I hesitated, then shook my head.
Zag’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“He…licked my face. Before he hit me.”
His face hardened. “He’s a dead fucker.”
“Zag, no. Don’t do anything—”
“Dead.”
“But I called the cops and they—”
“Won’t do shit. This is a club problem and we’re gonna handle it. He was dead the minute he came within five feet of you. No one threatens—let alone touches—what’s mine.”
My mind spun at that declaration. Between my throbbing face, the killing Preacher thing, and Zag suddenly being so territorial, I couldn’t decide what to focus on. But then Bobby took the decision out of my hands when he stumbled out of the backseat.
“Let’s go get that bastard,” Bobby slurred.
“You’re not going anywhere, partner.” Zag waved over a few of the guys. “Get him inside. Someone find Doc.”
With Zag’s arm around me, I silently watched them cart Bobby into the house. Pushing all the dark thoughts out of my head for the moment, I gave in to my impulse and clutched him close in a quick hug. I always felt so safe with his arms around me.
He briefly touched the top of my head. I couldn’t tell if it was his lips or what, because it was over so quick I was half sure I’d imagined it. He pulled away and barked orders at the crowd of bikers.
After giving me another tight, one-armed hug, Zag prodded me to follow them. “Go on inside and have Doc look at that cheek. Then change out of those clothes. I don’t like seeing blood on you.”
I bit my lip to keep my grin at bay. Once the panic was gone, he was back to his bossy ways. It was so flipping cute. “Change into what? I don’t have anything here.”
“I don’t care. Find a T-shirt and some sweatpants. I don’t have time for this, princess. We gotta roll.”
I tried not to think about what that meant. “Just…be careful.”
“I got my boys at my back—I’ll be fine. We look after our own. Go on into the house.”
I took a few stumbling steps toward the house, then turned back. Zag threw a leg over his bike and reached for his helmet. He didn’t need to turn around and see my hesitation before barking at me. “And your ass better be in my bed when I get back.”
A mixture of warmth over his earlier caring gesture and anger over his high-handed command filled me. I wasn’t his chattel that he could order to do his bidding, dammit.
And yet after tossing a narrow-eyed look his way—that he didn’t even see—my feet found their way up Zag’s steps. I knew better than to argue with a pissed-off biker. Even if he was the man I’d been sleeping with for six weeks.
As I reached the front door, the whole neighborhood vibrated with the roar of the club riding away. By now, my earlier adrenaline rush had slowly leached out of me. I couldn’t help but worry about Zag. Wherever he was going, as enraged as he was, there would be trouble.
I wasn’t even sure what that meant. Trouble for me was missing a payment on my Visa or pissing off my mom by not returning her calls.
Zag and his boys were in a whole different club.
Literally.
Tears sheened my eyes and I bit my lip. God, he might kill someone tonight. Could I live with that? Be okay with the fact that my boyfriend was a killer? Hell, for all I knew he already was and I’d just been kept in the dark this whole time.
Whatever the outcome, I couldn’t stop hoping Zag would be okay and that his kind of trouble wouldn’t keep him from coming home tonight. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I could see with my own eyes that he was home safe.
I put all my crazy thoughts of Preacher and what Zag was going to do from my mind and instead went down the hall to look for Bobby. If I was going to be up all night worrying, I might as well make myself useful.
Chapter 16
Zag
The minute Zag turned the corner on Preacher’s street he knew the bastard wasn’t home. The driveway was empty with no bike in sight, and his house was dark. Not that it hampered Zag’s momentum.
The second he brought his bike to a stop on Preacher’s driveway, he was off it and heading to the front door. He didn’t even wait for backup.
Or knock.
Zag lifted his boot-clad foot and slammed it through the front door with a crash.
“Preacher! Where are you, you bastard?” The lack of a reply had his blood boiling. He wanted to make Preacher bleed like Bobby was bleeding. Wanted to make him as terrified as Jess had been. He remembered her pale face as she pulled up to his house, and he lost it.
