The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3

by Sarah Castille

  Her breath caught. “Is Gunner okay?”

  “Thanks to T-Rex’s quick thinking, yes. He flagged down a trucker and had him take Gunner to a hospital. They left that picture in Gunner’s cut.”

  Hands trembling, Arianne unfolded the picture. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held an actual photograph. Even Jeff rarely used his darkroom. She stared at the photo, and her heart seized in her chest. Someone had taken a picture of her, beaten and chained in Bunny’s basement. Although the light was poor, she was easily recognizable. She flipped it over, and written on the back was the word, Traitor.

  Her blood chilled as Jagger tensed behind her. Although she’d managed to put him off for two days, there was no way he would let this go. Not as a man. And not as president of the Sinner’s Tribe.

  “Tell me what happened. Who shot at you? I can promise it will never happen again.”

  She recognized the fury in his voice from the night at Peelers, but this time every word was cold and calculated. Determined. He would not be so easily put off. And yet, she had to try.

  “I told you before. I just want to forget about it.” Not only was she still reeling from Jeff’s betrayal, or the fact he’d shot her with her own gun, but she also mourned the loss of the brother she had loved so dearly. Even the drugs were no excuse. Somewhere along the road, he’d become his father’s son. And this picture—it had to be Jeff’s picture—proved it. Viper would never do anything as childish. Or as personal. And she betrayed him, too. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Wrong thing to say. Jagger fisted his hand in her hair and jerked her neck to the side, a shocking contrast to his gentle touch only a moment before. “You don’t understand what it does to me, seeing you like this, Arianne—the cuts and bruises, the bandages, the fucking ropes and chains, knowing someone hurt you, shot at you, and I wasn’t there to protect you.”

  “Jagger…” She tried to pull away, but he held her firm and scored his teeth down her neck, sending a pulse of electricity straight to her sex.

  “Tell me who it was. I need to find the bastard or I’ll go fucking crazy.”

  “Please. Let me go.”

  “I let you go once, Arianne. I won’t make that mistake again.” He grasped her breast in his broad hand, squeezing roughly until she gasped, more at the shock of his sudden change in demeanor than at the bittersweet pain that made her sex ache to be filled.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to look back over her shoulder, but he gripped her hair harder, keeping her still. “Why are you being like this?”

  He ground his pelvis against her, pressing his arousal along the cleft of her buttocks as his free hand tightened on her stomach, pinning her to his body. “I gave you time. I was patient. And while I was being patient, I sent my boys out to find out who hurt you. They came back with nothing.”

  Was this his game? Seduce the information out of her? Well, no seduction needed. She could give him enough information to keep him satisfied. And then he could satisfy her.

  “Jeff was at Peelers.” She scrambled to come up with a plausible story that wouldn’t implicate Jeff. But not a lie. She couldn’t lie to Jagger. “He saw one of the prospects when we arrived, so he hung around outside and caught me when I was in the restroom. He said he had given my passport to someone who was in his car. I couldn’t let you take him, and you suspected me of betraying you anyway, so I went to get it. A guy in a cut came around the corner, so we jumped in the car and drove away.”

  She could feel the wave of anger ripple through his body as his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. “You got in the car because of me. You were going to leave.”

  “I got in the car because I wanted the passport.” She trembled beneath his touch. “Not because I’d decided to go that night, but because I wanted the option. I wanted to have it in my hand so that I’d know if things went bad, I had a way out. You just … made it easier to get in the car.”

  Her words inflamed him. With a growl, he spun her around, backing her up to the wall. She shivered as the cool surface pressed against her bare skin, her nightie providing no protection from the chill.

  “I won’t make it easy again.” He bracketed her wrists with one strong hand, lifting her arms and pinning them above her head. “What happened after you drove away?”

  Anger and arousal roared through her blood. She writhed in his grasp, but her struggles only heightened her desire, her nipples hardening as they brushed over his solid chest. Jagger forced her legs apart with a thick thigh, the rough denim of his jeans scraping over her sensitive flesh as he held her in place. “Tell me.”

  Ah God. How could she save Jeff from Jagger’s wrath? He was lost to her, but she couldn’t be the instrument of his death. “Axle was in the car. Jeff owed him money. He was tweaking and needed a hit. We wound up at Bunny’s.”

  “Jesus Christ. Axle.” Jagger spat out the name. “I should have finished him when I had the chance.”

  His eyes blazed so hot, she could almost feel the burn, and his pulse throbbed rapidly in his neck. With his gaze fixed firmly on hers, he brushed his fingers along her throat, feathering his way to the top edge of her nightgown.

  Then, with a brutal yank, he tore it away.

  “Jagger!” Vulnerable, inexplicably ashamed, she tried to turn, hide herself from him, but his hands kept her pinned against the wall, and his thigh held her immobile.

  “I thought I made it clear: You don’t go to see Bunny. Ever.”

  She bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. “I didn’t have a choice. Axle had a gun.”

  He gave a satisfied grunt, then leaned down and nipped her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Confused by his unpredictable shifts between hot and cold, rough and gentle, she pulled away.

