Tainted Desire: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Rough Jesters MC Book 6) Page 10

  “No need.”

  My heart leaped into my throat as Daniel appeared beside me, grasping at the doorframe. He was pale and sweating and I wanted to wrap my arm around his waist to support him.

  He couldn’t even defend himself. This wasn’t right.

  “Ah, Voodoo,” Two Tone announced. “Good of you to show up to the party. I was just telling Siren here that we don’t take kindly to her fucking the enemy.”

  Daniel let out a chuckle. “Is that right? Or is it that she won’t fuck your ugly mug and you’re jealous?”

  Someone in the group snickered as I tried to identify all that were in attendance. Ten, total, for the two of us, none part of the original council.

  Ten lives that I would have to take down with my one gun if I wanted to get us out of here alive.

  Daniel must have sensed my thoughts for he put a restraining hand on my arm. “No, Siren,” he growled, his eyes on the group. “No.”

  I bit my lip to keep from tearing up. He was hoping that they would just take him and leave me behind.

  Somehow, I knew that had been his plan all along.

  “Enough talk,” Two Tone stated, motioning to the group. “Take them. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Two of the bikers broke out of the group, dark bags in their hands. They were going to blind us.

  “Don’t worry,” Daniel said softly, his hand giving my arm a squeeze before dropping. “Please, God, don’t worry, Siren.”

  Oh, I was far from not worrying. This was not what we needed, what I needed. With this stance, there was no way Widow Maker was going to let me stay in the club, especially after she found out that I had indeed slept with my mark.

  The bag went over my head and I lost all senses at once, the cloth so thick that not one pinpoint of light could bleed through. My hands were yanked before me and I felt the bite of the zip ties on my wrist, pulled so tightly that I was afraid the circulation would be cut off if they were kept on for too long.

  There was grunting next to me and my heart went out to Daniel, knowing he was likely in a great deal of pain already. They wouldn’t be as gentle with him.

  Someone grabbed my arm and I was propelled forward roughly, the grip on my elbow so hard that I was sure it would leave a bruise. I didn’t regret what I had done with Daniel.

  Not one bit. He was Daniel to me now, not Voodoo, not a CIA agent. Of course, no one else was going to care about that. To them, he was the enemy, and no matter what he and I both said, that fact wouldn’t change.

  Which was what I was scared about.

  I was forced to step up and then sat down on a hard bench, my back colliding with cool metal, biting into my thin T-shirt. There was a buzz of talk around me, the cloth muffling the words, and I wondered where Daniel was.

  Oh God, they couldn’t have killed him, could they? Was it just me being taken back to the club to accept my fate?

  What if I never saw him again? There was so much left unsaid between us, words that I wasn’t quite ready to tell him as I wasn’t sure about it myself.

  He couldn’t be dead.

  The vehicle started to move, and I braced myself with my feet, glad that I had been dressed when they found me. There was not a doubt in my mind that they would have dragged me out in whatever I was wearing and even though I hadn’t grabbed my coat, at least the ride was less chilly than it could have been.

  God, what a mess. Never in a million years would I have thought that my time stalking Daniel would end up this way.

  The vehicle traveled a ways and I started to picture what they would do with me, especially. Would they take me out to the desert and shoot me in the head, as we had done as a club a thousand times over? Would they rape me first, wanting me to pay for seemingly abandoning my family?

  I could deal with just about anything but that. To know that they had violated me before killing me would not be the last thought that entered my mind. Instead I would like to remember Daniel’s hands on my body; the savage way he kissed me like a man starving.

  If only we were different people! If only we weren’t enemies, and instead just two people who had met in a bar and were having the time of our lives.

  Instead, we were likely to be looking at the end of our lives.

  I didn’t regret a moment with him, for I had seen the man behind the gruff exterior, the man who had feelings, who wanted to do right now, even though he had screwed up in the past.

  We all had. People tended to forget that.

  The vehicle shuddered to a stop and I tried to swallow even though my throat was as dry as the desert. This was it. This was about to be the end of my life.

  A strong hand grabbed my elbow and forced me off the bench, stepping down a moment later. All I could see or smell was the hood over my face, not sure where I was or who was forcing me to walk in the direction they wanted me to.

  I was forced to stop, the hood yanked off my head a moment later. Immediately I scanned the dark room for Daniel, hiding my relief as I realized he was propped up on the wall only a few feet from me, his jeans dark with fresh blood.

  The steely look on his face didn’t show an ounce of pain, however, and it was with his eyes that he assessed whether I was okay.

  I wasn’t, but there was nothing we could do about it.

  “Siren.”

  I turned my attention to Machine Gun, who was standing front and center in the circle of bikers that filled the dark room. I could tell by the look on his face that he was pissed, his jaw clenched tightly, and I wondered what that meant for me. “Machine Gun.”

