JETT (Savage Saints MC Book 3)

by Carmen Jenner

  I laugh because it’s clear Kimba gets under his skin for all the right reasons. He just can’t see them yet. “She’s been a good friend.”

  “Why can’t you come stay with me? Jett knows where you are now, so you can come home with me and Lola.”

  “I’m okay here. I like it. I’m good.”

  “I don’t like you being unprotected.”

  I sigh. “Funny, that’s what Jett said. Has it ever occurred to either of you that I didn’t need protection until I began working for the club? Until I became his ... old lady?”

  “You get a new phone yet?”

  “No. I can’t work, so I’m kind of freeloading, but now that I don’t have to hide anymore, maybe I can pick up a few shifts with Kimba.”

  “So you’re just never going to come back?”

  “Back to what? To Jett? To the clubhouse, to the possibility of being raped or murdered because I’m his old lady?”

  “I don’t wanna lose you, babe.”

  “Then don’t. Be there for me, be my friend, just don’t ask me to come back to that life because I don’t think I can.”

  “Your friend?” Grim chuckles but it’s a humourless laugh full of sadness and loathing. “I ain’t ever wanted to be your friend, Raine.”

  I reach out and touch the scars on his face, knowing how he hates this, knowing he still won’t pull away regardless. “I know. I’m sorr—”

  “Sorry, right?” He shakes his head as he sets his beer down on the table. “I don’t want your pity either.”

  “Grim.”

  “You know I don’t wanna see you back with him. You’re too fuckin’ good for him. You’re too good for any of us, but I know you love him. I know those boys are your family. Are you just gonna walk away from that?”

  “I lost my child.”

  “I know.”

  “No! You don’t. You don’t have any fucking idea what it’s like to feel a life growing inside you. You weren’t there when those men attacked me, when they killed my neighbour. You weren’t there in that hospital when they handed me a tiny baby whose face was magic, whose fingers and toes were so perfect, and whose skin was as cold and dead as that club made my heart. So don’t you dare sit there and fucking tell me that I don’t know what I’m walking away from.” I gasp for breath as I get up and put some distance between us.

  “You’re right. I don’t know. All I can tell you is that the club isn’t the same without you, that he isn’t the same, and neither am I.”

  Grim climbs to his feet, his large body towering over mine. He pulls me to him and I struggle in his grasp, but when he wraps his arms around me, I give in. I lean into him and sob.

  “I don’t know what else to say but my door is always open, my phone is always on, for you. Fuck. I love you, Raine. Not in any way that a friend should love you. I love you like you hung the moon, the stars, and the whole fuckin’ galaxy, and I know I’m not what you want. I know you belong to him, but I’d give my fuckin’ soul for just one ounce of what you and Jett have.”

  “Grim,” I whisper and he pulls me toward him, planting a kiss on my mouth. I blink in shock as he pushes me back against the wall and shoves his tongue in my mouth, silently begging me, pleading with me, to kiss him back.

  I turn my head and he gives me some room.

  “Sorry.” He scrubs a scarred hand over his beard and then turns his angry gaze on me. “No. You know what? I’m not sorry. I know I’m not him. I’m not the man you want, but I’m in fuckin’ love with you. I love you, Raine. It destroys me to see you like this over a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “You’re my friend, Grim. I—”

  “I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ friend. Jesus, do you know how hard it is not to throw you down right now and fuck the shit outta you to show you what you’re missin’?”

  I suck in a sharp breath and try to quell the fear rising in my gut. Grim eyes me like a predator, and my knee-jerk reaction is to get as far away from him as possible. Before I can get any of my faculties under control, I reach out and slap him. The sound rings in the empty room.

  His mouth twists into a sneer as he presses a palm against his cheek. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You should go.”

  His voice is a growl, low and menacing when he says, “Yeah, I guess I should.”

  He grabs his keys from off the table and heads to the front door. I don’t follow. I just stand there shaking, staring at the floor.

  How do we come back from this?

  “He isn’t the man for you, babe.” Grim shakes his head. “You’re never gonna be safe with him.”

