Shaking with rage, Jagger slammed his fist into Viper’s face, following the punch with a kick that sent his opponent staggering back.
In the distance a siren wailed. The shrill sound of a whistle cut through the smack of flesh on flesh, grunts and groans, and the crack of bone. A warning.
“Jag, gotta go.” Zane raced toward him, his cheek cut and bruised. “Wheels is on lookout. He says there’s at least ten cop cars on the way. Maybe more. Not sure how they found us. None of our lookouts reported cars or people in the area, and I’m sure the Jacks had lookouts of their own.”
Gritting his teeth, Jagger turned back to his opponent, but Viper was already on the move, the Jacks swarming around him as they headed for their bikes.
“Arianne.”
“Over there.” Zane pointed to the pile of rubble where Arianne knelt beside the fallen man.
“Grab Gunner and go round up the stragglers.” Jagger said, as he raced over to join her. Arianne looked up when he knelt down beside her.
“He’s still alive.”
“We gotta go.” Jagger tugged on her arm. “Cops are on the way.”
She pulled away. “I can feel his pulse. We need to call an ambulance, and his family…”
Still alive. Jagger’s head fell back in relief. “The police are only minutes away. They’ll take care of him. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I don’t want to leave him alone.” She looked up, her eyes glittering with tears. “He’s hurt because of me.”
Jagger stood, tugging her to her feet. “He must have done something pretty bad to the Jacks or they wouldn’t have caught him in the first place. And it was Jeff who hurt him and Viper who pulled the strings. Not you.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead, puzzled when she pulled away. “You know what happens if the cops catch you here,” he continued. “Either you walk or I’ll carry you, but you’re coming now. We can watch from the hill, where it’s safe, to make sure they find him.”
She hesitated, then pushed to her feet, refusing his outstretched hand. “Okay.”
Still curious about her rejection, Jagger tried to catch her gaze as they jogged across the lot, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the road ahead.
“You’re on my bike.” He pointed to the pillion seat. “We’re meeting at Sparky’s shop. One of the prospects will bring your Ninja. Can’t risk losing you now.”
Not now. Not when she was finally his.
Jagger’s heart pounded as she mounted the seat behind him. He had claimed her under the biker code. Arianne belonged to him. No one would ever touch her again. No one would hurt her. And she wouldn’t run away. An almost primitive joy suffused his body, and a fierce primal instinct to claim her in the most carnal way tightened his groin.
Mine.
ELEVEN
What belongs to the club, belongs to the brothers unless the president says otherwise.
She’d known he would come.
While her fingers stayed busy, twisting bolts and pulling wires on her Ninja, and her mind tried to sort through her tangled emotions, her body remained tense, alert, every sense heightened by the knowledge that you did not turn your back on a man like Jagger and walk away without paying a price.
And she had turned her back. After he accepted the cheers and commendations from his men for snatching Viper’s prize from under his nose, he’d dismissed her enraged declaration that she was nobody’s property with a simple, “You’re mine.”
Well … not so simple. He’d curled his hand around her neck, dragging her toward him, plastering her body against his. Then he had pressed his lips to her ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening growl, and repeated the word that set her teeth on edge: “Mine.”
So she’d walked away. The alternative was to slap him, and although she longed to do so, she couldn’t bring herself to challenge him in front of his men. Her lessons in respecting the authority of the president were too ingrained. Inside and out.
The door closed and she tensed when the dead bolt snapped into place. Still, she didn’t bother to turn around. Instead she carefully positioned the repaired fairing on her Ninja and inspected the result. Damn. The lacquer hadn’t dried evenly. She’d have to start again.
A draft of cool air made her shiver despite the coveralls she had thrown over her clothes, but not so much as the shadow she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. The shadow of a man who had defied Viper. A man who had protected her. The man who now called her “mine.”
“Leave me alone.” She swiped a grease-covered hand over her nose and grabbed a socket wrench from the set beside her. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“How about thank you?”