  “You have been found consorting with the enemy,” he growled, his fists at his side. “The same enemy that nearly took my life. Do you deny it?”

  I doubted that if I did deny it they would believe me. “No,” I said, straightening my shoulders and staring him head-on. “I don’t deny it, but he’s not the same man who sent you into the fray and attempted to blackmail the club.”

  Murmurs of dissent went through the circle, including a small sound from Daniel, but I didn’t break eye contact with Machine Gun. If he was going to kill me, he would have to do so staring into my eyes.

  Surprisingly, Machine Gun arched a brow. “Did you come to that conclusion before or after you fucked him in my guest room?”

  A flood of embarrassment heated my body and I clenched my own fists to keep from lashing out. It wasn’t like he was telling any lies. I had slept with Daniel, after all. “Before, if you must know. He feels bad for what he did. Let him atone for it.”

  “Siren,” Daniel’s gruff voice penetrated my thoughts. “It’s fine. You don’t have to stick up for me.”

  I shot him a glare, seeing the resignation on his handsome face. He couldn’t give up. Even if they did execute us in the end, then they would have to do it with a heavy heart. I wasn’t about to let them off the hook.

  So, I swung my gaze back to Machine Gun. “I know you are angry, and you have every right to be, but taking another man’s life, that’s not what this club does.”

  “It’s everything we do!” Two Tone blasted, receiving a round of agreement from the others. “He nearly killed our own and I guarantee he wouldn’t have lost any sleep over it if he’d succeeded. Why are we even discussing this? Let’s get on with it!”

  The cheers grew louder, and I wished I had my gun to shoot Two Tone. In fact, this group was a bloodthirsty lot, the same one that had given the Hell’s Bitches the cold shoulder when the groups had joined forces. I could just about name each and every one of them and the snubs they had given us over the years, never truly liking the fact that the two presidents had brought us together, much less that they had to work side by side with us.

  Machine Gun lifted his hand, silencing the crowd. I knew it was his decision as it was his life that had nearly been lost. “Please,” I said softly. “Please think about what you are doing. I agree, there should be retribution, but not in this way.”

  There was no emotion in Machine Gun’s eye. “I disagre
e.”

  I gave a half shrug, not wanting to give away what the room already knew. “This isn’t right, and you know it.”

  “Shut the hell up, Siren,” Two Tone growled. “If I was Widow Maker, I would strip your road captain title and throw you in the same fucking ditch as your traitor boyfriend over here.”

  “Good thing you aren’t.”

  I wasn’t gonna lie; I was relieved to see Widow Maker settled in the corner, apparently having snuck in when no one was looking. Mama Bear and a few other Bitches flanked her, all with their hands on their guns.

  It was then that I realized that the alliance between the two clubs was dangerously thin. She must not have sanctioned this, and by the look on her face, I knew that she was one hairbreadth away from killing the entire room, Machine Gun included.

  Two Tone stepped forward, a smirk on his face. “This doesn’t concern the Bitches.”

  Widow Maker arched a brow. “That a fact? Last time I checked, Siren was my road captain, not yours. So, it does concern me, and had you doled out your punishment without my approval, then it would have been your ass on the line, Two Tone. By the time I was done with you, your own mama wouldn’t have recognized your ugly mug.”

  Instead of backing off, Two Tone seemed to have a death wish. “Did you tell your club who we were after, Widow Maker? I asked some of the guys this morning and they had no idea that Voodoo was a CIA agent. And by the looks on your members’ faces, I wager they didn’t either.”

  “Is that true?” Mama Bear asked, looking at her president. “Was there a government spook in our midst and no one bothered to tell us?”

  “We had our reasons,” Widow Maker said tightly, her jaw clenched.

  I drew in a breath, another issue now raising its ugly head. I didn’t know they hadn’t told the clubs. I assumed that the word would eventually have gotten out about why I was MIA and the truth would be revealed.

  Wow.

  Widow Maker motioned me with her head. “Come on. We are going back to the club to settle this.”

  “This isn’t your business,” Machine Gun growled, staring down the Bitches’ president. “The spook stays.”

  She met him toe to toe, the look on her face unlike anything I had ever seen before. “Both of them are coming with me whether you like it or not. In fact, you have five fucking minutes before your president shows up and realizes you have done this without his permission. He’s in a foul mood today and I imagine this will make it ten times worse.”

  Machine Gun’s jaw worked before he backed off, running a hand through his hair roughly. “Get them back to the club. We will deal with it there.”

  “But that would be turning them back over to the liars,” Two Tone protested as Widow Maker grinned, realizing she had won.

  The glare that Machine Gun cut Two Tone was one of daggers and death. “Get the hell back to the club, now.”

  Two Tone’s expression went stone-cold, but he didn’t respond and I held out my hands to the approaching Mama Bear, who cut my zip ties with her knife. “What the hell did you get yourself into girl?” she muttered softly, snapping the plastic.

