Jax: A Bad Boy Romance

2. Jax

2JaxI watched as the other members helped Thunder stand up. He was beaten pretty badly, his left eye ringed with yellow and purple colors, and his mouth and chin stained with blood. It covered his shirt, too, an awful, dirty white wife beater that did little to help with the gut situation.

He wouldn’t have been my first pick, I had to admit. He wasn’t the sort of image the Sin Reapers liked to promote most of the time, but rather a wider, jigglier version of what we liked people to think of us. But, then, we weren’t really about appearances.

I’d had this argument with Bills before things got started. He’d wanted to know what the hell I thought I was doing, letting a guy like Thunder get into the game. It wasn’t any of his business really, and I’d told him that much. I was leader of the Sin Reapers, whether anyone liked it or not. True, Bills was my lieutenant and I valued his opinion in a lot of things, but when a call had to be made, in the end it was my call. I didn’t care what kind of position Bills was in, he was still beneath me.

Even so, he was only saying what more than a few of the guys were thinking. I understood that. The Sin Reapers had a reputation to uphold—a pretty nasty one, all things considered—and that reputation would be shot all to hell if the motorcycle club was made up of people like Thunder.

Except I didn’t give a s**t what other people thought. Our reputation was based on more than appearances and I intended to keep it that way. I thought Thunder would bring something to the table, something valuable, something we’d been missing for a while now. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but I thought it was something to do with morale.

Thunder was determined, wanted to be here. Sometimes I wondered if that were true for any of the other members. Sometimes I wondered if that were true for me.

Besides, when it came right down to it, it didn’t much matter what any of us thought. Thunder was in and, more importantly, he was a full-fledged member. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, or the toughest, but at least he was a tool on our side.

The Slayers, a piece of s**t baby club, were starting to get a following. They were flexing their muscles and they were doing it on our turf. If we wanted any shot at keeping up our strength and holding on to our territory, we were going to have to increase our numbers. Fast.

I wasn’t sure we were going to swing it, if I were being honest, but I had to try. This was my club; they looked to me for help. I couldn’t let them down.

I watched as the other members, my brothers and my family, patted Thunder on the back. I decided if Thunder were half as determined and loyal as his head was hard, he would make an excellent addition to the club.

It didn’t take my eyes long to wander, though. I was leader of the Sin Reapers and took my job very seriously, but there was one thing that could tear me away from business: Luciana.

I spotted her standing off to the side, arms wrapped around herself and hip c****d in what might look like a tough chick position, but I knew better. She washolding herself. Something tonight had upset her and I yearned to know what it was.

Sometimes I thought Luciana was too damn innocent for all of this s**t. It wasn’t true, not really, but it felt like it. Luciana had seen more violence and grief and trouble in her short life than probably most of us here combined.

Bills wouldn’t be included in that, but then he was usually the exception.

She was the kind of girl who was sort of fragile, though. She put on a brave face when the guys were here and smirked in all the right places, pushed out her chest at all the right moments, and fought like the best of them when she had to—but it was all just an act. It always had been.

I came from a family where violence was the norm, and, in a way, Luciana did, too, but it was different for her. The violence wasn’t directed at her. Her dad maybe didn’t always do right by her, but he tried.

And what did I do? Dragged her right back into the middle of it.

But I couldn’t help it. I needed her here with me. I needed to feel her legs wrap around me and her nails claw at my back. I needed the things an innocent little girl shouldn’t give, but it didn’t matter, I had to take them anyway.

She’s not a little girl, I reminded myself, because I couldn’t be that kind of an asshole. But sometimes, when I looked at her and she had those big eyes, that vulnerable look on her face with that trembling lower lip, I felt like I was anyway.

It took me a moment, but finally I caught Luciana’s eye. I knew she hated these things, initiation. She didn’t like the violence and didn’t think it was necessary, not really. I thought she knew it was, but didn’t want to admit it to herself. She wanted to believe we all could be better. I wasn’t so naïve.

I sent her a smile, cocky and self-assured, though I didn’t feel much like either of those things lately when it came to her. Things were different between us, strained, and I hated it. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

When she didn’t smile back at me, I winked at her.

She’d been different recently, and I couldn’t really blame her for it. Things had changed abruptly for all of us six months ago and Luciana out of everyone was taking it the hardest. She had the right to; after all, it was her father who died.

His name was Preacher—it was actually Marcus Gilles, but the only people who knew were me, Luciana, and the Preacher’s widow—and he’d led the Sin Reapers like a righteous but stern king. No one crossed Preacher and everyone respected him.

But six months ago, that changed. He died and no one had an answer for that, least of all me. And I wanted one, bad. I wanted to be able to tell Luciana everything was fine, everything would be fine, and there was a reason for this terrible thing that ripped through her family.

What the hell did I know?

Now, I could see it in Luciana’s eyes that this wasn’t the same for her anymore. It wasn’t more violent by any stretch, but she’d lost her shield and I was beginning to think she didn’t feel like I was enough to make up for that.

I wanted to prove her wrong, but didn’t quite know how. Not yet.

The beating was over and Thunder was on his feet. Someone had even given him a bag of ice to press against his face in the hopes that one of his eyes at least might open the following morning. I sincerely doubted it. The guys were still congratulating Thunder on his successful initiation, but they were starting to filter out now. It was just about time to go.

Strictly speaking, it was part of the biker’s code—ours at least—that the women of the club stay back when it came to the beatings. They could be present, like Luciana, but had to stand off to the side and wait.

Once, I’d told Luciana she didn’t have to go. I wasn’t sure if I’d really meant it or not, probably not, but I had said it anyway in the hopes of appeasing her. We’d been arguing for the last week before that, it seemed, but when I’d made the offer, she just seemed all the more pissed off at me. It was like I had insulted her.

Even now, I wasn’t really sure what had set her off, but after that she’d made it a point to not only attend every initiation and every meeting, but to force herself to watch as much as she could stand.

Tonight had been especially brutal, and I’d noticed her look away several times.

I didn’t think it affected the other women—the old ladies of members of the club, since Luciana was the only “official” female member, and that was more due to special circumstances than anything else—like it did Luciana. She was more delicate than they were.

I watched as the women who had been standing near or sitting on the bikes head into the ring now. They joined their men, hugging and kissing and showing general displays of affection that was maybe more than I wanted to see just then.

I waited for Luciana, but I knew even before I saw her turn away that she wouldn’t come to me. I knew it. Part of me wanted to stalk over to her and grab her wrist as she reached for the car. I wanted to jerk her around and make her look at me, make her stare deep into my eyes until that familiar yearning, burning sensation filled my body and I kissed her like I couldn’t breathe without her.

Sometimes I felt like I really couldn’t.

Instead, I watched her like a hawk. Watched as she yanked open the car door and slipped inside. Since she didn’t ride with us, she wasn’t required to have a bike. She could use her father’s, of course, but if we were riding, it was more likely that she’d ride with me anyway—her arms wrapped around my middle and her crotch pressed against my back, until the vibrations drove us both nuts. When Luciana started the car and backed up, she finally looked up at me. It was a brief glance and she still didn’t smile back at me, but I didn’t hold it against her.

Luciana would come back. She always did.