Page 86 of Jett

“Leave him.”

“You gonna keep me here in your fuckin’ dining room the rest of my life, Prez?”

“You can rot tied to that chair for all the shits I give, brother. No one unties him until I say so,” I snap. “That’s a fuckin’ order, Killer. Let’s see if a few days in the naughty chair will make him think twice about betraying me.”

I shake my head and push outside, lighting up a cigarette as I bend to grab my helmet. I fasten it and slide back on my bike, pushing the button for the ignition. It thunders to life.

“Prez?” Killer asks. “You want us to come with you?”

I don’t answer. I just rev the throttle and take off. I’m gonna find Raine, and I don’t care what the fuck happens after that, but I’ll drag her back kicking and screaming if I have to. She doesn’t get to walk away from me, from us.

RAINE

FOR THE LAST WEEK ATKimba’s, I’ve cooked, cleaned, and done everything I could to make my stay here a pleasant experience for Kimba and to not be a burden. I’ve offered to help out at Death Before Decaf too, but since Kick frequents the café to see Indie, it’s not wise for me to be there.

I no longer have a phone, so it’s not like Jett can call me. I did call Grim from Kimba’s landline to check that he was okay, but it went straight to voicemail and I haven’t heard back.

I take the hat from my head and wipe the sheen of sweat from my brow. I’ve been tending to Kimba’s veggie patch for the last hour, picking snow peas for dinner and gently turning the soil after pulling several fresh carrots from the ground.

The roar of engines from several streets away make my back stiffen and the hairs on my neck all stand on end. I close my eyes and see his powerful body hovering over my mine, the tattoos, the scars from prison fights that I loved to trace with my fingertips, and that sandy blond hair now greying at the temples. I open my eyes and tears spill over my lashes. I press my gloved hands to my face, dirt and all, and breathe in the rich scent of earth.

The bikes get closer and I slowly climb to my feet, wincing as my C-section protests the movement. I’m still not completely healed. It’s been three weeks and I don’t know that I ever will be. I pick up the vegetables and hurry toward the house, but a beat later, the engines cut out and someone pounds their fists on the front door, rattling it so hard I fear the stained glass might break.

“Raine. I know you’re in there. Open up!”

Jett. Oh god. I want to go to him. I want to pull back the door and launch myself at him. I want him to wrap me in his arms and hold me, and make all of this hurt go away, but I can’t because a part of me will never forgive him.

“Raine, please, darlin’. Please talk to me.”

I quietly pad inside and set the vegetables on the kitchen counter. His large body makes an imposing outline through the stained glass and I know he can more than likely see me too. I hesitate there in the hallway. I could end this devastation for both of us right now, pull back the door and hold onto him for dear life. I inch closer until I’m pressed against it, as if I could press against him.

“Darlin’. I know I messed up. I locked you up in that house like a fucking princess in a tower, and I left you all alone. I wasn’t there when you needed me, and I’m sorry, but I ain’t leaving without you. I don’t care if I have to camp out on this bitch’s lawn the rest of my sorry-arse life. I ain’t leaving without seeing you.”

“Go home, Jett.”

“Can’t do that, Angel. Open the door. Please, I’m desperate.”

---