Chapter Five

JAGGER SLIPPED THE phone into his vest pocket and turned to continue the conversation with Ruger, only to find him gone. He scanned the room.

His vice president grabbed one of the muffins from the box on the table.

"Did you see where Ruger went?" he asked.

Bane shook his head and swallowed the bite of muffin. "I just got here."

"Damnit." He walked to the door and pushed his way outside.

Looking at the line of motorcycles, he searched for Ruger's bike and came up empty. He jogged to the group of Havlin members standing around the unlit burning barrel.

"Has anyone seen Ruger?" He gazed around the circle of men.

"He rode out less than two minutes ago." Dio carried a brown paper bag. "Want me to hunt him down?"

He shook his head. "Yell if you see him again."

"Will do, Prez."

He returned to the building. As if news of Ruger riding away from the clubhouse made Jagger a free man, he went directly to his bedroom, knowing Katrina would've followed his directions and taken a shower in his room.

He closed and locked the door behind him. The steady hum of the water from the shower let him know Katrina was in the bathroom. No door separated them. It was too tempting not to join her.

Whether he had five minutes or one minute before Ruger returned, he wouldn't waste the time.

He bent over and pulled the laces loose on his boots. When they were loose enough, he toed the heel and pulled his feet out. He set his pistol on the top of the dresser and undid his belt. Afraid she'd turn off the water before he got undressed, he hurried to remove the rest of his clothes.

Once naked, he stepped into the bathroom. Steam rolled out of the shower.

When he'd turned the old bus garage into a clubhouse, he put in enough single rooms to house some of their unmarried members. There were always those who crashed after parties or a long night working before they had to get on the road. The rooms were basic, ten by twelve feet, with one bed, chair, and nightstand. Nothing else was needed. Two rooms had bathrooms—one was used as a playroom for the younger kids when they showed up with a member. Everyone else used the two bathrooms in the hallway, and the bar in the clubhouse had a coffee maker and microwave if they wanted to heat something.

But his room was built for him. It was a large version of the others. The bed was in the main room, but he also had a couch, recliner, dresser, television, and an attached bathroom with a locker-room-style walk-in shower.

He stepped around the partition. His body tightened at the erotic scene in front of him.

Katrina had her head tilted back and her arms up, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. His gaze dropped to her breasts. Perky breasts that were plump and more than filled up his hands were raised for his viewing. Her nipples were relaxed and swollen under the flow of water cascading down her body. He curled his fingers. One touch and he'd turn them into hard nubs.

She reached blindly for the towel thrown over the three-quarter wall. He stepped in front of her and grabbed the towel, placing it in her hand.

Katrina dried her face and opened her eyes. Jagger gripped her hips, catching the sway of her body as shock hit her.

"You had to know I'd find a way to come to you," he whispered.

She threw the towel behind him, out of the shower, and snaked her arms around his neck. He held her against his body, taking the time to feel her skin against him.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered against his neck.

He lowered his head and captured her mouth. The frustration and anger from earlier were now gone. All that was left was a desperate need to make sure she still belonged to him. It'd been too long.

He turned her in the shower, letting the water spray beat on his back. Every fucking night he dreamed of having her in his arms again and not having her physically hurt him.

His cock hardened between their bodies. He pressed his hand against her lower back, arching her against him. It wasn't enough.

He shifted, hooking her thigh, and raised her leg. His cock throbbed, searching for home.

Katrina moaned impatiently. They had no time to dry off and go to bed. Ruger could come back any time. He wasn't going to miss his chance.

He pulled his mouth off her and pressed her against the tile. His ragged breath wasn't from the urgency. It'd been too long without her.

He was desperate and needy.

"Tell me to walk away." As he warned her, he took both her wrists and raised her arms above her head so she couldn't leave him.

Her breasts pushed against him in that position. The muscles in his ass tightened.

"I'm not the one who wants to walk away." She lunged forward, but he held her in place. "I want you. I've always wanted you. You're the one—"

He bent his knees, placed his cock between her thighs, and thrust into her in one move. Her groan vibrated throughout him. He pulled back, plunged, and dug his toes against the wet, tiled floor. He needed to bury himself in every single inch of her pussy.

"Jagger." The back of her head hit the wall as she moaned.

"Shut up." He kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw, and took her mouth. "And fuck me," he said against her lips.

He let go of her wrists and picked her up by the waist. "Wrap your legs around me."

Katrina looped her arms around his neck. He hefted her up until her thighs hugged him. Only then could he straighten his legs.

He cupped her ass, moving her against him. As his tongue entered her mouth, he buried his cock into her pussy. Feeling her wrapped around him, holding on to him, he wanted to keep her there. In his head, he'd kill anyone in his way, including Ruger.

Katrina squirmed, fisting his hair. Knowing she needed more, he slipped his cock out of her and put her on her feet. He turned her around and, inch by sweet inch, entered her pussy from behind.

She arched her back. He wrapped his arm around her hip and put his hand between her legs. Finding her wet, swollen clit with his finger, he rubbed without missing a stroke. The rhythm verged on painful and the most pleasurable thing he'd ever experienced.

"Harder." Katrina bucked back against him.

He slammed into her, grinding his cock into her. The front of his thighs slapped the back of her legs.

Katrina's breath came in short gusts. He controlled her breathing with his movements.

He thrust in. She breathed out. Back and forth.

Her ass quivered. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the water splashing on his calves had turned cold. But nothing would stop him from fucking her.

Her legs quivered. "Yes. Yes."

She exploded. The tightness around his cock clamped down on him, throbbing, milking. He removed his hand from between her legs and grabbed her hips. Plunging into her, he came up on his toes and came inside of her.

