Jagger: 5th Circle Guardians MC, Book

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 Jagger
5th Circle Guardians, Book 1

E.K. Hart
 Copyright © 2023 E.K. Hart

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise, without express written permission of the author, with the exception of brief excerpts or quotations used in reviews of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Character names, descriptions, and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

This book may contain references to actual trademarked and/or copyrighted companies, businesses, products, songs, movies and/or television shows. Any such references
are solely for literary effect. Any other trademarks and/or copyrights remain the property of their respective owners.

Cover design by: E.K. Hart

 This book is dedicated...

To my father, who taught me the value of education and passed on his love of reading to me from a very young age. He would have been appalled at
my choice of subject matter, but he would have been so very proud of me for writing it anyway. I love you, Dad, and I miss you every day.

and

To my mother, who taught me to be independent, and who continues to give me unwavering support and encouragement every single day. She would
also be appalled at my subject matter, if I allowed her to read my books. She would like you all to know that she raised me better than that, LOL. I love
you, Mom, more than I can possibly say.
 Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author's Note

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue – Six Months Later…
Reviews matter
Books By This Author
Acknowledgement
About The Author
 Author's Note
Trigger Warnings for Sensitive Readers:
This book contains brief mentions of off-page child abuse, drug abuse, infidelity (not between the main charters), as well as a scene involving gun violence. Your mental
well-being is important, so if any of these topics could be disturbing for you, please skip this book and pick something else to read.

Mature (18+) readers only:

This is not an 80's-era Harlequin Romance, folks. There is no "fade to black" sex, where the scene stops when the close the bedroom door. There are no vaguely implied
naughty times. It's all spelled out in hot, throbbing, gloriously raunchy detail. So, if nake people doing naked things together bothers you, I would suggest you move along
without peeking.

There is also a lot of cursing. Seriously, it's a lot. Our hero, in particular, enjoys sprinkling his conversations liberally with F-bombs and the like. Not your cup of tea? Again,
you might want to cover your ears and look elsewhere for your next reading adventure.

For those of you still herer, I truly hope you enjoy this story.

Happy Reading!

E.K. Hart
 Chapter 1
Molly

“That’s it, Angel. Let me hear how damned good that feels. Show me how much you like it,” the deep voice growled in
my ear. I couldn’t help myself and I moaned louder as his hands clutched my jean-clad hips and pulled me flush against him,
grinding his thick erection into me. God, I wanted more. He slid one hand down my thigh, grasping my leg just behind my knee
and raising it to curve around his waist. I was perched on the edge of his desk, legs spread wide, precariously balanced against
his body, and I circled my arms around his neck so that I didn’t fall off. I’d never had sexy times on a desk before, and I wasn’t
especially graceful, so the potential for injury was real. It wasn’t enough for me to call a halt to this though, I thought, as yet
another shiver of sheer pleasure surged through my body.
“Fuck yeah, right there,” he groaned, thrusting against me, and circling his hips so that he was hitting me just right. His
erection felt huge against me, and my body tingled from the contact. His mouth moved across my jaw and down my neck,
nuzzling along the base of my throat before sucking gently on my skin.
“You smell so damned good, Angel,” he whispered, nudging his nose along my neck again as if he couldn’t get enough
of my scent, and I shivered in response to the warmth of his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh. His hands roved all over
my hips, squeezing and kneading my ample curves. His mouth moved lower, licking, and sucking his way across my
collarbone, then lower still, as he edged closer to my breasts.
“I want – “
It took a few seconds for me to realize why he had stopped speaking mid-sentence, then I hazily registered the urgent
knocking on the door.
“Jag? Uh, sorry to interrupt whatever you’ve got going on in there, but we gotta problem out here.” The music coming
from the bar area was muffled back here, but I heard the voice of the man clearly through the office door. Terrific. That likely
meant he had also heard the moans from inside this room. I felt myself flush as Jagger dropped his head to my shoulder with a
groan, then stepped back a few inches and helped me off the desk.
“Yeah, I’ll be right out,” he barked, looking beyond pissed that our whatever-the-heck-this-was had just been
interrupted. A quickie? A hook-up? A sleazy, wham-bam-thank you, ma’am in the back room of a biker bar? Yep, that last one.
That’s exactly what this was leading toward, all right.
Jagger adjusted his sizeable erection in his jeans, and I felt myself flush again and couldn’t bring myself to meet his
gaze. I was so out of my element here. I didn’t do things like this. Never in the history of ever had I found myself simulating a
sex act with an almost-total stranger. I was not a wham-bam kind of girl. I was a kindergarten teacher, for Pete’s sake! I dated, I
got to know a guy, and we had an actual relationship that sometimes progressed to sex. We sure as heck didn’t start with
desktop sex less than nine hours after meeting each other.
“Why don’t you wait in here for me, and I’ll be right back,” he suggested huskily, turning, and reaching for the doorknob
as I adjusted my clothes. He stopped and turned to look at me when I didn’t answer.
“Angel?” He took a step back toward me, which I knew only because I was studiously looking at his feet in an effort to
avoid his gaze. Angel. We hadn’t even exchanged our real names. He’d started calling me Angel about five minutes after we’d
met, when I’d refused to tell him my actual name. I’d maintained that if he could go by a nickname, or road name, as he’d
corrected me, then so could I. He’d grinned and agreed.
He put his finger under my chin to lift my head, then dipped his head so that he could meet my eyes. As I met the heat of
his warm brown gaze, I knew I was blushing. I could feel the heat spreading from my cheeks, down over my neck and to my
chest. He gently cupped my jaw before slowly sliding his hand around to the back of my neck. He lifted his other hand to my
face and tenderly ran the back of his fingers over my cheek. I could feel the heat under my skin, and knew my embarrassment
was likely telegraphed by the flush of red covering my entire face.
“You OK, Angel? I’m sorry if I came on too strong. You’re just so damned irresis – “
Bang, bang, bang! This time, the knocking gave way to an insistent pounding of fists on the door, before a deeper voice
boomed out “Jag, put your cock away and get your ass out here!”
“Fuck!” Jagger muttered, dropping a kiss on my forehead before nudging me toward the sofa in the corner of the office.
“Sit, Angel. I’ll be back as soon as I can. There are bottled waters and shit in the mini fridge over there, if you need
anything in the meantime.” He pointed vaguely to the opposite corner of the room as he strode over and flung open the door. A
tall man, even taller than Jagger’s own six-foot-two or so, stood there frowning, glancing over Jagger’s shoulder, and flashing
a surprised look when he caught sight of me huddled against the arm of the sofa. Yeah, I was probably not the kind of woman he
was used to seeing in this office, judging by his request for Jagger to put his…cock away, not that it had actually been out.
I’d seen the other women in the bar as we’d walked in, and most of them looked like what you’d expect when you hear
the term biker chick. Scantily dressed, many in skin-tight jeans or barely-there skirts, huge – probably fake – boobs, teased
hair, heavy make-up. A couple of the rougher looking ones could best be described by the old phrase “rode hard and put away
wet”. I was definitely the odd man – well, odd woman – out in this situation, so the guy’s look of surprise was to be expected.
The music coming from the bar’s sound system was loud for a moment, and I recognized the sound of a classic AC/DC
song before Jagger slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me to wonder how on earth I’d found myself in this position.
And by this position, I meant almost having wham-bam desktop sex with a gorgeous biker I’d just met this afternoon.