  “I never thought I wouldn’t be safe with you either, and look how wrong I was.”

  He walks through the door, slamming it behind him so hard that the stained glass rattles in its led inlay. I exhale and sink to my knees.

  I’m surrounded by men who love me, by men who hurt me time and time again, and I’ve never been so alone.

  RAINE

  Two months later

  I HANG MY APRON ON the hook and turn to the girls. “Okay, that’s me finished for the day.”

  “Good luck,” Kimba says. “Though, is it wrong to hope you don’t like the place? I’ve kind of enjoyed having a roomie. Besides, who’s going to make me freshly baked cookies?”

  “Well, you can still keep me on as a waitress here, and I’ll bring my cookies to the store.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and check my reflection in the stainless-steel coffee machine. The image is a little warped, but it’s enough to see that I don’t have any food caught in my teeth.

  “Did someone say cookies?” Kick steps up to the counter, dressed in his cut and worn jeans.

  “Biker!” Indie bounds over to him and throws her arms around his neck, planting a noisy kiss on his lips. “I missed you today.”

  His hands slide down her waist and across her arse, grabbing a handful and squeezing. My stomach knots. It’s been a long time since I shared that kind of intimacy with a man.

  “Hey, no making out with the waitstaff.” Kimba smiles as she sets a cardboard cup on the counter and pushes it toward Kick.

  I clear my throat. Kick glances over Indie’s shoulder at me. “How you doin’, darlin’?”

  “I’m good. Ready to go meet this friend of yours.”

  He walks Indie backward and takes the coffee from the counter, raising it in salute to our boss. “Thanks, sweetheart. I needed this after the fuckin’ day I’ve had.”

  I wring my hands. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just Prez being an arsehole. You know how he is when he doesn’t get his own way.”

  I smile, but it’s full of teeth and completely forced. Just the mention of his name drives a dagger through my heart. Indie punches her boyfriend in the arm.

  “Bitch, what the fuck?”

  “I told you not to mention him,” Indie says. “Death Before Decaf is a no-fly zone—as in completely, one hundred per cent Jett free.”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

  “No. It’s not,” Indie complains. “He’s an arse, and Kick knows better.”

  “Shit, Little Spitfire. Didn’t know you were gonna squeeze my balls in a vice for saying his fuckin’ name.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “Alright, I’m sorry. Raine, darlin’, please accept my humble-arse apology.” Kick smiles at me and then glares at his girlfriend. “Can I go now?”

  “Yes. You can.”

  I grab my purse and keys and then glance back at Kimba. “Are you sure you’re okay if I leave?”

  She shoos me away. “I think we can hold down the fort for the afternoon. I’ll see you at home later.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Indie says. “Oh, hey, don’t forget girls’ night next Friday after work. Ivy finally convinced Tank to babysit Dylan on his own, so we are going out.”

  I swallow hard as guilt worms its way through my stomach. Jett ruined a little boy’s life. He shot his mother and father in fron
t of him, and now the poor kid is living with strangers—playing son to a biker torturer and a recovering drug addict. It isn’t right, and I don’t know how yet, but I plan to fix it once I’m back on my feet.

  “Okay.” I nod. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Let’s hope this apartment guy is cute. Maybe he’ll invite you for a sleepover.” Kimba winks as she waves us off.

  I follow Kick out onto the street and unlock my car as he slides on his motorbike. “So, I’ll just follow you?”

  “Why don’t I just drive you myself? I gotta come back for Indie anyway.”

  “I’m wearing a skirt. I wasn’t planning on a ride today.”

  Kick smirks. “Didn’t Indie teach you anything? Always be prepared for a ride.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going to freeze.”

  “You got those pussy jailers on. You’ll be fine.” Kick shrugs.

  An awkward laugh bubbles up my throat. “Pussy jailers?”

  “Yeah, your leg things.”

  “Tights?”

  “Yep, fuckin’ hate that shit, now get on the fuckin’ bike, Raine. I promise not to kill you, get you blown up, or cause you to break your arm.”

