Текст книги "Sinner's Steel"

Автор книги: Sarah Castille

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

NINETEEN

Be prepared for everything to go wrong with your repair. Tools will break, parts will go missing, and wires will get crossed.

—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

“So, this is our new digs.” Connie trailed a finger over the dusty workbench at the far end of Sparky’s garage. “Needs a bit of cleaning.”

“Connie … be nice. Sparky is very kindly letting us use his shop until we sort out a new building.” Evie cleared a space on one of the tables and set up her new rack of paints. Zane had left in the middle of the night after their intimate encounter two days ago and aside from a curt assurance from Jagger that he was fine, she knew nothing about where he’d gone or how long he would be away.

However, standing up to Viper, facing the truth about her father, and finally letting down her guard with Zane, had left her feeling strong and determined to take back her life. After some heavy negotiations with Sparky, she had arranged to rent out the back of Sparky’s shop until she sorted out what to do with what was now her business, albeit the only things left were the land, employees, and the goodwill Bill had built up in his name.

Sparky looked up from the bike he was working on, and mocked an affronted stare. “It’s a garage, love. And I dare you to find one cleaner than this. Plus you should be thanking me for my generosity. This is a fucking palace compared to what you had.”

Connie gave him an exaggerated curtsy, all the more amusing for the fact she’d dressed head to toe in black leather—pants, corset and boots—so she could “fit in” with the bikers they would be working with for the foreseeable future. “Thank you, my lord.”

Sparky’s eyes widened and he gave a low hum of approval. “Say it again.”

“Thank you.”

“No.” His voice deepened to a husky growl. “The other part.”

Connie’s voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “My lord.”

Evie cleared her throat, reminding them they weren’t alone. Ty and Hacker leaned over a tool bench, heads bent together over a new tablet Jagger had brought this morning, along with a new laptop for Evie. She’d thought his gifts touching, but odd, especially since he wouldn’t meet her gaze or stay and chat. It was almost like he was feeling guilty, although she had no idea what he could be feeling guilty about.

Her head jerked up when Connie giggled. She and Sparky had been flirting ever since she’d arrived with the supplies this morning. Although they had never met, the heat between them had risen steadily as Sparky helped Connie and Evie clear a space to work, and now Evie worried they might combust.

She would have been happy for Connie save for the fact she was worried about Tank. Hacker had not-so-casually mentioned, as he helped her carry her boxes of new supplies into the shop, that brothers didn’t mess with other brothers’ “chicks.” Not only was it a club rule, it was part of the creed, for the simple reason that Sinners were by nature fiercely protective and possessive of their women. Brothers had died in fights over women until Jagger laid down the law.

“Connie. Can you come give me a hand?” She waved her friend over, then lowered her voice.

“I don’t think you should be flirting with him. What about Tank? He’s really into you.”

“Tank scares me.” Connie sat on the worn couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. “He’s too hot, too goddamn cool and loyal to a fault. He’s got that quiet confidence going on, like if someone pisses him off he doesn’t get visibly angry but you know the minute he puts his hand under his cut the dude is going to be dead. And in bed…” She fanned herself with her hand. “I travelled the world with my folks, had a multi-cultural sex education, but no one comes close to what he can do in the sack, and that’s without a whole lot of talking.”

“That sounds good,” Evie said. “So what are you doing with Sparky?”

“Connie shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Maybe I wanna see that outlaw biker edge or find out if it’s all for show. I mean, Tank doesn’t have a single blood patch on his cut. Not like Sparky over there. Or Jagger. Or your Zane.”

“Blood patch?”

“I’m up on all the biker lingo.” Connie grinned. “They get a blood patch every time they kill someone. They wear them around the bottom of their cuts. I guess so it’s not staring you in the face. Tank says some of the guys don’t like wearing them, but they don’t have a choice. The patches are handed out by the mother ship and they gotta do what they’re told.”

Evie stared at Connie aghast. “And you think that’s okay?”

Connie’s smile faded. “C’mon. You watch TV. Don’t look so surprised. And it’s not like they go around killing innocent people, or looking for people to kill. It’s just … you know … the way it is. They live in a violent world. They deal with people who are always armed—drug dealers, criminals, underworld characters, and other bikers. Someone tries to kill them, they gotta defend themselves.”