***********************************************************************

My day had started off as mundane as most of my Saturdays are. I’d had a list of errands, the most exciting of which
was a hair appointment at the ungodly hour of eight o’clock. As a kindergarten teacher, I was used to getting up at the butt-crack
of dawn during the week to get to school by seven. On the weekends though? The weekends were for indulging my inner sloth,
and she was a lazy creature who wanted nothing more than to sleep until ten o’clock or so. But my hair stylist was going on
vacation and in order to get an appointment before she left, I’d had to take her early-bird slot usually filled by the little old
ladies that came in for a wash and set. It was worth it though. My naturally wavy, blonde hair now fell in face-framing layers,
with the length hitting just a few inches below my shoulders. I could still put it up in a ponytail or a messy bun for those
mornings when I hit the snooze button one too many times – I loved my snooze button - but it was much more manageable now.
After leaving the salon, I’d stopped at the post office to mail off a baby gift for a friend from high school, who had
moved across the country after graduation. Then it was off to the mall to return a pair of jeans that fit across my hips but gapped
at the waist, a common problem for those of us with a little too much junk in the trunk.
I’d often wished that I could shift some of the padding from my backside to my chest to even things out a bit. My breasts
were perky, but barely a C-cup on a good day. I was content with my figure, for the most part anyway, but a bit more even
distribution would be nice, so I didn’t feel quite so pear-shaped. My waist nipped in just enough to emphasize the wide flare of
my hips, my stomach was a bit softer than I’d like, but abs or even a flat, taut tummy required a dedication to healthy eating and
exercise that I simply didn’t possess and likely never would. My thighs were a bit too thick, but they balanced out my behind.
I’m not sure I’d ever had a thigh gap, but that was OK. My calves were well-defined from being on my feet all day, often in
heels that got switched for ballet flats by the time the school day was over. All in all, it was as good as it was going to get,
unless I decided to give up chocolate for lettuce and took up running. I’d long maintained that if anyone ever saw me running,
they would know I was trying to escape an ax-wielding murderer. The sorry truth was, even in that scenario, I probably
wouldn’t even bother trying to run. He would just catch me, and I would die anyway – only I’d be sweaty, red-faced, and out-
of-breath when I left this world. No thank you. I’d take my chances with the guy and his ax. My body might not be intact when it
was over, but my dignity would be.
After trying and finally succeeding in finding a pair of jeans that fit both my waist and my butt – Halle-freaking-lujah –
I’d made a final stop at the teacher supply store to pick up some new posters for my story time area. I’d left there a little over
one hundred dollars poorer, because I could never get just what I went in to buy. I always, no matter how determined or how
broke I was, always got sidetracked by something new on display, and before I knew it, I was browsing up and down the aisles
as if I’d won the freaking lottery and had money to burn.
I’d been in desperate need of a caffeine fix by that point, and the growling from my stomach had told me it was past
time for lunch. I’d needed a Diet Pepsi in the worst way. A big, juicy bacon-cheeseburger wouldn’t hurt either, I’d thought as
my stomach had growled again.
I had spotted the diner down the block and decided that would satisfy my hunger. As I’d turned my three-year old
Honda Civic – a college graduation gift from my parents - into the parking lot, I’d been lucky enough to grab a spot by the door.
The parking lot was full otherwise, so I took that as a sign that the food would be pretty good. As I got out of my car, I’d
absently noted the parking enforcement officer pulling up to the curb, right behind a gorgeous motorcycle parked right in the
middle of a no-parking zone. The gas tank had what appeared to be a custom paint job, with a ring of flames surrounding a
skull. I had seen that biker emblem around town, they were called The Guardian something-or-other, and I knew they hosted a
charity motorcycle ride every year to raise money for the local youth center. They apparently weren’t a hard-core Sons of
Anarchy kind of club, but they weren’t exactly choir boys either, or so I’d heard anyway.
The smell of delicious food had assaulted my senses as I’d pulled open the door, and my stomach had growled again
right on cue. A quick glance around showed only a couple of tables open. A waitress had caught my eye and motioned for me to
pick a table, and I’d walked past the front counter to get to the table in the corner. I wanted to be able to read my Kindle in
peace while I ate, and it had looked like the quietest spot.
I had noticed the stool at the end of the counter was occupied by a man wearing a black leather vest with the same
flame and skull emblem on the back, presumably the owner of the motorcycle out front. A quick glance over my shoulder had
shown that the parking enforcement officer was standing just behind it, taking down the license plate number if I’d had to guess.
I had hesitated a moment – he was a biker, after all – and then approached him quietly.
 “Um, I assume that’s your motorcycle parked out front?” I’d asked softly, trying not to gawk as he’d swiveled around on
his stool, and I had gotten my first look at his face.
Good God, he was gorgeous. Absolutely, positively, panty-meltingly gorgeous. Dark brown hair, longer on the top than
on the sides, what I guessed was perpetually tanned skin, and a dusting of dark brown scruff covering a sharp jawline I’d like
to lick, with deep brown eyes the color of my favorite chocolate. I’d hoped I wasn’t drooling, but between the smell of the
food in this place and the chiseled perfection in front of me, I wouldn’t have bet on it.
“Yeah, babe, it is. Why, do you like bikes?” He’d shot me a smirk, as if he were well aware of my train of thought. I
was sure he had women flinging themselves at him day and night. Too bad I wasn’t the type to fling myself anywhere.
“Well, it is a beautiful machine. It’s also in the process of being ticketed.” I had pointed toward the large plate glass
window, through which the female parking enforcement officer could clearly be seen at the rear of his motorcycle.
“Ah, fucking hell!” he’d muttered, rolling his eyes, and jumping to his feet. I’d stepped aside so I wouldn’t be trampled
as he hauled butt toward the door. A mighty fine butt it was, too. Those well-worn jeans he was wearing fit him in all the right
places, and every woman in the place was thanking God and the Levi Strauss Company for creating such a thing of beauty.
I’d heard him begging the officer to just let him move his bike as the door closed behind him and I had snickered to
myself as I took my seat in the booth. I had a prime view out the window and snorted as I saw the officer smile shyly and look
at the ground, before looking back up at him and nodding. He had taken a step closer and said something that made her laugh,
then she’d tucked her hair back behind her ear in the universal sign of flirtatious women everywhere.
He had flashed her a grin and walked her back to her patrol car, gallantly opening the door for her and giving her one
more self-satisfied grin as she slid into the driver’s seat. He then closed the door, gave her a quick wave, and hustled over to
mount his motorcycle, or bike as he’d called it. I had heard the muted roar of the tail pipes as he started it, then lost sight of him
as he drove around the side of the building.
Oh well, there was my good deed for the day, and I got a little eye-candy with it. Not a bad deal, really. I was
distracted at that point by the server stopping at my table. I’d glanced at the menu, ordered the bacon-cheeseburger and fries
that I’d been craving, along with my beloved Diet Pepsi. I had given myself a mental high-five for resisting the urge to glance at
the dessert portion of the menu.
“I’ll have that right out for you, hon,” she’d said, tucking her notepad back into the pocket of her apron. I pulled my
Kindle out of my purse and opened it, toggling the switch on the side to wake up the device. I was in the middle of a book that
my mother referred to as “spicy” but, let’s be honest, it was pretty much smut, mommy porn, or erotica, take your pick. I was
dying to find out if the Irish mobster was as domineering in bed as he was out of it. The sweet virginal heroine in the book
wanted to know, too.
The bell over the front door had jingled again, and I’d glanced over to see Hot Biker – yes, that was officially his name
now - walking back in. The server had laughed as she called out to ask him if he was able to sweet-talk his way out of a ticket
again this time.
“What can I say, babe? The officer was in a forgiving mood today,” he’d said with a laugh and a wink in her direction.
“Is my order about ready?”
“Should be up any second now. Grab a seat and I’ll check on it.”
He had started toward the stool he had just vacated, then stopped, and looked around the room. He’d spotted me tucked
in my corner booth and headed my way.
“Thanks for the heads up, babe. I appreciate it,” he’d said to me in a low, rumbly voice as he came to a stop next to my
table. I’d looked up at him and tried not to drool again.
“No problem. I’m glad it worked out for you,” I had said with a small smile, before turning my attention back to my
