JETT (Savage Saints MC Book 3) Read online

  Raine staggers to her feet. She screams, but covers her mouth as her wide eyes spill more tears. I glance around to make sure we haven’t been seen, then I grab her bag from the ground and take hold of her elbow, tugging her down the street. No way has no one heard that commotion.

  I move us into the shadows beside my bike. She’s shaking so hard she has to lean against the dilapidated brick building to stay upright.

  “What the fuck are you doin’ walking home after midnight? Where the fuck’s your car?”

  “It’s in the shop. Damn it, Grim. I just had a gun put to my head and a man trying to rape me, and you’re yelling at me?”

  I scrub a hand over my stubble. “You’re right but, babe, what the fuck is your car doing in the shop? Didn’t you just have it fixed a month ago?”

  “It was more than I thought it was going to be. The guy’s an arsehole and wants an extra grand for it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone—Jett? Kick? Fuck, why didn’t you tell me, Raine?”

  “Because it’s no one else’s business.”

  “Oh, it’s our fucking business. You’re club property.”

  She stiffens. “I am not one of your whores.”

  “No, but you work for us. You clean up our shit and pour our drinks, and listen to those other whiney fuckers go on about their pathetic sex lives. You’re family—that makes you club property.”

  “Stop yelling at me!”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “Get on. We gotta go.”

  “But my apartment—”

  “Have you got any idea how close you just came to having your pretty head splattered all over the footpath? You’re not going home until I say you’re going home. You’re coming with me. Get on the bike.”

  I grab the helmet from the handlebars and step closer. After placing it on her head, I fasten it under her chin. She stares blankly up at me, her whole body trembling.

  “Get on the fuckin’ bike, Raine. Please?”

  I straddle the seat and she slides on behind me. I close my eyes, feeling her shaking hands glide around my waist. This is torture. I always thought the day I got her on the back of my bike would be fucking heaven—her tits pressed against my back, her tiny hands splayed on my waist—but it’s torture. Sick, twisted torture.

  I drive the fastest route possible to my apartment in Alexandria. It’s a converted loft. But as I slide the key in the lock, enter the security code and push open the door, I’m suddenly nervous she’s in my space. I’m not like the other Savage slobs—I keep my shit clean and orderly.

  I gesture for her to go first. I know it’s clear because my alarm would be going off if it wasn’t. Speaking of alarms. A scruffy furball comes hurtling towards us. She’s blind and deaf, but there ain’t a goddamn thing wrong with her nose. She sniffs at Raine’s feet, sucking in a noisy breath through her little nostrils. Her tail flicks back and forth at a rapid pace. I know how she feels. My tail would be wagging too if I was given the chance to sniff around Raine’s skirts. Lola paws at Raine’s thigh, coming up on her hind legs and snuffling to be picked up. I never thought I’d be jealous of a dog, but here we are.

  Raine’s trembling hand reaches out to pet Lola, but she’s shaking so hard she seems to think better of it.

  As she walks farther into the room, her eyes study everything. The minimal furniture, the stacks of books all over my apartment, and the lack of complete and utter chaos. What the hell is she thinking right now? I place my hands on her shoulders and she flinches. “Go on inside. It’s not safe out here in the hall.”

  Raine shuffles forward like a fucking zombie. Shock will do that to a person. I close the door behind me and slide all of the locks home.

  “Grim, what were you doing at my apartment tonight?” She’s shaking as she stands in my living room, watching me.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “How did you know about my car?”

  “I don’t know. Did you tell someone at the club?”

  “No. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “I don’t fucking know. What does it matter—be thankful I was there to kill that motherfucker.”

  She grips her elbows, hunches in on herself. “Have you been following me?”

  “Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.”

  She flinches and guilt worms its way through my gut. “Grim, have you been following me?”

  “Bitch, I already told you once—”

  Lola lets out a sharp bark, and I move around Raine and into the kitchen to avoid her penetrating stare.

  “Tell me again,” she says, her voice shaking as hard as her body. “And this time, look at me when you tell me no.”