He put his fist through the flat screen on the wall, but that wasn’t good enough. Sliding his arm across the cabinet beneath, he cleared all the tapes and picture frames with a huge crash. Still pissed off, he grabbed the back of the cabinet and tipped it over. Then he ripped the TV down from the wall, turned, and heaved it in the general direction of the opposite window.
“Holy fuck, Zag.” Reb ducked out of the way of the projectile just in time. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Zag bent down and grabbed a stereo speaker that’d fallen out of the cabinet. It went through the window with a satisfying crash. “Preacher’s not here. That’s what’s fucking wrong with me.”
Reb ducked again as the other speaker went sailing past. “Dammit, man. Knock that shit off.”
Zag glared at him. “Fuck you.”
“Hey, you got a problem with me, bring it.”
Finally, an outlet for all this rage inside him. Zag took a step forward to do just that.
Reb held up his hands. “But. Not. Here.”
“Fuck, why not? Preacher’s not home. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Not if your little hissy fit convinced the neighbors to call the cops. We gotta ride. Now.”
“Fine. Let’s take the fight to the Tramps. I bet Preacher is hiding behind their fucking skirts.”
Zag headed for the front door, but Reb pulled him up short.
“No.” Reb grabbed his arm.
“No? What the fuck do you mean, no?” Zag shook off Reb’s grip on his arm. “He was on our turf. He knocked out Bobby. And terrorized Jess. I’m in the mood for a little payback.”
“Not tonight. We’re not going in all hotheaded. You’re going to incite a fucking war and get guys killed.”
“I can handle it.” Zag wanted to make Preacher and all those fucking Tramps bleed. They didn’t deserve the air they breathed, and he was sure as hell gonna make sure a few were six feet under by the end of the night.
“No, you can’t. You’re all hyped up and someone’s gonna get killed. We gotta do this smart. You’re sergeant at arms, goddamn it. Start acting like it.”
“Fuck you.”
The muscle in Reb’s jaw flexed. “I’ve given you a lot of leeway because of who you are, but you’re seriously fucking making me regret it.”
“This is bullshit. Preacher hurt one of our own. He hit my woman. So you can take your little lecture and stick it up your ass. I’m gonna go find Preacher and get some payback.”
He stepped around Reb for the second time but didn’t get very far. Reb shoved him.
“We’re doing this the right way,” Reb bit out. “Calm the fuck down. Now.”
“Make. Me.” Through his rage-induced haze, Zag saw a few guys line up behind Reb. Not that he gave a shit. He could take care of this on his own. He just had to get past Reb and the rest of the guys first.
Reb jerked his chin. “Give me the room.”
One by one all the guys filed out until it was just Reb and Zag.
“Hey, I don’t have time for a big group hug here. I’m in the mood to bash some skulls. So get out of my way.”
“I told you: We do this right. If you want payback, fine. But we do it smart.”
“But—”
“Enough!” Reb’s roar echoed through the house and most likely the neighborhood beyond. If the cops weren’t already on their way, they
would soon be. “We do it my way. You don’t like it, fuck off. But don’t ever come back.”
The threat pierced through the veil of rage that’d been fogging Zag’s brain. Reb was serious. Zag couldn’t lose the True Brothers, but he also couldn’t let Preacher go, given what he’d done to the club. To Bobby. And especially to Jess.
“We clear?” Although phrased as a question, Reb didn’t make it sound like one.
“Crystal. Sir.” Zag gave Reb a wide berth and walked toward the door. On the way he grabbed a figurine and threw it at the wall, then upended the side table. The wood splintered. It wasn’t loud or destructive enough to suit Zag, but apparently it’d have to do tonight.
Once outside, Zag put on his helmet and sat astride his bike like a good little soldier awaiting his orders. All the guys around him carefully avoided his eyes. Like he’d come unglued at any moment or something.
Reb came out and addressed the group. “I get that we’re all pissed. Before tonight Preacher was already due a serious beat down. And he will get his. But we do it smart. We don’t go out all half-cocked and fuck shit up. Got it?”