  “You’re an arse, you know that, right?”

  “Yep.” He hands me Indie’s helmet and I put it on, clasping the buckle under my chin and lowering the visor.

  The drive is longer than I assumed it would be, but true to his word, Kick doesn’t do anything to get me blown up or killed, so I can’t really complain. When he pulls up in front of several tall buildings in Waterloo, I slide off the bike and remove my helmet, glancing at the tiny balconettes. “I thought you said it was in walking distance of Death Before Decaf?”

  Kick scowls. “Pfft, who fuckin’ walks these days?”

  “Me, when I’m trying to conserve money on fuel. Not all of us have infinite wealth from our nefarious dealings.”

  “Well, if you married Prez you’d want for nothin’.”

  I sigh as I smooth my hair down. “Please don’t start.”

  Kick shrugs and glances at the keys in his hand. “What? Just stating the facts. You wanna see this place, or are we just gonna stand here all night and talk about boyfriends while we braid each other’s hair?”

  I pull my gaze from the building to the biker in front of me. “Lead the way, but I can’t promise I’ll stick around if you keep pushing this Jett thing.”

  “I promise I won’t say another word. Biker’s honour.”

  I scoff. “Well that’s reassuring. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “As you wish, milady.”

  I smirk and follow him into the building. We take the elevator to the fifth floor and Kick leads me to an apartment at the end of the dank hall. I wrinkle my nose at the musty smell. Tiny moths swarm the light fixture of the overhead fluorescent and the bulb blinks on and off. Unease prickles down my spine. Why would Kick suggest this place? Surely it can’t be safer than Kimba’s?

  He fiddles with the keys, jimmying the lock before finally prying open the door. The apartment beyond is furnished, and a lot cleaner than the rest of the building from what I can make out.

  “After you.” Kick gestures for me to go first and I step into the foyer. He eases my bag from my shoulder, and I cant my head to look at him.

  Oh no.

  No, no, no.

  The address? The empty apartment, and Kick’s haste in which to show it to me? It doesn’t belong to a friend.

  This is one of Jett’s rental properties.

  From deep in the flat, a faucet runs, and I turn to Kick, desperate to flee, but he bails me up in the small hallway and pushes me farther into the room.

  “You locked me in here, you stupid little fuck, and I couldn’t find my phone,” Jett says as he comes around the corner.

  I clench my jaw and turn to glare at him.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Angel?”

  I whirl back to Kick. “Let me past, Kick.”

  He’s retreated the few steps to the door, and he grips the handle in his banged-up fist. My purse is now slung over his shoulder. “Look, I love you both, but this shit is hurtin’ us all. So, talk it out. The place is locked up tight for the night, and I’ll be back in the morning. There’s food, and liquor—”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, kid?” Jett’s voice booms from behind me.

  Close. Too close. He’s so near I can feel his warm, formidable body at my back.

  Kick slams the door and a beat later, a deadbolt slides home ... from the outside.

  “Kick!” I pound on the door. “What the hell? Let us out of here, now!”

  “No can do. You two are gonna hash this shit out.”

  “Open the fuckin’ door, Kick. That’s an order.”

  “Sorry, Prez. The door stays closed until ten a.m.”

  “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

  “I’ll go first,” I snap.

  Kick chuckles. “See? You two are agreeing already.”

  “I hate you for this.” I slap my hand against the door and spin around to face Jett.

  “I know, babe.” Kick’s voice is muffled through the door, as if he’s leaning against it, his face close to the wood. “But I’m hoping by the morning you’ll both have forgiven me.”

  I strike the oak again. My palm stings with the violence and I turn and lean against the door, my eyes closed to stop my tears of frustration from falling.

  Jett’s voice is gentle when he says, “Being locked in an apartment with me is that bad, huh?”

  I open my eyes and glare at him. “Did you put him up to this?”

  His brows arch and he sets his jaw. “No. Unlike my soon-to-be-replaced Sergeant at Arms, I’m not a diabolical little shit. Just a common criminal, remember?”

