JETT (Savage Saints MC Book 3)

by Carmen Jenner

  “Of course. It’ll be nice to have the company,” Kimba says.

  “I don’t want to bring you any trouble.”

  “Oh, honey, I love trouble. Especially if it takes the form of the big scarred biker I just tied to a chair and gave a little lap dance to.”

  “You didn’t?” I cover my mouth with my hand. Not because I’m shocked by her words, but because I can’t even imagine how Grim would have handled that. I make a mental note to call him as soon as it’s safe.

  Indie throws her arm around my shoulders. “She did. If I know anything about my boss, it’s that Kimba’s not afraid to demand, or take, what she wants. And she’s definitely no stranger to trouble.”

  “I stalk trouble like a lion hunts a gazelle.” Kimba winks and hefts the groceries on her hip as she opens her front door. Ivy takes the bag from my shoulder and I breathe a sigh of relief and smile appreciatively at her as I follow the girls—my family—into Kimba’s house.

  It’s spacious for this part of the city, with wooden floorboards, plantation shutters on the windows and great concertina doors off the living room that lead to a large back deck and veggie garden beyond. I’ve known Kimba for a total of two hours, and already it obvious the bespoke, slightly gothic furnishings are quintessentially her. And then I come face-to-face with the giant terrarium in the living room with a green tree snake coiled around a wooden perch. “Oh my God, you have a snake in your house.”

  “Yeah, that’s Esmeralda. I have more in the third bedroom, but she’s my pride and joy.”

  “Wow. That’s um ... nice.” I suppress a shudder and give her a tight smile.

  Kimba grins and places her loot on the huge kitchen island. Then she grabs my stuff from Ivy, and my hand and leads me down the hall. “Don’t worry. I won’t put you in with the reptiles. This is your room here.”

  She leads me into a room across from the master suite. It houses a double bed and a closet and a view of the neighbour’s brick wall. Like all free-standing houses or terraces in the inner eastern suburbs, the windows have bars, but somehow it still feels like less of prison than Jett’s isolated, country house did.

  “It’s really wonderful. Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but I will.”

  Kimba sets my bag on the bed and shrugs. “It’s no biggie. Really, the rooms are just sitting here, and I’m at work morning to night, but it will be nice to come home to a room-mate.”

  “Well, I’ll try my best be the perfect house guest, but I’ve never had a female roomie so if I’m doing something you don’t like, or—”

  “Babe, I’ll let you know.” She skips out of my new room and calls over her shoulder, “Come on, we could all use a stiff drink.”

  “Yeah,” Indie agrees from the kitchen. “You’re not wrong.”

  JETT

  THE SECOND WE PULL up to the house, I know shit ain’t right. I shut off my engine and throw my helmet on the ground as I climb the steps to my front door two at a time. The door is wide open, and Diesel is laid out on the welcome mat like an offering.

  “Check the perimeter,” I say to Trigger. He rushes off around the side of the house while I pull my gun and head inside followed by Killer.

  I step over Diesel’s prone body and rush inside. Grim is tied to my fucking dining chair, a sheet in his mouth like a gag.

  “What the fuck happened? Who took her?” I demand, taking in his black eye. “Who?”

  He starts muttering some shit behind his gag and I yank it out of his mouth. “Start talkin’, arsehole.”

  “Indie and Ivy happened.”

  I just stare at him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? Are you honestly tellin’ me that two of my men were overpowered by a couple of bitches?”

  “They had that bitch who runs Death Before Decaf with them.”

  “Kimba?” I ask.

  Grim nods.

  “And let me guess, you two fuck knuckles thought you might get your dick wet?”

  “She hit me, knocked me out.”

  “And the three of them just happened to lift you into a chair and tie you there.”

  Grim’s lips turn up in the corners. “Looks like.”

  “Bullshit. You played a part in this. Where the fuck is my old lady?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “If anything happens to her—”

  “You mean if anything else happens to her, since she’s been through some shit as your old lady.”

