Page 67 of The Biker's Second Chance
TRUTH OR LIES
JAYNE
The clubhouse hums like a hive.
We managed to get most of the women into shelters in the area and let the managers know that they should be on the look out. No one was happy about it but at least the women weren't turned away. I guess that's the best that I could ask for.
The ones we couldn't get into shelters are here in the clubhouse.
Women cluster in corners, voices low, a mess of fear and relief. I sit beside one of the younger girls, her face half-hidden under a blanket that still smells faintly of bleach and motorcycle oil. She traces the stitching with her fingertip like it’s a map. Rumble’s booming laugh cuts through the room, but it’s sharp, jagged—he’s arguing with Mariah again, their voices bouncing against each other like a hammer on rock.
“You’re safe here,” I whisper to one of the girls I've just led to a small spot on the couch. Her eyes dart toward the door like she doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t know if I believe me either.
The sound of a zipper cuts through the noise. It shouldn't but, it's like my senses are all piqued.
My gaze shifts landing on Spike. He’s slinging a duffle bag over his shoulder, jaw tight, boots heavy on the wood floor. He moves like a man trying not to be watched, which is exactly why I keep my eyes on him. My pulse spikes when I see the glint of metal he tucks inside the bag.
Since we've made it out of the docks with the women, he's only checked on me once. After that there's been no more words between us. I don't get the impression that he's mad at me, just avoiding me.
After the conversation I heard him having on the phone, I can't let that fly.
Not without answers.
I smile once at the girl on the couch before I turn and rush after Spike, trailing him down the hall. His door creaks when he pushes it open, and before it clicks shut I wedge myself inside.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, my voice tinged with annoyance. We're supposed to be a team in this but right now he's acting like I'm an outsider.
His eyes flick up, calm as ever, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Packing.”
“For what?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps shoving shit into the bag like I’m background noise.
“Don’t fucking think you're going to walk out of here without telling me where the hell you’re going,” I snap. My fists clench. “Not after what I just saw. Not after what we just did.”
He snaps his attention to me, "Who the hell do you think you're talking to like that?." He exhales, slow, controlling the wild animal inside. “Jayne. This is my world. Sometimes I gotta handle things my way.”
“That’s not an answer.” My voice cracks on the edge of anger. “You think I’m just gonna sit here, play nurse, while you run around with the same bastards who put those girls in cages?”
His head jerks up, eyes flashing.
Oops, so much for not letting him know that I was eavesdropping.
“Watch yourself. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” My chest heaves. “I heard you, Spike. Cut us in? Proof of life? What the hell am I supposed to think?”
He steps in close, heat rolling off him. He stares daggers at me before simply shrugging his shoulders, "You think what you want to think. Makes no difference to me."
“I think you’re hiding something. And I think if you walk out that door without telling me, then maybe I don’t know you at all.”
Silence stretches. His jaw ticks. My body is trembling, not from fear but from fury. He sees it, and something in his gaze sharpens, like he’s daring me to break.
"You're not going to stop me. There's nothing you can say that is going to change what's going to happen."
I search my brain for a solution, "Then I'm coming with you."
"No, the fuck you aren't."
