Chapter Thirty Four

A NEW DAWN brOUGHT clarity. After a fitful sleep, Katrina had breakfast with Cora at the house while Wire rode to the clubhouse. Somehow, through the long hours of the night, she found the strength to fight for what she wanted.

Being by herself last night allowed her to see all sides, and she woke up that morning knowing the only person who had to change was her dad's opinion on continuing to punish Jagger.

She loved her dad, but he was wrong.

The Havlin members lived by the laws of the club, not society's laws, not man's law. In most cases, she understood why they were in place. Bikers were wild and predatory, selfish and reckless. They lived one day at a time. The only thing keeping them civilized were the bylaws they swore their life upon when getting patched in. Their patch meant everything.

But love trumped the patch. It was the motivator behind the bylaws. It was family. It was protecting your brother. It was putting yourself in front of another to save their life.

Her dad had to see that Jagger had no way to stop the love that grew between them, and in the end, hadn't he protected her?

Hadn't her dad protected Jagger by taking the gun and trying to help him get away from the cops? He'd done what the bylaws stated. He had his brother's back.

Now, he needed to step up and admit that Jagger had her back all those years her dad was gone.

She parked her car behind the clubhouse, surprised to find the only Havlin member outside was Camhead, who stood by the back door. Checking her phone, she found several messages in her voicemail. All of them came from Jagger.

Glancing at the clubhouse, her heart raced. Had something happened? She never thought to check her voicemail because Jagger never left messages. Ever.

Her thoughts went instantly to her dad and his safety after getting beaten.

She sat in the driver's seat and listened to the first message. Her pulse pounded at the sound of Jagger's voice, hanging on to every word. As soon as the first message ended, she started the second and then the third, fourth, and fifth.

Grabbing her keys and bag, she hurried out of the car and ran across the parking area to the back door.

Camhead stepped in front of her, barring the door. "Sorry, the clubhouse is closed."

"Why?" she asked.

"Club business."

She exhaled impatiently. "For how long?"

"When they tell me I can open the door."

She dropped her bag to the ground and tapped Jagger's number on her phone. The call went to voicemail. She disconnected without leaving a message. There was nothing she could do until they were done.

Picking up her bag, she walked to the shady spot next to the building and sat on her duffle. She vibrated from the messages left on her phone. Now she understood how much Jagger had held back. He'd never declared his love in such a way it filled her with confidence about their relationship.

He'd fought his feelings for so long. He'd hidden them from everyone but her. It'd taken him the courage to put it all out there for her to hear and accept.

She never thought he'd express himself to her that way. An inkling of doubt crept in. Why would he spill his feelings out on the phone?

She looked at the clubhouse door and shook her head. Jagger wouldn't—dread punched her in the gut, and she scrambled to her feet, running toward the clubhouse.

There was only one reason why Jagger would leave her messages. He was going to approach her dad and take his punishment, and he feared never talking to her again.

Camhead caught her before she reached the door handle. She swung wildly, aiming at his face.

"Let. Go." She grabbed his hair and shook. "I need my dad."

"I can't—Jesus, woman." Camhead grabbed her wrist. "Jagger ordered—"

She brought up her knee like Jagger had taught her when she was twelve, and Bobby Sandburg kept trying to snap her bra. Camhead doubled over, letting go of her. She lunged for the door and fell into the clubhouse in her hurry. Pushing to her feet, she charged forward, grabbing leather vests as she pulled herself through the crowd.

Making it through the circle of men congregating in the clubhouse, she fell to her knees at the sight of the two men facing each other. Panic swept through her.

"Dad," she screamed.

Her father swung, knocking Jagger backward, but he stayed on his feet. She gasped, reaching out, but one of the Havlin members pulled her out of the way.

"Let me go." She pushed against the man.

The guy thrust her into Bane's arms. "Get her out of here."

"No. No. Please." She flinched as skin slapped skin.

Blood ran from Jagger's face. He wasn't protecting himself against her father. He wasn't fighting.

"Come on," yelled her dad, posed with his fists in front of him. "Hit me back."

Jagger weaved, unsteady on his feet. "Just do it. Kill me."

"No," she screamed, falling to her knees. "Daddy, don't."

Her dad never even looked at her. She looked at Jagger. He stood in front of her dad with his arms at his sides.

The tension between them was palpable, their eyes locked in a way no one around them would understand. Her dad clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Jagger held his head up, surrendering for punishment but keeping his dignity as the president. He lived for Havlin Motorcycle Club. He believed in the bylaws. He'd pledged his life to each man watching the punishment.

