Page 82 of Jett

Did they beg for mercy? Did they cry like I did?

I fucking hope so.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. A shiver runs the length of my spine and milk sprays out of my breasts, soaking my clothing. I strip off my sodden shirt and climb beneath the spray. It’s too hot. It burns my skin, but I don’t turn it down because it’s one thing I can feel—pain—and I’m afraid without it, I’ll go completely numb.

RAINE

INDIE PULLS UP IN FRONTof the house at lunchtime, just like we arranged, and I grab my bag of belongings and take the stairs at a clipped pace, even though it causes my C-section to pull painfully with every step. By the time I make it to the foot of the stairs, I’m doubled over in agony. Grim glances up at me from the couch, his eyes settling onto the duffle bag containing my belongings.

He launches his huge body from the couch and out of the living room to the stairs in a single heartbeat.

Grim grabs my arm and wrenches me closer. “Oh, no. I am not going to sit by and let this happen. You’re not leaving him on my watch.”

Outside, Indie tells Diesel to move the fuck out of the way, and then she shoves into the house, past a biker twice her size, and slams the door in his face. “Take your hands off her,” she says to Grim.

Grim frowns and glares at Indie like she’s a stubborn cockroach that just won’t die, but he releases his hold on me all the same. “I shoulda known this had somethin’ to do with you.”

“Oh, eat me, Grim.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well, I would, but I don’t know where you been.”

“Grim!” I chastise, and he has the good grace to look ashamed.

“I can’t let you walk out of here, Raine. You know that, right?”

“You’re not going tolether do anything,” Indie snaps, picking up my duffle bag from the floor where I dropped it. “She’s going, whether you like it or not.”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to tell Prez?”

“Who gives a shit what you tell him? He doesn’t own her.”

“She’s wearing his jacket, ain’t she?” Grim growls as if he abhors the very words coming from his mouth.

“God, you bikers and your misogynistic bullshit.” Indie shakes her head and hoists my bag higher on her shoulder. “Come on, honey.”

I stare up at Grim beseechingly. “I can’t stay here, Grim. I can’t look at him without seeing what I lost. I just ... I need some time.”