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Guess not.
I turn in time to see him scrubbing the contrite look off his face, and our eyes meet. Sadness versus guilt. I need answers, and he has them. He’s looking for redemption, and I’m pretty sure I’m it. If he saves me, he’s fulfilling a brotherly oath to Bodie. But that must mean I’m in deeper shit than he’s letting on, and by coming here, I’ve knocked down the first domino. There’s no way to stop each one from falling. Not now the floodgates are open. After pulling on my shoes, I snatch up my jeans and purse, wiping my snotty nose on the back of my hand. I’m a sniveling mess, and it pains me to walk through the dingy dive bar with all those beady eyes watching me. Jason claims he must prove I've taken my punishment, but the way some of the guys are looking at me as I walk out of the room holding Jason’s arm, I’d say it’s more than that. It’s like I’m fresh meat. But thanks to Jason, parading me around like a show horse, it means my pussy is off the menu. I’m his. And now everyone here knows it.
“You can thank me properly when we get home,” Jason utters into my ear suggestively.
Mohawk Man topples his chair over as he stands, and all his goons follow. They don’t seem happy with how things have worked out. But I get the feeling they came here looking for a fight no matter the outcome.
“Gonna need my arm back for a sec,” Jason says, shoving me at his pal, Rooster. “Hold on to my girl while I take out the trash.”
Mohawk Man pulls out a flick knife.
“Jason!” I gasp with horror.
Jason moves fast, grabbing Mohawk Man’s arm, twisting his wrist, then headbutts him smack in the face. Rooster drags me out of the way as Tex and Hustle jump into the fight, throwing punches at the unwelcome guests. Jason shakes the blood from his knuckles, then swoops me up onto his shoulder like a caveman. The unexpected, speedy motion makes me dizzy, the floor bouncing in and out of focus.
“Scream my name all you want when we’re fucking. But in front of everyone else, the name’s Havoc,” Jason remarks, landing another stinging slap on my butt.
ChapterFour
Jason carries me outside, away from all the hurtling bottles, swinging fists, and all the utter carnage that comes with a biker bar fight. I’ve never seen anything like it – what I can see from my upside-down angle. It’s both scary as fuck and the most exciting thing to ever happen to me. Jason puts me down, and the door swings shut on all the chaos taking place inside.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand as I remove my shoes to pull my jeans back on in the parking lot, the grit and stones biting into the soles of my bare feet.
“The Clubhouse,” Jason tells me, being vague with the details.
“Wait, this isn’t it?” I thumb behind me.
Jason eyes me sharply. “No, this ain’t it,” he replies, sounding offended by that.
“Oh, I just assumed,” I say before Jason cuts me off.
“You assumed we’d all bundle together under one big blanket and have a gangbang?” He casts a critical eye over me as I button up my fly. “Sometimes I wish Bodie had been more open with you about things. We’re nothing like those meatheads in there. We have standards, Keira. The boys and I fixed up a place down by the river. It’s not much, but it’s clean. It’s warm. And it’s home.” His eyes cut to the bar door as something slams against it. “Let’s get you out of here before the shitshow erupts onto the parking lot.”
Mohawk Guy comes hurtling through the door, followed by Tex, who strolls out dusting his palms. Hustle and Rooster give his goons a helping hand by tossing them onto the dusty ground.
“Go back and tell your boss I said no. And if he or any of you ever show your faces here again, it won’t end well for any of you,” Jason warns them.
Mohawk Guy spits blood onto the ground, then glowers at Jason as he gets up. “You’re gonna regret this.”
Jason pulls out a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “You’ve got some nerve, threatening me on my turf.” He takes off the safety, and my mouth runs dry.
“Jason, what are you doing?” I murmur, my heart pounding as I curl my hand around his arm.
Jason jerks his elbow away, his face twisting into an angry snarl. “You’ve got until I count to three to fuck off back to whatever rat hole you crawled out from before I start shooting.”
The goons scramble away before Mohawk Guy does. He starts running the moment Jason starts counting. Jason doesn’t even get to three; he chuckles after counting to two, watching them scuttle out of view like a cluster of roaches. He puts the safety on, then thrusts the gun back inside the waistband of his jeans, his face stern as he looks at me.
“Never question me in front of the enemy.” Jason grabs my wrist and pulls me along. “And you used my real name when I specifically told you not to.”
“Uh-oh,” Rooster chortles behind me. “Someone just earned another ass whooping.”
I hear the guys laughing behind us, their voices fading as I run to match Jason’s hurried pace. His hostile body language is making me nervous. I don’t want him to be mad at me. I like him better when he’s nice. It didn't matter how bitchy I was to him before today. He always shrugged it off. But now it’s like the slightest roll of my eyes, angry exhale, or the tiniest little comment is going to earn me a smacked backside or worse. I’m his now, and it’s like he’s setting an example. If he can’t control me, then he can’t control anything. And I totally get it. But I get a kick out of winding him up. What the hell am I gonna do for fun now?
Jason leads me to his Harley Davidson cruiser. It’s large and sexy, just like him, and he stares at me as if he’s expecting me to just get on the back and ride pillion with him. I’m not afraid of bikes. I just don’t trust the fuckers who ride them.
“Are you nuts? I’m not getting on that thing with you,” I tell him straight. “I’ll get cut to bits if I fall off.”
Jason gets on the bike and then taps the seat with a smirk on his face. “If you don’t, I’ll spank you in front of the whole fucking club. How about that?”
