JETT (Savage Saints MC Book 3) Read online

  The fireplace crackles and I glance at it. Blue and green flames burst from the hearth as they consume what I assume is our clothing, and when I look back at Grim, his eyes are fixed on my face.

  “Sorry about the clothes. I don’t have anything smaller.”

  “It’s okay. The shirt’s pretty comfortable. Can I help?”

  “Yeah, grab me some bowls from the second cupboard on the left there, will ya?”

  I hurry to the other side of the kitchen and pull the bowls from the cabinet, setting them on the counter beside him.

  “Thanks.” He ladles the soup into each bowl and takes one—along with the board containing a loaf of crusty bread—and sets them on the scarred, wooden coffee table. I bring the other and sit beside him on a cracked and worn leather couch.

  The pup is curled up by the fire, seemingly unfazed by the way it pops and crackles as it consumes our clothes. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Lolita.” He blows on his soup and swallows a spoonful. “Lola for short.”

  “You have a Chihuahua named Lolita?” A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat.

  “Yep,” he says, staring at the tiny furball.

  “I didn’t know you were a fan of ... literature ... or dogs.”

  “Yeah, well, she seduced me, so it fit. I went to the pound lookin’ for a Dobermann and came back with an invalid Chihuahua. She can’t see or hear worth a damn, but she understands me all the same.”

  “She’s really cute.”

  We eat in silence, because what is there to say? Every time I close my eyes, I feel that man’s hands on my body, hear the pop of the bullet from Grim’s gun, and see my attacker’s head exploding. I’m shaking so hard I nearly drop my bowl, and I can only manage a few spoonfuls before my stomach threatens to revolt.

  “It’s not your fault, Raine. None of this is your fault. Fuck, I never wanted club business to interfere with you.”

  I take several shaky breaths and look around the room. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to keep reliving that scene over and over again. So I just nod, and will my hands to stop trembling.

  “You don’t have a TV,” I blurt out. I’d do anything to stop him talking about what happened on my street.

  “Nope. Don’t need one.”

  “I like to fall asleep to mine; it makes the nights less lonely. Hearing other voices in the apartment makes me feel less alone.”

  “Why are you alone?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how is a woman like you alone? You got no man, no friends, no family?”

  “Nope, it’s just me.”

  “Not even a fuckin’ cat?”

  “Not even a fucking cat,” I confirm.

  “Why? No one lives like that unless they’re running from something.”

  “I can’t afford a cat, Grim. Why do you think I took the job at the clubhouse?”

  “Because we saved you from that Korean arsehole down the street and you felt obligated?”

  “No. I did it because the pay was better, and I figured if I was going to be surrounded by men who took, then at least it would be nice to have the kind of protection the club can offer a single woman like me.”

  “Men who took? What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Raine? Has Jett touched you?”

  “No. Jett has been sweet to me.”

  “And Kick? No one else at the club has fucked with you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “Tung Lin. He ... he did more than just get physical with my face.”

  “The fuck!” The roar from his throat wakes Lolita. Her head pops up and, despite being completely blind, she stares directly at us.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fucking fine.” He slams his bowl on the table. Soup spills out of it and he gets to his feet and storms to the front door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To kill that motherfucker.”

  “Grim, no. You can’t.”

  “Stay here.”

  He grabs his cut from off the coat stand and I get to my feet. “Please, don’t leave me here. Please, Grim? Please?”

  He turns, and though the fury is still burning bright behind his eyes, it melts into something deeper—longing, maybe? I’m not sure, but he removes his cut and stalks instead toward the kitchen where he grabs a bottle of whiskey and sips it straight from the lip. After two long pulls, he slams it on the counter and grunts, rubbing a huge palm against his chest. “The only reason I'm not leaving right now is because of the threat with the Russians, but when lockdown is done, I’m gonna tear that motherfucker limb from limb.”

  “I just. I want to put it behind me, you know?”

  “He rape you?”