The majority of guys nodded their agreement.
Zag sat there brooding.
“Good.” Reb grunted his approval. “Zag, you ride in back with the sweepers. No detours. Let’s ride.”
Zag simmered the whole ride back to the clubhouse. More than anything, he wanted to find Preacher—find any Tramp—and make them pay, but the thought of losing his motorcycle club had him stuck. They’d been his life ever since he walked out on his mom and her bastard of a boyfriend. He couldn’t leave.
When they arrived at the clubhouse, everyone filed into the meeting room. Of course, since he rode as a sweeper, Zag was one of the last to arrive. He swiped a bottle of whiskey off the bar top on the way in. Instead of standing at the front of the room with the executive board, he took a position at the rear of the room with his back against the wall.
“All right now, I know emotions are running high—”
“Damn straight. Let’s go find Preacher and kick some Tramp ass!” one of the guys yelled.
Judging from the grumbles, the majority of the crowd agreed with him. Zag said nothing and unscrewed the lid on the liquor bottle. He already knew how tonight was going to end.
“All right. All right. I hear you guys.” Reb raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Believe me when I say that Preacher will pay for what he did to Zag’s woman and Bobby tonight.” Reb’s eyes found Zag’s through the crowd. “He will bleed.”
Zag looked away and took a long swallow straight from the bottle. The burn did little to assuage the rage boiling inside him.
“But we’re going to play this smart. I want two men watching Preacher’s house at all times. No one takes this duty solo. And no one takes matters into their own hands. I want this known far and wide. Preacher’s ass is Zag’s.”
The guys grunted in approval.
Meanwhile, it took everything within Zag to just stand there. His hand trembled as he brought the bottle up for another pull. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he disagreed with Reb. Disagreed to the point where he didn’t give a shit what happened. Preacher wasn’t just gonna bleed.
The minute that fucker surfaced, Zag was going to kill him.
Chapter 17
Jessica
I jerked awake with a violent start. And immediately wished I hadn’t. My cheek and neck throbbed at the sudden movement. I’d fallen asleep in a kitchen chair I’d pulled up next to Bobby’s bed, and judging from the way my body felt, I’d slept awkwardly.
I rubbed my tender neck muscles and watched through bleary eyes as Bobby’s chest rose and fell. Whatever Doc had given him must’ve been powerful because he didn’t even budge when the bedroom door crashed against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Zag loomed in the doorway, looking about as pissed as I’d ever seen him.
“Sssshhh!” I whispered harshly. “Bobby’s sleeping.”
Zag looked at Bobby still sleeping in the bed and his expression immediately softened. I could tell he had a lot of love for the guy. And from what little time I’d spent with Bobby, I’d grown to like him, too. I could only imagine what seeing Bobby lying there did to Zag.
Bobby fidgeted in his sleep and moaned.
My heart broke a little bit more at the torture I saw on Zag’s face. I think it might have been easier for him if he was the one lying all broken and bruised on the bed. It’d taken twelve stitches to close the gash on the back of Bobby’s head, and Preacher must’ve kicked him a few times when we were both down, since Bobby had a couple of nasty bruises on his rib cage. He might have had one or two broken ribs, but the stubborn fool still wouldn’t go to the ER.
I flinched as Zag stomped into the room. His boots sounded so loud on the threadbare carpet. He didn’t say a single word to me. He just grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
I would’ve protested—yelled or tried to kick him—but I was afraid of jostling my tender head. And afraid of waking Bobby. If anyone deserved a full night’s sleep, it was him. Instead, I waited until we were alone in Zag’s bedroom.
He stopped next to the bed and dropped me without warning. I landed on the mattress with a bounce. After I tossed my hair out of my eyes, I glared up at him. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“My problem?” Zag paced over to the door and slammed it shut. If Bobby wasn’t awake already, he had to be by now. “I specifically remember telling someone to change their clothes.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my work clothes and sighed. “Yeah. That.”