Kindle. I’d assumed he was walking away, and I was determined not to join every other woman in the place who would be
staring at his yummy backside.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I heard him ask and looked up to see him staring down at me intently.
“No,” I’d said slowly, unsure why he was asking.
“Do you mind some company?” he had asked, sliding into the other side of the booth without waiting for my reply.
I had snorted at his brazen smile. “No, by all means, please join me.” I’d made a sweeping gesture toward the bench
seat he was now occupying, rolling my eyes as he’d shot me a wink. Hot Biker was a cocky son-of-a-biscuit, wasn’t he? Of
course, if I looked like sex on a stick, I’d be cocky, too, I supposed.
“Thank you, Angel, don’t mind if I do,” he’d said, trying to hide his laugh at my exasperated sigh. I wasn’t sure what his
game was, but I’d known he was playing one. Guys like him did not look twice at women who looked like me. I was the girl-
next-door type who wore cardigans and sundresses, he was Trouble with a capital T, leather and stubble and Good God, look
at his arms. The way his biceps stretched the sleeves on his white T-shirt should be illegal, and the veins and light dusting of
hair on those tanned forearms? Major arm porn, especially with the tattoo I could see peeking out from under the edge of his
sleeve. The black design was some sort of leaf or flower, maybe? I couldn’t see much of his chest under the leather vest he
wore, but his shoulders were broad and nicely muscled, not overly so, though. He looked like he had a leaner build, like a
swimmer maybe, rather than a muscle-bound gym rat.
His hands were big, strong, and lightly callused, with nails neatly clipped I was happy to see. I couldn’t stand to see
guys with nails bitten down to the quick.
“ – your name is, or should I just keep calling you Angel?” His voice had interrupted my perusal of his oh-so-fine form.
“Um, I’m sorry, what was that?” I’d asked, trying not to look like the idiot I was sure he thought I was. I had pushed my
Kindle to the side of the table as I turned my attention back to him.
He’d flashed me a grin, as though he knew exactly why I hadn’t been listening. “I said, are you going to tell me what
your name is, or should I just keep calling you Angel?”
I’d arched a brow at that. “Why Angel? You seem partial to calling women ‘babe’ from what I’ve heard so far.”
He had just flashed me a grin, not at all repentant at being called out like that. “You saved me from a parking ticket, so I
figure you’re my guardian angel. Then there’s the fact that you kinda look like an angel. It just fits.”
I couldn’t help the rather unladylike snort that escaped me, and my eyes had rolled so far back in my head that I’d
thought I got a quick glimpse of the inside of my skull. His brows had risen in surprise. I’d just bet he was used to women
swooning at his feet with smooth lines like that.
Too bad for him, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d swooned over anyone or anything. Probably back in high school,
when Scott Baxter had asked me to the Homecoming dance while reading the morning announcements over the school’s PA
system. He was in the communications club and had gotten detention from the teacher in charge of the club for that little stunt.
He’d also gotten that date with me – and a couple of months later, my virginity - so he’d declared it worth the detention. We’d
dated for the rest of our senior year and all that summer, before going our separate ways to college. I’d been sad, but not
especially broken-hearted. Scott was now a reporter for one of the local TV news stations, and I always smiled when I saw
him on TV. I was happy for him - he’d achieved his goal, and I’d even heard he was newly engaged.
I was saved from answering by the return of the server, who had a tray with a carryout box and two drinks. She had
handed me the Diet Pepsi and handed the box and the other drink to Hot Biker, who’d thanked her and then proceeded to set the
box on the table and open it, revealing the same bacon cheeseburger that I’d ordered, although he had onion rings with his.
“Changed my mind,” he had said to her with a smile. “I think I’ll eat here today.”
She’d glanced at me curiously, then looked back at him and nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. I’ll bring another glass of sweet
tea for you if you need it. Let me know if you need anything else.” Turning to me, she’d told me that my food was almost ready,
and she would be right back with it. Giving us both one last look, she had turned and headed back toward the kitchen area.
I’d looked at Hot Biker, who was calmly sipping his drink as if it weren’t strange that he’d invited himself to have
lunch with me. I had run my eyes over his leather vest, noticing a patch on the front that said “Jagger”.
“So, um, your name is Jagger?” I’d asked hesitantly. At his questioning look, I had gestured to his vest. “I noticed the
patch on your vest.”
He’d set his glass back down and nodded. “Yes, well, that’s what people call me, anyway.”
“Oh, it’s a nickname?”
“Road name, Angel. In an MC, they’re called road names. And this isn’t a vest, it’s called a cut,” he’d informed me
with a grin.
I’d nodded my head, vaguely remembering that now from a book I’d read once. An MC was a motorcycle club, that
much I’d known.
“So, what’s your name?” he’d asked again.
I had hesitated, taking a sip of my drink to stall for time as I debated giving him my real name. Setting my glass back
down on the table, I’d decided to play him at his own game.
“Angel. Well, that’s what people call me, anyway,” I’d responded with a straight face, daring him to push the issue.
He had looked surprised for a second, then grinned widely and nodded. “Fine, Angel it is, for now at least.” He’d
winked at me, and I’d felt my pulse flutter. Oh my. Flirting with Hot Biker was not what I had expected to be doing on a typical
Saturday afternoon.
The server had suddenly appeared at the table with my plate and set it down in front of me. I’d looked at it in confusion,
my mind too fogged by the steamy lusciousness of Hot Biker to even remember what I’d ordered.
“Great minds think alike,” Jagger had said, gesturing to the two burgers we had. He’d picked his up and took a bite, and
I had realized he had waited until my food came to begin eating his.
There had been a comfortable silence for the next few moments, as we’d each started to eat our meals. The burgers
were huge, and I’d cut mine in half before I started eating. I’d known there was no way I could eat it all, even as hungry as I
was. I had moaned softly with the first bite. The burger was cooked perfectly. Jagger’s eyes had snapped toward me when he
heard the sound I made, and I’d felt myself blush.
“Sorry,” I’d apologized, after I’d chewed and swallowed the first bite. “I’m starving, and this burger is so good.”
Jagger had raised an eyebrow and shot me a wicked grin. “Don’t ever apologize for making that sound, Angel. I’m
hoping to hear more later,” he’d said in a panty-meltingly sensual tone, before returning his attention to his own food.
 My mouth had dropped open at his brazen comment, wondering if he’d actually meant that the way it sounded. He didn’t
mean…surely he wasn’t serious about…what??? I was beyond flustered, so I busied myself pouring ketchup for my fries.
Jagger had continued eating, making small talk about the food and the diner. He’d told me that he had been a frequent
customer for years, as the owner had been a friend of his late grandmother’s. I had smiled at that. For some reason, hearing a
biker talk about his grandma struck me as sweet. It was clear that he missed her.
“You know, I intended to take my lunch back to work with me, but you distracted me, Angel,” he’d said as he picked up
an onion ring and took a bite.
I had looked up at him, ignoring the part about being a distraction. “Oh no, are you going to be late getting back from
your lunch hour?” I’d asked, not realizing he’d been working today.
He had flashed me one of his quick smiles. “It’s OK, I run the place, and we don’t open to the public for another few
hours. My crew will have it under control.” At my confused look, he’d explained, “I run The Inferno over on Gray Street. It’s a
bar our club owns. We’re open for club members at noon, but the general public doesn’t come in until five o’clock.”
I’d nodded as I ate another bite of my burger. I’d heard of it, but had never been there, of course. Biker bars weren’t
exactly my natural habitat. I wasn’t much for the bar scene period, at least not since I’d gotten out of college three years ago.
Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the last time I’d hung out at a bar was for my friend Emma’s bachelorette party in May.
“I’ve never been there,” he’d smiled when I said that, “but I know it’s been around for a long time. The parking lot is
always full of motorcycles when I pass by it, so business must be doing well.”
He’d nodded and swiped a French fry from my plate. I’d shot him a startled look, which he hadn’t noticed as he was
too busy popping it into his mouth. “Business is great. Always has been, since the day it opened,” he’d said, clearly proud of
their success. “We’ve been lucky, and we run a tight ship. My dad opened it almost twenty years ago, and I took over
management four years ago. Just because it’s a biker bar, doesn’t mean we allow fights and shit to go down. We want the
average citizen to feel comfortable going there, as well as other clubs, so it’s neutral territory.”
“I don’t understand. Neutral territory?” I had asked, resisting the urge to swat his hand when he reached for another of
my French fries. I had given him my best ‘teacher look’ but it had been lost on him as he’d answered my question. I had focused