  “I’m fuckin’ serious.” I take a deep inhalation through my nose. “I will put you to ground without so much as blinkin’, you dumb fuck.”

  “She’s better off without you, Prez.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “No, I guess she made that decision for you though, huh?”

  Killer walks toward him, but I grab his shoulder and hold him back.

  “Prez?”

  “Leave him.”

  “You gonna keep me here in your fuckin’ dining room the rest of my life, Prez?”

  “You can rot tied to that chair for all the shits I give, brother. No one unties him until I say so,” I snap. “That’s a fuckin’ order, Killer. Let’s see if a few days in the naughty chair will make him think twice about betraying me.”

  I shake my head and push outside, lighting up a cigarette as I bend to grab my helmet. I fasten it and slide back on my bike, pushing the button for the ignition. It thunders to life.

  “Prez?” Killer asks. “You want us to come with you?”

  I don’t answer. I just rev the throttle and take off. I’m gonna find Raine, and I don’t care what the fuck happens after that, but I’ll drag her back kicking and screaming if I have to. She doesn’t get to walk away from me, from us.

  RAINE

  FOR THE LAST WEEK AT Kimba’s, I’ve cooked, cleaned, and done everything I could to make my stay here a pleasant experience for Kimba and to not be a burden. I’ve offered to help out at Death Before Decaf too, but since Kick frequents the café to see Indie, it’s not wise for me to be there.

  I no longer have a phone, so it’s not like Jett can call me. I did call Grim from Kimba’s landline to check that he was okay, but it went straight to voicemail and I haven’t heard back.

  I take the hat from my head and wipe the sheen of sweat from my brow. I’ve been tending to Kimba’s veggie patch for the last hour, picking snow peas for dinner and gently turning the soil after pulling several fresh carrots from the ground.

  The roar of engines from several streets away make my back stiffen and the hairs on my neck all stand on end. I close my eyes and see his powerful body hovering over my mine, the tattoos, the scars from prison fights that I loved to trace with my fingertips, and that sandy blond hair now greying at the temples. I open my eyes and tears spill over my lashes. I press my gloved hands to my face, dirt and all, and breathe in the rich scent of earth.

  The bikes get closer and I slowly climb to my feet, wincing as my C-section protests the movement. I’m still not completely healed. It’s been three weeks and I don’t know that I ever will be. I pick up the vegetables and hurry toward the house, but a beat later, the engines cut out and someone pounds their fists on the front door, rattling it so hard I fear the stained glass might break.

  “Raine. I know you’re in there. Open up!”

  Jett. Oh god. I want to go to him. I want to pull back the door and launch myself at him. I want him to wrap me in his arms and hold me, and make all of this hurt go away, but I can’t because a part of me will never forgive him.

  “Raine, please, darlin’. Please talk to me.”

  I quietly pad inside and set the vegetables on the kitchen counter. His large body makes an imposing outline through the stained glass and I know he can more than likely see me too. I hesitate there in the hallway. I could end this devastation for both of us right now, pull back the door and hold onto him for dear life. I inch closer until I’m pressed against it, as if I could press against him.

  “Darlin’. I know I
messed up. I locked you up in that house like a fucking princess in a tower, and I left you all alone. I wasn’t there when you needed me, and I’m sorry, but I ain’t leaving without you. I don’t care if I have to camp out on this bitch’s lawn the rest of my sorry-arse life. I ain’t leaving without seeing you.”

  “Go home, Jett.”

  “Can’t do that, Angel. Open the door. Please, I’m desperate.”

  I inhale and slowly let it out. My fingers toy with the chain while I debate walking away. How long before he busts down the door just to get to me? Finally, I slide the lock free and unlock the deadbolt. I open the door and still as I taken him in—dishevelled hair, dark circles under his eyes, and not a trace of anger or rage in his pupils like I expected—just relief, just love.

  I suck in a sharp breath as he draws me toward him. I let myself be pulled, allowing him to wrap his big arms around me and press my head to his heaving chest.

