Jagger

by S. Nelson

  She remained unmoving.

  And while I found her stubbornness amusing, I didn’t have time to play games. Tilting my head to the side, I gave her my sternest look, but still . . . nothing.

  Instead of compliance, her body straightened. Pushing back her shoulders, she held her head high and challenged me. I smirked but quickly thinned my lips to show her I’d meet her challenge head-on, eventually winning the little battle of wills she’d started.

  “Kena . . . ,” I warned, taking a step forward.

  She signed something, her frustration pushing her to communicate even though she thought I didn’t understand. But I did. I’d wanted to let her in on my surprise earlier, but then everything happened and I wanted to savor my secret until our next encounter.

  However, now was as good a time as any to let her know I understood her, returning my slight annoyance with her jerky movements.

  “I know you just signed my name.”

  Her eyes widened fractionally before switching up and squinting at me. She’d tried to hide her surprise, but I’d seen it.

  Her hands were a flutter of activity after that, and while I tried to remain as serious as possible I couldn’t help the laugh which erupted. No doubt she’d thought I’d learned a few simple things, like “yes” and my name. Although, she’d soon learn the opposite was true.

  Taking another step toward her, I smirked before saying, “You just asked me if I wanted to kiss you again. And the answer is a definite yes.” A slight blush kissed her cheeks, the tinge of color arousing me even more than I already was.

  Again her hands rose and hit together, making a few sweeping motions before settling at her sides. She threw me a lopsided grin, figuring what she’d signed was too complicated for me to understand.

  Without hesitation, I answered back.

  “There’s no way I can understand you? Is that what you just signed? Or did you ask me how it is that I can understand you? I’m still new to this, so you have to be patient.” I waited for her response.

  I asked you how it is that you can understand me.

  I decided to test out my signing skills in response. My friend Sully has been teaching me. How am I doing?

  Very well.

  Her smile lit up the world around us, and all I wanted to do was attack her mouth again in reciprocation, but I knew if I moved toward her, I wouldn’t be able to break free. Not again.

  A brief moment of awareness encapsulated us, one where we realized we’d just crossed a barrier. She could communicate with me now, other than nodding in response to a yes or no question, eliminating the boundaries that had trapped us since the day I’d first met her. It was a freedom both of us felt right then, perpetuating our connection even deeper than before.

  “Well,” I spoke up, breaking the silence, “I do have to get going, but I promise I’ll text you later. If it’s not too late, message me back.” Thankfully, she’d turned around after throwing me one last smile and walked toward her front door. After she’d disappeared inside, I grinned, a real weight lifted from my shoulders.

  But it would soon be replaced with another as soon as I pulled into the clubhouse lot.

  Jagger

  I swung my leg over the seat of my bike, planting both feet firmly on the ground. While walking toward the clubhouse, my phone vibrated against the inside of my pocket, startling me into the seriousness of the new situation. I had no doubt Tripp and Ryder had detained the two Reapers, our biggest enemy not getting the hint to go into hiding, never to resurface.

  Marek had seen to it that their drug supply had been cut off from the cartel, a stipulation—or promise, depending on how we looked at it—for our prez saving Rafael Carrillo’s life once upon a time. The mere inconvenience that the Reapers kept coming after us screamed how stupid they really were.

  The mistake they’d made, however, was showing up to one of my fights. Yet again. Only this time, the brazen fucker had thought ahead and brought one of his pathetic brothers with him, realizing he’d get knocked the fuck out again if he came alone. But in the end it didn’t matter.

  Marek wouldn’t allow them to go back home.

  They had to die.

  And I knew I was gonna have to take part in their demise, eliminating one more threat to me and my club.

  Then the only danger remaining would be the guy who led the Savage Reapers.

  A club that stood for nothing other than greed and bloodshed.

  Psych Brooks.

  “Yeah,” I finally answered, gripping the handle to the clubhouse’s door.