my attention on my burger, taking another delicious bite as he spoke.
“Yeah, neutral territory, so other MC’s are allowed in.” At my continued look of confusion, he’d explained. “So, clubs
have territory, some more strictly enforced than others. This whole southwest area of Indianapolis is Guardian territory. Other
clubs have to let our Prez know if they’re coming into our territory for any official business, club runs, that kind of thing. Think
of it as a professional courtesy. Some clubs are really strict about even a casual ride through their part of town. We aren’t, so
much, unless it’s a club with a bad rep. Then, we look at them a little more closely to make sure they aren’t trying to stir up any
shit.”
“Uh…I see,” I’d said slowly, not really understanding but also not sure I wanted to know anything more about
territories or stirring up any…stuff.
I tried hard to limit my cursing, even in my thoughts, although I used to be quite fluent at it. Those things tended to slip
out at inopportune moments, and it only took one slip of the tongue in front of a group of five-year-olds to curb that habit in my
first year of teaching. Joseph Wanecki couldn’t remember to flush the toilet after a visit to the restroom, but he could remember
that Miss Walsh had said a bad word when she’d smacked her knee on the edge of his desk. Luckily, his mother had a great
sense of humor, and cussed like a drunken sailor herself, so she hadn’t raised a stink and gone to the principal over it. I was
grateful I hadn’t lost my job over an F-bomb flying under my breath in the middle of my classroom.
“We’re not one-percenters, so we don’t tolerate a lot of the shit that other clubs are into,” he’d said, as if that cleared
everything right up.
“I see,” I had repeated, slowly dipping a fry in my ketchup, and taking a bite. I’d heard the term ‘one-percenter’ before
but couldn’t remember what it meant exactly. I felt like I needed a Biker-to-English dictionary. I had idly wondered if such a
thing was available through Kindle Unlimited, maybe a Bikers for Dummies or something.
“So, what is it that you do for work, Angel?” Jagger had asked, and out of the corner of my eye, I had seen his hand
reach toward my plate, intent on grabbing another French fry. Without conscious thought, I’d reached down and smacked his
hand before it even reached the plate. He had snatched it back in surprise, and I had frozen, horrified that I had just smacked a
stranger – a leather-clad biker, no less.
I’d darted a glance at him to find him staring at me in shock, then he’d thrown back his head and laughed. Loudly.
People at surrounding tables turned to stare, trying to figure out what was so funny. I had wondered if there was enough room
for me to slide under the table to hide, but I’d doubted my butt would fit.
“Sorry, Angel, I didn’t realize your fries weren’t neutral territory. You’ve got some lightning-fast reflexes there, though.
Maybe I ought to rethink that nickname, Flash.”
I had flushed as I looked around the room, ducking my head again when I saw several people still staring our way. “I
am so sorry! I don’t know what came over me. I just – “
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll live,” he’d said with a chuckle. “I think you should have a drink with me tonight though if
you really want to make it up to me. Why don’t you stop by the bar later?”
I’d whipped my head up to stare at him, dumbfounded. “Um, well…”
“Come on, Angel, just one drink, if that’s all you want. I’d just like to spend some more time with you, and I need to get
going soon. We’re expecting our liquor delivery, and I need to be there for that.”
He had reached across the table and clasped my hand, squeezing my fingers gently before rubbing his thumb back and
forth over the back of my hand. I’d shivered at his touch and tried to tell myself that my nipples weren’t visible through my bra
and T-shirt. From the way his eyes had focused on my chest, I was fairly certain I was wrong. I’d pulled my hand out from
under his and oh-so-casually crossed my arms in front of me. Jagger’s mouth had quirked, and he met my eyes with a shrug, not
even trying to pretend he hadn’t been staring at my boobs.
“Please, Angel? Just stop by for an hour. We can talk a little more, get to know each other a little better.” He had given
me a smile that was probably supposed to make him appear innocent. It didn’t. It did melt my panties a little more though, along
with a few brain cells, apparently.
“Well, I guess I could probably do that,” I’d said, wanting to smack myself as I heard the words come out of my mouth.
What the ever-lovin’ heck was I thinking? This guy was so far out of my league it wasn’t even funny. I was way in over my
head here, but I just couldn’t resist his smile or the warmth of his brown eyes. They were the color of melted milk chocolate.
He even had a hint of a dimple beneath the light scruff of beard on his face, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t fair to have all that
hotness contained on one face.
A smile had lit his face at my words. “Good. Now, let me see your phone for a sec and I’ll put my number in. Call or
text me when you’re on your way, so I can meet you at the door and walk you in.”
He had held out his hand expectantly, and before I had even fully registered what I was doing, I’d unlocked my phone
and handed it over. His smile froze as he’d glanced down at my phone. With a frown, he’d flipped it around and snapped out,
“Boyfriend?” He had gestured to the picture on my home screen, and he did not look happy.
I had looked at the picture taken the last time Matt had been home. His arm was slung around my shoulders, and I was
grinning up at him. I’d looked at Jagger again, taking in his stormy expression.
“I asked you a question, Angel. Is this your man?” he’d asked, gripping my phone tightly.
I had wrinkled my nose at the thought. “Ew, no. That’s my brother, Matt.” Jagger’s expression relaxed, and I’d added,
“He’s actually the reason for my lightning-fast reflexes. He used to steal food off my plate all the time when we were kids, just
to irritate me, and I would smack him every time. It got so bad, Mom assigned us seats at the opposite ends of the dinner table,
so we couldn’t reach each other.” Jagger had smiled at my story, and tapped at the screen, presumably entering his number in
my contacts.
“Just so you know, if I had a boyfriend, I would never have let you sit down for lunch with me, let alone agreed to meet
you for a drink later,” I’d felt compelled to point out to him. “I’m not sure what kind of women you’re used to dealing with, but
that’s not my style.”
He’d looked up at me, taking in my arched brow and looking thoughtful. “No, I can see you’re not at all like the women
I’m used to dealing with. That’s a good thing. A very good thing.” I’d heard his phone chime as he handed mine back to me, and
he’d looked at his screen briefly before telling me he had to go.
“Don’t forget to text or call when you’re on your way. I don’t want you walking in alone,” he had said as he stood. My
eyes had widened in alarm, and he’d hurriedly assured me “You’d be safe, Angel. Don’t worry about that. You’d just have men
eyeballing you the minute you walk in the door, and I’d have to beat ‘em if they made a move on you.”
I had laughed, assuming he was joking even though he hadn’t cracked a smile. “What time should I plan to stop by?” I’d
asked, not wanting to take him away from his work during a busy time.
“Any time after eight o’clock, if that’s good for you?” he’d asked as he fished out some cash from his wallet and
dropped it on the table.
I had nodded, and he’d bent down to drop a soft kiss on my temple. Oh, my sweet Jesus, that was unexpected…and very
sweet.
“See you later, Angel. Can’t wait,” he’d murmured, before turning and striding for the door. He had raised his hand and
called out a quick goodbye to the server, telling her he’d covered my bill, too.
I had glanced down at the bills he’d left on the table and saw fifty dollars lying there. The total would have been less
than thirty, so either Jagger was a really good tipper, or he was trying to impress me. Either way, it had made me smile, and I’d
felt butterflies in my stomach in a way that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
I’d gathered up my untouched Kindle, sliding it into my purse along with my phone. The server made her way over and
smiled widely as she saw the money on the table. “How long have you known Jagger?” she’d asked, pocketing the money, and
stacking the used dishes.
“Less than an hour now,” I’d said with a laugh. She had paused in clearing the table and looked up at me in surprise.
“Really,” I’d assured her. “We just met here when I stopped to warn him about getting that ticket.”
The server, Martie, according to her name tag, got an amused look on her face. “Well, you certainly got his attention. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen him in here with a woman before, except his grandma when she was alive, of course. She and my
mother were good friends, and she used to drag her grandsons in here just about every weekend. Even when they were
prospecting for that club of theirs, they still made time for their Grandma Frankie,” she had shared with a fond smile.
As I had left the diner, I’d felt strangely comforted by Martie’s words. Yes, Jagger was a biker, and clearly different
than any man I’d ever met. But he must be a good guy if he had taken the time to hang out with his grandmother, right?
I’d driven home in a daze, replaying my lunch with Jagger. The whole thing was surreal. Things like that just didn’t
happen to me. I had debated whether or not I should actually show up tonight, knowing I probably shouldn’t, but really wanting