He was an example.

For him to stand there and take the punishment, he had to have ordered each man to stand down. She looked around, seeking anyone who would help her stop them. But she could see the conflict on their faces. They were bothered by the punishment but knew the rules. They wouldn't go against their president's order.

She swallowed her sobs. Jagger was harder on himself than her father was on him. He truly believed death should be his punishment.

Without any warning, her dad lunged forward, aiming a punch at Jagger's stomach. She gasped, covering her mouth. Jagger went down on his knees, grunted, and regained his footing. A grimace of pain flashed across his swollen face.

Her dad walked around Jagger. Quick movements became a blur of punches and kicks.

Katrina barely recognized her father. He was the man others feared. The man who she visited in prison. The one she believed had murdered before. The one still bruised and swollen from fighting his own war.

With a swift uppercut, her dad sent Jagger sprawling to the floor. He tried to rise, but the fight had taken its toll.

"Stop." She couldn't hear her voice. "Please."

In the back of her consciousness, a scream tore through the room. Her dad looked away from Jagger. She followed his gaze into the crowd. A slim, petite woman fought to get past the men. It took Katrina a moment to recognize Rachel.

Katrina's dad stepped toward the crowd. "Don't touch her."

The men parted, letting Rachel through. Her dad swept his thick arms around her, wrapping her against the front of him.

Rachel's hands flew over Katrina's dad's face. He spoke, but the rumbling in the room from the Havlin members made it impossible to hear what he told her.

Jagger pushed himself to his knees, and there he stayed, unable to get up. Katrina crawled out to him.

"Kat." Jagger's head rolled on his shoulders. "Someone get her out of here."

"No." She grabbed his vest, holding him up as she looked over her shoulder at her dad. "No more. You're killing him."

Her dad's hardened gaze softened, looking at her. "For you. He lives. The punishment is done."

Jagger toppled over. She couldn't hold him up.

Men came forward, dragging Jagger to his feet. She looked back at her dad, but he was gone.

"Kat?"

She turned to Jagger. "I'm here."

"Looks like you're stuck with me." He coughed, spitting blood. "Get me some Jack."

She spotted Dio and told him to get the alcohol. There was no way she would leave his side, not for a long, long time.

They helped him to the table and dropped him in the president's chair. She kneeled at his side, afraid to touch him.

"He needs ice and wet towels." She looked around. "Where's Cord?"

Bane stepped forward. "He's grabbing his bag."

Jagger wheezed. He'd closed his eyes.

"Tell him to hurry." She grasped Jagger's hand, probably the only part of his body that wasn't hurting.

"Calm down." He squeezed her hand with more strength than she believed he had left in him. "I'm not going anywhere."

She muttered, "I'll never forgive him for doing this to you."

"He did what had to be done." Jagger groaned, pitching forward. "If you were my daughter, I would've killed..."

"Stop." Her head swirled.

Cord arrived and pushed everyone back. Bane kept the men moving until everyone was out of the clubhouse.

"Where's it hurt?" asked Cord.

"I'm fine."

"He's not breathing right." Katrina stood. "His mouth is bleeding."

Dio returned with a bottle of whiskey. "Here you go, Prez."

Jagger grunted and then lifted the bottle to his mouth. Katrina watched his every move.

He coughed and lowered the bottle. Dio stepped forward and lifted the drink to Jagger's lips. Katrina shook her head. While she agreed that he needed something for the pain, something wasn't right with the way Jagger moved.

Cord leaned over and poked Jagger in the side. He stiffened, turning red in the face. She came up on her toes. He wasn't breathing.

"His ribs are broken." Cord grabbed Jagger's jaw and opened his mouth. "Well, you haven't lost any teeth. Yet." Cord stepped back. "Call me if anything else comes up."

"Wait." She waved her hand over Jagger in the chair. "Do something for his ribs."

"Not much you can do for broken ribs. They'll heal."

"But he can't breathe." She stayed close to him.

"He can breathe." Cord picked up his bag. "It'll just hurt like hell. The whiskey will help. Keep him propped up in bed for a couple of days."

The men stepped away to talk. Katrina returned to her knees and put her hands on his thigh. All she could do was pray the whiskey helped with the pain.

Jagger patted her hand. "Kat?"

"Yes?"

"Lift the bottle for me."

There was not much more he'd allow her to do. Stubborn man.

The punishment was over, but the damage sat in front of her, reminding her of what her father had done to the man she loved.