“Yeah. That,” Zag mocked. “You think I wanted to come home and find a reminder of what you went through?”
“Zag, calm down.” I sat up on the bed and started to unbutton my blouse. “It’s not a big deal. Look—”
“Not a big deal? Not a big deal? Look at yourself in the mirror and say that to me again. That’s one hell of a bruise for something that’s not a big deal. Do you know how much worse it could’ve been? What Preacher could’ve done to you because of me?”
My fingers froze. That had never occurred to me. I’d been too busy worrying about Bobby, trying to convince him to get actual medical help instead of taking whatever pills the dubious “Doc” had handed him. And then fending off Doc’s attempts to get me to take some of the same pills. Not to mention worrying about Zag out doing whatever it was he’d left to do. I hadn’t had time to freak out over what-if scenarios.
But he was right. It could’ve been worse. My scalp prickled at all the possibilities. In the distance, I heard a wheezing sound, but I didn’t know it was me. All I could think was it could’ve been worse. He could’ve done so much more than just lick me. He could’ve had his hands on me. He could’ve—
“Princess, it’s okay.” Zag kneeled down in front of me and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry about Preacher or one of his Tramp buddies coming anywhere near you. I guarantee it.”
I looked at Zag incredulously. “You can’t do that. You can’t guarantee anything. I’m only with you a few hours a week. What about when I’m at work or when I go out with my friends or when I’m home alone? What do I do then?” My breath left me in huge gusting bursts as my chest heaved with the effort. Oh God. Oh God. What was I going to do? I just wanted a little walk on the wild side. How did I go from a one-night stand to smack dab in the middle of a biker turf war?
“Jess, look at me…Look at me!” he barked when I didn’t obey the first time. I vaguely registered that he must’ve been really concerned if he was calling me by my first name.
I blinked through my tears and met his gaze.
Whatever he saw there made him curse under his breath and look away for a second. But then his light brown eyes met mine straight on. “You are going to be fine. I will take care of this. I swear it.”
He said it with so much passion
that I immediately felt a warmth blossom in my chest. He cared about me. He might not have implicitly said it, but Zag cared. I took another deep shuddering breath and nodded. I believed him. If he was there, I could get through this. I trusted him.
But I didn’t have any time to process my thoughts or feelings because—as usual—Zag turned my focus toward more physical exploits.
“Now come on. Let’s get you out of those bloody clothes and into bed.”
I forced a laugh as I stood and fidgeted with the buttons once more. “I see where this is going. You just want an excuse to get me naked in bed.”
“No, princess.” Zag’s hands covered mine on my shirt. With one quick motion, he ripped it from my body as buttons pinged across the room. “I don’t need an excuse to get you naked.”
I’d never had someone literally rip the clothes from my body. The effect was immediate and intoxicating. And made me totally forget about Bobby and Tramps and turf wars.
Well, mostly.
He flung the remnants of my shirt behind him and peeled his leathers off with more speed than I thought a man of his size was capable of. I leaned back on my elbows and enjoyed the impromptu strip show. He did this shimmy thing with his hips to get his pants down that did interesting things to the bulge in his boxer briefs.
Judging from the smug grin on his face, he’d caught me looking. I rolled my eyes but caught my breath when he started tugging on my pants. His broad fingers fumbled briefly on the buttons. I reached to help him when the button popped free. I lifted my hips so he could wriggle the pants down my legs when my gaze caught on his hands. His knuckles were swollen and had a few fresh wounds that hadn’t had time to heal. And suddenly I saw him in a whole new light. How many times had he been the one on the receiving end of a beat down? How many times had he been the one giving the beat down?
“What’s wrong?”
I jerked my head up and looked into Zag’s concerned eyes. “I-I-I, uh, nothing.”
Zag’s wrinkled brow meant he didn’t believe me. The man knew me better than I thought. Trying to distract him and me, I sat up and pulled the pants down my legs myself. Zag’s eyes immediately went to my panties and the damp fabric in the center. Because he had that effect on me. He only had to look at me and I wanted him.
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