to go anyway. I’d continued my internal debate as I’d pulled into my assigned parking spot and stopped to grab my mail before
continuing up the stairs to my second-floor apartment.
Opening my front door, I was distracted from my lunch with Jagger by the sight of all the boxes that I still hadn’t gotten
around to unpacking. Until my friend Brad had gotten a serious boyfriend, he and I had shared an apartment. When our lease
was coming up for renewal, Drew had asked Brad to move in with him, so I’d downsized to a small one-bedroom apartment
once the lease was up. I just couldn’t face the thought of having a stranger as a new roommate, and I couldn’t afford the rent on
the larger place on my teacher’s salary. Unfortunately, that had happened the week before school started, and I hadn’t had time
to do much with the new place yet.
I couldn’t stand living with the boxes anymore, so that was a priority for the next few hours. I’d retrieved my phone
from my purse to open up my music app, then set it on the docking station to charge as it played my ‘cleaning playlist’ to keep
me motivated.
I’d spent the rest of the afternoon dancing around and singing, while unpacking the remaining boxes and trying to get
things organized in the smaller space. I’d tried not to think too hard about Jagger as I’d worked. I had still been on the fence
about going to the bar tonight when I’d heard my phone chime with an incoming text, interrupting the song that had just come on.
I’d put down the picture frame I had been attempting to hang and walked over to pick up my phone. It was a text from Jagger,
and I’d opened the thread to see that the sneaky man had texted himself from my phone after he’d added his number.
Jagger: I can’t wait to see you tonight, Angel. Feel free to come by earlier than 8 if you can.
I had smiled as I read the text, and I couldn’t deny the spark of excitement at hearing from him. That had made my
decision clear. I had to go tonight. Even if nothing came of it, I’d known that I would kick myself later if I bailed on the
opportunity to see him again.
Me: I can be there around 7 if that works for you?
His response had been immediate.
Jagger: That’s perfect. I was afraid you would change your mind.
Me: Honestly, I almost did.
Jagger: I’m glad you didn’t, Angel. I’ll see you soon.
I’d glanced at the time and realized that I had to be there in two hours, and I had no freaking idea what to wear. I had
debated calling Emma or Brad for advice, but quickly decided that was a bad idea. They would probably freak out, Emma out
of concern, and Brad out of excitement. He had a thing for bad-boy types, even though Drew was far from it. Either way, it
would involve lengthy phone calls, and I didn’t have time for that. I decided that I would at least send a text before I left, letting
them know where I was headed and who I was meeting. That would be the smart and safe thing to do.
I’d jumped in the shower, taking extra care in shaving all the important parts, even though I had no plans for those parts
to be touched or seen. It was just a drink, I kept repeating to myself. Still, when I was well-groomed, I felt more confident, and
I needed all the confidence I could get to face tonight. I was so far out of my comfort zone that it wasn’t even funny.
After drying my hair, I’d ducked into the kitchen to warm up some leftovers from last night’s dinner. There was no way
I was going to drink on an empty stomach. After I ate, I’d carefully applied my make-up, using a little more than I usually did. I
was pleased with the way the smoky-eye effect brought out the blue of my eyes. I then plugged in my curling iron and was able
to recreate the style I’d been given that morning at the salon. I had eyed myself in the mirror critically when I finished, taking in
the way the soft layers fell in perfect waves down over my shoulders and part way down my back. I’d spent enough time out in
the sun over summer break that I had some natural highlights in my normal golden-blonde hair, and I still had the barest hint of a
tan. I was pleased with the overall effect and turned to my closet to find something to wear.
After several minutes spent flipping through the hangers, I finally settled on a red stretchy, knit wrap-around top, with
cap sleeves. It revealed more cleavage than I was used to but wasn’t over-the-top. It clung nicely to my curves and emphasized
my smaller waist, and it looked great with the new jeans I’d bought this morning. I had debated over my strappy red sandals
with the four-inch heel, or my stylish black ankle boots with a low heel, deciding on the boots at the last minute. I wanted to be
comfortable in case I was on my feet for any length of time. Besides, boots just seemed like more of a biker thing.
After looking at my phone to check the time, I quickly grabbed the small cross-body purse I used when I went out, and
had slipped my keys, wallet, phone, and lip gloss inside, before hurrying down to my car.
Ten minutes later, I texted Brad and Emma with my location and plans for the evening, assuring them I would call them
later, then let Jagger know that I had just pulled into the bar’s parking lot. He had immediately responded, telling me that he
would meet me at the door. I was thrilled at his eagerness and made my way toward the building’s entrance, taking a few deep
breaths to try to calm my nerves. I could hear the music as the door opened, and then Jagger had walked out. He had changed
out of the white T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier and was now wearing a black shirt under his leather vest. He had also
exchanged the well-worn blue jeans for a pair of black jeans that fit him like a glove. Lordy, I was sure I’d been drooling
again, and I tried hard to remember that I couldn’t climb him like a tree, no matter how much I wanted to.
He had greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, and I’d felt myself flush as goosebumps broke out on every part of my
body. I’d made sure to wear a bra with a thicker lining in the cups than the one I’d worn earlier today, in anticipation of my
nipples trying to jump up and say hello again. It was a good decision because I could feel those brazen hussies standing at
attention at that moment. The lighting in the parking area was decent enough to see the interest flare in his eyes as he’d looked
me over.
“You look gorgeous, Angel. I’m even more happy that I didn’t let you walk in there alone,” he’d said in a low voice as
he’d reached up and tucked a wavy curl behind my ear. He had lightly cupped my jaw before taking a step back and reaching
for my hand, and I’d felt butterflies inside all over again.
“Let’s go get that drink now,” he’d muttered, holding the door open and placing a hand on the small of my back to guide
me inside. He had immediately taken my hand again, weaving our fingers together as he’d led me through the crowd to a small
table in the darkened corner at the far end of the bar. For the next ten minutes or so, several of his brothers – members of his
club, not actual blood brothers, he’d explained – had stopped by to meet me, which seemed to irritate Jagger to no end. One in
particular, who had introduced himself as “Trick”, bothered him more than the others. Trick was clearly a first-class flirt, who
attempted to greet me with a hug. He was stopped by Jagger, who quickly stood and put a hand in the middle of Trick’s chest,
halting his movement and shoving him back on his heels. Trick had just grinned and put his hands up in the air, before shaking
his head in amusement and stepping back.
“It was nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” he’d said with a wink, peering at me around
Jagger’s shoulder, before walking away with a hip-rolling swagger. I couldn’t help but notice that nice butts seemed to be a
requirement to join their club. The waitress had dropped off our drinks, which Jagger then scooped up without a word before
leading me down a back hallway to his office. He’d opened the door, and I stepped inside, taking in the decent-sized space.
There was the usual desk, laptop, filing cabinet and miscellaneous items you would expect, along with a leather sofa and small
table along the opposite wall. I saw a few framed photos hanging on the walls, which seemed to be of various motorcycles.
Jagger had placed our drinks on the end table and turned to close the door as I stood uncertainly in the middle of the
room. When he’d turned back to look at me, I’d felt he could sense my nervousness as he gave me a small, understanding smile
and gestured to the sofa.
“We’ll never get the chance to talk if we stay out in the bar, between the music and my shithead brothers,” he’d
explained. He had handed me my glass and grabbed his bottle of beer, before settling beside me on the sofa. I was grateful he’d
left a decent space between us since my nerves were spiking out of control. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, it was more that I
was afraid of my reaction to him.
He had asked me about my afternoon, and I slowly relaxed as we casually chatted for the next few minutes. I couldn’t
really tell you what we had talked about because I was too busy watching his mouth as he spoke or staring at his hands as he
gestured about something. At one point, I’d noticed that he was having the same trouble paying attention as I was.
Twenty minutes and one rum and Coke later, we were making out like two teenagers who had the house to themselves
for the first time ever. And now, here I was, huddled against the arm of the sofa, rubbing at the lips that were still tingling from
his kisses, wondering what the heck I was doing…and then wondering how soon I could do it again.
 Chapter 2
Jagger/Cole

