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“We’re in this together,” Doc said, clapping a hand on Rubble’s back. “Let’s go get your girl.”
CHAPTER34
JUPITER
Curls of cigarsmoke mingled with the crisp air on the balcony overlooking Snowshoe. Every other puff hit Jupiter’s face and her stomach lurched for more reason than forgetting to eat lunch. Lyle didn’t bother to snuff out the cigar before tossing it to the snowbank below. He turned slightly and held out his hand. She wanted to smack it away and shove the small gun she had concealed to his ribcage. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“Pet, I’ve missed you.” The malevolent glow inside of him lit up his dark eyes, no soul staring back at her. “Come give me the hug I’ve desperately been awaiting.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
If she thought her words would catch him off guard, she was sorely disappointed. Lyle chuckled, the low sound snaking up her spine.
“I see being around the biker gang has loosened your usually tight tongue.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and forced her into the room. One of his bodyguards locked the glass door and stood in front of it, cutting off that possible escape route.
“No, being around Macha has shown me exactly what I want in life.”
Lyle narrowed his eyes. “And what is that? A poor biker who treats you like a piece of meat? A lifetime of constantly worrying about money?” He clucked his tongue and slowly grazed her neck with his fingers. “That doesn’t sound like the woman I know.”
Jupiter held in the inevitable shudder. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction. “You don’t know me anymore. I’m not the same woman you met all those years ago.” She straightened, holding her chin a notch higher. “I know who I am and what I want.” She pulled out the folded papers from her jacket. “And I want you to sign these and leave me and the club the hell alone.”
Licking his bottom lip, Lyle slowly scrutinized her. From the glint in his eyes, she knew he was undressing her in his mind. The familiar darkness didn’t scare her anymore. The fear that he’d beat her until she passed out wasn’t gone, but it didn’t agitate her either. Being around Rubble and Macha bolstered her courage. She wouldn’t let this man destroy her life again.
“Perhaps I will.” He loosened his tie, the act one she’d seen too many times before she passed out. A lump formed in her throat, his movements sickening her. “But not until after I have one final night with you.”
The hired men didn’t move and for a brief second, uncertainty wavered in her mind. The heaviness of the weapon in her other pocket calmed her and she rubbed it reassuringly. “No.”
Lyle stopped his approach, hand on his belt. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
“I’m your husband, Jupiter, whether you want to admit it or not.” He stalked closer, eyes taking on a demonic hue. “I have needs. Needs you, my wife, can appease.” He reached her and gripped her hair, yanking her face to his. “And you know I enjoy it when you struggle, so please”—he laced his free hand around her throat, choking her slightly—“pleasestruggle.”
Jupiter’s heart raced, but her mind was clear. She slid the gun out of her pocket and jabbed it against his heart. “Sign the goddamn papers, Lyle, or I’ll become a very rich widow.”
Worry flickered in his putrid eyes and he snarled, holding her tighter. “Some people can get away with murder, pet. You’re not one of them.” He bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. “But I am.”
Cocking the gun, Jupiter readied her finger to squeeze the trigger. She’d done it many times before but always at a target. Shooting a man of flesh and blood was completely different. She hesitated and Lyle used it to his advantage. He grabbed her wrist and flung the gun out of her grip. A shot rang out, and one of his bodyguards let out an anguished cry and clutched his leg, hit by the wild shot.
A thud echoed in the hallway and the door splintered open. Ducking down, Jupiter moved toward the sofa’s safety. More bullets riddled the room, manly shouts morphing into curses. Warmth sprayed the side of her face, blood dripping down her chin. She muted a cry, praying it wasn’t Rubble’s.Where’s my gun?
Looking up, she spotted Lyle hunkered behind the reclining chair. Her eyes dipped to the floor and she winced. The gun sat between them by the fireplace, accessible to both. Lyle met her gaze and leered before pointing his gun at her. She dove just as he let off a round. The bullet hit the standing lamp, shattering the glass. Jupiter fell with a thud and tucked into a ball. She didn’t have time to evaluate how painful it felt or the throbbing pulse in the arm previously injured from her skiing disaster.
“Come out, pet, and let’s finish this,” Lyle sang in a mocking voice.
She peeked around the sofa and saw several Macha bikers throwing punches at the hired goons. Only two men with patches lay on the floor, but she couldn’t tell if they were injured or dead. She hadn’t spotted Rubble yet and that fact soured her mind.
Crawling on her belly, she moved for the patio. If she could get outside and hop over the side, she’d land on a snowdrift. The fall wouldn’t kill her. She’d been through worse broken bones. There was no way she’d make it across the room to get her gun. Finding one of Lyle’s bodyguards on the floor, she grabbed his discarded weapon.
“Jupiter!”
Rubble’s voice made her pause and bite back tears. The gravelly baritone was thick with emotion. His was the voice she loved. And the same one she couldn’t afford to lose.
Carefully, she poked her nose around the side of the couch and saw him at the door. His burly frame filled it easily.Oh, thank the goddess.
His mismatched eyes scanned the room, his lips moving silently as he searched for her. When their eyes met, she saw his breath of relief. Carefully, she moved toward him, grateful his brothers were keeping Lyle’s thugs occupied.
Rubble took a step closer, but the tenderness in his eyes waned in the next moment, one she couldn’t prevent. Lyle stood and peppered bullets toward the doorway. One of them hit Rubble in the chest. Jupiter’s ears rang from the incessant firing, and she screamed, the sound inaudible among the chaos. She turned and walked without hesitation toward Lyle, pulling the trigger.
