Page 3 of Jett

“Shut the fuck up.” His rough hands tug at my jeans. I’m not a slim girl, so they don’t budge. He yanks harder. “My boss wants you to deliver a message to your biker scum, but he never said anything about how fucking sweet this arse would be. There’s nothing wrong with a little fun first, huh, blondie?” He slides his hand between my legs, groping me with rough touches.

“No. Get off me! Please. Stop!”

He yanks my jeans, causing my body to slide against the abrasive concrete. I scream and manage a solid kick to his groin. He reels back, but I can’t get away fast enough, and I’m slammed back down to the pavement. He tugs at my waistband, ripping the seams, as I fight to get away. My efforts only help him to expose more of my lower abdomen. And then he pulls out the gun, and I still completely.

The arsehole smiles as he cocks the pistol and shoves the cold metal against my head. “That’s more like it. Now, you’re going to slide your jeans down the rest of the way and let me inside that tight little cunt. I’m going to rape you bloody, and at the end, you’re going to call your boss and tell him we want the big guy. He fucked with Russian affairs, and now the Russians fuck him in return. But first, blondie, I’m going to shove my cock in so deep that you’ll feel it in your throat.”

GRIM

“YOU BOYS BE GOOD.”Raine smiles at Kick and Crazy as she’s pulling her keys from the purse on her shoulder. I don’t know why she needs her keys when she hasn’t driven her car in a goddamn month. I can’t exactly ask her though, because I’m not supposed to know her every move, but I do.And wouldn’t Prez just love to know that? He’d have my balls for paperweights if he knew just how closely I’ve watched this woman.

“Always, babe.” Kick shoots her a wink and puts his feet up on the coffee table. A table Raine just got done cleaning an hour ago.Fucking arsehole.

I liked Kick. I’ve always had a soft spot for the kid, until Raine started working here, that is. Now I hate the closeness those two share. Doesn’t matter that he’s only got eyes for his old lady—he’s still a man, and I don’t like that they’re as tight as they are, maybe because deep down I resent him. She trusts him. She knows she’s safe with him. With me, on the other hand? Safe is probably the last thing she feels.

Raine leaves, and I force myself to wait a full five minutes before I slam my empty bottle on the bar and slide from the stool.

“Night, Reaper,” Kick says, and I’d give my left nut to wipe that goddamn self-assured smile off his face, but I have zero interest in starting something I have no time to finish.

“Don’t you have an old lady to go home to now?”

“Girls’ night out. They’re throwin’ a farewell for one of the bitches who works at the coffee shop. I’m just killin’ time until Indie calls me to pick her fine arse up and drive her home.”

I glance at Brooke, one of the resident club whores, who sits beside Kick.

“Just make sure your old lady is the only one you’re driving it home to.”

“You ain’t gotta worry about me, brother. I got all the woman I need in my little spitfire, but you, on the other hand, better catch up. Sadie the cleaning lady left ten minutes ago, and following her don’t do much good if you can’t find her.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

“Yeah, me neither.” He gifts me with that fucking wink again. What the hell is this kid’s problem? I’m starting to think he might need to see a fucking eye doctor.

I head for the door. Despite being a little know-it-all prick, Kick is right. I gotta get the hell outta here before I miss Raine. She’s more than likely on the bus right now, and she should be there for another ten minutes before having to walk at least another kilometre back to her apartment.

Outside, I climb on the bike and start the engine, revving the throttle. Trigger’s manning the gate, and I nod on my way out.

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