“What the fuck, man?” I growled at Hawk as we walked down the hall toward the bar area.
“Christy’s here” was all he had to say, and that told me all I needed to know. I let out a groan and he clapped me on the
back in a gesture of commiseration.
I was so fucking pissed off right now. One minute, I had my hands full of a sweet and sexy-as-hell woman, kissing her
as if the world was going to stop spinning if my lips left hers, and now here I was, dealing with the last woman I wanted to see
right now. I spotted her sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of me as I walked up to
stand next to her.
“Jagger, baby, I need to talk to you. Why won’t they let me come back to your office? I’ve been waiting here for almost
ten minutes, and they wouldn’t even go get you for me at first,” she whined, turning a glare on Hawk and the prospect behind
the bar. They both looked at me and shrugged, then turned away, pretending they were busy with other customers. Pussies.
“What do you need?” I barked, not really giving a fuck what it was. I just wanted to get her the hell out of here before
Angel caught sight of her.
Her overly made-up eyes narrowed at my tone, and she eyed me carefully, realizing that I wasn’t in the mood to play
nice with her tonight.
“It’s personal. Can we go to your office and – “
“No,” I said firmly. “Whatever the fuck you need, you can ask for right here. Now, spit it out. I don’t have all damned
night.”
Her brows rose in surprise. I wasn’t normally quite so rude to her, but she’d been working my last goddamned nerve
lately.
“You can’t treat me like that, Jagger! You need to show me some respect. I’m your – “
She was gearing up for one of her crazy-ass tirades, I could tell, and I didn’t have the patience for those on a good day,
let alone when I had a gorgeous woman waiting for me.
“We aren’t doing this tonight. Either tell me what you need right now or go home. You’ve got no business in a bar right
now anyway, and you damned well know it.” I interrupted her, ignoring her furious glare.
“I know I can’t drink. You don’t need to remind me,” she spat out petulantly, looking as pissed off as a wet cat. She
carefully assessed me, eyes narrowed, brows drawn, before her expression evened out.
Her anger turned on a dime, as it usually did when she was playing her mind games, and she turned on the fucking
waterworks instead. Too bad for her, I was immune to her fake-ass crying after all these years.
“Baby, I just need to talk to you for a minute. Just sit with me and listen real quick, and then I’ll go, OK?” she
wheedled, stopping her fake crying long enough to glare at Hawk, who had stopped even fucking pretending he wasn’t listening
in. “Privately,” she said pointedly.
I was keeping an eye on the hallway to my office, making sure Angel didn’t come wandering out to see this shit-show. I
knew I needed to get back to her soon if I had a hope in hell of salvaging this night. If I left her alone too long, she might rethink
this whole fucking thing. Fuck knows she was skittish as hell earlier, although she’d warmed up considerably since we’d been
alone in my office.
“Fine, you’ve got two minutes,” I told her, grabbing her elbow and guiding her to a nearby empty table. “Now, talk.”
Her tears dried up as she sat down. It was a fucking miracle the way that always happened. She reached for my hand
that was lying on top of the table, but I pulled it away and raised a brow.
“Time’s ticking. What was so damned important for you to come down here tonight making a scene in front of my
brothers?”
She rolled her eyes at my reference to my MC brothers, as she always did. She hated the 5th Circle Guardians, which is
exactly why I shoved them in her face every chance I got. Yeah, our relationship was toxic as fuck. Had been for years, until
there was nothing good left in it.
She sighed and gave a shuddering breath, trying on her poor-little-me act for the next stop on her crazy train. “I need a
little money to tide me over until next week,” she said, trying to reach for my arm again.
Of course, I’d known she was looking for money. That’s usually why she came sniffing around. It sure as shit wasn’t
because she loved me and just wanted to see me.
“How much this time?” I asked, clenching my jaw as I reached for my wallet. I didn’t even bother asking why she
needed it like I normally would, or telling her no, like I did half the time. I just wanted her gone, and this was the easiest way.
The woman was motivated by cold, hard cash. Always had been, always would be, and it was a lesson I’d finally learned a
while back.
“Two hundred,” she said quickly, clearly wanting to get the money before I changed my mind.
 I peeled off the cash, handing it over and standing up quickly to shove my wallet back in my pocket.
“You good to get home on your own, or do you need a ride?” I asked, ready to signal for the prospect behind the bar to
drive her home if necessary.
“I’ve got a ride waiting on me outside,” she said, barely glancing at me as she shoved the bills into her purse. She stood
and grabbed my arm as I started to walk away. She pulled me close, flinging her arms around me and squeezing me tight. She
smacked a kiss on my cheek, and I rolled my eyes at her new role, playing a loving, caring human being.
“Thank you, baby. I knew I could count on you to take care of your – “
“I gotta get back to my office. I’ll talk to you later,” I interrupted her. I pulled away, ignoring her protests as I hurried
my ass back down the hall to my office, eager as fuck to get back to the sweet angel I’d left cooling her heels in there. I only
hoped that other parts hadn’t cooled off yet as well, so we could pick up where we’d left off. I threw a quick glance over my
shoulder to see Trick leading Christy to the bar’s entrance. The motherfucker was good for something at least, besides trying to
hit on Angel.
I opened the office door and carefully closed and locked it behind me, taking in the sight of Angel resting her head
against the arm of the couch. She lifted her head when she heard me come in and gave me a shy smile before looking away.
Fuck, that smile of hers just got to me, for some reason. I’d never met anyone who’d captured my attention the way she was,
and I had a feeling if I thought about that too much, it would scare the shit out of me.
“Sorry about that, Angel,” I said, hustling my ass over to the couch. I scooped her up and sat down in her spot, settling
her on my lap. She squealed and clung tightly to me for a second, before rearing back to look at me with narrowed eyes. I saw
her gaze zero in on my cheek, and her expression hardened even more as she pushed me away and jumped to her feet.
“I think it’s time for me to go,” she said abruptly, turning around to look for her purse which she’d sat down on the
corner of the desk.
“Why?” I asked her, standing back up to reach for her. She was too quick and sidestepped my grasp. “Look, Angel, I
know things got a little hot and heavy there for a minute. I’m sorry if I moved too fast. I don’t want to push you. Why don’t we
just sit down here and talk for a while, then I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
She shot a scathing glance at my cheek, before scowling at me. “That’s OK, Jagger, I wouldn’t want to keep you from
whomever needed your…attention out there.”
“I’ve got that handled, Angel. I promise, no more interruptions,” I told her with a smile, trying my best to appear
charming rather than desperate, which I absolutely fucking was. I did not want her to leave yet.
She rolled her eyes at my attempt to smooth things over and chuckled bitterly. “I’ll just bet you handled her, all right. I
can see and smell that for myself!”
“What?” I was sure my confusion was clear.
“You reek of her cheap perfume, and she left an obnoxiously red lipstick mark on your cheek,” Angel informed me icily,
reaching again for the doorknob. “Goodbye, Jagger. It’s been fun, but this kind of thing isn’t for me.”
Goddamned Christy and her last-second theatrics. This is exactly the kind of shit I was trying to avoid. I dropped my
head back on my shoulders and glared at the ceiling, as if the answer to avoiding this damned minefield was written up there
for me.
I heaved a sigh and reached for Angel just as she opened the door and took a step through the doorway. The sound of
Metallica blasted down the hallway as I caught hold of her hand and drew her back into the office. She didn’t fight me,
although she clearly wanted to leave. Her reluctance was written all over her face, and in the stiffness of her body.
“It’s not what you think,” I began, before groaning as she rolled her eyes at my lame opening. “No, really, it’s not.” I
stopped and huffed out a disgruntled breath, hating that this conversation was even necessary.
“My mother was here and needed to talk to me. She was wearing this god-awful red lipstick,” I explained, gesturing to
the cheek Christy had kissed where presumably a lipstick mark remained.
Angel’s eyes widened in disbelief, before a flush crept over her face. God, her skin was so fucking gorgeous. Creamy
white and smooth, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was that smooth all over, or if the skin hidden from view was even
softer.
“Your….mother?” she asked hesitantly. I could tell she was thinking back over what she’d said about the perfume and
lipstick, as a look of horror crossed her face. “Your mother?” she said again, her voice rising to a high-pitched wail.
I nodded, resisting the urge to smile. “Yeah, Angel, my mother. She gave me a hug and kissed my cheek when she left.”
Her flush receded, leaving her face pale. “I’m so sorry, Jagger. I shouldn’t have said that. That was so rude of me.”