  “No, he ... he forced me to ...” I swallow hard and lower my gaze. I can’t look at him when I say this. “He said if I didn’t suck him, I’d lose my job.”

  “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” He prowls across the room and sits heavily on the couch beside me.

  “I can’t be without work, Grim. I have ... things I need to pay for, to take care of.”

  “He touch you in any other way?”

  I shrug and pull at a loose thread on the hem of my shirt. “He grabbed my breasts, tried to slip his hands in my panties, but I gagged and threw up right there in the kitchen. That’s when he hit me across the face and fired me.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell Jett all this?”

  “Because I was ashamed, embarrassed. Because I was afraid he’d look at me differently.”

  “But not me?”

  “I think the shock is making me say things I normally wouldn’t.”

  “No one would look at you as any less. That’s what makes men like Tung Lin scumbags—not you. No, you’re perfect.”

  I give a humourless laugh. “I’m far from perfect.”

  He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, rubbing the length between his fingers. For a beat, I stare up at him and wonder what my life would be like if I’d married a biker. I close my eyes and his arms wrap around me. He pulls me in tight, but it’s not sexual. He holds me, and I fall apart.

  RAINE

  I WAKE AND SIT UPRIGHT. Grim is snoring beside me, fully dressed in his jeans and T-shirt and on top of the covers, Lolita curled up in the crook of his arm.

  I don’t remember coming into the room last night, which means he must have carried me after I fell asleep to him reading from Moby Dick. I feel terrible that I didn’t insist on taking the couch, but at least I didn’t leave him without a place to sleep entirely. I gaze at the scars on his bicep, my eyes trailing upward. There’s a childlike quality to his face when he’s relaxed—even with the angry, ruined skin. Before the scars, he would have been devilishly handsome, untouchable. Now he’s flawed, but I can’t imagine Grim being any other way. I like the imperfections—they add character, and it means he’s different from everyone else. But I know he doesn’t see them as a blessing.

  He opens his eyes and the softness there forces my breath to catch in the back of my throat, and then the gentleness is gone. His gaze turns sharp and his brow furrows. “What the fuck are you staring at?”

  “Grim—”

  “Didn’t your folks ever teach you not to fuckin’ stare?” He unseats Lola, causing her to yelp as he throws his legs off the side of the bed and stands.

  “Grim, I wasn’t—”

  “Get the fuck up. I need you dressed and out of my goddamn hair.”

  Ouch. That hurts, but this is just bravado. Grim might be a big tough biker who can kill a man without batting an eye, but inside, underneath that hard exterior, is a heart of glass. Fragile, vulnerable, and one hundred per cent transparent.

  “Someday someone will love you, and they won’t see your scars.”

  “Someone like you?” His gaze is heavy with challenge. My face falls. “Yeah, that’s what I t
hought.”

  “It’s not because of your scars, you dummy. It’s because my heart is already split between two men—I don’t think I could handle another.”

  His brow creases, and he studies my face as if he might find the answer there. “Two men?”

  I exhale slowly. Even though I can see how this confession has hurt him, for the first time since I’ve been in Jett’s employ, I feel relief. It’s short-lived when Grim narrows his eyes and says, “What the fuck do you mean two men? And if you say Kick, so help me God ...”

  “It’s not Kick. His name is Joshua. He’s ... he’s my husband.”

  “Husband? I don’t see no ring on your finger.”

  “I sold it to pay for his care.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You told me you had no one.”

  “You asked me why my car was still in the shop, and why I live in the shittiest neighbourhood in Sydney. It’s because every cent I earn goes into Joshua’s care. Do you think ... do you think we can make a stop on the way to the clubhouse?”

  “Prez’s orders were to go straight there.”

  “Please? He’s been doing poorly lately, and I can’t go into lockdown without seeing him first. Please, Grim? I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him and I didn’t ... I have to see him.”

