Chapter Nine

THE MUSIC PLAYING AND the raised voices created a hum inside the clubhouse. Jagger lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, trying his best to numb the pain.

Bane walked into the clubhouse with his arm around Daisy. Jagger pushed off the wall, set down the whiskey bottle, and headed toward the hallway. There was no reason for him to stay at the party now that his V.P. was around to make sure the men wouldn't kill each other.

The men deserved to let loose. Let them party and wear themselves out before the real work starts.

One of the bitches stepped in front of him, curling around him like a snake. Her half-naked body warm and inviting.

"I can make you feel good." She cupped his crotch.

His cock pulsed for attention. He'd tried to find comfort with others. Tried to lose himself in the arms of other women. But it was only sex, a temporary distraction.

"Find someone else, sweetheart." He smacked her ass, sending her on her way.

In his room, he shut the door. Taking the pistol out from underneath his belt, he set the gun on the dresser. It was early yet. The party would go on until the early morning.

He stretched out on the couch and dug his phone out of his vest pocket. As he noticed the missed call, his body tightened, and he sat up.

Hitting voicemail, he waited for the voice that haunted his dreams.

"It's me. I've been thinking about you."

His pulse roared in his ears. He walked across the room, grabbed his pistol, and tucked the weapon underneath his belt while listening to the end of the message. Then, he stormed out of the room and through the clubhouse.

Dio darted toward him, jogging to keep up with him. "Hey, what's the hurry?"

"Tell Bane to stick around for a few hours." Jagger pushed out the door. "I've got somewhere I need to go."

"Do you need riders?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Sure, Prez." Dio hung back. "Ride safe."

He took his helmet off the handlebar and slapped it on his head. Within twenty seconds, he rolled away from the clubhouse. What other women couldn't do for him, Katrina could do with one simple message on the phone.

He had a collection of messages through the years. Times when he couldn't listen to the sound of her voice because she made him reckless, and as the president of Havlin, it was a cost he couldn't afford. Other times, he waited impatiently for her call to go to voicemail so he could listen over and over.

At the party, he'd seen Wire and Cora there. They were having a good time near the pool table. There was no one home with Katrina. She was alone.

The closeness of her staying at Wire's house, just five minutes away, made it impossible for him to ignore her call. It starkly contrasted with when she lived in Beaverton, where the added distance gave him the time to resist her. He'd started many rides, heading north, only to turn around before reaching the mother chapter. Now, with her so close, he couldn't resist the call.

As he rolled into the driveway, the magnitude of Katrina's power over him bolstered him forward. It was a power that kept him coming back to her, time and time again.

A power he gave to her. Only her.

Katrina was tough and strong for everyone in her life. She played the perfect adopted daughter for Mama Sue. She bent over backward to be the daughter Ruger wanted. Around Havlin members, she was the sexy chick with a quick comeback and a heart of gold or the kid sister many of them never had.

But to him, she was life.

He was a cold-hearted asshole. Raised by Baller to walk in his footsteps, Jagger had no room for emotions, love, and regrets. All those fast-hard rules, loyalty pledges, and riding under the same colors were placed there for a reason.

Katrina broke through every barrier he'd set up. She'd shown him there was more he needed in life besides the club, danger, and fighting every day to retain his freedom.

He pulled to a stop behind the van parked in Wire's driveway. Toeing the kickstand, he swung his leg over the seat and stalked toward the side of the vehicle.

Every light was out at the house and in the van. It was after midnight. She probably fell asleep.

"Kat." He knocked on the side of the van loud enough to wake the dead. "Wake up."

The door slid open. Katrina stood in the opening, brushing the hair away from her eyes, wearing a pair of black panties and a tank that landed several inches above her belly button.

His cock pulsed to life the moment she recognized him standing outside. She leaped. He caught her and carried her back into the van. Her warm body took the chill of him from the ride over.

"You came." She wrapped her legs around him.

He sat on the couch, not letting her go. Framing her face with his hands, he held her close but couldn't see her in the dark.

"Where's the light?" He flung his arm to the side, trailing his hand against the van's interior.

"Here."

An overhead beam came on, filling the van with a dim light. He blinked against the glare, taking in Katrina's heavy-lidded eyes. She'd been crying. Mascara stained her face.

"I think about you." The answer to the question she left on the phone ripped from his soul. "All the fucking time, Kat. You know that."

"Why are you so mean to me?" She thrust her fingers into his hair, smoothing back the strands. "I want us to be together."

"We have tonight." He captured her mouth. "Right now."

"I want more," she said against his lips.

Greedy girl. She always wanted more. She'd taken everything from him.

He slid his hands down the front of her neck. Her skin was warm from sleep. He cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms. This all should be his every night. Every day. It was his right. She'd given herself to him. Katrina belonged to him.

She pulled the edges of his vest apart, diving her hands underneath and tugging on his shirt.

He used his mouth to open her lips. "Give me the tip of your tongue."

She moaned, meeting his tongue. He took her into his mouth, stroking the velvet softness. She had the sweetest mouth that could start a war, but it belonged to him.

"I want—" She fought him with her tongue. "To touch all of you."

He pulled his mouth off her, shrugged out of his vest, and set his pistol on the couch. Grabbing the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck, he yanked the material until he was bare-chested.

Katrina planted both hands on his chest, kneading the front of him. He let his head fall back. His cock wanted out of his jeans. If she continued touching him, he was going to blow his load.

He hooked his thumb in the elastic of her panties and tugged her closer, rocking her on his lap. The urgency to have her escalated. His blood rolled hot.