I reached for her, sliding her purse off her shoulder, and tossing it back on the desk before leading her back over to the
sofa. I didn’t push my luck by pulling her onto my lap again, but I sat down next to her and kept hold of her hand as I shifted to
face her.
“It’s OK, Angel. I would have lost my shit if I’d thought you were loving all over some other guy. Besides, your
jealousy gives me hope that you’re as interested in me as I am in you.”
Her eyes widened again, then narrowed suspiciously. Oops, maybe I was being a little too damned cocky. This woman
wasn’t gonna let me get away with a fucking thing, and for some damned reason, that turned me on a little bit.
“I wasn’t jealous,” she informed me with a sharpness that I found adorable rather than intimidating, as I was sure she’d
meant it to be. I wouldn’t dare tell her that, though. “I’m just not used to…this,” she trailed off softly, her shoulders slumping a
little as she dropped her gaze to the floor.
Fuck! I could feel her mentally withdrawing again and knew I couldn’t let that happen. I’d have to examine those
thoughts more closely later. I placed my finger under her chin and raised her head so she would look at me again.
“Tell me what you mean, Angel. What aren’t you used to?” I asked softly, trying like hell not to push her too much, but
needing to know what she was thinking.
“I’ve just…never done this kind of thing before, and it’s kind of freaking me out a little, I think. I’m not acting
rationally, and that’s just not me. I’m not that kind of woman. I’m not impulsive. I don’t make out with men I’ve just met. I don’t
–“
I placed a finger over her lips, halting the words spewing out of her luscious mouth. “Hey, calm down. Take a deep
breath and just listen to me for a second, OK?”
She nodded, wide eyes focused on my face, and I resisted the urge to trace her lips with my finger. Actually, what I
really wanted to do was trace her lips with my cock, but I was smart enough to know that wasn’t a fucking option tonight.
I removed my finger and took hold of her hand again. “First of all, you’re not the only one who hasn’t done this kind of
thing before.”
She snorted in disbelief at my statement, and I chuckled as I realized how it had sounded. “I don’t mean the making out
part, of course I’ve…uh, shit,” I stopped as her eyes narrowed again, and I knew I was making it worse.
“Let me try that again,” I said with what I hoped was a charming smile. “You’re saying you don’t jump into a physical
relationship, right?” At her nod, I continued, “Well, it’s the opposite for me. All I’ve had is the physical part. There’s never
been a relationship. I took girls out on dates in high school sometimes, but it was never a relationship, it was just hooking up. I
never had anyone that I called a girlfriend or some shit like that. Since then, I haven’t even bothered with the date part, I’ve just
gone straight to the hooking up part.”
Her face fell and she glanced down at our clasped hands for a second before gently pulling hers free from mine.
“Fuck, Angel, I’m making a goddamned mess of this,” I muttered, reaching for her as she started to stand up. I pulled
her close and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, clasping it gently so that she had to look at me.
“Please just listen. I’ve never wanted anything more than the physical side of things before, but with you, it’s different,
and to be honest, I’m freaking the fuck out over it a little bit. With any other woman, I wouldn’t make small talk, or eat lunch
with her, or care if that asshole Trick tried to put his hands on her. But you, Angel? I’ve done all of that with you. So, you’re not
the only one in uncharted territory, here, OK?”
She smiled then, so sweetly that my breath caught in my lungs. Her blue eyes sparkled, and I was blown away by how
beautiful they were. They were a darker blue than most and reminded me of the deep blue color of the ocean. Fuck, my brothers
would never let me hear the end of it if they knew what I was thinking. They’d changed my road name to Pussy or some such
shit, and I couldn’t blame them. I needed to hang on to my goddamned balls before I handed them over to Angel to carry around
in her purse.
“OK, Jagger,” she said softly, then reached up and kissed my cheek. I turned my head and captured her lips in the
sweetest, softest kiss I could ever remember having, and willed my cock to behave himself for just five more damned minutes.
I ended the kiss, pulling her close for a minute before letting her go and rising to my feet. I held out my hand, and she
took it, standing up next to me. I stared at her for a minute, taking in every inch of her beautiful face. The hell of it was, this
woman clearly had no idea how fucking gorgeous she was, and her body was the stuff dreams were made of. My hands itched
to get hold of her curves again, but I forced myself to slow down. My instincts were screaming at me that I did not want to
scare her off, and I always listened to my instincts.
“Now, as much as I’d like to keep you locked up here in my office with me for the rest of the evening, I don’t want you
to have any regrets. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to drive home safely.
You’ll call me when you get there, and we’ll talk a little more. I’d like to take you out tomorrow, but the club has a ride
planned, so I won’t be back until around seven-thirty or eight o’clock. Can we grab a late dinner?”
She slowly shook her head. “I’m having dinner with my parents tomorrow night. It’s a regular Sunday night thing.”
I smiled. “Sounds nice, Angel. How about Monday night, then?”
She nodded and told me, “I usually leave school around five o’clock, so by the time I go home and change, I could meet
you any time after six.”
I groaned. Oh, fuck me. “You’re in college? Please tell me you’re over twenty-one,” I pleaded. It wasn’t a deal-breaker
for me, but I’d have to be sure not to bring her around the bar again until she was legal. No sense getting on the bad side of the
authorities for something as stupid as serving someone underage.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m twenty-five.”
I felt an immediate sense of relief that I wasn’t trying to corrupt a young college girl. “You mentioned school…” I
pointed out.
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m a teacher, Jagger.”
“Damn, woman, I would have enjoyed school a helluva lot more if my teachers had looked anything like you,” I teased,
enjoying the faint blush that bloomed on her cheeks. I sang a little bit of Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” and she laughed and
swatted my shoulder.
“Stop it,” she said, moving close to place her hand over my mouth when I kept singing. I grabbed it and kissed her
palm, before lowering it to place flat on my chest over my heart.
“I remember now, I asked you this afternoon what you did for a living right before you smacked me for stealing a fry.
That distracted me, and I never got an answer out of you.”
She pulled her hand away and covered her face in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me,” she said in a muffled voice. “I
still can’t believe I did that. I think you caused a flashback to my brother tormenting me, and it was an automatic reflex.”
“Don’t worry about it, Angel. You can always kiss it and make it better,” I whispered, pulling her a little closer. I
cupped her cheek, lightly brushing my thumb over the soft skin. She took my hand in hers and dragged it closer to her lips,
turning it over to place a soft kiss on the back of my knuckles.
“There you go, honey, all better now,” she said huskily, and I could feel my cock growing even harder in my pants.
Damn, she was so sexy without even trying. I needed to get her out of here before I bent her over the sofa and fucked her until
neither of us could walk. My cock jumped at the thought.
I dropped my forehead down to rest against hers, liking the difference in our heights. She was about five-foot-five or so
to my six-two, if I had to guess, not so short I would get a kink in my neck trying to kiss her, and her ass was at just the right
level for me to grab hold of. I stopped myself from doing just that, knowing that I didn’t have that much self-control left in me
tonight. If I touched that sweet ass of hers, all bets were off.
“OK, let’s get out of here while we still can. I think you’re trying to take advantage of me, and I’m just not that kind of
man,” I said piously. She laughed until she snorted, then laughed some more.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” she teased as I opened the office door and waved her through ahead of
me.
The loud music assaulting us gave me the perfect excuse to lean close to say in her ear, “Angel, if you don’t march your
sweet ass down this hall, I’m going to show you just how good I am.”
She stumbled a bit, and I caught her by the arm, then wrapped my arm around her waist as we walked toward the front
door of the bar. I ignored the curious stares of my brothers, shooting them the bird behind her back as we walked. Damned
assholes, acting like they’d never seen an honest-to-God lady before. Well, come to think of it, they hadn’t, for the most part
anyway. The club bunnies sure as hell didn’t qualify as ladies.
I walked her to her car, making sure she was buckled in and had her doors locked before she drove away with a
reminder to call me as soon as she got home.
She blew me a kiss as she pulled away, and damned if I didn’t instinctively reach up to grab it like a fucking schoolboy
with a playground crush. Yep, my balls were going to end up in her purse, I just fucking knew it. I shot a quick glance around
the lot, thankful as hell that nobody else was out here to see me do that shit.
Fuck, I needed a drink.
 Chapter 3
Molly