  He inhales sharply through his nose and breathes out on a sigh. “Fine. Get dressed in whatever you can find. I think I got a pair of old sweats that might fit you, from before you started fattening me up with those clubhouse meals.”

  I frown. My food does not make everyone fat. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  GRIM

  “MRS COLE, VISITING hours aren’t until nine.” The stalwart nurse rolls her eyes over Raine and then me. It’s clear from her raised brow and stern expression she finds us wanting.

  “I know.” Raine smiles, and I swear to God it lights up the whole motherfucking room. Not that this bitch deserves any pleasantries. “I’m really sorry, but I have to see him now. I’m going out of town for a few days.”

  The nurse glares at me. I stare firmly back and fold my arms over my cut. My Savage Saints MC patches catch her eye and she grimaces. “I ... hope everything is okay?”

  “Oh, it’s fine. Just a family matter.” Raine makes a casual hand gesture, as if she could wave away the nurse’s concerns. “This is my brother, Grim.”

  “Are you in trouble, Mrs Cole?” the nurse asks.

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “You show up here outside of visiting hours with a strange man, in clothes that obviously aren’t your own and grazes on your face.”

  “I was in an accident last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and Grim really is my brother.”

  “I thought you and Joshua had no other family.”

  “We’re estranged—or, we were.” I lean over the counter. I don’t like this bitch giving Raine the third fucking degree like some old schoolmarm. “This is kind of a pressing matter, so if you could hurry it the hell up it would be appreciated. I wanna see my brother-in-law. It’s been a lifetime. Right, Raine?”

  She baulks and gives the head nurse an uneasy smile. “Right.”

  “Well, I’m sorry if this process isn’t fast enough for you, but since visiting hours aren’t until nine, we have to ask questions to ensure the safety of our residents. So, if you’ll both sign the guestbook.” She levels me with a hard glare. “For security purposes, you understand?”

  I yank the pen off her and sign her precious fucking guestbook, then I hand it to my “sister” and she does the same. The schoolmarm manages a half-arsed smile, and I guess the devil really does walk among us because this bitch is meaner than a cut snake. “Joshua is just about to have breakfast. He’s not ready for company, of course.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind cleaning him up.”

  We follow the nurse down a long corridor, past rooms with other residents and nurses helping them get ready for a day of sitting around and waiting for their family to visit. I ain’t ever going out like that. Bikers never live long enough to make it to a nursing home anyway, and thank fuck for that. If I end up an old man with saggy balls, having someone wipe my arse, I’ll slit my own goddamn throat.

  Raine said her husband was in care, not that he was in an old people’s home. Just how fucking old is he? And if he’s about to croak, shouldn’t she be rolling in cash? Seems like a fair pay-off for having to fuck old-man dick.

  Halfway down the hall, Raine walks into a room without knocking. It’s dark, save for the light from the TV. It’s playing one of those stupid morning shows where those arseholes sit on a couch in their designer clothes with their fancy fucking make-up and hair and pretend to know what it’s like to live in the real world.

  My gaze darts from that shit to the competition. There, in a narrow bed, is a man no older than me. He’s emaciated, his legs and arms like matchsticks poking out through his pyjamas. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Hey, Joshy. How are you feeling today?” Raine shoots me a look as she leans down and kisses the invalid’s forehead. He jerks excitedly as she hugs him close, but then his eyes are fixed to the television again. Raine’s smile vanishes as she sits in the chair beside his bed. Her gaze settles on me, and fuck if I don’t want to go to her and take her in my arms just to ease the pain I see in her. “Anoxic brain injury. It occurs when the brain is deprived of oxygen. We had an incident about two years’ ago.”

  “An incident?”

  “Joshua ... tried to end things.”

  “Shit.” I sit heavily in the chair near the closet. “There a cure? There must be something—”

  “No,” she answers sharply, then she looks at her husband—fuck ... her husband. Somehow, that’s so much worse than her just being in love with Prez, or disgusted by my scars. Raine can’t be with me or Prez—she’s too fucking busy taking care of a husband who’s already got one foot in the grave. It’d be kinder to everyone just to put him down like a dog.