  “Is he the one who hit you?” With his free hand, he cupped her breast, kneading it until she physically ached to have him inside her. He brushed his thumb lightly over her nipple, then gave it a rough pinch.

  Her body heated, burned for him. And he was hard—so hard, she could feel his arousal against her stomach, smell his hunger thick and hot around her. She rocked her hips, grinding her wet sex against his thigh, hoping to distract him from his questioning, making him lose control.

  “Answer.”

  Her stomach clenched. He wouldn’t kill Jeff for hurting her, but he wouldn’t let him get away with it either. “They … both did.”

  He reacted as she knew he would, his body going rigid, his face smoothing into an expressionless mask. “Jeff hit you, too?”

  “I was trying to run away. He was tweaking.”

  “Fuck.” He pounded his fist against the wall beside her head. “Jesus Christ, Arianne.”

  Torn between fear and arousal, she tried to pull away, but he slid a hand between them, his fingers reaching inside her panties to stroke her wet curls. Arianne’s body arched and trembled, but when she licked her lips, a bitter taste coated her tongue. “I don’t want to play this game anymore—”

  Her words choked off in a gasp as he lowered his thigh and pushed one finger deep inside her. Her inner walls clenched around him and she bit back a groan.

  “What happened at Bunny’s?”

  “Bunny wasn’t involved,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he drew his finger out, then thrust deep again. “He recognized me and let me go. He said he didn’t want to get on your bad side.”

  Jagger added a second finger, rubbing along her sensitive inner walls as he penetrated her. Moisture flooded her sex and she rocked shamelessly against his thrusts, seeking a release from the tension coiled through her body.

  “I want you, baby,” she whispered.

  “I know, sweetheart.” His deep, husky rumble reverberated through her body. “I can feel your heat. I want you, too. But I want something more.”

  “What? What do you want?” Her hips pushed against his hand, but his rhythm didn’t change. Too slow. Too shallow. He was in control, and his dominance served on
ly to heighten her arousal.

  “I want to know who beat you, tied you up, shot you, and chained you to the wall.”

  Dazed, on the precipice of orgasm, her body pulsing and throbbing with need, she almost gave the game away. Almost. “It doesn’t matter. I got away.”

  “It matters.” He added a third finger, filling her, stretching her, pounding inside her with an exquisite, brutal intensity. “It’s killing me, sweetheart, because I wasn’t there, and if you don’t tell me who did it to you, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

  “Please … don’t do this, Jagger. Not now.”

  “Who?” His voice rose to a shout and he pressed the base of his palm against her clit, sending her arousal spiraling out of control. “Was it Bunny? Axle? Who else was there? Jeff?”

  “I was in an alley and then I was tied up.” Her head pounded with the effort of trying to skirt over the critical piece of information that could end Jeff’s life and destroy what she and Jagger had together while at the same time, endorphins flooded her brain and her body quivered with need.

  “How did you get away?” He renewed his assault, his thumb flicking over her sensitive bundle of nerves as he drove his fingers deeper inside her, his lips a feather-light contrast as he pressed tiny kisses along her jaw.

  “Bunny made them untie me. We went outside. Axle had a gun. They were talking about how Jeff could get Axle’s money. I disarmed Axle and ran.”

  “Who shot you, Arianne?” Clearly at the end of his patience, his words came out in a sharp bark, and her brain fuzzed, no longer able to separate fear and arousal, torn between pushing him away and begging him to make her come.

  “I can’t—”

  “I need to know like I fucking need to breathe. I. Need. To. Know.”

  Her heart sped up double time. Despite everything Jeff had done, she could never give him up, especially not to a man she suspected would kill him. She hated her brother, but she didn’t want him dead. She owed him for the night long ago when he had saved her, and for the past they shared.

  This has to end. Now.

  Drawing on the skills she had learned to survive Viper’s wrath, she allowed her anger to rise sharp and fast burying her emotions in a protective burst, burning away her confusion. “Don’t do this, Jagger.”

  “Tell me.”

  Bastard. How could he use their intimacy as a means to get information from her? His actions were as much a betrayal as her failure to tell him that the bullet Banks had pulled from her arm was a .22, the gun Jeff had taken from her. Axle had the .45.

  “The bullet came from behind, and that’s all you’ll get from me.”

  Jagger pulled away, releasing her wrists as he slid his fingers from her dripping sex. Arianne staggered back at the sharp pain of abandoned arousal. And then shame washed over her in an acid wave. Shame at having let the game go so far. Shame at leaving herself so vulnerable and exposed. Shame at wanting him so much, she had forgotten the most basic rule: Do not trust.

  Nausea roiled in her gut. She took a step toward her clothes, and Jagger stepped in her way.

  “I want you so bad, I fucking ache with wanting you.” His voice shook with emotion. “I would do almost anything to have you right now. But more than that, I want you to be safe. I can’t honor my duty to the club or honor my promise to you if you don’t give me a name. I know you know who it is.”

  Fury scoured away the shame. She took a step into his space, determined to get her clothes, silently daring him to stop her. “No one is going to die because of me.”

  Jagger stood firm. “No one touches what is mine, Arianne. No one hurts my girl. No one shoots a woman under my protection and lives. And no one fucks with the Sinners or what belongs to us. I will get that name, and when I do, I will show no mercy.”