  “I missed you so fuckin’ much,” Jetthro whispers.

  I can’t form words, though the same is true for me. I missed him like oxygen when you can’t take a breath. I’m drowning without him, but I don’t know how to keep my head above water when he’s close by. I cling to him until my fingers and forearms ache from holding on so tight, and he leans his chin against the crown of my head. My tears are staining his shirt, soaking them right through, but if he cares at all about that, he doesn’t show it.

  Finally, Jett clears his throat. “You gonna come home with me, darlin’?”

  I sniff and step back because I can’t hug him while I break his heart. “I can’t.”

  “Yeah, you can. It’s real easy. You just slide your little arse on the back of my bike and we ride off into the fuckin’ sunset.”

  “No. The house you shared with Mia is not my home, that apartment is no longer my home—I can’t set foot in that building again.”

  “Then we’ll find a new apartment, a new house. I’ll build you a fuckin’ palace if you want, but you’re coming home with me.”

  “No, Jett. I’m not.”

  “So, what? You’re just gonna live here with Kimba forever?”

  I shake my head and lower my gaze. The truth is, I hadn’t given much thought to my next move at all because every time I pictured my future, I couldn’t imagine one without Jett. All of those things he envisioned with Mia—a huge house filled with kids and dogs and motorcycles—I want all of that, but I don’t know how it’s possible given that danger follows the Savage Saints MC. “I don’t know.”

  He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “This is bullshit.”

  I slap him, hard. He grips my wrist and squeezes so tight I cry out. “I lost a child because of this bullshit.”

  “We,” he says, dropping my arm. “We lost a child. Or did you forget that baby was mine too?”

  “She has a name.”

  “Yeah, she does. And torturing me isn’t gonna bring Sophie back.”

  “You think that’s why I’m doing this? To make you suffer?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “You know, for a grown man you sure are a self-indulgent, narcissistic arsehole, Jett.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me why you up and left me?”

  “Because I can’t be with you! I can’t forgive you!”

  “I don’t know if you know this, but I wasn’t the one who caused that miscarriage.”

  “God, you don’t get it, do you? How can I go back to you when I can’t even look at you? Your lifestyle caused this. Your enemies came after me and our daughter, and she died.” My voice cracks over the words. Jett reaches for me, but I step back. “I don’t know how to move past this. I have no idea where we go from here, but I can’t be with you right now. I can’t even look at you without feeling sick to my stomach.” As soon as the words have left my mouth, I regret them. I regret them, and I can’t take them back because it’s the truth. I love him, but a part of me will always blame him for the death of our child, and that’s not something I can just forgive.

  “You want me to choose? You want me to walk away from the club? Fine. It’s done. I’d give up everything for you, Raine. I’d go to ground faster than you could blink if I thought it would make you happy. If I thought you could look at me again without being sick.”

  “Jett—”

  He holds up his hand to silence me. “I get you’re heartbroken. I am too. I lost fuckin’ everything that day, but us being apart doesn’t change it. You punishing me doesn’t change the fact you love me.”

  He’s right. It doesn’t, but I’m not avoiding him because I want to punish him, I’m not going back because I don’t know how to love someone who’s been my undoing, whose decisions have caused me to lose my entire world. I take a deep breath and grab the door handle. I finally meet his gaze as I say, “No, it won’t, but maybe time will.”

  “Raine—”

  “I love you, Jetthro, but not enough to forgive you.” I slam the door and lock it, slumping against the wood and stained glass as he pounds on the other side, and the tears well in my eyes. I sob uncontrollably. I don’t care that he can hear me. I don’t care that it undermines everything I just said. The truth is, I can’t go back to him. Not now, maybe not ever.

  Eventually, Jett steps away from the door and moments later, the roar of several bikes take off up the street. I curl up on the floor, and that’s where I stay until Kimba comes home. I don’t have the strength left to do anything but cry.