  Raine smiles at him, and I don’t know how much he can take in, but there’s a sadness to his eyes that wasn’t there before. “There’s no cure, but we’re not giving up. Are we, Joshy?”

  He groans and gives what I assume is a nod. Raine pulls the cover from the breakfast tray and picks up a spoon. She scoops some of the congealed mush and smiles at Josh like he hung the fucking moon. Watching Raine spoon-feed her husband brings out the worst kind of reaction in me. I feel sick. I feel so much love and sorrow and pity for her, and yet I’m filled with longing because if she can look after a cripple like him, then maybe she could fall in love with me. Hell, I know that’s not ever gonna happen. She’s all full up loving the man she vowed to care for, in sickness and in health.

  I can’t bear this. I can’t be in the goddamn room a second longer. I stand abruptly, and both sets of eyes land on me. “I’m ... I’m gonna stretch my legs, give you guys some privacy.”

  “Grim, you don’t have to go.”

  “Yeah, babe. I do.” I’m all too aware of her husband’s eyes on me, and I meet his gaze and tilt my chin. “Good to meet you, man.”

  I don’t shake his hand, because I don’t know if it will cause him pain or undue stress if he can’t manage it. I may be just another biker who’s full of vengeance and need, but I can’t imagine loving a woman like Raine and losing her to a fucking brain injury after I tried to off myself. Even I’m not filled with enough violence and hate to wish this guy harm. What I wish for him is a swift and painless death, because to be debased like this, reduced to a sack of shit who can’t even feed himself, and be humiliated in front of the woman you love just doesn’t seem right.

  I leave the room and stalk through the halls. It’s like a fucking maze of doors and corridors all filled with people just waiting to die, and I have to get the fuck away.

  Outside, I wait by my Harley until Raine’s done. Lola is tucked up in her saddlebag. Deaf and blind, she don’t know the inside of this b
ag from my goddamn bed. Her little snout pops up when I open the flap, and I pull her out and set her on the ground to stretch her legs, but she’s more interested in climbing back in her cosy little bag. So I do what I always do; I give the lady what she wants.

  When Raine exits the building, she just stands there for a beat, meeting my gaze, but looking right through me at the same time. Her whole body crumples. She crouches on the pavement. I push off my bike and walk across the lot. After picking her up off the ground, I lead her to a bench in the garden and sit, pulling her into my lap. She covers her mouth to hold back her sobs, and I hold her tight and let her cry.

  When her tears have dried some, I brush the hair from her face. “Mrs Cole, huh?”

  “Yep. That’s me.” She sniffs, finally meeting my gaze. Her cheeks and eyes are red, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucking seen.

  “I don’t get it. Why the fake name and the secrecy? Why didn’t you just tell us to begin with?”

  “Because I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into when I started working at the club. What if I messed up? What if Jett had wanted me to perform duties that weren’t in my job description, just like Tung Lin?”

  I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Jett wants, but I’m not about to tell her that.

  She shakes her head. “I couldn’t take the risk that the Saints would find Joshua, so I used my maiden name.”

  “That makes sense, but Raine, we could help you. Maybe get him out of this shithole and back home with you.”

  “I can’t ask that of you or anyone else.”

  “You’re family—what else are brothers for?” I wink and run my thumbs under her eyes to wipe away her tears.

  “I don’t think Helen bought that line about you being my brother.”

  “Nope, she’s probably in there calling the cops right now.” I let out a sigh, because we need to get on the road. It’s not safe out here for either of us, but selfishly I want to stay, because right here, right now, Raine is all mine. I don’t have to share her with Prez or her husband or Kick and the other brothers. “We gotta get going. Prez’s gonna have my balls for a meal with a side of mash if I don’t get you to the clubhouse.”