Jailbait (18 page)

“Spartan’s not bothered by much,” I say, forcing a smile. “I can’t decide if it’s because he’s just that calm and well-trained, or if he just doesn’t care.”
 

“Say trained.” Raymundo smiles back, asks if I need any help. I don’t, and really only planned to leisurely ride around the arena so I can think.
 

I do some of my best thinking on horseback.
 

Though now all I’m thinking is motorcycles and people wanting to kill me. We do five laps around the arena before I’m ready to race inside my house and slam the door. Hell, sleeping in the panic room sounds tempting tonight.
 

I startle when my phone rings. I bring Spartan to a halt and get it out of my breeches pocket. It takes some work; these pants are tight. It’s Grayson, and my heart wants to lurch out of chest at the thought of him.
 

“Hello?” I say into the phone.
 

“Hey, Pepper.” His voice is so deep and sexy. “How are you?”
 

“I’m okay. I’m riding Spartan. The horse.”
 

He lets out a laugh. “I remember him. Damn thing nearly killed me.” He sighs. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
 

“In a sense, I guess you could say I am.”
 

“Good.”
 

I nudge Spartan forward, and silence falls between Grayson and I for a minute. I miss him, and my mind flashes to the love letter in my father’s desk. “Gray?”
 

“Yeah?”
 

I close my eyes. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. “What are you doing right now?” Is that my resolve crumbling away as I speak? If it is, it feels good to have it fall apart around me.
 

“Watching TV.”
 

“Oh. Have you been home all day?”
 

“Most of the day,” he answers. “Why?”
 

I pinch the reins between my thumb and index finger. “Someone on a motorcycle was driving up and down the road in front of the house. I wasn’t sure if you went back to stalking me from the shadows.”
 

“No, that wasn’t me. Are they still there? You should go inside…you know…in case they’re still there.”
 

“They’re gone.”

“Pepper?”
 

“Yeah?”
 

“I miss you.”
 

His words hit me hard in the heart and all I want is for him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything is going to be all right. Fuck the past. It was six years ago. I need to let it go and start over.
 

“I miss you too. Do you want to come over?”
 

“Now?”
 

My brain screams at me to take it back and to cancel dinner plans while I’m at it. Nothing good can come from Grayson King. But my heart, the damn thing is begging to beat in sync with his once more. “Yes. If that’s all right with you.”
 

“It is.”
 

Relief floods through me, and right then, I know no matter what I do, I can’t deny that I’m in love with him again. No, not again.
Still.

I’ve always been in love with him.
 

“Good. I could really use a friend right now…someone I can trust.”
 

“Is everything all right?” He moves about, and I hear keys jingling. “I mean, considering what you’re going through.”
 

“With that aside, yeah. I think so. The whole thing with my father thinking someone close to me is going to turn has me all freaked out. I’m actually concerned to say this over the phone. What if they have things bugged?” I let out a heavy sigh. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”
 

“No, not at all. You’ve been through a lot and are coming out better than most. Better than people who haven’t had a recent tragedy. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried too. I promised I’d keep you safe, Pepper. Please let me.”
 

Tears are filling my eyes, and I’m not prepared for how emotional I suddenly become. “Hurry,” I tell him before we hang up. I get Spartan put away and go into the house for a quick shower. I put my wet hair up in a messy braid and put on cotton shorts and a tank top. Sitting on the couch in the front living room, I look over the old photographs. Both my mother and father look so happy in their wedding photo, with big smiles on their faces that are mirrored in their eyes.
 

My father was not a perfect man. It pains me to say that so soon after he died, but I know better than to believe he was a saint. He donated to various charities, and showed up when he knew there would be cameras. My father loved my mother, and he loved me. But he also loved money. My mother knew that going into their marriage. I set the photos down and take my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. I disagree with Grayson not telling me about my father. That doesn’t make him wrong and myself right. He did what he thought was in my best interest. Grayson doesn’t give a shit what society thinks, does his own thing with no hesitation, but he’s not a
bad
person.

If there’s a chance we can be happy together, I’m taking it.
 

Chapter Fifteen

Grayson
 

If I believed in luck, I would have thought mine ran out. Yet here I am, on my way to see Pepper. She’s giving me another chance—my third fucking one—to explain everything to her. And this time I’m going to tell her everything, starting with the moment I left her bed and decided to help my father. Nothing is going to keep us apart, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to Pepper that she’s the only one for me.
 

I turn off the TV and run my hand through my hair. Shit. I haven’t showered today. Or shaved in…days. Usually I don’t give a shit about my appearance but I don’t want to show up begging for mercy, looking and smelling homeless. I shower and shave, then try to find something clean to put on.
 

“Fuck,” I mumble, seeing everything is in a dirty pile on the floor. I’ve never been a good housekeeper. I sort through my closet and find a clean pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I can’t get dressed fast enough. My heart races at the thought of Pepper, and a mix of nerves and excitement goes through me.
 

I throw on my leather jacket, grab my wallet and keys, and tear out the door. I fire up the engine of my bike and get on, sitting for a minute to let the engine warm up. Light from the streetlamp reflects off the shiny chrome of a motorcycle parked on the street opposite my house. I’m not buddy-buddy with any of the neighbors, but I know the single mom with four kids across the street didn’t buy herself a Chopper. It’s possible she has a visitor, but the house is dark. It’s doubtful the kids are all asleep already, which leads me to believe no one is home.
 

There’s another motorcycle parked three houses down. Am I being paranoid or did two people ride together and park apart on purpose to be inconspicuous? I turn around and look at the house, noticing the trampled bushes along the garage. I mowed the grass this morning. Those bushes didn’t look like that then.
 