  “You did this for a name?”

  He turned and headed for the door. “I did this because I love you.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  No fighting or violence on club grounds. Penalty is an ass-kicking.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Arianne awoke to a gentle rapping on the front door. Soft morning light filtered through her curtains. Jagger? She quickly dismissed the thought. No way would Jagger ever knock. He would just barge in.

  Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she threw on some sweats and called out. “Who is it?”

  “Wheels.”

  With a sigh of both relief and disappointment, Arianne opened the door to the pinched expression of a clearly agitated Wheels.

  “Jagger asked me to come and get you. He’s got something he wants you to see.” He shifted from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact, and Arianne frowned.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” He stuffed his fists in his jeans pockets and looked away. “Just … don’t like to keep Jagger waiting. You know how it is. He says now, he means yesterday. He says yesterday, he means last week.”

  Still disconcerted by the events of last night, Arianne grimaced. “Come on in. I’ll just be five minutes.”

  Five minutes became ten as she scrambled to wash up and tidy her hair before throwing on her jeans and T-shirt. All the while, she agonized over whether to ask Wheels about the night at Peelers. Had that been him by the door that night? If so, why had he let her go?

  By the time she joined him in the living room, she had resolved not to raise the issue unless he did. The consequences for him were severe, and she couldn’t risk anyone overhearing their conversation. Plus, he was already in full anxiety mode, muttering to himself as they walked down the stairs.

  Wheels’ Harley Sportster was small and compact, not designed for the comfort of a pillion rider, and she shifted in her seat as he raced through Conundrum, blowing through red lights and careening through back alleys. By the time they arrived at the clubhouse, she knew something was seriously wrong. Even a senior patch wouldn’t take the kind of risks he’d taken on that ride unless he’d been threatened with death.

  He led her through the clubhouse in silence, his hand pressed against her lower back as if she might suddenly turn and run. But she stayed on course, curious about what could rile the easygoing Wheels and make Jagger demand her presence instead of coming for her himself.

  They descended the stairs to the basement, and Wheels led her down a long narrow hallway, and through a spacious games room, his fingers twitching against her.

  “What’s got you so agitated?” She skirted around the pool table, and eyed the well-stocked bar with appreciation.

  Wheels stared straight ahead and mumbled. “Sometimes I forget.”

  “Forget what?” she said in an uncertain tone.

  “Who he really is and how careful I have to be.”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. They walked into a small room with blacked-out windows, and she knew.

  “Banks!” A sudden coldness hit her core, and she flung herself forward, her cry echoing through the small space.

  Tied to a chair in the center of the room, his left eye swollen shut, blood trickling down his temple, and his face a mass of cuts and bruises, Banks regarded her with a resigned expression. His eyes flicked to Jagger standing to his right, fist raised to deliver another blow.

  “Bastard.” Banks growled. “Did you have to bring her down here?”

  “No.” Arianne threw herself in front of Jagger and held up her hands, palms forward, taking in Cade and Sparky, leaning against the wall and Zane behind the chair. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him.”

  The room, pungent with the scent of blood and sweat, stilled. Jagger turned to her, his eyes cold, hard, and resolute. “He has information I need, and so far he’s been reluctant to give it up. Apparently, the women who took you to him told him the whole story, and it’s a story I want to hear.”

  Seized by an unbearable fury, heedless of the muttered warnings around her, Arianne turned on Jagger. “You’re doing this to get information I did not want you to have. This is between you and me. Let him go. Now.
”

  Jagger’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, sweetheart. There’s a line you don’t cross, and you’re standing on the edge. I’ll tolerate only so much disrespect, and right now my patience is at its end. I want a name and I’ll do what has to be done to get it. He knows who fired the gun.”

  Her face twisted in revulsion. “So you’re going to beat him up? He looked after me, Jagger. He took a bullet out of my arm. And right now he’s suffering for being a good friend to me. And this is the thanks he gets? I trusted you—”

  “You don’t trust me.” He said through gritted his teeth. “You told me last night. What would the Jacks think if they found out was a woman I had claimed had been shot and I did fuck-all about it? Or the Triads? Or the Mafia? Everything we do or don’t do sends a message. Everything is a power play. I have one hundred men depending on me to keep them safe. We are the dominant club in the state, and we stay that way because we make sure no one fucks with us. And beating my girl, tying her up, chaining her to a floor, and shooting her goes way beyond that.”

  “I’m not your girl.” She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “I’m your prize. Your finger to Viper. The life you took for Cole’s life. If I were anything more, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

  “You were mine the second you drove onto Sinner property.” His flat, toneless voice sliced through her heart. “You will be mine until I let you go.”

  He sidestepped Arianne and looked down at Banks. “Name.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Without warning, Jagger punched Banks in the jaw. Banks’s head snapped to the side and he let loose a string of swearwords.

  “Oh God. Stop.” She grabbed Jagger’s T-shirt and yanked him toward her. “Stop.”

  His face twisted with rage. Stark, raw, and almost unrecognizable as the man who had been so gently cruel with her last night.