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

“Almost as much fun as spending an evening with a coupla sweet butts in my lap.” Cade twisted his lips to the side, considering. “Or maybe not.”


“The feud is back on.” Jagger slammed his fist into his palm. “We’re gonna hit the Jacks hard and fast, and we’re gonna make justice personal. The men who torched our old clubhouse and shot Cole and Gunner are first on our list after Cole’s funeral. Then we hit the man who gave the order.”

“Viper.” Cade spat out the name. “And if the feud is back on, he’ll be gunning for you.”

“Not if I get to him first.”

And his pretty little Black Jack might be just his ticket inside the Viper’s den.





FOUR

Club rules and bylaws shall be strictly enforced. Penalties for breaking the rules include a kick-out or suspension, and always an ass-kicking.

“Up, bitch.” A sharp tug on her hair startled Arianne from sleep. She turned but didn’t recognize the man standing beside her bed. Although short in stature, he had a huge barrel chest and a belly to match.

“I said up.” His hand in her hair, he yanked her off the bed. Arianne fell to her knees at his feet, getting a perfect view of the red patches lining the bottom of his cut. Her heart pumped spastically, and she looked quickly around the room. Where was Jagger?

“Let’s go.” With a snarl, he pulled her to her feet. Still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, exhausted sleep, Arianne stumbled after him, thankful Jagger had insisted she put on her clothes in the middle of the night.

“You don’t need to be so rough.” She clamped her hand on her hair, lessening his pull. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Curiously underwhelmed, she allowed him to pull her a few more steps, giving him a false sense of control. Like she hadn’t lived through this scenario on a weekly basis at home. She waited until they were near the door, then put both her hands up to her head. Holding her hair, she twisted and spun out of his grip. Using her momentum, she ran back at him, head-butting him in the solar plexus and knocking him against the wall. He staggered, short-winded, but with breath enough to curse.

Arianne didn’t wait to see the effects of her assault. Instead she ran at the open doorway—only to collide with a bony, redheaded biker with piercings in his nose and ears. He swore as he looked over her shoulder at the biker who lay groaning on the floor, but her attention was focused on his broad-shouldered companion who was wielding a knife six inches long.

She backed up and hit the wall as he advanced while regarding her with cool disdain. His face was thin and pale, but marred with recent cuts and bruises. Sharp, defined features were complemented by a thin, cruel slash of a mouth, and his dark hair was slicked back on his head, revealing a sharp widow’s peak. Dark eyes, totally devoid of emotion, sent a chill up her spine. Had Jagger changed his mind and ordered her execution?

Without warning, his hand struck her left cheek and sent her reeling across the floor. Her head hit the bedpost, everything fading to gray. With a bark of derision, he slowly walked to where she lay and prodded her shoulder with the toe of his boot, forcing her onto her back. He didn’t bother to crouch, merely towered over her, his face twisting in disgust. “Black Jack bitch. My name’s Axle. Soon to be President Axle. Should have killed you when I had the chance, but I’m about to remedy that now.”

With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for his pierced companion and his now-recovered friend to pick Arianne up off the floor.

Cheek stinging, still dazed from the fall, she didn’t struggle when the two men clamped a hand around each of her arms and yanked her upright.

Choose your fights. The words of the old Black Jack road captain drifted through her mind as she contemplated how she could get free. He had sheltered Arianne and Jeff from the worst of their father’s wrath, and it was because of him Arianne had developed her skills as a mechanic. She still took flowers to his grave, an unmarked mound north of town at the base of the Bridger Mountains.

But this was a fight she couldn’t win. Not through physical force and not with the two bikers holding her arms so tight, she had to grit her teeth against the pain. And wouldn’t her options be better downstairs?

“Does Jagger know about this?” She struggled to keep up with her captors as they dragged her down the hallway.

“He will soon enough.” Axle smirked. “We’re gonna take you to the meeting and give everyone a show they’ll never forget.”