Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)

She didn’t feel Banks’s anger. Or his indignation. Although she was grateful he believed in her. She felt nothing but a deep aching sadness for the loss of something she had known in her heart was too good to be true.

“If you really believe that,” she said to Jagger. “If you really believe I could do those things, then do your duty. Give your club justice. Revenge. Show us what you’re made of, Mr. President. Use that bar on me.” She spread her arms and stood in front of him, fully prepared to die.

And in that moment she was sixteen again and determined to win her freedom, even if she had to die for it. But that time, she’d been holding a gun.

His jaw twitched and he held her gaze, his face an expressionless mask. They both knew she had left him with only two choices: He could kill her, or he could release his claim. Either way she would be free.

The seconds passed in interminable silence. Finally, Jagger handed the bar to Zane. “Find Jeff. Bring him here. Take as many brothers as you need. I don’t care how many Jacks you have to go through to get him. Then go deal with Bunny. He should have called me the second he saw her, and he never should have let her go.”

Zane gave him a curt nod. “Axle?”

“Spread the word through the underground: Mafia, Triads, Russians, every MC, and our law enforcement contacts. He’s an enemy of the Sinners, and we’ve put a price on his head.”

“You want me to take Arianne home?” Wheels took a step forward, his face stark, brows deeply furrowed. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

Jagger leveled his gaze at Arianne. “I can’t protect you if you aren’t honest with me. I can’t keep you safe if you choose to protect the very people who mean you harm. And I can’t trust you if you keep secrets from me. I release you from the Sinner claim. We’re done.”

And then he was gone.

*

Leaves crunched beneath Jagger’s feet as he pounded his way through the forest. Max ran by his side, unusually quiet, as if he could sense Jagger’s torment.

His sweat-soaked shirt clung to him and his thighs burned in protest, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t go back, couldn’t think about Arianne’s face when she walked into the room and saw Banks tied to the chair.

Shock. Devastation. Betrayal.

Nothing had ever cut him so bad, except making the decision to push her away in the first place. He’d never be able to tell her he’d done it to protect her. That it was partly a charade.

He stumbled. Caught himself. Pushed on. She should be gone by now. Someplace safe. Away from him. Away from Viper, Jeff, and everyone who meant her harm. She would find the happiness she had been looking for. She would be free.

Max stopped suddenly and barked. Relieved to have an excuse to stop punishing himself, Jagger slowed to a walk and greeted Zane, who waited for him near the low stone wall surrounding the property.

“Hey.” One word. A host of questions. But mostly Zane wanted to make sure he was okay.

He didn’t answer. No, he was far from okay, but he couldn’t admit that weakness, even to his best friend. Instead, he paced along the wall toward the house, cooling down, wondering if self-loathing could kill, determined not to talk about the real reason Zane was here. “What’s up?”

“Sherry wants to come back. She’s hounding everyone.”

Max bounded over to them and Jagger picked up a stick and threw it far into the trees. “I don’t kick people out so I can bring them back. She made her choice. She chose poorly. I can’t undo her mistake.”

“If you say so. But she came clean about helping Axle steal the guns, and I believe her when she says he forced her to do it.”

Jagger bristled at the implicit admonishment. “Anything else?”

“Gunner thinks the same person who tipped off the Jacks at the ice house also tipped off the Jacks about our party at Riders. He’s gonna recommend an information lockdown regarding future missions and gatherings until we flush the bastard out.”

“Christ. Everything’s falling apart. How did a rat get into the club? We fucking screen them to death.”

Zane lifted a shoulder. “Could be someone turned, like Axle did. He’s gone underground, by the way. No one can find him. I’ve doubled the reward and made it clear we’ll take him alive or dead. If I was him, I’d get out of the state as fast as possible.”

“I hope he leaves our fucking guns behind.”

“Lotta guns floating around,” Zane said. “T-Rex ID’d Jeff as the leader of the protection-run ambush, which means Viper has Sheriff Morton’s guns, too.”

Jagger slapped at a tree branch in his path. “We’ll have to offer Morton the money we picked up from trunking a few weeks ago, smooth his ruffled feathers. Christ. If we can’t get at least one stash back, we’ll have a hard time getting new contracts.”