“Oh, God.” Evie scrubbed her hands over her face. “After Zane told me what really happened in the trailer park, I was so happy to know he hadn’t pulled the trigger, that he wasn’t a killer. Now you’re telling me he is.”

“Honey.” Connie put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “It’s about bad guys killing bad guys who are doing bad things or hurting the people they care about. Tank says they don’t involve civilians unless it’s biker business. You know all this. You saw what happened to Bill.”

Evie gripped the table so hard her knuckles whitened. “TV isn’t real. The Black Jacks are bad. I just figured … the Sinners … God, I think part of me knew but I didn’t want to accept it. I can’t think of Zane and Jagger that way.”

“Tank says because of the war that’s going on between the clubs, most of the brothers have a coupla blood patches.”

Evie’s shoulders sagged. “Viper told me. He said he and Zane weren’t so different. He made me wonder if maybe Zane did kill my dad, but after Zane told me what happened, I figured everything else Viper said was a lie. He told me Zane shot one of his men in the back, killed three of his men in Whitefish and that he kidnapped Viper’s old lady and put her in the dungeon in the clubhouse.”

“No shit. There’s a woman imprisoned in the clubhouse?” Connie looked over her shoulder at Sparky and whispered. “Maybe we should call the police.”

“We don’t know if it’s true, Connie. But we need to find out.”

Not just to rescue the woman, if she did exist, but because she needed to know just what kind of man Zane had become. And whether she could accept him as he truly was.

*   *   *

They were waiting for him when he pulled up to the clubhouse three days after he’d disappeared.

Zane gritted his teeth and parked his bike. He had expected nothing less than the full executive board, but it was going to take a hell of a lot of willpower to cross the driveway and follow them out back, especially since he had returned empty-handed.

Well, not totally empty-handed. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the picture file one last time. At least the punishment would be worth it. He had filled the whole damn memory card with pictures of the Black Jack clubhouse, including the door to the dungeon where T-Rex was being held prisoner.

Zane took one last look at the midnight sky, clear save for a sprinkling of stars. He’d have plenty of time to look at the stars when Jagger was done with him. The last time he’d disobeyed a direct order he’d been flat on his back for three days and pissed blood for an entire week.

Yet, despite that beating, he’d left the club three days ago to go hunting. After his night with Evie, unburdening himself of the secret he’d carried for so long, he’d decided three things: first, T-Rex had to be rescued; second, Viper had to die; and third, he couldn’t wait even a day if it meant Viper was out there and Evie was in danger. Simply put, he couldn’t go through the hell of thinking he’d lost her again, and with Viper on the loose that was a very real possibility.

He’d spent the first day of his hunt watching the Black Jack compound from a hill, well hidden with trees. Security was tight, just as Doreen said, and he was glad Jagger had held off the raid until they pulled in some support clubs. But Viper wasn’t inside. Nor had he been seen in any of the bars, restaurants, clubs, strip joints, or whorehouses around Devil’s Hills where the Black Jacks were based. He knew this because he’d checked them all. The second and third days, he’d called in every favor, paid informants, and talked to every low-life scumbag he could find. Viper was off the grid. No doubt in hiding, the snake that he was. The hunt was a bust and he would pay a heavy price.

Zane took a deep breath and walked slowly up the drive. He had texted ahead to make sure Evie was out of the clubhouse and safe at Sparky’s shop when he arrived. He would need a couple of days to heal up and he didn’t want her to see him until he had recovered enough to stand.

“Brothers.” He nodded at the group and tossed the phone to Tank. “Give that to Hacker. I got pictures and videos of the Black Jack clubhouse, roads, grounds, vehicles, terrain … everything you need for the raid. I tried everything I could to get to T-Rex, but they got tighter security than the White House.”

Tank gave him a pained smile. As the second youngest member of the executive board, he’d only sat in on a few disciplinary sessions, and none involving a senior board member. “Will do.”

Zane met Jagger’s gaze full-on, felt the need to exert the small measure of control he had left. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jagger grimaced, his lips thinning into a tight line and he nodded for Gunner, responsible for disciplinary matters, to proceed.

“You disobeyed a direct order to stand down until we could all go after Viper together. Penalty is a kick out or an ass kicking.” Gunner folded his arms across his massive chest. If Zane hadn’t been so sure Jagger would take over the disciplinary session, he might have been more concerned. Gunner’s ass kickings usually involved ambulances, hospital stays, and weeks in bed being attended by the club doctor. Jagger was no lightweight, but he wasn’t Gun.

