Page 37 of Jazz

The noise rang out in the storage cupboard, loud and shrill. I opened the door, pausing just long enough to let the noise spill out. Her scream echoed off the concrete, raw and panicked. Perfect. But I needed more. Evidence. Proof.

Without letting go of her wrist, I reached for my own. The blade in my pocket flicked open with a snap, that metallic sound sharp enough to cut through the noise in my head. I dragged it across my forearm, quick and shallow but messy, just enough to sting, just enough to bleed. Warm liquid welled up instantly, sliding down my skin. It hurt, yeah. But it was nothing compared to what I’d done to others. Nothing compared to what would happen if they thought I’d gone soft.

I hissed through my teeth and smudged the blood down my neck with my thumb, dragging it to make it look like a struggle had gone wrong. Then I gripped Jazz tighter, hauling her against me like I’d just caught her mid-escape.

“Move,” I snarled, loud enough for them to hear through the open door.

My voice was a growl now, rougher, dirtier, the voice of an enforcer who’d just been blindsided.

She stumbled as I pulled her out of the cupboard, blindfold still in place, hair wild from where I’d grabbed it. She didn’t say a word. Thank fuck.

I slammed my shoulder against the doorframe on the way out, pain shooting up my arm, real pain this time, and I swore. Perfect. It would bruise. Another piece of the picture.

“She cut herself loose,” I barked as the Rats turned toward us, eyes narrowing, taking in the scene. “Came at me with the blade. Nearly got past me.”

I yanked her forward another step, making her stumble just enough to sell it. My blood dripped onto the old tiles, running into a crack in the lino. Every move now was a show. Hard hands. Loud voice. The kind of chaos they expected. But Skinny still stared, scrutinising my face.

Inside, my heart was still hammering from the kiss, from the heat of her mouth and the sound of her breath in the dark. But I buried it. Tried to forget about it. What they saw now wasn’t a man losing himself. It was an enforcer doing his job. Returning a Rats’ captive to their rightful place, tied up on that bed. Spread for all to use her if I wasn’t there. That thought jolted. Like a punch to the gut. Skinny glanced at me again.

“Skinny, find me more rope. Need to get this bitch tied back up.”

Jazz didn’t utter a noise as I tied her back to the bed. Her arms spread as wide as her legs. Not a whimper, not a sound.She stared into the blindfold, her face pointed to the ceiling like she was concentrating on the old foam tiles, riddled with brown stains where the roof had leaked steadily for years. She didn’t move, and she didn’t resist, and I closed the door on her, ushering my brothers out with me when she was once again secure.

*****

“What the fuck happened last night?” Dougal grumbled from the head of the table, his Scottish droning round the little room at the back of the Rats’ clubhouse.

All eyes turned to me to join Skinny’s, who had spent the entire night staring at me.

“Went back to give her some food…”

“Why?” Tommo interrupted, prompting a scowl from our President.

“Because if we want to keep her alive, she needs to eat and drink something, you muppet.”

The rest of the room split with grumbles and nods of agreement.

“So, what are you telling us, Chase? You went in to give her some food, and she broke free and beat you up?” Dougal continued.

The room stifled laughs.

“No. I cut her hands free so she could eat. I didn’t put the knife straight away. I don’t know how she found it. But next thing I knew, she’d cut me.”

Brothers round the room were silent. No ahs, no snorts. Nothing. The atmosphere around the table grew thicker, andSkinny still stared, as if he were manifesting all sorts of shit in my direction.

“And how did she end up out of that room and in the fucking storage cupboard?”

“She got past me. And I’d left the door unlocked. I hadn’t seen any reason to lock it behind me.” I shrugged.

“She got past you?” Skinny spoke up now, the sneer all over his voice. “The club enforcer andshe got past you?”

“Aye, mate. You’ve seen how fucking wild she is. Least I didn’t let her dislocate my knee.”

“Fucking knob,” he hissed, rising to his feet, the chair he rose from scratching the floor loudly as it pushed out behind him.

“Enough.”

It wasn’t a shout. But it was an order. Dougal didn’t need to shout to be heard. Or to make us stop.