Hell Bent

“He figured out what Jack is.”

Cassie was stunned silent for a moment, and then she whistled low. “Damn. That’s one smart kid.”

Annabelle nodded. “Yes, it is.” More than you know, she thought.

“So, what did you tell him?”

“What could I say?” Annabelle shrugged. “He wouldn’t believe anything I were to tell him in Jack’s defense, so I didn’t say anything at all.” She blew out a sigh and shook her head. “He’s got it in his head to hate Jack, one way or another, so what’s the use?”

Cassie nodded in understanding.

There was a knock on the door. “You girls done chit-chattin’? If you are, come out into the family room.” It was Sam. He gave the order and then left.

Annabelle and Cassie blinked at one another and then Annabelle stood, ran a hand through her hair, and straightened her clothes. Cassie did the same. They laid a hand on each other’s shoulders and then Cassie opened the door and let them out.

The others had already gathered in the living room. Beatrice and Clara sat beside each other on the love seat. Dylan sat at the dining room table, his wooden chair turned toward the family room so that he was as good as included. Craig and Virginia were seated across from each other on opposite couches, the coffee table between them.

Jack stood at the far wall, opposite the entrance to the hallway. He was leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes found Annabelle’s as she moved out into the room. His gaze narrowed and he seemed to be studying her face closely. His gaze intensified and Annabelle found herself pulling her own away. As ridiculous as it sounded, she was half afraid that he would be able to read her mind. And right now, the only thought that seemed to want to occupy it was her dread that he had killed Teresa Anderson six years ago.

Jack seemed to let it go for now and pushed himself off of the wall. “Virginia, I need you to tell us exactly where you hid the vial and the instructions that Craig gave to you six years ago.” He began, moving to the coffee table as he spoke. He unfolded his arms and reached down for one of the apples in a bowl on the table and then shined it on his shirt. “With you still alive,” he nodded to Craig, “the cure is safe, for now. The vial is obsolete. However, we can’t allow it to fall into Osborne’s hands.”

“It’s become like an appendix,” Cassie supplied, eyeing the apples, herself. They were only Granny Smiths, so not exactly easy on the stomach, but they were big and shiny and were sure to be crispy. “Unnecessary, but potentially dangerous.”

Jack chewed on his cheek for a moment and then nodded, once, in her direction. “Right.” He said, leaving it at that.

Craig glanced at Virginia. “Plus, as long as a copy of the medication exists somewhere out there, Ginnie’s life is in danger. Osborne’s men will continue to track her in order to get to it.”

Virginia paled.

Craig put his arm around her, drawing her to his chest. “It needs to be destroyed.”

At first, Annabelle wondered why it would be that Craig felt he needed to convince Virginia of that fact. And then she realized that this was a secret that Meredith had successfully kept for more than half a decade. She had almost been willing to die for it. It meant a lot to her and she needed to be reassured.

Craig continued, in a soft voice. “You can tell them where it is.”

Virginia nodded. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Fine.” Craig allowed her to sit back up. She looked up at Jack. “Got a piece of paper and a pen? I’ll make you a map.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Ten minutes later, jack folded the piece of paper and stuck it in the inside pocket of his black leather jacket. Then he pulled on his gauntlet gloves and looked up at Annabelle, pinning her with a hard stare.

“Bella, you’re coming with me.”

She blinked. “What? Why?”

“Because I need someone to watch my back and Sam’s the only one experienced enough to protect the group while we’re gone.” That wasn’t exactly the whole truth. In fact, it wasn’t any of the truth. But he wasn’t going to tell her any more at the moment, and besides, it was a reasonable excuse.

Annabelle seemed to be mulling that over while he went to the hall closet and retrieved her holster, gun, and riding gear. He knew she wasn’t buying his story. It had been a very long time since Jack needed anyone to cover his back.

He strode back across the room to stand before her and then held out the equipment for her to take.

She looked down at it. “Am I riding bitch?” she asked, point-blank.

He blinked. And then he smiled. “Nah, luv,” he said, showing her an almost cruel grin. “Your bike’s down there too.”

At that, she took the shoulder holster with the gun in it and strapped it on. Next, she slipped on the jacket and pulled on the gloves. He could see that there was a wealth of fight building behind her eyes, but, for whatever blessed reason, she’d chosen to keep it to herself - for the moment.

He wasn’t happy about that so much as scared, but he had to admire both her courage and control. And, until he could get her alone, he was grateful for it as well.

He led the way out of the apartment and down the several flights of stairs to the lower level.

Annabelle was well aware of the multitude of things they had to discuss. The under-the-sheets play of the night before only complicated matters, which had already been pretty damned complicated, as it was. For one, he was married. Two, he wasn’t telling her everything. That much was obvious by the fact that he’d been a Hell’s Angel “for a while” and had never come clean about it. What else was he hiding from her?

What jobs had he taken six years ago?

Then there was the issue, which she still hadn’t forgotten about, of the clothes he’d had made for her. He’d gotten the size and fit right by having someone in Cuba model them off of clothes she’d given to Goodwill. How had he come about possession of those donated articles of clothing? It was just too strange, and too personal to explain away with a shrug.

They needed to talk.

Something was eating at Jack. She could see it in his every action, hear it in his voice, and read it in his eyes. There was yet another thing that he was keeping from her. And this one was important. What was it? Whatever it was, the fact that it made Jack nervous down-right made her afraid.

Annabelle fully planned on putting an end to the uncomfortable guessing game she was playing with herself, once they were alone.

But as soon as they exited the side doors of the complex and entered the lamp-lit alley, all thought of deep heart-to-heart discussion flew from her head.

Her bike was parked there. Right beside his.

Her bike – meaning, the Night Rod. It looked exactly like the one that he’d given to her for her upcoming birthday. Could it possibly be the same one?

She took a step forward and looked at it more closely. No. No lightning strike across the tank, but black as night, just the same. Beautiful. Gorgeous. And since Jack was standing next to the Fat Boy, that meant that the V-Rod was all hers.

It didn’t matter one whit to her at that moment what she needed to discuss with the British bad boy she’d bedded the night before. As long as he let her ride the Harley – rental or not – she could take everything else up with him later.

She glanced back up at him and he tossed her the key. She caught it easily and looked back down at the bike.

Come to mama…

Jack led the way through the streets of Manhattan, trying to ignore the fact that Annabelle didn’t have a helmet in one of the most dangerous cities in the country. He trusted her. He really did. He didn’t trust anyone else on the road worth a “god damn”, as Sam would put it, but he knew he needed to bury that fear like a hatchet and show her that he felt she could keep herself safe. As hard as it was, it would be a feather in his cap when it came