Chapter 17
STRYKER
The living room looked like a firefight had moved through it by the time Sheriff Raines come back in and finished taking statements.
Broken glass glittered across the hardwood beneath the shattered front window, a bullet had chewed through the wall beside the staircase, and the overturned coffee table remained where Trent’s body had struck it after I threw him across the room.
Raines stood near the broken window with his hat tucked beneath one arm, watching the pulsing red and blue lights as a cruiser turned down the driveway with Wade’s barely conscious son slumped behind the glass.
When the taillights disappeared beyond the gate, the sheriff released a slow breath, scanned the room to make sure his deputies were occupied, and stepped close enough that his next words only belonged to Judge and me.
“I probably shouldn’t say this while I’m standing in a house full of evidence and Black Crowns.” The dry edge in his voice doing little to hide the exhaustion beneath it. “But I’m damn glad you boys got involved.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That so?”
Raines stared at the blood drying over my hands before his gaze returned to mine.
“I wear a badge, which means there are things I can’t tell you, men I can’t touch without a judge signing off, and days I have to watch a bastard I know is dirty drive home because knowing isn’t enough to put him in a cell.
” His jaw shifted while he glanced toward Judge.
“You gave me more usable evidence in the last week than I managed to pull together in months, and tonight Wade finally got impatient enough to hand me something I can build on.”
“He sent armed men onto her property, tried to drag her out of her own house, and left his son behind.” Judge’s voice carried the rough edge of a biker rather than a lawyer. “That’s more than impatience. That’s a fucking gift.”
“A gift wrapped in attempted kidnapping, assault, arson, property damage, and enough weapons charges to keep the county attorney entertained.” Grim satisfaction tightened Raines’s mouth as he settled his hat back on his head.
“Trent committed all of it while out on bail, and one of the other men is sitting in my holding cells deciding whether loyalty to Wade is worth the next twenty years.”
The pressure had finally landed where Wade had spent years making sure it never reached. Trent could try to protect his father, but self-preservation had a way of eating through family loyalty once a cell door closed and a prosecutor started discussing consecutive sentences.
“I’ll build the legal case,” Raines continued, his weathered eyes hardening when they shifted toward the doorway where Jacqueline had disappeared with one of the female deputies earlier.
“I can’t promise where it ends yet, but Wade made his first critical mistake tonight.
Men like him rarely stop at one once they realize control is slipping. ”
“They don’t,” I agreed. “And we’ll be there when he makes the next.”
Raines studied me for a moment. He knew better than to ask for an explanation neither of us intended to put on paper, so he only tugged the brim of his hat lower and headed toward the front door. “Try not to make me arrest half your club before this is over.”
Ghost, who had been helping Wraith move a ruined chair away from the wall, released a short bark of laughter.
I glanced at the sheriff as he stepped onto the porch. “Talk to Wade about improving those odds.”
The corner of Raines’s mouth twitched before he walked away.
After I watched the last patrol car pull through the gate, I lowered my gaze to my hands to inspect where dried blood streaked the skin and four knuckles were split.
“Sit down, Brogan.”
Jacqueline stood several feet behind me with the first-aid kit tucked beneath one arm, her loose braid falling over the shoulder of one of my black T-shirts.
The sight of my clothes wrapped around her soothed some savage place inside me that had remained ready to tear the world apart since I saw Trent’s hand on her arm.
She looked exhausted, her blue eyes swollen from tears and adrenaline, but she was still so damn beautiful.
“I’m fine.” I flexed my fingers enough to prove they still worked.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked from my face to the blood crusting my knuckles. “That’s an interesting claim from a man whose hands look like they were dragged down a gravel road. Sit, Brogan.”
There were very few people alive who could issue me an order in my own house and receive anything but a stare in response.
Jacqueline stood there holding bandages and antiseptic with her sweet mouth set in a determined line, though.
Watching her try to boss me over injuries I barely felt was too fucking adorable to refuse.
We sat and she took my right hand into both of hers.
Her fingers were warm and gentle as she soaked gauze with antiseptic and cleaned the blood from my skin.