  I exhale through my nose and glare at her. “Yeah, I been watching you. That what you wanted to hear?”

  “Why have you been watching me?”

  “Because we got a lot of enemies,” I say impatiently. “We got a fucking dick-tonne of people who want us dead, or wanna hurt us by killing off family members, and I can’t stand the thought of you being one of ’em. So, fuck yeah, I’ve been following you. You don’t like it, too goddamn bad, because I ain’t stoppin’.”

  “Okay.”

  My eyebrows practically fly off my goddamn face. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” She nods. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

  “Down the hall on your left. You know it’s a four-storey drop from the window, right? You’d break your pretty neck just tryin’.”

  “I’m not going to run.”

  “I just told you I been stalking your arse for a month, and you’re not runnin’?”

  “You saved my life.”

  “Could just as easily end it too.” I grimace, pissed that my own goddamn mouth doesn’t know when to stop running.

  “But you won’t,” she says, with a fragile smile.

  “Nah, I won’t. You may not wanna be here, but it’s the safest place for you. Go get cleaned up. I don’t have no pants that are gonna fit that tiny little arse of yours, but I got T-shirts and flannels in my bedroom. You’re welcome to ’em.”

  “I don’t need ...” she begins, but glances down at her top and freezes when she sees the blood and brain matter plastered to it. “Oh my God.”

  She covers her mouth and dry retches. Then she hurries down the hall to the bathroom where she chucks up her guts—if the noises are anything to go off. I leave her be, because I’ve got a call to make.

  I pull out the phone and dial Prez. He answers on the first ring. “What?”

  “We got a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “A goldilocks problem,” I say.

  “The fuck you talkin’ about, Grim?”

  “Raine was attacked outside her apartment.”

  “What the fuck? Where is she, and how do you know? I thought I made it real fucking clear that you were supposed to keep your distance when it came to her?”

  “If I kept my distance,” I whisper, “she’d be bleeding out on a footpath right now.”

  “FUCK!” Prez roars into the receiver. “And why the fuck is she there with you, huh?”

  “What? You wanna take her home to your wife?”

  Prez inhales sharply. I can tell he wants to say more, but he knows I’m right. If I hadn’t followed her, if I’d kept my distance like he told me to, she’d be dead. “Start talkin’. You tell me who I gotta fuckin’ rip apart, Grim.”

  “Russians. I think they had a message for us, but I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because she’s in shock, Prez, but you and I both know who they want.”

  “Tank.” He exhales slowly. “Jesus fucking Christ. It never rains but it goddamn pours.”

  A phone rings in the background and he tells me to wait. A half-second later, he shouts, “Fuck me! Get your arses to the clubhouse. Your women too. I want everyone on lockdown where these arseholes can’t touch us.”

  There’s a cacophony of noise in the background, and I’d
bet my left nut Jett’s just done a little redecorating in his office.

  “Prez?”

  “Where’s Raine now?”

  “Chucking up in my bathroom, why?”

  “Kick and Tank’s old ladies were attacked. Indie was waiting on Kick to pick her up from working at the café. She’s a savvy bitch, so she got away. A couple guys went after Ivy too—Tank was home and dealt with them accordingly.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, shit is right, motherfucker. Get your arses back here. We’re going into lockdown until every last one of those bastards are dead.”

  “She’s safer here.”

  “Did you hear me? I said get here now.”

  “No, I’m not risking this shit tonight. We’ll get there as soon as we can, but I’m not leaving this fucking apartment.”

  “Goddamn it, Grim. I want you both back at this fucking clubhouse now.”

  “She’s too shaken up.”

  “Put her on the phone.”

  I take a deep breath to prevent chewing him out and walk down the hall to my bathroom. Raine has finished throwing up, and is now sitting against the wall, wearing only her jeans and a plain nude bra. I might’ve stared, had she not been red-faced and trembling as mascara runs down her cheeks.

  “Hey, you doin’ alright?”