  “Get to The Underground. Now. Back room.” Seven words . . . then silence. At first, it sounded like Cutter, but once I’d allowed my brain to register his voice, I realized it was Ryder who’d called. Then hung up on me. The inflection in his tone left no room for argument. Besides, I knew better than to piss him off. Although he’d come across as sullen most times, joking with some of the brothers from time to time, I knew a darkness nestled deep within him. From what, I had no idea, but surely time would reveal some of his secrets.

  Time, or some hard-ass liquor. A substance he definitely didn’t handle well. All the brothers were aware. It was why Ryder was closely watched whenever alcohol was served, beer not only his preference to remain on the sane side, but all of ours as well.

  I’d only witnessed the club’s resident mechanic volatile from consumption one time, and believe me, it had been eye-opening.

  Snatching my hand away from the door as if I’d been burned, I turned on my heel and walked back toward my bike, all sorts of thoughts of the long evening ahead invading my brain.

  Because of the late evening hour, traffic hadn’t been an issue, and I’d arrived at the establishment our club owned in no time. Striding through the door, I saw a few of the members lounging in different areas. Breck and Zip hung at the bar, talking with Barlow, The Underground’s bartender, breaking the conversation between them every few seconds to laugh about something one of them had said.

  Hawke slunk off his barstool and stumbled toward the hallway, no doubt headed toward the bathroom to either piss or puke. He looked like shit, no doubt drowning himself in alcohol over his woman, Edana. The two of them had made me think twice about becoming involved with someone, their crazy relationship a deterrent to most young guys. But when I looked at Marek and Sully, or Stone and Adelaide, my faith in the possibility of attaching myself to a woman had become renewed.

  And then I met Kena.

  Don’t think about her right now. Not when you have to do something you’re gonna take issue with.

  No one noticed me as I slinked past toward the darkened hallway. The last room on the left called to me. Inhaling a deep breath, I grasped the handle and turned.

  “Get in here and close the door,” Tripp grated, circling the two guys slumped against the worn leather sofa situated in the corner of the room. As my gaze danced over them, I realized they were in pretty rough shape, although not nearly as bad off as I would’ve thought. The nomad, while more of a laid-back member, had a temper when prompted. And members of the Savage Reapers coming after me provoked that shielded part of his personality.

  “What are we doin’?” I asked, leaning against the wall and shoving my hands in my pockets. Bending my right leg, I rested the sole of my boot behind me, locking me into place because I had no idea what else to do with myself.

  “What do you think we’re doin’?” Ryder spoke up that time, taking a swig from his bottle of beer before slamming it down on top of the desk. “We gotta get rid of ’em.” The look on his face told me two things. One, Ryder didn’t want to be there anymore than Tripp or I did. And two, he wasn’t as settled with disposing of our enemies as he would’ve liked to portray. I honestly didn’t think any member of the KC MC liked to kill, even if their victim was our most hated enemy. As far as I knew, no one craved bloodshed. No, if it had to be done, it had been out of necessity.

  Retribution for attacking one of our own.

  Revenge for S
ully.

  Payback for constantly threatening us, and essentially threatening our families.

  Pushing off the wall, I strode toward the couch with determination. I wanted to snuff out their existence once and for all, send a message back to the Savage Reapers that every time one of them came after one of us, it would end in death. For them. But the other part of me wanted to spare their lives, give them the option to cease fire here and now. So with a tentative glare, I opened my mouth and made an offer I was sure wouldn’t be accepted readily, by them or by my brothers, and essentially Marek, who I was sure knew about our little hostage situation.

  “I have an offer for you, Snake. You and me. Right now. We fight, and if I win you walk away and never come after me again.” Rocking on the balls of my feet, I clarified my statement. “Me or anyone in my club.”

  He didn’t speak, but then again he didn’t have the opportunity to do so because both Tripp and Ryder started shouting over each other.

  “No fuckin’ way, Jagger,” Tripp yelled.

