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

Jeff pulled up outside the bank, and Axle switched out his knife for a .45, concealing it under his jacket as he marched Arianne over to the bank machine with Jeff trailing after. Her mind raced as she put her card in the slot. She knew the balance would show as zero. She had emptied her account the night she thought they were running away.

But what to do? No damn way was she getting back in that car. As she punched in her numbers, she glanced up at the security camera and mouthed the word “help.” Then she cast a glance down the street, but at this late hour the sidewalk was deserted and the few cars on the road drove past without slowing down.

The machine flashed the zero balance, and Axle smashed his hand into the wall, then motioned them both into the alley with a jerk of his gun.

“Fucking hell,” he spluttered as he marched them into the semi-darkness. “You said she had the cash.”

“I thought she did.” Shaking uncontrollably, Jeff turned to face Axle when they were mid-way down the alley. “Maybe she can get it from someone else. She could give you her bike. Maybe—”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to think.” Axle’s gaze raked over Arianne, making her skin crawl.

“Fucking bitches are good for only one thing.”

“While we’re thinking, let’s go see Bunny.” Jeff paced up and down the alley, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “He’ll have some meth. He can give me a hit, and I’ll be able to think clearer.”

Axle rolled his eyes. “You can’t pay me. How the heck are you going to pay Bunny? You got nothing ’cept a beat-up car and a fucking hot sister.”

Hot sister? She could see where the conversation was headed, and if she didn’t run now, she might not get another chance. Taking advantage of their distraction, Arianne bolted, pounding her way down the alley, cursing the shoes that were slowing her down.

“Fuck. Get her.”

Arianne kicked off the shoes and ran barefoot, her cry for help echoing in the confined space. But although she was fast, the stilettos had slowed her down.

Jeff caught up with her just a few feet away from the sidewalk and yanked her back into the alley with an arm around her waist. “Stop. Please. We won’t hurt you.”

But she didn’t trust him. This wasn’t Jeff. Not the sweet boy she’d pushed on the swings and protected from Viper’s wrath. Not the boy who had almost died trying to save her from Leo. He was a stranger. An addict. And although she had desperately wanted to save him, she realized now it was far too late.

Kicking and screaming, she writhed in his grasp until he flung her against the wall. Her forehead cracked against the brick, and she stilled, stunned.

“Don’t fight me, Ari.” Hearing his pet name for her on his lips sickened her. If he was doing this, knowing who she was, then he wasn’t tweaking at all.

Turning, she kicked him in the stomach. Jeff doubled over with a groan, but recovered quickly and shot up and punched her, his fist grazing her cheek and over her eye. Gravel crunched behind them.

“Christ. She’s a fucking girl. How hard can it be to take her down?”

But before she could turn to face the new threat, something slammed into her head.

And then there was darkness.

*

“You’ve watched it five times, Jag. You’re not going to see anything you didn’t see already.”

Jagger scrubbed a hand over his face as Zane took a seat beside him in the clubhouse meeting room and peered at the image frozen on the laptop—the image he couldn’t get out of his mind. The long moment when Arianne stared at the back door to Peelers, pain and longing etched on her beautiful face.

Pain he had put there. And the longing—could he even hope it was for him?

He assumed the blond-haired driver was her brother, Jeff. From what he could see on the tape, she knew him well enough to hug him when she’d joined him in the parking lot, and he resembled the man he’d seen in the vacant lot, although even thinner and looking more strung out.

“Did you ask Sheriff Morton to run the plate?” Having the sheriff at their beck and call was more than worth the monthly expense.

Zane stretched his long legs under the table. “Stolen. The police have it in their system, but no patrols have spotted the vehicle yet. He wanted to know if we could do a protection run for him tomorrow. Coupla boxes of handguns heading south.”

“Get Gunner on it. And T-Rex, so he can get some experience.” He stared at the screen. “What about the owner of Peelers? Anyone talked to him after T-Rex took him out back?” He checked his cell out of reflex, but of course, he’d taken Arianne’s phone, so she couldn’t call him.

“He remembered Arianne but didn’t see her leave. He didn’t know anyone matching the descriptions I gave him from the surveillance footage.”

Jagger tilted his neck from side to side, trying to alleviate the tension that strained his body. If she had left, he would deal with it. If she’d been taken, he’d find her. But not knowing was killing him as much as sitting still. He shoved his chair away from the table and slammed the laptop closed. “I’m going out again. Tank can come with me, and—”

“Why don’t you just let her go?”