Jolt after jolt. She took everything from him and sucked him dry.

Katrina's head rolled forward. Her hands slid on the wall of the shower. He grabbed her waist and pulled her into a standing position. His cock slid out of her.

The pleasure of having her again left him as a heaviness settled on his shoulders. One of the main bylaws of Havlin Motorcycle Club was you wouldn't screw with a member's wife, sister, or daughter.

He wanted to blame fucking her for losing his head. But he wasn't the kind of man who acted before thinking. He knew damn well what he was doing.

Holding her close, he ran his hand up the inside of her arm until he found the birth control implant under her skin. He'd taken her to the doctor and had it put in her. He knew how long they lasted.

"Is that a new one?" It'd been over three years since he'd taken her to the clinic.

She turned in his arms and looked up at him. "Do you think I'd try and get pregnant?"

"To keep me? Yeah." He stepped into the spray of the water, quickly rinsing off. "The water's cold." He stepped around her. "Clean up the best you can, get dressed, and then I need to get you out of here."

He exited the shower, grabbed a towel, and entered the bedroom. Redressing, he understood how badly he'd fucked up.

When it came to Katrina, he acted first and thought later. She was his heart. He needed her more than life, and it was hell living without her.

He only had himself to blame. He let her depend on him. He even encouraged her. That's what Ruger had wanted him to do. But it all changed as she got older.

He'd started the Seaglass Cove Chapter to get away from Katrina. If they ever ran into each other again, he hoped that whatever kept him tied to her would disappear. As much as he hated the thought of her falling in love with someone else, it would've been easier if she'd walked away from him.

Katrina came out of the bathroom naked and grabbed her bag. "That was low, even for you, Jagger. You can't have me and then turn around and be an asshole."

They had no time to discuss what was happening between them. He'd told her to stay away from him, and she showed up in Seaglass Cove. She had to know what would happen. He had no control around her.

"Get your ass in gear." He slid his pistol into his inner vest pocket. "Ruger could show up at any time."

She shoved her arm through her shirt. "I'm so sick of hearing about my dad."

"I'm sworn to the patch." He ogled her body as she pulled on a pair of panties and grabbed her jeans. "I'm the president of—"

"Whatever."

"Katrina." He exhaled harshly. "We've had this argument before."

She shoved her feet in a pair of Chucks. "It's bullshit."

"Watch your mouth."

She flung her wet hair over her shoulder, picked up her duffle, and swung it in front of her, trying to hit him. He stepped back. She could be pissed all she wanted, and nothing would change until Ruger permitted him to have a relationship with Katrina.

The last time Ruger caught him with his hands on Katrina, he crawled away with a broken shoulder and bruised kidneys. There wouldn't be a next time because Ruger would kill him instantly—and the club would support Ruger because it was written in the bylaws.

His only hope was that once Katrina became an age where Ruger believed she could make mature decisions, he'd let her lead her life the way she chooses.

Of course, by then, he'd probably be dead.

She swung the bag again, hitting him on the shoulder. He could see her spiraling. The benefits of having her grow up within the club meant she knew how to protect herself and there were hundreds of men ready to defend her. But the drawback was she picked up a biker's lifestyle too easily.

Her temper often went from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye. She had a dirty mouth that could scar a man. While living around Havlin members, she'd learned to punch, kick, and stab.

She was tough.

But underneath that hard exterior she'd built, she was soft. She was his. And he'd never change her because to him, she was perfect.

Wild and loyal, and a little crazy.

He walked to the door and cracked it open. The hallway was clear. He motioned for her to leave.

She walked toward him, barely keeping her chin from trembling. He stopped her before she could slip past him.

Holding on to her wrist, he forced himself to send her away. "Take care of yourself, Katrina."

"I hate you." The words barely got beyond her clamped lips.

"No, you don't."

"I do." A tear slid down her cheek.

He caught it with the pad of his thumb. "Damnit, don't cry."

Katrina lashed out, swinging her arms. He took the pounding. He deserved every ounce of pain he'd caused her.

He knew when she was thirteen years old and infatuated with him that he should've sent her away.

When she was sixteen and found every opportunity to throw her arms around his neck, he should've forbidden her to enter the clubhouse.

Time after time, life threw them together until their age difference no longer mattered. They were two healthy people who connected on a different level.

She'd slipped into his heart and refused to leave. And he could do nothing about it because he was in too deep with her.

He loved Katrina more than he loved the club, and that was dangerous for a man like him. He was a leader. But Katrina made him blind and irresponsible.

Her bag hit the floor. She pummeled his chest with both fists.

"You're just like everyone else," she screamed.

He refused to stop her from hitting him. Since she was a little girl, she feared people leaving her. Understandable, considering her mom abandoned her. Her father left her and spent almost her whole life in prison.

He'd repeatedly promised her he would never leave, and she took him moving to Seaglass Cove as another person who had left her.

"No, I'm not," he whispered. "You know me better than that."

"You leave and don't even think about me." She slapped his shoulders. "You promised me."

He hadn't left her willingly.

She kicked out and yelled in pain when her foot connected with his boot.

Bane entered the hallway, grabbing Katrina from behind and dragging her away from him. He never took his gaze off her.

"Fuck you, Jagger." She squirmed in Bane's grasp. "You dirty cock-sucker. You can go to hell, asshole."

Her screams of profanity kept going long after Bane took her out of sight. Jagger walked back into the bedroom. The door shut. He swung out and punched the wall.

Hot pain radiated throughout his hand. Even his agony couldn't distract him from the painful cries filtering into his room.

She had a right to act out toward him. He deserved every name she could throw at him. He also knew that once she settled down, she'd be right back fighting for him, and that was a hard love to walk away from.