Page 81 of Illicit Obsession

“Anything for my nephew.” Gunner chuckled as he embraced Jagger carefully.

“How’s the shoulder, Jag?”

“Good. Making progress and hope to be on the field soon.”

My eyes widened as my gaze swept over the guys filing into the house. There were at least five, all wearing jeans and black leather cuts with a flaming skull on the back.

“Ari, this is Slim, Cupcake, Rigs, Boomer, and Tiny.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by their presence, I smiled and gave them a little wave. As discreetly as possible, I slid off the barstool and inched over to Jagger. He placed a kiss on my cheek.

The men went to the kitchen, where they grabbed food and beers. I snatched my drink up and drained it dry, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. Although I trusted Jagger, his uncle and the MC were intimidating as hell.

I poured myself another drink as the house was filled with chatter and laughter.

“Pace yourself, babe. We’re about to have a serious conversation. You can have all the whiskey you want afterward.”

“Shit. It’s that bad?” I replaced the cap on the bottle of Jim Beam and waited for my stepbrother to answer.

Jagger slid his arm around me and led me to the couch, where we sat. The men remained standing, serious expressions settling in.

“Jagger told me some details about you and Crimson, but I’d like to hear it from you,” Gunner started.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled, and I glanced at Jagger for confirmation that it was okay to share with the MC.

He took my hand in his. “Go ahead, Ari.”

I forced away the dark memories and focused on what was in front of me—a room full of people who cared about Jagger and me. Over the next several minutes, I shared with Gunner and the others about Crimson forcing me to start the fire and how she held me hostage for three days. I wasn’t sure if Jagger had told them about Theo shipping me off to the academy, then lying and telling me that my stepbrother died in the flames, so I gave them the quick and dirty version.

Gunner shot his men a pointed look, his expression filling with compassion as his gaze landed on me. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that shit.”

I bit my lower lip before I responded, “It wasn’t as bad as what Jagger went through with Psycho.”

“That’s why we’re here. Jag, I couldn’t risk telling you on the phone or in a text, but one of our guys spotted Psycho in Oregon near Whitmore. It’s why I messaged for you two to get the fuck out of there.”

Frowning, I placed my palm against my chest. “I don’t understand. Psycho? He was the one that forced you to do those . . .” I stopped myself before I uttered the words.

Gunner cracked his knuckles as though he were headed into a fight.

“Fuck!” Jagger said, his knee bouncing.

A heavy hush fell over everyone, and I glanced at Jagger. For the first time since Jag and I had reconnected, I saw sincere fear flicker in his gaze.

“Was he the son of a bitch that shot me? Do we know?” He stood and walked around the back of the couch, pacing the room with a hand on his hip.

Tiny cleared his throat before he spoke. “We’ve heard shit through the other clubs we’re in contact with. Psycho has laid low for a long time, but it seems he wanted to pay you a visit. From the chatter, he was the one that shot you.”

A maniacal laugh escaped Jagger, and goose bumps peppered my arms.

“Jagger?” I asked softly. “What is it?” Impatience jetted through me as I waited for an answer.

Finally, Jagger spoke, but not to me. “I want that son of a bitch to die a slow, painful death for what he’s done. Where is he?”

“Wait.” I jumped off the couch. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a witness to a murder plot. Pushing my fear aside, I dug deep for the courage to ask the question that had burned a hole in my stomach. It was necessary, but I was terrified to hear the answer. “I know you talk about them by those names, but why did they pick Jagger? Or me? All I know is that they’re crazy and psychopaths, but I don’t understand the connections.”

I stared at Jagger as the words left his lips. My brain took a moment to register what he’d said. Seconds later, it felt like a nuclear bomb detonated in my head as the truth crashed down on me.

Stunned, I staggered backward. “What?” My attention swept over the men, their grim expressions supporting what Jagger had finally revealed. I walked to him and cupped his face as tears welled in my eyes. “Psycho is your father?”

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