  I wasn’t so sure.

  Whatever it was, though, it was far from over.

  Chapter 17

  Voodoo

  I tried not to groan as I hopped down from the van, the jarring of my bum leg causing me to suck in a sharp breath to keep from crying out. I knew the stitches were popping open, all of Elisa’s careful work now reduced to nothing.

  But that wasn’t my most pressing concern. Hell, I didn’t know how I was still alive after that standoff in the shack they had taken us to. If Widow Maker hadn’t shown up when she had, both Eileen and I could be dead right now.

  I was far from being out of the woods.

  Still, I didn’t show an ounce of weakness when they escorted me into the Jesters’ conference room I had been in many times before, feeling the tension in the air. I was no longer the issue between the clubs and was surprised that the presidents hadn’t shared the information about a CIA agent in their midst. One would think that once they sent one of their own to track me that they would have told the club.

  Now it was a shit show.

  Both sets of councils were in the room and I was pushed down into a waiting chair, feeling the blessed relief of not having to stay upright during this emergency meeting.

  While I had expected that the attention would be on me, I was completely wrong. The glares coming from the other club members in attendance at their own leadership was unmistakable.

  “Quiet!” Chains shouted, banging his fist on the table. “One word out of turn and I will personally throw you out of this meeting, got it?”

  The room fell silent and the president of the Jesters looked over at me. Widow Maker hadn’t been lying. He was in a foul mood. “I hear you have been causing trouble, Voodoo.”

  “No more than normal,” I grinned.

  His lips flattened. “You got something to tell us?”

  I thought about the secret I had been carrying around for what seemed like forever and how I had been waiting for the right moment to let them know what they were up against. My eyes found Eileen’s and wished I had told her first. She was going to feel betrayed, but hell, there hadn’t been enough time.

  Not nearly enough. “The CIA has been funneling weapons for the last twenty years into the Pacifica Cartel in order to create a credible threat south of the border that would justify US military intervention in Mexico. Everything was going swimmingly until Hector Villarreal took control of the Pacifica Cartel and decided to do things outside of the original plan. Agents all along the border are trying to reestablish control, but nothing has worked.” I then looked directly at Machine Gun. “Hence the need to fight a shadow war by using the clubs as a front.”

  There was a collective gasp in the room, and I forced myself not to glance in Eileen’s direction. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face, knowing that I had withheld such a large secret from her.

  I just hoped it wasn’t going to be the one that destroyed what we had just found in each other.

  “You’re playing us,” Chains finally said, glaring at me. “You were trying to get us fucking killed for nothing.”

  I slipped into my old CIA persona, taking back the swagger that made me sick to my stomach even now. “Hey, it’s just business, man. Surely you can understand that.”

  “So that’s what the accounts were for,” Sabrina spoke up.

  I knew that Sabrina was the daughter of the accountant who had worked with the cartel in the past and had been investigating a series of accounts that were ours. I gave her a nod. “Not bad, kid.” If she ever thought about a job at Langley as an analyst instead of slumming it with bikers, I’d put in a word.

  She smiled at me triumphantly. “I knew it.”

  Mama Bear stood from her perch at the front of the room, her hand on the table as she glared at her president. “Tell me why the council didn’t know that this asshole was in our midst.”

  Widow Maker stared her down, though I saw just the smallest hint of concern in her expression. “Like I said, it was on a need-to-know basis. Those that needed to know, knew.”

  Mama Bear slammed her hand down. “That’s not enough! We have been shut out of decisions far too long.”

  “I agree with Mama Bear,” Hair Trigger said, standing next to her. “Why the hell does it matter to have a council if you aren’t coming to us for counsel?”

  “Enough,” Widow Maker growled, her eyes flashing. “This isn’t about what we choose to tell you.”

  “We?” one of the Jesters said, his voice ringing through the room. “I’m so fucking sick of the word ‘we.’ What happened to just the Jesters? Why do we all have to be spoken for by her?”

  I watched as Chains stood, his expression thunderous. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

  “He’s saying we don’t even feel like a club anymore,” another called out. “Ever since we had them j
oin us.”

  The voices started to rise, and I arched a brow, surprised at the sudden turn of events. I thought this would be my trial but instead, both clubs found themselves in the midst of an uprising.

  Chains banged his fist on the table, attempting to get some control of the situation. “We are not going to talk about our alliance with either club!”

  “Well, you should,” one of the bikers stated as he approached the table. I watched with fascination as he ripped off his patch signifying his allegiance to the Jesters and placed it on the wood. “I’m done with this shit.”

  Chains looked shocked as a few more joined him, repeating the same motion before filing out of the conference room. The room itself was silent as a tomb and I thought Chains was going to blow a gasket as he looked at the pile of patches.