“Axle thinks you don’t have what it takes to lead anymore.” She followed him down the stairs. “He said if you’d made her pay for what the Black Jacks did, we would be the dominant club in Montana. No one, not even the Black Jacks, would mess with us, because they would know we had no limits when it came to revenge. He says he would have done it for the club.” She cocked her head to the side. “Of course, maybe I misheard. It was … you know … pillow talk.”
If she thought to make him jealous, she was on the wrong track. He didn’t do jealous. He’d never cared enough to be jealous, except maybe with Christel. If a woman he was with wanted to be with someone else, he had no problem letting her go. Everyone deserved to find their little piece of happiness. But not by fraternizing with the enemy.
“First, Sherry, we are the dominant club in Montana.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Despite what the Jacks say. And second—” His brows drew together. “—what the fuck are you doing with Axle? He’s out on bad terms, dead to the club. If you’re with him, then you’re not with us.”
Sherry paled. “Not now. It was before you kicked him out. The night of the fire. I was looking after him after Zane beat him up.”
“Better be.” Jagger’s face hardened. “If I find out you’re with him, or passing on information—”
“I’m not.” She held up her hands palms forward. “I’m loyal to the Sinners. I have been for five years. That isn’t going to change just because you and I aren’t together. It’s just … you know Axle, sometimes he doesn’t think before he acts.”
Mollified, he grunted. “Stay away from him. A man who would take the life of an innocent woman would have no qualms about hurting one either.”
“Maybe she’s not so innocent.” Sherry paused midstep. “Maybe she’s setting you up. What if the fire was a diversion and the Black Jacks’ real goal was to get her into the clubhouse, maybe into your heart? She certainly caught your attention.”
Jagger folded his arms as an unfamiliar swell of emotion threatened his control. “She’s gone. So, whether she’s playing me or not is irrelevant.”
Gone, but not forgotten.
Gone, but soon to be seen.
What the hell was he doing holding a meeting in her bar? The Sinner’s Tribe owned four bars and two strip clubs in Conundrum, and if he’d really wanted neutral ground, he could have met the Devil Dogs MC at any civilian bar in the city. But the answer came in a heartbeat. He wanted to see her again. No. He had to see her again. And hell, she’d as good as given him an invitation. He didn’t want to be impolite and turn it down.
He turned and walked away, knowing he’d been too harsh. Sherry had been with the club for five years, and never once had she given him cause to doubt her loyalty. His anger was directed at himself and not her. And yet, despite all the reasons not to go, nothing could keep him away from Banks Bar tonight. He needed to see Arianne again. He needed to know if he was well and truly fucked.
SIX
Don’t mess with a brother’s old lady or other patch holders’ chicks
“Hey, baby. You gonna give me a little sugar with that whiskey?”
Arianne groaned when the inebriated trucker leaned across the bar and motioned her forward with a thick finger. Every weekend was the same. As the evening progressed, the happy drunks became lusty drunks, and trapped behind the bar, she was fair game. But she was safer than Dawn. At least she had the counter to keep their hands away.
Dodging to the side, she slammed his whiskey down and gave him a cold smile. “Only sugar on offer is in the little white packets at the end of the counter. Why don’t you head down there and get one?”
He held out his hands, palms up as if to ward off a blow. “Hey, baby. I was just being friendly. No need to get uptight.” He slid off his seat with a huff, no doubt to return to his friends and tell them about the bitch behind the bar.
And “bitch” was the right word. But her prickly shell had helped her survive after her mother died. She fingered the ring she always wore, her mother’s last gift. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss her. Not a day went by that she didn’t long to escape the biker world that had been responsible for her mother’s death. But Viper would never allow it. Especially when there was work to be done and few he trusted to do it. One week she was sent to procure weapons from soldiers at a local military base. Before that, she’d been a midnight drug mule. Last month had been intelligence gathering from city hall to find out who had dared purchase the plot of land beside the Black Jack clubhouse.
The front door opened and her head jerked up as it had a hundred times that night, her heart hammering in dread anticipation of seeing a Black Jack patch. Adrenaline surged through her body until the crowds parted to reveal a couple of middle-aged bikers, balding and wearing patch-free leather jackets. Weekend warriors. She saw them all the time. Business types who wheeled out their bikes only on evenings and sunny weekends. She sagged against the counter in relief.