Jagger caught sight of the swinging stockroom door just as Leo charged.

He easily sidestepped the assault and retaliated with a left uppercut. The back of Leo's head slammed into the wall and blood sprayed from his nose. More satisfying, however, was the pleasing crunch of cartilage under Jagger's knuckles.

Leo howled. “You'll fucking pay for this.”

Undeterred, Jagger continued to pummel the bastard. What had he done to Arianne? Whatever it was, his brave vixen had turned sheet white, her reaction triggering his protective instincts and calling forth the darkness that he always kept tightly leashed. Now that side of him thirsted for the chance to exact vengeance on someone who deserved what was coming to him. It had been too long.

Just as the last five days had been too long.

Despite his best efforts, long runs with Max, and even longer workouts in the gym, Jagger hadn't been able to get the little temptress out of his head. The meeting with the Devil Dogs had been a perfect excuse. Who would have known it would turn into a test of their courage and loyalty?

Leo struggled to his feet, and Jagger stared at the swinging door.
Viper's daughter?
He turned the words over in his mind, but he couldn't reconcile the woman he'd dropped off at the West Side gas station less than a week ago as the daughter of the vicious, bloodthirsty self-styled biker king of Montana.

Where the fuck had she gone? He'd come over to the bar to protect her, and instead he'd allowed himself to be pulled into a fight with Leo. So unlike him. Still, she wasn't the kind of woman to stand around, waiting to be rescued. As she'd told him before, she could take care of herself.

He turned to finish off his prisoner, only to realize Leo had slipped away in his moment of self-reflection.
Christ.
Arianne was beyond distracting. When had he ever lost focus in a fight? He headed around the bar to check out the stockroom, pulling up short when Zane called his name.

“Wheels just got here.” Zane joined him at the door. “He brought reinforcements, but he spotted another bunch of Black Jacks heading this way.” Zane hesitated. “And something else you're not gonna want to hear…”

“Spit it out.” He needed to get to Arianne. Protect her in case there were Jacks outside. Zane, Cade, and Sparky could organize the Sinners who had since joined the fight.

“It's Axle. He and his boys are out looking for Vexy. Weasel tipped off Tank, hoping to win his way back into the club. He told Tank that Axle blames Vexy for getting him kicked out of the club. Axle still thinks if he offs her, the brothers will kick you out and vote him in as president.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jagger pounded his fist on the counter. “Does Axle seriously think the Jacks would vote him in? Or that I would ever let him get his hands on her?” He glanced around the bar. With many bikers now lying on the floor groaning, the fight had lost steam, and no doubt the police would be on their way.

“Have you seen her? She'll need protection until we deal with Axle.”

“Wheels saw her getting into a cage out back.”

Jagger holstered his weapon and made a mental note to reconsider his reservations about Wheels. Damn prospect was everywhere.

“Tell Gunner to clear our people out of the bar, then meet me out back with Cade. We'll have to find her. She's got fucking Black Jacks after her, too.” He paused, reluctant to share her secret, but he'd given in to desire one too many times in the last week—from defending Arianne when he wasn't certain of her innocence to holding his meeting at her bar—and duty reared its ugly head. “'Course if Axle hurts her, he won't have just me to deal with. She's Viper's daughter.”