  “Ain’t gonna happen, brother,” Ryder chimed in. My eyes pinged back and forth between the two of them, the muscles in my neck tensing from the added stress.

  “The only way either one of them is leavin’ is in a body bag.” Gripping the shortened strands of his hair, Tripp blew short, rough bursts of air through his nose. Looking to the left, I saw Ryder mirroring his frustrations.

  “He wants to destroy me!” I roared back. “Me. So give him his shot. But he’ll do it with his fists and not a fucking gun like a coward.” All I wanted to do was punch something, but I knew I had to save all my energy for the possibility of a fight. I feared my brothers weren’t gonna give in, but eventually they accepted the offer I’d thrown out.

  “Fine,” Ryder gritted. “But you better fuckin’ win. Or so help you.” His threat left no room for argument. I knew he’d look out for me, as I would him, but right then much more was at stake than just me winning for myself.

  I had to win for the good of the club.

  “So, what do ya say?” I kicked Snake’s boot, pulling his attention away from his friend. “Want a chance to try and take me down? Finish what your brother couldn’t?”

  Snake lifted his head, rage blossoming behind his eyes as he glared at me. Most times a pissed-off opponent fought sloppily. What I’d said demeaned him, in more ways than one, but I’d pulled it from my arsenal of tricks in hopes he’d make the fight an easy one. There was no doubt he’d be a poor match for me, lacking the necessary skills to fight someone of my caliber, but I knew enough not to underestimate the effect of rage. A slight possibility existed that he’d be able to best me; hatred and the need for revenge could give him the push he’d need to defeat me.

  Slowly rising to his feet, Snake walked toward me, a slight limp emerging the closer he advanced. Blood crusted the corner of his lip, his left eye cut, and well on its way to becoming swollen. His shirt was torn, exposing multiple darkening bruises on his torso. But for as fucked up as he appeared, it wasn’t enough to hamper him from fighting.

  Standing two inches shorter than me, he almost matched my physical prowess. Almost. The Reaper was no lanky fuck, and the upcoming battle between us would most certainly make me break a sweat. Pushing strands of his long dark hair away from his face, he gave me his best scowl, and had I not been a fighter, confident in my skills, I might have been unnerved.

  “Where we doin’ this?”

  His question had me turning toward Tripp, who happened to be standing off to my right.

  “Outside,” the nomad grunted.

  Not five minutes later, we stood under the dark shield of night, the dim light above the back door our only illumination. Enough to see each other. Snake’s buddy remained inside, Ryder keeping a close watch over him in case he tried to escape.

  Foolishly I thought we’d speak before beginning, but Snake charged me, catching me completely off guard. Fuck! Stumbling backward, he’d managed to knock me off balance, but because of my training, I quickly recovered, sidestepping his next move. He tumbled forward but swung around quickly, bringing his right arm with him.

  His knuckles grazed the side of my jaw, but it wasn’t enough to do any damage. He hadn’t even managed to stun me. Instead, all his fist did was piss me the hell off. I knew going into our fight that it wasn’t gonna be pretty, and that most likely my adversary wouldn’t make it out of there alive, but I kept a tiny shard of hope that I’d defeat him and he would return to his club the loser, never to come after me again.

  Twisted fantasy, I knew.

  “I’m gonna kill you!” Snake roared, lunging at me before he’d fully restored his balance. His technique was sloppy at best. No way in hell he would manage to take me down.

  Enough shittin’ around. I need to end this and do it soon. Bracing myself for his next move, I deflected his punch with a block of my arm and returned a powerful right hook, directly to the side of his face. His head snapped to the side and we wobbled but didn’t fall over. The stunned look in his eyes told me I’d definitely fazed him, but unfortunately for me it wasn’t enough to knock him out.

  For the next ten minutes, he tried his best to hurt me, but he failed every single time. Punch for punch, I warred with him, two men battling for victory. Only I had skill on my side; he had rage, and nothing more.

