Twenty
FANG
She flinches. Not as though my words confuse or insult her. But as though she can’t understand why I’d say them.
I only speak the truth.
She drives me fucking mad, but the energy sparring with her gives off is fast becoming addictive. Jenna gives as good as she gets, and I can’t help but admire that after everything she has enough spark left in her to fight for what she feels is fair.
Right.
But I also can’t ignore the heart of the matter: she asked for a phone, kept it hidden, and hasn’t told anyone her backstory yet. Nobody knows a fucking thing about this woman, and after everything that’s gone down in the past few months, we can’t trust anyone.
As thrilling as fighting with her is, it won’t get me what I need to know.
“Wanna start over?” I offer. “We can write today off and call tomorrow our day one.”
Her mouth twists, eyes critical while she studies me. “You want to start afresh? After everything you’ve said?”
“Because of everything I’ve said.”
“Why?”
“Because perhaps it’s simply been a shit few days and we’re all just taking it out on each other, which ain’t right.” I shrug. “I think we can all do better.”
“You promise?” She lifts her chin.
I hold out my pinkie. “I swear.”
Her frown softens the longer she studies my proffered digit, eventually taking a step forward to link hers with mine. “No more pistols at twenty paces.”
“No more pistols at twenty paces,” I echo, smile tugging at my mouth.
Her touch leaves mine, arms banding about her as she steps back again, gaze fixed to the ground.
I glance to the house, then across the road to Vanessa’s—Chaos’s bike in the driveway.
It’s not lost on me that the minute we step foot back inside the farmhouse, this moment of truth and vulnerability from her will be over.
There are still things I want to know. Need to know. And tomorrow may be too late.
“Who did you call?” I match her stance and tilt my head. “You said I’d shoot you after I knew. So, who was it?”
Her face falls, gaze darting to the side as she makes a move to leave.
“Nope.” I reach out to catch her by the arm, yet stop after her reaction last time I grabbed for her.
Jenna’s gaze lingers on my outstretched hand. “Look, I get that we just called a truce, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it raises more questions than it gives answers.”
“And now you’ve proven why I need to know.”
She sighs, shoulder curling protectively. “Do we have to do this now?”
She looks good in my sweater. “Yes.”
“In a field full of bugs.” She lifts an eyebrow.
I do the same. “Unless you’d rather I have Circus take you to the meat locker.”
Her face crumples a little. “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t need to know what that is.” Jenna glances to Vanessa’s house, the front light now on. “They’re a friend of the Kings, right?”
“Chaos’s old lady. Stop changing the subject.” I take a tentative step closer.
She doesn’t spook or move away, but she does study me from foot to head, a slight wrinkle in her brow as she settles on my face. “Did it occur to your club before you rode in to take us, that some of us might not be considered friendly?”
“Not really.” They were women who needed help—simple as that. Whether they liked us or not was and is redundant.
“It should have.” Jenna looks away again, one hand reaching out to brush the tops of the cut stalks. “That woman who died? Mary-Beth? Her father is a member of the Blood Eagles MC.”
Lust takes a back seat. “You knew her?” How else would Jenna have that kind of information? I can’t imagine the dead girl being vocal about it, not when she was caught in the belly of a rival club.
“She knew me.” Jenna shrugs, dropping her head.
“So what? You called her family today?” Why is she telling me this? “Let them know she was gone?”
“Hell no!” She gazes up at me as though I’ve lost my head. Maybe I have. “To start with, I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with him. More importantly, I’m not that stupid.”
“Then who was it, Freckles?” I move around her so we’re face-to-face. Make it harder for her to look away again.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she rushes to explain. “Honestly. The Kings of Anarchy have nothing to do with how we knew each other.”
“Except we do.” I coax her to look at me with a gentle hand to the side of her jaw. Dried mud speckles her ear. “We got involved the minute the Devil’s Breed placed you on our turf. So tell me who you phoned, Jenna. Don’t spare the details.”
Tears glisten unshed in her eyes. She steels her jaw beneath my touch and flares her nostrils, looking away.
I let my hand fall to my side to give her space. Room to breathe. A false sense of security.
The war wages behind her eyes and she lets out a frustrated huff through her nose. “I called my father, okay? I told him where I am.”
“The deputy called Nandi’s sister. Mila’s mom. Tell me why this matters. How it’s different.” My pulse whooshes in my ears. Adrenalin? Cortisol? Who fucking knows. I want her to tell me why this needed to be kept a secret. I need her to.
Jenna stomps her foot with a growl. Goddamn slams her shoe down on the greasy dirt to expel her frustration. It’s almost enough to break the tension, make me laugh.
Almost. But not quite.
Jenna shakes out the anger before confessing, “My father is the ex-Vice President for the Devil’s Breed MC, okay?”
Blow me down with a feather—I was not expecting that. “Say again?”
“No.” Her fire returned, she stares me down.
“He’s a patched Breed member?” And I kissed her. The fuck.
“Was a patched Breed member.”
“How long ago?”
“Pardon?”
“I said how long ago did he hand in his patch, Jenna. Or was he made to do it?” I need all the answers. Every single word out of her soft lips makes all the goddamn difference now. Each and every one.
“A little while after Smoke was voted the new President,” she utters before drawing a deep breath and huffing it back out.
“He quit. Chose to give his patch back. Said he didn’t care if they buried him.
” Jenna folds her arms again, toeing the ground underfoot.
“They somehow kept enough respect for him and what he’d done for the club to let him go quietly on the understanding he never show his face again. Which is where I come in.”
Maybe forcing this out of her in the middle of a cold field wasn’t such a shit hot idea, because I get the feeling this could go for a while. “Tell me more.”
She peeks at me before fixing her vacant stare back on my chest, reciting as though mentally detaching herself from the emotion of it all.
“My mother left the club when she got pregnant with me. My father found out about me when she got sick, roughly two years before he quit the club. The Devil’s Breed never knew I existed; Mom wasn’t showing when she walked. Nobody knew about me.”
“For your safety?”
“And hers.” She peeks up at me again. “She was someone else’s property when my father knocked her up.”
I suck air between my teeth, reeling back a little. A fucking powder keg of a situation, if ever I heard one, and Jenna was the match.
“Dad hates what the club’s become. And when he saw how Mom and I lived, he said he hated what they’d done to her too.”
I want to point out that her mom would have known the rules and that she did it to herself too, but even I’m not that fucking stupid to say it now. “He wants payback?”
“Kind of. But he’s got no interest in inter-club politics, which is why he never approached any other clubs, like yours.” She hugs herself tighter. “His only interest is ruining Smoke. And he figured I was the way he could do that.”
“You?” She’s one woman against a neurotic madman leading the damned. What the fuck did her father think she could do that he couldn’t?
“Yeah. Me.” Jenna sighs. “Can we go inside now?”
“Not until you tell me one more thing.” I edge closer, forcing her head back to maintain eye contact. “Why have you chosen to stay here when you know that kind of information could get you in trouble? Why not leave like the others?”
“Kathy’s staying for now. And Darla. Have you asked them why?” Her eyes narrow.
I trap my bottom lip with my teeth and grin. “I wasn’t tasked with keeping an eye on them.”
“I fucking knew it,” she growls. “You’ve been watching me.”
“It’s not the worst view. Just a little stormy for now.”
She appears as though she can’t decide if she wants to slap me again or smile.
“Why are you staying, Jenna?”
“Because this isn’t just about me anymore. I have to see this through for the rest of the women they took. For the children.” Her gaze sharpens, stirring something inside of me. “Because if they took one, Fang, there are probably more. A lot more.”