“You left the clubhouse on club business without letting anyone know where you were going,” Gunner continued. “Penalty is an ass kicking. You put a member of the executive board, namely you, in a fucking shitload of danger. Penalty is a kick out or an ass kicking. Since you brought some useful intel and you got a good history with the club, the board has decided on an ass kicking delivered by Jagger out back at the shooting range.”

“Agreed.” Zane shrugged off his cut, folded it, and handed it to Tank. Then he followed the rest of the board, who had come as witnesses, to the back of the clubhouse.

“I fucking hate you for this,” Jagger murmured as they walked through the long grass. “Last fucking thing I want to do. You couldn’t have waited one damn fucking day?”

“If I’d waited, we would have been slaughtered. They had at least fifty men on the grounds and I think I saw some heavy artillery. They would have blown us up before we even left the main road.”

Jagger exhaled a long breath. “I’ll have to call National about it. Where the hell did they get that kind of weaponry? Once word gets out, the ATF will be breathing down all our necks something fierce. No one will be able to do anything around here.”

Their movement tripped the motion detectors, lighting the vast grass-covered space they used as a shooting range, and for the monthly fights they set up with the local support clubs.

His brothers formed a circle and Zane grabbed Jagger’s arm before stepping inside. “Just so you know. We’re tight.” He didn’t want Jagger to worry that this would affect their friendship. He had gone on the hunt, knowing what waited for him when he returned.

“Thank fuck. Last time you didn’t talk to me for two months.”

Zane walked into a center of the circle, and held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed. “Tie my hands.” He’d learned the hard way that it was impossible not to raise his hands to defend himself, and all that would lead to was a bunch of broken fingers, maybe a broken arm. He wanted his hands working and unbruised so that he could hold Evie again, touch her soft skin and stroke her curves, soothe away the pain.

Gunner tied a rope around his wrists binding them together. “Is she really worth it?”

Zane braced himself when Jagger hauled back, ready for the first punch. “Yeah, brother. She is.”

*   *   *

Zane fired a second shot at the target at the end of the grassy lawn behind the clubhouse, missing the center by a good few centimeters. Four days after the beating and he still wasn’t back on his game. Beside him, Arianne laughed. Then she pumped three bullets into the bull’s-eye with a casual flick of her wrist. Damn, Jagger’s old lady was always showing off. Just because Viper had given her a gun at the age of three, didn’t mean she had to rub a guy’s nose in it.

“I still have a few rounds left,” Arianne said. “You want to go again?”

“Better not. Evie’s coming over with Ty and Connie. Ty’s gonna humiliate Hacker again in that game with tanks and Evie and Connie want to shoot some stick downstairs.” He also wasn’t up for another round of humiliation. Yeah, she was Viper’s daughter, but she was a girl. He was a guy. Guys were supposed to shoot better so they could protect their women. Not that Arianne needed protecting, but she usually kept her skills under the radar when Jagger was around. Showing up the VP was one thing, but no one showed up the president.

He lowered his weapon, wincing as his arm brushed over his bruised ribs.

Arianne lifted an eyebrow. “Does Evie know?”

“No. And I’m not gonna tell her.”

She holstered her gun and laughed. “I think I’d better hang around Jagger just in case. She might be a small-town girl but she’s got old lady steel. You should have heard her bossing everyone around in Sparky’s shop. Just over a week and she has her business up and running again. And if she finds out Jagger’s the one who turned you black and blue, I have no doubt she’ll go after him. Even if he was her friend. Even if you’ve been back for four days and didn’t get in touch with her. And even if you deserve what you got.”

Christ. Most of the women in the club had been sympathetic and caring over the last couple of days he’d stayed upstairs in his room to recover. They’d tended his wounds, fed him, and found brothers to help him up when he wanted to shower. Jagger had been up to see him every day, helped change his bandages, brought him pizza. But not Arianne. He had no doubt she’d have thrown the first punch if Jagger let her, and she would have used brass knuckles, too.

“I’d like to see you try to protect Jagger. You know if there’s even a hint of danger, he’ll be shoving you away.”

“We’ll shove each other.” Arianne laughed and her face softened. “That’s what we do best.”

“Zane!” Evie came around the corner and waved.