Afraid of hurting her, he held back, letting her love on him instead. Greedily taking her attention—any bit of attention he could get.

There was nobody else he'd rather hold. She made him crazy. She made life dangerous.

Never a thrill seeker, he found himself aching for the adrenaline rush she brought with her every time they got together.

He pulled his mouth off her, breathing heavily. Ruger was right. Jagger had no right to touch her.

The hum of a motorcycle made it through the walls of the van. It would never be the right time for them or the right place. He owed Ruger.

Katrina whined, pulling his hair and trying to kiss him. The material at her hip ripped in his hands. Bare skin burned his soul. He picked her up and tossed her off before standing.

Katrina frowned at him. "Jag?"

He thrust his hands through his hair. "You need to get out of here."

"Me?" She stood. "I'm staying in the van."

"You need to get out of town. Go back to Beaverton. Go back to Ruger." He cupped his cock, rearranging it in his jeans. "It was a bad idea coming here."

"I want to be with you."

He gritted his teeth. "We both know I should've stayed away tonight."

"I don't care what my dad says. I want—"

"This has nothing to do with what you want, Kat. This is about my loyalty to Havlin."

"Fuck Havlin." Katrina stood, ignoring her ripped panties hanging on one thigh. "Ever since I can remember, Havlin has taken you from me. If it's not the club, it's my dad. You're going to end up dead, having never had the chance to love me the way I know you want to love me. Damnit, Jagger. I can see how you feel about me." She patted her chest. "I know. Don't lie to me."

"You think what I want matters?" " He shut off the light, spread the blinds with his fingers, and peeked outside. "Wire and Cora are home."

"So." Katrina folded her arms.

"So...neither one of them is going to understand why I'm in the van with you." He slipped his shirt back on, picked his pistol up, and slid his arms into his vest. "If I didn't have a club to run, I'd let Ruger kill me and put me out of my fucking misery."

"That's not funny."

He took in her tousled hair. Any member of Havlin would take one look at her with her red, swollen lips, ripped panties, and his handprints on her bare skin and execute him on sight.

"For both our fucking sakes, stay in the van and let me handle Wire." He paused at the door, knowing it could be the last time he got to be alone with her again. He stepped in front of her and kissed her deeply.

When he pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. He cupped her face, strumming her cheeks with his thumbs. Forty-six years old, and this girl, this woman, was going to get him killed.

He walked backward, reaching for the door handle. The moment he opened the door, he jumped out of the van and closed it up tight. Katrina needed to stay inside.

His hope that Wire went inside with his wife ended as he reached his Harley. Wire stood several feet away. All he could see was the cherry glow of his cigarette in the night.

"Prez."

Jagger sat on his bike. "Is the party dying down?"

"Nah." Wire stepped closer. "Cora's covering for Maverick's old lady at the coffee shop tomorrow and has to get up early, so we left early."

He grunted and put on his helmet.

"Night." Wire slapped him on the shoulder. "Watch the road."

"Yep." He started the Harley and rode away.

Wire wouldn't say anything to Ruger about Jagger being in the van tonight with Katrina. As the president, his men would not turn on him. But Wire's old lady was another story. Cora, being big on family, would run straight to Ruger if she believed Katrina was in danger of getting used.

The two girls had only found each other, but if Cora believed Katrina would get hurt, she'd shout out to the world who was responsible.

He needed to talk to Ruger.

Katrina couldn't go on living under the impression that he was afraid of facing Ruger about their feelings toward each other. Throughout the years, he had never told anyone, not even the members of Havlin, what happened the night Ruger got arrested.

If Katrina found out he was responsible for her losing her dad for eighteen years, it would rip away any love she had for Jagger. She loved Ruger with the fierceness of someone who had lost the most important person in her life and had been blessed to get him back. She wasn't going to do anything to lose her dad again.

He pulled into the back of the clubhouse and parked near the door. Music replaced the rumble of his Harley as he shut off the bike.

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Katrina wasn't going to give him any peace tonight.

Looking at the screen, he frowned. It was Bane.

"Yeah?" he said.

"How close are you to coming back to the clubhouse?"

"I just got back and parked my bike."

"Stay there. I'll come out."

He put the phone back in his pocket and lit a cigarette. It was going to be a long fucking night. His balls ached. His head pounded. The only thing he could do was go inside and pick up his best friend, Jack Daniels.

The back door swung open, and Bane stepped outside, looking around. He moved away from his bike and got out of the shadows.

His V.P. came right to him. "Sorry to spring this on you, Prez, but I got a call from Hatchet."

The president of Havlin, who'd taken over after Baller got murdered, rarely called unless shit was going down or it was time for the quarterly meeting.

"They took Mama Sue to the hospital—"

"Why?" Tension braced him for bad news, and he tossed his cigarette to the ground.

"They believe she had a heart attack."

"Get Hatchet on the phone and have someone grab my duffle from my room." He pulled out his phone and called Wire.

Wire answered on the first ring. "Prez?"

"I need a favor," said Jagger.

"Name it."

"I need to leave town and could use your Sprinter van."

"Sure. I'll get Katrina out and—"

"Leave her alone. She's going with me." He disconnected the call and found Bane holding a phone out to him.

Wide awake, all he needed to do was get to Beaverton. Nothing else mattered. His mom needed family around her.

As Hatchet filled him in on finding his mom slumped over on the porch in her rocker and gave him the hospital information where the ambulance took Mama Sue, he prepared himself for the worst. Three hours was a long time to travel when each second mattered.