“I was in an alley and then I was tied up.” Her head pounded with the effort of trying to skirt over the critical piece of information that could end Jeff’s life and destroy what she and Jagger had together while at the same time, endorphins flooded her brain and her body quivered with need.
“How did you get away?” He renewed his assault, his thumb flicking over her sensitive bundle of nerves as he drove his fingers deeper inside her, his lips a feather-light contrast as he pressed tiny kisses along her jaw.
“Bunny made them untie me. We went outside. Axle had a gun. They were talking about how Jeff could get Axle’s money. I disarmed Axle and ran.”
“Who shot you, Arianne?” Clearly at the end of his patience, his words came out in a sharp bark, and her brain fuzzed, no longer able to separate fear and arousal, torn between pushing him away and begging him to make her come.
“I can’t—”
“I need to know like I fucking need to breathe. I. Need. To. Know.”
Her heart sped up double time. Despite everything Jeff had done, she could never give him up, especially not to a man she suspected would kill him. She hated her brother, but she didn’t want him dead. She owed him for the night long ago when he had saved her, and for the past they shared.
This has to end. Now.
Drawing on the skills she had learned to survive Viper’s wrath, she allowed her anger to rise sharp and fast burying her emotions in a protective burst, burning away her confusion. “Don’t do this, Jagger.”
“Tell me.”
Bastard. How could he use their intimacy as a means to get information from her? His actions were as much a betrayal as her failure to tell him that the bullet Banks had pulled from her arm was a .22, the gun Jeff had taken from her. Axle had the .45.
“The bullet came from behind, and that’s all you’ll get from me.”
Jagger pulled away, releasing her wrists as he slid his fingers from her dripping sex. Arianne staggered back at the sharp pain of abandoned arousal. And then shame washed over her in an acid wave. Shame at having let the game go so far. Shame at leaving herself so vulnerable and exposed. Shame at wanting him so much, she had forgotten the most basic rule: Do not trust.
Nausea roiled in her gut. She took a step toward her clothes, and Jagger stepped in her way.
“I want you so bad, I fucking ache with wanting you.” His voice shook with emotion. “I would do almost anything to have you right now. But more than that, I want you to be safe. I can’t honor my duty to the club or honor my promise to you if you don’t give me a name. I know you know who it is.”
Fury scoured away the shame. She took a step into his space, determined to get her clothes, silently daring him to stop her. “No one is going to die because of me.”
Jagger stood firm. “No one touches what is mine, Arianne. No one hurts my girl. No one shoots a woman under my protection and lives. And no one fucks with the Sinners or what belongs to us. I will get that name, and when I do, I will show no mercy.”
“You did this for a name?”
He turned and headed for the door. “I did this because I love you.”
TWENTY-ONE
No fighting or violence on club grounds. Penalty is an ass-kicking.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Arianne awoke to a gentle rapping on the front door. Soft morning light filtered through her curtains. Jagger? She quickly dismissed the thought. No way would Jagger ever knock. He would just barge in.
Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she threw on some sweats and called out. “Who is it?”
“Wheels.”
With a sigh of both relief and disappointment, Arianne opened the door to the pinched expression of a clearly agitated Wheels.
“Jagger asked me to come and get you. He’s got something he wants you to see.” He shifted from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact, and Arianne frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He stuffed his fists in his jeans pockets and looked away. “Just … don’t like to keep Jagger waiting. You know how it is. He says now, he means yesterday. He says yesterday, he means last week.”
Still disconcerted by the events of last night, Arianne grimaced. “Come on in. I’ll just be five minutes.”
Five minutes became ten as she scrambled to wash up and tidy her hair before throwing on her jeans and T-shirt. All the while, she agonized over whether to ask Wheels about the night at Peelers. Had that been him by the door that night? If so, why had he let her go?
By the time she joined him in the living room, she had resolved not to raise the issue unless he did. The consequences for him were severe, and she couldn’t risk anyone overhearing their conversation. Plus, he was already in full anxiety mode, muttering to himself as they walked down the stairs.