His breath left him in a rush. How long had it been since he’d seen her? Seven days? Eight? Fuck she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The sun caught her hair as she ran toward him, catching those gold highlights and making them sparkle. Good thing. Otherwise those barely there shorts and tiny tank top stretched tight over her luscious breasts might just have distracted him entirely, instead of leaving him just enough sense to hold out a gun when she approached, blocking his body. He couldn’t let her touch him without giving himself away. Even after four days he couldn’t bear anything more than the clothes touching his skin.

“You wanna learn to shoot today?”

Evie pulled up short, her brow creased in a frown. “I know how to shoot. Bill taught me. And I beat you every time we played Undercover Ops.”

“Shooting a TV screen isn’t the same as shooting in real life, sweetheart. And you never beat me. I let you win.” He handed her the gun, and her arms dropped to her sides.

“Where have you been for the last week? Is something wrong?”

“Biker business so I can’t talk about it.” He spun her around to face the target and put his arms around her to help her steady the gun, trying to keep a space between their bodies.

“Why do you want me to shoot so bad?” She looked up over her shoulder, her cheek soft against his jaw. “Is it not safe here? Should I take Ty away?”

“You’re safe here, sweetheart.” He buried his lips in the softness of her hair. She smelled of honey and jasmine, thick and sweet, and he longed for a little taste. “Pull the trigger. Let’s see what you got.”

She aimed the weapon, pulled the trigger and the bullet glanced off the top of the target and hit a tree.

“Like this.” He repositioned her hands and bent her elbows, then gently tilted the gun barrel down an inch. Evie stepped back, pressed herself into his body. Zane hissed and jerked away at the potent mix of pleasure and pain.

“What’s wrong?” Evie spun around. “Why don’t you want to touch me?”

“I do.” He cupped her face between his hands and bent down to kiss her, his lips moving over hers, drinking her down like he was dying of thirst. She opened for him, ran her tongue over the seam of his lips, and he stroked inside her, tangling his tongue with her own. She tasted of coffee and cream—regular, not whipped.

Evie moaned and slid her arms around his waist. Zane flinched, and she backed away.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” He gestured to her gun. “Let’s do more shooting.”

“I’ll shoot if you show me what’s under your shirt.” She slid her hand along the V of her shirt to the crescents of her breasts and gave him a sensual smile. “In fact, I’ll forgive you for leaving and show you mine if you show me yours.”

All Zane’s blood rushed to his groin and his cock hardened in an instant. Too much. It had been too long. Jagger had been careful this time, taking care not to hit his face too much so Evie wouldn’t get alarmed. He’d also avoided Zane’s kidneys and his groin, for which Zane was particularly grateful, especially now when he wanted her so damn bad he was seconds away from taking her on the grass.

“You show me what’s under your shirt and if you hit the target on two out of three tries, I’ll show you what’s under mine,” he countered.

Evie twisted her lips to the side, considering, and then she lifted the gun. “Done. Bill spent a long time showing me how to shoot in case there was trouble at the shop.” She edged the gun up, fired, and completely missed the target.

“Not that I like to speak ill of the dead,” Zane said, “but if that’s what he taught you, I’m glad you never had trouble at the shop. You woulda shot out a coupla nice bikes, maybe a window, but no bad guys.”

Evie looked back over shoulder. “And here I thought you were the bad guy.”

Oh he was bad, all right. The things he wanted to do to her right now were illegal in several states, maybe a few countries, too.

Zane growled deep in his throat. “Don’t tease a man with a weapon.”

“I can’t help it when his weapon is so big.” She wiggled her ass against him and grinned. Playful Evie. Fuck. He loved making her smile as much as he loved making her wet.

“Behave.”

“I want to see you shoot with the big gun.” She turned and patted the holster under his cut, her hand sliding down to his belt.

Too late he realized the danger. Evie yanked up his shirt and gasped.

“Oh. My. God. What happened to you?”

“Got in a fight.”

“A fight?” She shoved his shirt higher, walked around his back. “Oh, baby. You’re hurt so bad.”

This was good. Her compassion had overridden her curiosity.

Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.

“Not hurt everywhere, sweetheart.” He turned quickly, bent down and nipped the exposed skin at the base of her neck. Christ, he loved to mark her, to see those bruises on her neck and know she belonged to him, to keep the predators at bay.

