“Nothing. Just forget I said anything.” Just what she needed. Yet another overprotective male in her life. Well, she was here learning how to shoot because she was tired of running and hiding, tired of looking for a man to protect her when she should have been looking for ways to protect herself.
“Christ.” Shaggy turned and fired four bullets in rapid succession into the center of the already decimated paper target. He fired another round, lay the weapon on the table, picked up another and did it again. Was he angry she hadn’t told him about Viper? Or was he tired of teaching her? Were they done for the day? He was the most enigmatic man she’d ever met and even after two hours she couldn’t figure him out.
“Well, it’s not like you gotta run out tomorrow and start shooting people.” He raised his weapon, his body quivering like he wanted to punch someone. “You got lots of time to practice.”
Naiya studied him as he fired at the shards of paper floating in the breeze. Despite the gray beard, he was younger than she’d originally thought—probably in his mid to late forties at the most—and no slower or any less capable than the junior patch from what she’d seen. As far as she could tell, he was an “old timer” through experience only, and maybe because of something in his past that had left him bitter and alone.
“I don’t, actually. I’m going to the rally. I want to be there when Holt takes Viper out.”
Shaggy laughed. “I thought you’d spent some time with the Jacks. If you did, you’d know there is no chance in hell you’ll be going with Holt if he goes with the club. Women are not involved in club business. Women don’t go on the road with the club. Women stay home. We don’t put our women in danger.” He cleared his throat, looked away. “At least the brothers that got women don’t put them in danger. And Jagger takes care of the sweet butts and house mama, makes sure they stay behind.”
“Club women,” Naiya corrected him. “I’m not part of the club, and I’ll do what I damn well please.” She walked down the shooting lane to change the paper target, and Shaggy called after her.
“It’s too dangerous. Holt’s not gonna let you go. Jagger’s not gonna let you go. And I’m not gonna let you go.”
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” she threw back over her shoulder. “I hardly even know you.” This is what she’d hated most about the Jacks, and all bikers, really. Misogyny at its finest.
“Not even Arianne is allowed to go,” he countered, his tone dropping to something close to a plea. “And she probably has more reason than anyone else to want revenge. Viper killed her mother and her brother.”
Naiya shuddered as she changed the target. She’d heard rumors that Viper had killed Arianne’s mother, and that he’d had a hand in Jeff’s death. She felt a pang of sadness at Jeff’s loss. For all that he’d abandoned her that night of the party, he’d been a good friend to her after she’d gone to live with her mother. So how did Arianne reconcile her role as a woman in the club with the fact she could probably outshoot and outride most of the men here? How did she sit in the clubhouse and watch Jagger ride off to take out Viper on her behalf?
“I’m not Arianne,” she said walking toward him. “And I’m not going to pull the trigger. But I want to be there. I want to see his face. I want him to know what it feels like to have your life and innocence brutally ripped away, to be totally and utterly helpless, to scream for help knowing that no one will come for you because your mother is high on crack and your father abandoned you.” Her voice rose to a shout, the words coming thick and fast, words that she had never dared to say, emotions that she had been afraid to truly feel or express, a desire that had burned inside her for seven long years.
Shaggy stared at her, stricken. Like somehow he was responsible for what Viper had done to her. Like he was responsible for her life. She shouldn’t dump on him like this. He was a stranger. And yet, she couldn’t stop. The words kept coming, so she let them go.
“I want him to know what it feels like to be betrayed, beaten, violated, used, marked, and discarded like a piece of property.” She tugged down her sleeve and bared the Black Jack tattoo for him to see. “He didn’t just do this. He carved his initials into me, too.” She yanked down her waistband just enough so he could see the top edges of her scar: “V” for Viper. “He scarred me inside and out and I am going to take back my life. No more running and hiding. No more looking for jobs in faraway states. Whether Holt wants it or not. Whether the Sinners want it or not. I am going to that rally. I will be there when they catch Viper. I will watch him die. And I will shoot anyone who gets in my way.”
Shaggy drew in a ragged breath, his face dark with emotion. “You won’t be going alone.”