  MY NEW ROOMMATE AND I sit on her couch watching some true crime show on Netflix. I’m staring at Kimba’s snake instead because the horror of murder and blood spatter reports hits just a little too close to home. I could always retire to my room, but I don’t want to be alone right now.

  Someone pounds on the front door, and fear and longing strike my heart. Is it wrong that I’m both dying for and praying that it won’t be Jett on the other side? I glance at Kimba, who’s already studying my reaction.

  “Are you expecting him to come back?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s Jett, so he could come here and demand I return home with him or he may never darken this door again. It’s so hard to tell with him.

  “Do you want to see him?”

  Yes. God, yes. “I don’t know.”

  “Stay here.”

  I nod and hit pause on the remote as Kimba walks to the front door. I rise and hide behind the wall that separates the hall from the kitchen because though I want to see him, I’m not sure I want him to see me.

  “Bindings not tight enough for you, huh, Big Man?” Kimba says.

  A beat later, Grim’s gruff response fills the hall. “Where is she?”

  “By all means, enter my home, strange and scary biker.”

  “Bitch, you’re testing my fuckin’ patience, and I just got here.”

  I swallow hard and step out from my hiding spot. Grim’s eyes widen as he takes me in and a few long strides later, he wraps me in his arms. I sob into his chest as he rubs my back. “I came as soon as I could. Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. I hurt me.”

  “As much as I hate to break up this snugglefest, I need a damn drink. All this chemistry between you two has left a bad taste in my mouth.”

  “No one said you had to stay,” Grim growls.

  “And yet you’re in my living room. We have a ‘play nice or get the hell out’ policy here. Of course, the bedroom has different rules.” The fluff on Kimba’s 1950s robe tickles my bare thigh as she passes, and she cranes her neck over her shoulder at us. “You can be as rough as you like between my sheets.”

  Grim’s shoulders tighten as he glares at her and for the first time, I notice the faded bruise on his eye. I wince. Probably Jett’s handiwork. Grim doesn’t appear to be aware of my thoughts and he leans in and whispers, “Is she always like this?”

  “Always,” Kimba and I say at once.

  “So, you want a drink?” Kimba leans over the kitchen
counter, her cleavage spilling from her negligee and robe. I have to hand it to her, the woman is an expert at seduction. “Or are you just going to brood some more?”

  “Beer,” he barks.

  Kimba’s lips twitch up in the corners and she levels him with a look that turns even my belly to liquid heat. Holy shit. I’ve never thought of women in that way before, but I’m beginning to see why Kimba’s bed is never cold for long.

  “Say please.” She pops the tops off three bottles of beer and brings them to us. I take mine with a smile, but she holds Grim’s out and quickly darts it out of reach when he makes a grab for it.

  “Please,” Grim says through his teeth.

  “Good boy,” she whispers in a silky husk.

  He snatches the beer off her and glances at the snake tank behind my head with a frown.

  “Kimba collects reptiles.”

  A gruff laugh comes from my biker friend. “Yeah? Does she keep a collection of souls too?”

  “Only on Mondays.” Kimba smiles sweetly as she sits on the couch opposite us. I don’t miss the way Grim’s eyes track her every move. “The other six days are spent gathering hearts. Wanna add yours to the collection, Big Man?”

  “Who says I have one?”

  “The way you look at my friend Raine when you think nobody notices, for one. Shall I go on?”

  Grim growls and turns his attention to me. “Is there somewhere else we can talk?”

  “You can speak in front of Kimba. She knows everything, anyway.”

  “I’d prefer not to discuss club business with an outsider.” Grim sneers.

  Kimba rolls her eyes and rises, taking her beer with her as she walks down the hall. “Don’t worry, Raine. I need a shower anyway. My thoughts are suddenly very dirty.”

  I giggle and stifle my laughter when Grim scowls at me. I bite my lip to keep from guffawing.

  “Raine, you’ll lock up when you’re done?”

  “Of course. Enjoy your shower.”

  “I always do. Night, Big Man.”

  Grim is openly sneering now. “She’s fun,” he says in a tone that implies she’s anything but.