Evie shuddered as he licked the tiny wound. “Here?”

“Upstairs. You still have to make good your deal and I can promise it will make me feel a whole lot better.”

He led her around the side of the clubhouse and up the front steps. Shaggy was on guard duty and waved them inside.

“Hey Zane. Nice to see you up and about. Jagger worked you over pretty good the other night. I thought you’d be laid up for at least a week. But four days! You’re one tough bastard.”

Evie froze on the step beside him. “Jagger did this to you?”

“Biker business.” Zane put his arm on her lower back and steered her inside. “I’ll explain what I can upstairs.”

“Upstairs where you’ve been suffering for four days and no one called me?” Her voice rose in pitch. “I was only a ten-minute drive away. I could have looked after you.” Eyes flashing, she spun out of his grasp.

“Jagger!” She shouted his name and stormed into the living room.

“Shit. Did I say something wrong?” Shaggy came up beside him, stroking his thick gray beard. “I thought everyone knew. Isn’t that the point?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t a lesson Evie needed to learn.”

He knew the exact moment Evie spotted Jagger talking to Gunner and Arianne in the vast room the MC used for church, the monthly mandatory meetings for all full-patch brothers. Save for a few couches and chairs, a long table where the board sat, and a computer table where Dax recorded minutes, the room was bare. No pictures on the walls, no curtains on the windows. Nothing to distract the brothers during the meetings.

Her feet thudded on the wooden floor, her hair fanning out behind her. She was glorious in her anger and he was glad for the small mercy Jagger hadn’t been in the living room because what was about to go down wasn’t something a small boy like Ty should see.

“Jagger!”

Jagger looked up, but before he could move to greet her, Arianne stepped into Evie’s path.

“That’s as far as you go.”

“Get out of my way.” Evie’s voice shook with anger.

Zane crossed the floor toward her. “Let it go, sweetheart.”

“Let it go? Look what he did to you.” She tried to step around Arianne. “Get out here, Jagger, or are you afraid to look me in the eye and tell me what you did?”

“Zane made him do it.” Arianne folded her arms, and scowled. “Jagger’s hurting as much as Zane. He spent the last four days at the clubhouse looking after him. Zane broke the rules. He had to be punished. That’s our way.”

“Your way?” Evie’s hands clenched into fists. “Your way is to beat a man half to death? What could he possibly have done to deserve that?”

“She’s magnificent,” Sparky murmured, coming up behind Zane. “Between her and Arianne, my shop has never run as efficiently. The brothers are afraid to step out of line.”

“Definitely old lady material.” Gunner sidestepped the fray to join them. “You keeping her?”

“Yeah,” Zane said, his chest swelling with pride. “She’s mine.”

*   *   *

Evie’s chest heaved and she glared at Arianne. Why wouldn’t she get out of the way? This had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Evie needing to know exactly what being part of this world meant.

“He went against my orders.” Jagger stepped out from behind Arianne. “He broke the rules. He had a choice. Punishment or a kick out. He agreed to the punishment.”

“That’s barbaric.” Her voice rose in pitch and she tried to bring it down, but seeing Zane so badly injured, and knowing Jagger had done it … Her gaze dropped to the bottom of Jagger’s cut, lined with small red diamond patches.

Blood patches.

“Don’t judge us,” Arianne warned. “This is a different world. We play by different rules. Enforcing order in the club is a matter of survival—for both the MC and civilians.”

“What’s going on?” Connie ran into the room. “Evangeline? Everything okay?”

“Get Ty packed up. We’re leaving.” She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t expose Ty to this, couldn’t accept that Zane was part of this world.

“But…” Connie’s eyes widened and she jerked her head toward the door to the basement where they figured a dungeon might be. “I thought we were going to … play pool.”

Evie’s stomach twisted. Did she really want to know if there was a woman in the dungeon? Her gaze flicked down to the bottom of Zane’s cut. Blood patches. Just like Viper said. How ironic that everyone thought of Viper as the bad guy, and yet he had told her the truth.

“Come upstairs with me,” Zane murmured in her ear, his arm sliding around her waist. “I’ll explain it to you. Answer any questions you have.”

Her shoulders slumped as the fight drained out of her. It was all Viper said and more. The Sinners were no different from the Jacks. Zane no different from Viper. This wasn’t a TV show, it was worse. It was real and as bad as she could have imagined.