Page 7 of Jigsaw
“Who?” she asked, looking around.
I placed my hand on her back, guiding her closer to the clubhouse as I remarked, “It doesn’t matter. I was mistaken.”
After finding Animal and leaving Paige and the holy terror asshole dog with him, I walked into the clubhouse and straight to the stairs. I patted the prospect on the shoulder, and he stepped aside so I could move past him. After climbing the stairs and unlocking my door, I walked inside and removed my cut, making sure to hang it on the hook before I collapsed onto the bed.
Covering my eyes with my arm, I let the dizziness build as I thought about what had just happened.
Was she really standing there?
Why did she disappear?
Why did her shirt say that?
And the most important question of all—where were the Phantom Renegades, and why was she at the Rally alone?
Chapter 3
Willow
Ishouldn’t have been there, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself. Earlier in the day, I saw Dean riding through downtown Sturgis with his club and every emotion you could imagine exploded inside me.
Guilt, lust, sorrow, and the need to be reckless all crashed together, and on impulse, I did something crazy that would definitely make my brother angry. I got onto my bike and followed him and his club into the edges of Rapid City, to a party at a bar called the Sin Den. I had my ‘Property of Willow’ shirt on, and I wasn’t afraid to punch a biker in the throat if he touched me, but I was stepping into dangerous territory.
I didn’t know what kind of club he was a member of, and no one knew where I was. Tucking my Kawasaki Ninja H2 alongside the long line of Harleys, Indians, Buells, and every other make of motorcycle imaginable, I checked myself in the side mirror and walked into the unknown.
Three years ago, my father died, leaving my brother, Ghost, as the president of the Phantom Renegades in Minneapolis, and I declared myself property of no man. Dad didn’t want me to end up with a biker and made sure I was off limits, but my brother didn’t have such strict rules.
The only problem was the one biker I wanted had renounced all ties to the club—and to me—over six years ago. My heart broke when Dean handed my dad his prospect cut, and seeing it land on the dirty shop floor made my stomach fall to my knees.Everything he had worked so hard for was gone, all because he wouldn’t let my father cast me out on my own.
Our night consisted of amazing sex and countless orgasms, but it was also filled with painful truths and secret guilts. We shared our bodies, our souls, and our sordid histories, thinking we’d never see each other again. But fate, luck, karma, or just my fucked-up decisions had put us in the same room, and I still thought about the way he drove away, like what we had experienced and the level of raw honesty we’d shared meant nothing.
So, putting myself out there like this, not knowing if he had an ol’ lady or not, was potentially problematic. I wasn’t going to cause problems for him, but I needed to see him, just once, face-to-face. When I walked into the party, I was greeted by a sweet lady whose cut proclaimed her property of Roughstock, who she explained was the President of the Sinners chapter.
Her name was Cheyenne, and honestly, I expected her to have an attitude and kick me out. She welcomed me to the party, explained that no was honored above all else with the Sinners, and I was welcome to let loose. I declined her offer with a smile but continued chatting with her.
“I like your shirt,” she remarked with a smile.
“Thanks. Sometimes, you need to remind them that women aren’t actual property,” I explained with a shrug.
“I can see that. In our club, women are treasured, but having grown up in Rapid City, I’ve seen some fucked-up things happen during the Rally.” She shook her head and took a swallow of one of those nasty fruity seltzers before she continued. “But anyways, welcome to the Sin Den. Any brother with a Rapid City Sinners patch will get you to me if you need anything.” Someone called her name, and she turned before saying, “Have fun tonight.”
I gave her a smile and a nod before she stepped into the growing crowd of people. I kept looking for an Phantom Renegades patch, expecting Ghost to have put a tracker on my bike, and as I made my way farther into the crowd, I made sure to keep my eyes moving. The music was loud, and the smell of weed was growing the deeper I got into the party, and I eventually ended up in a conversation with a beautiful woman with black hair and green eyes.
“Sick ink,” she said as I walked by, and it was when I looked down and saw my sleeves that I remembered I didn’t have my jacket with me. “My ol’ man’s an ink slinger and he remarked how amazing yours is.”
“I appreciate that. I designed it and found a top-rate ink slinger to do the work for me,” I said as I turned my arms, giving her a better look.
A man covered in ink, piercings, and sporting a blond mohawk walked up and nodded. His cut said ‘Needles’, and his patch indicated he was a Death Hound out of Portstill, Tennessee. Their reputation was known, respected, and feared. “Damn good ink.”
She turned to look at him as she remarked, “That’s what I was telling her.” Looking back at me, she said, “I’m sorry. I was so busy gushing over your tattoos that I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Violet.”
I extended my hand to her, and we shook once. “Willow.”
For the next few minutes, we talked about tattoos and travel, and finally, Needles said, “No offense, but I don’t understand your shirt.”
I chuckled, and Violet elbowed him in his side as I answered. “My father was the president of a club farther east, and he didn’t want me to end up with a biker.” I shrugged as I tried to make it make sense. “He wanted me to have a sense of self outside the club, and I guess I became rebellious. When he passed away afew years ago, I decided to claim myself before someone thought I was fair game.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “Is your father’s club here, or did you come with some friends?”