  Faltered steps showed me he was tired, and it was then I took full advantage. Pummeling him with my fists, his head snapped from side to side. Blood matted hair stuck to his face, hiding most of the damage from sight. But I kept at him.

  A harsh gut shot.

  A kick directly to his knee, bending his leg back awkwardly. The move sent him on a free fall, and on his way down I hit him with a swift, hard upper cut.

  Down to the ground he went, but oddly enough he remained alert, spitting blood and attempting to rise from the dirt. “When I’m done with you, I’m goin’ after that fuckin’ freak you like,” he growled. Spitting more red saliva on the ground, he spoke again, sealing his fate once and for all. “I’ll take her back to my club and pass her around to every single member of the Reapers, but not until after I’ve broken her in.” He smiled, one of his front teeth now missing, and thought he’d won. Stupidly thinking if he angered me in return, I’d lose all control and somehow he’d best me.

  What he didn’t realize was that after the last despicable word left his filthy mouth, he’d essentially chosen to give up his life. Without even realizing it, he’d played on one of my biggest fears—Kena coming to harm all because of me. Terror gripped my insides and squeezed. I saw red and before I could stop myself, I pounced on top of him, pounding him with my fists so fast I was surprised I kept my balance.

  All my anger poured forth, driving directly into his jaw. His cheekbones. His nose. His temples. I would never allow anyone to touch Kena, especially this piece of Reaper shit. As the seconds passed, disorientation set in, shrouding my reality.

  I heard someone yell my name, but I never stopped. The only thing I could focus on was the man lying beneath me. I had to make it so that he was no longer a threat to Kena, and if that meant beating him into unconsciousness then so be it. Doing whatever I could to protect her, I continued to desecrate his bloodied form.

  “Jagger!” I heard once more, only that time strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and heaved me backward. My ass hit the dirt, my arms still swinging in front of me. Lost in a daze, it took some time before my delirium subsided. “Come on, brother. You’re done.”

  Recognizing Tripp’s voice, I blinked a few times and did my best to catch my rapid breaths. Lines of sweat dripped down the sides of my face, the ache in my hands making me wince.

  “I’ll kill him,” I seethed, trying to rise to my feet so I could go at him again. With a stern look, warning me to stay put, Tripp leaned over Snake and placed his fingers on his neck.

  “Looks like you got your wish,” he stated matter-of-factly. It hadn’t even dawned on me that I might actually kill him. Well . . . no, I lied.
It had occurred to me that it might be the end result, but I hadn’t gone into the fight planning for such a thing to happen. I truly did want him to crawl out of there afterward, return to his cesspit of a club and finally understand that he couldn’t beat me. He couldn’t harm me. He couldn’t end me.

  But he had, in a way. Threatening Kena had sliced through me, splintering me in two. And when both halves came back together, I’d become a different man.

  Someone who sat on top of another and literally beat him to death with nothing but my fists.

  Would I kill for Kena?

  It appeared I just had.

  Adrenaline coursed through me, and I hadn’t even noticed that Ryder had dragged the other Reaper outside, shoving him to the ground right next to Snake. Pulling a gun from his waistband, Ryder aimed it at the guy’s bald head, but before he fired, the guy sputtered something so fast I almost missed what he’d said.

  “Prez is comin’ for ya. He’s gonna get that bitch and kill off your entire club.” He spit at Ryder’s feet, grinning as if his words would somehow free him from his ultimate demise.

  “Well, you ain’t gonna be with him when he tries,” Ryder taunted, pulling the trigger before the man could reply. The blast cut through the dismal night’s thickness, shards of truth falling to the earth all around me.

  We’d just killed two men—albeit our enemy, but still. We’d snatched two lives, and although I’d beat myself up over the death of Snake’s brother, I felt justified over these kills.

  Numb even.

  Without a single word spoken, I ran from the scene, hopped on my bike and raced toward Kena’s house, hoping and praying she’d make me feel something again.