  She looks at me as if she’s only seeing me for the first time. Her gaze darts from the hem of my shirt, to my shoulders, and finally to the centre of my chest. I’m covered in blood and brain matter too. It’s just not as noticeable because I ain’t wearing white. I strip off my shirt. Something I don’t think about until she’s staring at the scars that eat away the left side of my torso. “Prez wants to talk to you.”

  I hold out the phone, and she tears her eyes away from me to stare at the offending object in my hands. I don’t move closer, but I hit speaker before she takes the phone from me. “Hello?”

  “Raine? Darlin’. Talk to me.”

  She closes her eyes and sniffs back her tears. “I’m ... I’m so scared, Jett.”

  “Shit. Listen, Grim’s gonna bring you back to the clubhouse. Okay, baby? You do everything he tells you. We’re going into lockdown until we find the men who did this.”

  “But Grim already—”

  “Don’t say another fucking word,” I snap, stepping closer. “Not over the phone.”

  “He’s right, darlin’.”

  “I don’t want to leave here.” Her voice is small and frightened, but she speaks into the phone as if she were whispering into Jett’s ear. “Please, please don’t make me leave. I don’t want to go out there after what happened.”

  “I know, but the clubhouse is the safest place for you right now.”

  “Please don’t make me leave tonight, Jett.”

  He sighs. “I tell you what, you put Grim back on the phone for me. I’ll see you real soon. We’re gonna make sure you’re safe, Raine.”

  “Okay.” With shaking hands, she passes the phone. I take it and turn it off speaker in case Prez says anything incriminating. It’d be just like that bastard to chew me out about my little crush while Raine is sitting half-naked in my bathroom.

  “How’s she doin’?”

  “She’s in shock. She needs a shower, a hot meal, and to be kept quiet and safe right now. What she doesn’t need is to be dragged across the city on the back of a bike and taken to a rowdy clubhouse where she’ll likely just go back to serving those fuckers drinks.”

  He takes a long inhalation through his nose. “You gonna do that? Keep her quiet and safe?”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she’s off-limits, to you and everyone else in this motherfuckin’ club.”

  “But not you, right?”

  “I’d be very careful what you say next, Grimmy-boy.”

  “She’s scared out of her fuckin’ mind, Prez. You’ll forgive me if I’m not paying my dues right now. I got a halfway-to-hysterical bitch in my bathroom, naked and curled into a corner.”

  “Naked. What the fuck you mean, naked?”

  “We’ll be there at first light, Prez. Sleep tight.” I end the call and toss my phone on the vanity. I don’t give a shit if it smashes—anything to stop him ringing again. I glance at Raine. She’s still huddled against the wall and shaking like a leaf. Blood crusts between her breasts and I figure that might not be what set her off but it sure as shit isn’t helping. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “I‐I ... I’ve never seen a man die before. I came really close once, but it wasn’t messy like this. The blood ... there was so much ... you fired and his head just kind of popped.”

  “You’re gonna drive yourself mad thinking about it. It’s done, babe. Nothing we can do now, but you should know he was a bad man. He had a message for Prez, and it would’ve been written in your blood. You got me?”

  She doesn’t say anything, just nods, but the panic in her eyes tells me she’s not hearing a word.

  “I’m gonna take your hand now, okay?” I reach out and pull her to her feet.

  She stands on wobbly legs. Her throat bobs as if she’s swallowing. “He would have killed me, wouldn’t he?”

  “He would have done a lot worse than kill you, babe. You’d have wished for death long before it came.”

  A shudder moves through her, and maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but I don’t have the words to comfort her. There aren’t any. She saw me blow a man’s head off to save her life. Anything I say is a cold comfort right now. I make sure she’s propped up against the wall and I lean around her and turn on the shower. Warm water bursts from the leaky faucet.

  “We gotta get you out of your clothes.” My words don’t even register on her face, but I feel the need to reassure her anyway. “I won’t look.”

  I reach out and tug the waistband on her jeans, but Raine puts a hand out to stop me.