  I sigh and step forward, brushing past Jett who doesn’t move. His hand touches mine as I pass, and a jolt of electricity runs through me. “I need booze.”

  “Seems like Kimba wasn’t the best influence on you, huh, darlin’?”

  “What is that supposed to mean—that I can’t make decisions for myself? I’m just a dumb blonde who’s that impressionable?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No. It never is what you mean, is it? Why don’t you do us all a favour and say what you actually want to, Jetthro?”

  His lips form a hard line. “Bitch, we’ve been here three fuckin’ seconds and already you’re ridin’ my arse like a goddamn haemorrhoid.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through my nose. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Then don’t. Just come back to me, Angel.”

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  “Oh, that’s right. What was it you said? You love me, but not enough to forgive me.”

  I open the fridge and stare at the contents. Beer, tequila, limes, and two wrapped Subway sandwiches sit on the top shelf. I pull out the beer and sandwiches and glance at the empty counter.

  Thanks for not leaving us the cookies, Kick.

  “What the hell are you doin’?”

  “I’m getting dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m tired, I’m starving, and though I don’t want to be here, he took my phone—and yours by the sounds of it—so it seems we’re stuck here for the night.” I shake my head. “And honestly, if we’re going to keep fighting, I need to keep my strength up.”

  Jett wraps his arms around me from behind and lowers his mouth to my ear. “So quit fightin’.”

  My whole body comes alive as he slides one of those large, calloused hands around my waist. “Don’t,” I plead, because we both know I’m not strong enough to resist his touch. “Please don’t. You don’t have a right to touch me like that anymore.”

  He withdraws his arms, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. “Bullshit I don’t have a right to touch you anymore. You’re mine. My old lady. You put on my patch, you
sat your arse on the back of my bike, and you were having my baby—that makes you mine until I say otherwise.”

  “No. It doesn’t. It makes us nothing.” I step away and pick up a bottle of beer. Condensation beads on the glass, soaking the paper label. I slam the edge against the counter, not caring if it damages the cheap Formica, and pop the top off, draining half the contents in one go.

  “You wanna punish me? You wanna throw shit at me, tell me it’s all my fault? Go right ahead, darlin’. You do whatever you need to help you sleep at night, but from now on, you’re gonna be sleeping in my bed.”

  “Oh fuck you, Jett.”

  “Fuck me?” He sneers as he steps toward me.

  “Yeah, fuck you and your biker creed, and your precious fucking club.”

  He takes the bottle from me and drains it dry. Then he smashes it against the counter.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  He presses the broken shard against his chest and grabs my hand. “You wanna fuck me up, Angel? Go right ahead. You could mutilate me from head to fuckin’ toe and it still wouldn’t hurt as much as losing you.”

  I try to yank my hand from his, but he presses harder, until a thin line of blood wells against his chest. “Stop! Please, stop!”

  “It doesn’t matter how deep you cut me. It doesn’t matter how much you yell or how much space you put between us because you’re always gonna be mine. And I’m always gonna be yours.”

  “Jett,” I beg. Tears roll down my cheeks unchecked. I grasp his hand and carefully pull away the broken bottle. He winces but his jaw is set, his expression stony. My hands are shaking as I pry the bottle from his fist and throw it in the sink beside us. My bottom lip tremors, and I lift my palm to his chest. Three fine rivulets of blood trail over his abdomen. I press my hand against his flesh to staunch the bleed, to feel his warmth beneath my palm once more.

  “Say you’re mine, Angel. I can’t do this without you.”

  I shake my head. “I—”

  “Don’t say you can’t. Fuck, Raine. I’m dying here, baby.”

  And that’s the crux of it. That’s what everything boils down to, is that we need one another. We love one another. And we can’t survive without each other.

  “I’m yours,” I whisper. “I’ll always be yours, but I don’t know how we fix this. I’m always going to be in danger; our children will always be in danger. I don’t know how to live without you, but I don’t know how to be with you either.”