Goddammit
. I twist the key and turn off my motorcycle. I don’t have time for this. Fists curled, I go around the house. A cigarette lies in the grass under the garage window. Embers still burn. Whoever was here is close. I exhale, and listen to the night. Suddenly, a dark shadow crosses the yard behind me, and I take off after it.
 

“Hey!” I shout and grab the guy by the shoulders. I toss him to the ground and step over. “What the fuck are you doing?”
 

Before I can answer, something hits me hard in the back. I pitch forward, and the man on the ground rolls and springs to his feet. I catch myself and turn to see another man, tall and muscular, glowering at me. He grunts and dodges forward, arm swinging. I duck out of the way, catch his wrist and twist. I bring my leg up, hit him in the stomach, and then push him down. He stumbles back, and I whirl around to block another blow from the guy I caught running away. I punch him in the face. My knuckles hit his teeth and my skin breaks.
 

So does his nose.
 

He stumbles back, hands flying to his face. Blood drips between his fingers. It stuns him for a few seconds, and then he gets pissed. He comes back at me—fast—at the same time the big dude decides to lunge forward.
 

I grab him by the arm, twist it behind his back. Something cracks and he lets out a yell. I kick him in the back of the knees and as he goes down, I stop a blow from the other guy, take his head in my hands, and butt it against my forehead. He goes down hard.
 

The big guy staggers to his feet, broken arm hanging at his side. He reaches around with his other hand, but before he can pull out his gun, I knock him down and get the gun in my hands.
 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand and cock the gun. The guy with the broken nose rolls over onto all fours, coughing up blood. He’s wearing jeans and a leather vest. There’s no patch on the back, but there’s a small reaper scythe on the front.

Prospects.
 

The guys that attacked Pepper bore patches with that scythe on it. She said some had been riding up and down her road.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The Jackals have no chapters on the east coast, but they have ally clubs that do. If they’re after me, they’ll take out anyone and everyone in the way.

No one fucking hurts Pepper.
 

“Talk,” I growl. “Whatever you think they’ll do to you won’t be nearly as bad as what I’ll do.”
 

“Don’t say anything,” Big Guy grunts to Nose Bleeder.
 

I point the gun at his foot, finger over the trigger. The old me, the violent version of myself that I was forced to become threatens to come out. Hell, it wants to come out. But I can’t let it. One wrong move and I’m back in jail, away from Pepper for good. The old me would have blown his toes off, one at a time, until I got what I needed.
 

That’s not me anymore. It was never me.
 

Both men are bleeding on the ground. I can call their injuries self defense, maybe a little excessive on my part, but they hit fist. My heart is pounding and all I can think about is getting the fuck out of here and going to Pepper.
 

Nose Bleeder looks like he might get sick, and I don’t know if it’s from being terrified or from swallowing his own blood. “What are you doing here? Who sent you?”
 

I point the gun at him, and he whimpers and throws up his hands. “Stop, stop!” he cries. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
 

I lower the gun. “You have one minute before I put a bullet in one of your appendages. And it won’t be your hands or feet.”
 

His eyes flick to his waist and he trembles as he nods.
 

“Let’s try this again,” I start. “What were you doing?”
 

“Looking for a bike,” he croaks. “Pretty specific one. Harley with custom work and paint. Blue and white skulls.” He spits out blood.
 

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you looking for it?”
 

“A friend says it’s stolen.”
 

Wind rustles through my hair and the sounds of children playing flashlight tag reminds me how precarious this situation is. I need to stay calm and not do anything I’ll regret.
 

Fuck. I can’t go back to jail. But if it comes between getting arrested to protect Pepper, well, I said I’d do anything for her.
 

“Who told you the bike was stolen?”
 

“No,” Big Guy moans. “Shut your damn mouth.”
 

I aim the gun at him, knowing that I can’t keep threatening to shoot. It only takes a few empty threats for someone to realize you’re too squeamish to pull the trigger. Only it’s not the sight of blood that’s stopping me. It’s the risk of losing Pepper for good this time.
 

“Tell me who said the bike was stolen,” I say and aim the gun at his dick. “Or you can kiss your cock goodbye.”
 

“No one,” he blurts and cowers. “Just talk.”
 

I nod, mind whirling. If these guys are just prospects to this scythe-bearing club, they won’t be fully informed. They’re just hearing talk as they hang around the club.
 

“And where is this talk originating?”
 

“Don’t know. Some sister club in California.”
 

Fuck.
“What club?” He doesn’t answer. I lurch forward, grab his collar and put the gun between his eyes.

He spits out more blood. “The Jackals.”
 

“God fucking dammit,” I huff, hating how the one word causes my blood to boil in anger…and makes a cold sweat break out along my back. I paid my fucking dues. I owe them nothing. What the hell do they want from me?
 

I let go of Nose Bleeder and take a few steps back. “You tell them there is no Harley here. If you don’t, I will find you and I will kill you. Slowly.”
 

I remove the magazine from the gun, pop the bullet out of the chamber, and wipe my prints off the gun. I throw it on the ground in front of the big guy. He cradles his arm to his chest.
 

“We clearly made a mistake. There’s no Harley in that garage. All we saw is a shiny Beamer.”
 

“Clearly. Now get the hell off my property before I call the cops and say you assaulted me.”
 

They scramble up and scurry to their motorcycles. I get on my own bike, abhorrence growing. I need to get to Pepper. If the Jackals know I’m here, they know about her. And if they know about her…they can hurt her.
 

*
 

I park my bike under the vestibule at the Davenwood Manor. Before I get my phone out to let Pepper know I’m here, a side door opens and Pepper steps out into the night. Golden light from the security lamps illuminate her face. My heart lurches in my chest just like it did all those years ago.