“I know he deserved it,” she murmured, concentrating on a split across my middle knuckle while a tiny line appeared between her brows. She dabbed ointment over the torn skin, then looked up when I didn’t react. “That doesn’t mean I enjoy watching you turn your hands into battering rams.”
“I have two.”
Her gaze stayed on mine for a moment before she rolled her eyes and returned to the bandage. “That wasn’t funny.”
“I thought it was.”
“You would.”
The corner of her mouth lifted before she could force it flat again, and that brief smile hit my body harder than the antiseptic ever could.
To my aggravation, my cock stirred beneath my jeans despite the wrecked room and deputies still moving through the yard. Apparently, seeing Jacqueline in my shirt while she cared for me was enough to drag every memory of her naked beneath me straight to the surface.
Her eyes dropped when she felt my erection press against the side of her thigh, then climbed slowly back to mine as a blush spread across her cheeks. The shift in her breathing told me she was remembering the night before too.
“Seriously?” she whispered, glancing toward the ruined window as though the existence of law enforcement outside should have made my body more reasonable.
“I’ve seen you naked, and now you’re sitting beside me in my shirt with your hands all over mine.
” I caught her wrist and brought the soft inside of it to my mouth and kissed the pulse beating beneath her skin.
“You breathe near me, baby, and my cock gets hard. We both need to learn to live with it.”
Her ears turned pink, but she didn’t pull away. Her gaze dropped to the white bandage while the humor faded from her expression.
“I was terrified tonight,” she admitted as she finished wrapping my knuckles. “When Trent grabbed me, I knew you’d come if the alarm reached you, but for a second I thought he might get me through that door before anyone could stop him.”
My hand slid from hers to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. “I’d never have let him hurt you.”
“I know.” Her lips trembled before she pressed them together. “I keep remembering how strong he was and how close the door looked, but none of that changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“About staying here.” Her fingers clutched the front of my shirt as she shifted closer. “About the ranch, about us. I’m not letting them run me out of Grandpa’s home or the future I want with you.”
Relief and possession settled through me with the same absolute certainty that had struck the day we met. “Good, because I’ll never let you go anyway.”
Jacqueline blinked once before a watery laugh escaped. “You make that sound very reasonable.”
“It is. You’re mine, Jacqueline. You became mine the second I saw you, and you’ve just been catching up ever since.”
Her mouth curved as she shook her head, but she tucked herself closer against my side. “You really believe that.”
“I know it.” I pressed my mouth to her forehead, letting the fact that she was warm, alive, and safe beneath my hands calm the last of the violence still moving through me.
“What happens to Wade now?” she asked, lifting her face enough to search mine.
“He’s the one leaving Sable Canyon.” I just didn’t know yet whether he would go through a prison gate or beneath a sheet. Option two was my preference.
Jacqueline studied me before giving one small nod. “You sound very sure.”
“I am.”
She accepted the answer without asking for details I couldn’t—wouldn’t—give her.
There was some darkness in my world that I would never allow to touch Jacqueline.
I tried to focus on the warmth of her in my arms and not the memory of Trent fighting to pull her through the door.
I’d checked her myself more than once, and she’d sworn she was fine, but the possibility that adrenaline had hidden something wouldn’t let up.
“We’re going to see Reaper,” I decided.
She sighed with immediate exasperation. “Brogan, I’m fine.”
“You got grabbed by a man twice your size, thrown into furniture, and nearly dragged through a firefight.” I stood before she could decide the conversation was open for debate. “Reaper checks you, then you can tell me you were right as many times as you want.”
“I’ve already told you at least six times.” She threw both hands into the air with an outraged huff. “You checked me, Wraith checked me, a deputy asked me twenty questions, and I know my own body.”
“I know it too.” I wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her off the couch. “Still taking you to a doctor when somebody tries to break it.”
“I am not one of your motorcycles.”
“Wouldn’t let Trent touch one of those either.”
Her mouth fell open before laughter broke through the lingering fear, warm against the side of my neck. “You are impossible.”
Twenty minutes later, Jacqueline sat on the exam table inside the compound clinic with her arms folded and enough sweet satisfaction gathering in her expression to guarantee I would hear about this for days.