  “I’m not tryin’ to take advantage of the situation, babe. We gotta get these clothes off you. I need to burn them.”

  “I don’t ... why would you burn them? It’ll wash right out with a little stain remover.”

  “No, Raine. Your clothes and mine will be covered in DNA. We can’t leave anything to link back to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you hop in the shower. I’ll sort out some dinner for us.”

  “No. Don’t leave.” Her nails dig into the scarred flesh of my bicep and I grimace. I don’t want her touching my skin—not there where it’s crude and has been ravaged by fire. Twisted and ugly flesh that sometimes I long to peel free of my body. “Please don’t leave, Grim. Please?”

  “Okay.” I nod, because what else can I do? I’ve never said no to Raine, and I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon. “I’ll stay. I’ll be right outside the curtain.”

  I park my arse on the toilet seat and stare down at my hands to avoid looking at her. Not that I don’t want to see her naked. Fuck. I jack it every night to this very fantasy—Raine in my shower—but in my fantasies, I’m not fucked up. I don’t have scars I want to slice clean off my body. In my dreams, I’m the kind of man she deserves, but the reality is all wrong. I’m damaged goods, with the face only a mother would love. Or whores—they’ll love you by the hour if you pay them enough.

  Raine pulls the curtain closed and I stare at her naked silhouette as the thin fabric sticks to her. She’s fucking perfect. Just like I knew she would be underneath her clothes. I reach out and trace a finger through the air from her hip to her thigh. I’m not even close enough to touch the curtain because she’s off-limits.

  I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. My dick is hurting, but my heart hurts worse. What kind of cruel fucking god would put her in my hands and tell me I’m not allowed to have her?

  By the time she shuts the water off, I’m wound so fucking tight I don’t know how I’m not pinging off every surface in the room. I stand and exit the bathroom to grab a towel from the linen closet. It’s a blanket, reall
y, or it may as well be for someone of her small stature.

  When I return, I don’t expect Raine to be standing in the middle of the bathmat completely fucking naked, dripping on my tiled floor. My gaze sweeps over her, hungry and desperate to explore every inch, even though I know these fucked up hands will never have the chance. Her breasts are incredible, heavy with upturned rosy nipples. The kind of nipples you want to suck. She’s trimmed, but not shaved completely or waxed. A neat little triangle of blonde hair covers what I’m sure is the fucking hottest pussy I’ll never see.

  I roll my gaze up her small curves to her eyes. They’re no longer empty or void of presence—she’s well aware of my stare, and for a minute I feel like an arsehole. But I’m just a man seeing the woman I love standing naked before me. Everything I want is right here for the taking, yet she’s never been farther out of reach.

  I hand her the towel, and Raine doesn’t hurry to cover herself. Maybe she knows. Maybe it’s written all over my face, or maybe she just pities me.

  She presses the towel to her face and body. I turn away and make to leave the room. “You aren’t going to shower?”

  “Nah. I’ll do it after I’ve burned our clothes. I’ll lay some things out on the bed. Put them on and we’ll have some soup. It’s not much, but it gets the job done.”

  “Okay. Grim?”

  I glance at her face, keeping my eyes trained to hers though they want to roam. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for saving my life.”

  I nod and turn away before I can do something we’ll both regret.

  RAINE

  I’M STILL SHAKING WHEN I throw on Grim’s flannel and button it up. It’s soft and worn, and it smells like laundry detergent and the faint scent of motor oil. It’s comforting.

  I saw him kill a man tonight. I shouldn’t be comforted by anything belonging to this man, but I am. Grim is like the older brother I never had, and despite the stoic violence that ended a man’s life without a second thought, he’s a good man. It seems the good men are the ones who suffer the most.

  I press my palms into my puffy eyes and exhale a loud, shaky breath as I head out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He’s at the stove, stirring the contents of a pan, and the rich scent of creamy mushroom soup infiltrates my senses. Grim glances at me, the spoon slipping from his hands and landing in the pot as soup splatters his faded jeans and white shirt.