I smiled all the way home, reliving every moment of the evening. I shivered as I remembered his final threat to show me
just how good he was. It was all I could do not to shove him back inside the office, rip his clothes off, and make him prove it.
I pulled into my parking spot and noticed my next-door neighbor unloading groceries from her trunk. The older woman
looked exhausted, and when I saw the scrubs she was still wearing, I realized she had most likely stopped at the grocery after
working her twelve-hour shift as a labor and delivery nurse. No wonder she looked so tired.
“Miranda, let me help you,” I said, reaching for the bags in her hands. “You grab the rest, and we’ll get them in one
trip.”
She gave me a heartfelt thank you, and I gathered up the bags while she got the others and closed the trunk, then we
headed toward the building together. She lived in a first-floor apartment facing the parking area, so I followed her to her door,
and helped her get everything inside.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said, as I placed the last bag on the counter. “We had four women go into labor within
an hour of each other today, plus two more before my shift ended. I barely had the energy to push the damned grocery cart
through the store.”
We chatted for a few minutes before I headed upstairs to my own place. I’d barely gotten my door closed and locked
behind me when my cell phone started ringing, and I fished it out of my purse to see Brad calling.
“Baby doll, you’d better tell me you slept with Hottie McBiker, or I’m going to be sorely disappointed,” he announced
before I’d even had a chance to say anything.
“Uh, well, prepare for crushing disappointment then, sweet cheeks,” I said, loving the fact that we still used the
ridiculous nicknames we’d come up with for each other the night we’d first met during our sophomore year of college. We’d
both been elementary education majors and had several classes together that semester. We’d bonded over a midterm group
project, during which he and I were the only two in the group who actually did anything. We’d gotten an off-campus apartment
together our junior year and had lived together up until he moved in with Drew. I’d introduced them – Drew was a friend of my
brother, Matt – so I had no one to blame but myself for losing the best roommate a girl could have.
“You’re breaking my heart, Moll. Please tell me you at least got a little bit hot and heavy with your Harley hottie,” he
demanded, and I could tell I was in for a long conversation if I didn’t spill the beans. Brad was like a chihuahua with a bone
when he wanted something. He’d just keep yipping and yapping at you until you gave in just to shut him up. I walked into my
bedroom, balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I started to get undressed.
“Yes, things got a little heated. Well, OK, a lot heated, but then we were interrupted because his mom stopped by the
bar to see him and – “
“You met his mother?”
“No, God no. I would have died if she’d walked in on us. No, he went out front to talk to her and I waited in his
office,” I explained as I shimmied out of my jeans and kicked them aside.
“Naked?” He all but screeched into the phone, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked down at myself.
“Sweet cheeks, how did you know I’m standing here naked?” I teased, opening a drawer, and pulling out one of the
many T-shirts of Brad’s that I’d claimed over the years. They made the perfect comfy sleepwear.
“Put your tits away, baby doll. As fabulous as they are, you know they don’t do a damned thing for me. Now, the
question is, what does Jagger think of the girls?”
“Jagger didn’t see the girls,” I informed him primly, before letting out a little giggle. “He did get to feel them a little,
but he didn’t actually see them.”
“You let a hot biker feel you up on the first date? There’s hope for you yet, my little slut-in-training,” he teased. He’d
been after me for four years to loosen up a little, but it just wasn’t my style. Until tonight, anyway.
My phone beeped before I could form a suitably snarky reply and I pulled it away from my ear to glance at the screen.
My heart raced when I saw Jagger’s name. Oh, crap. I was supposed to call him when I got home.
“Gotta go, Brad. Jagger’s calling. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I hung up before he could say a word and switched over
to accept Jagger’s call.
“Hi Jagger, I’m sorry I didn’t call yet,” I greeted him. I glanced down at myself and cringed at the thought of trying to
carry on a conversation with him while almost naked.
“Angel, I was getting a little worried. I realized after you left that I had no idea how far away you live, so I wasn’t sure
how long it should have taken you to get home.” Just the sound of his gruff voice in my ear had a shiver running through my
body. I slipped the shirt over my head and worked my arms into the sleeves as I tried to answer him.
“Uh, I only live about ten minutes from your bar, but I got sidetracked helping my neighbor, and then a friend called as I
walked in the door.”
 “It’s all good, as long as you made it home safely. You know, I got to thinking that we don’t know a lot about each other
yet. I’d planned to get you to tell me your real name, but you distracted me with your lips and that sweet ass of yours. Will you
tell me now?”
My mouth dropped open at his comment, and I turned around to look at myself in the mirror on the closet door. He
really liked my big butt? Huh.
“Will you tell me your name now?” I retorted, still eyeing my backside. It looked a little too big to me, but as long as
Jagger liked it, I could live with it.
He chuckled. “Nobody calls me by my real name anymore.”
“Not even your mom?” I asked skeptically.
“Nope, not even her.”
“You mentioned your grandmother earlier. Do you have any other close family?” I was curious to learn more about him.
I wandered into the kitchen and put on the kettle to make a cup of tea while we talked, then got out my favorite mug and grabbed
the tea bag and sugar.
“More than I want, sometimes,” he answered with a laugh. “My brother, Rome, lives about ten minutes away from me
with his wife and kid, and my dad just lives a few streets over from them. He’s the president of our club. My grandpa founded
it, but he stepped down as Prez about ten years ago, when my grandma first got sick. He wanted to spend more time with her.
The lung cancer finally took her five years ago, and he still lives in the house my dad grew up in. My aunt, my dad’s sister, was
killed in a robbery at her work three years ago, but I have a couple of uncles, and a few cousins floating around, too. My aunt’s
widower, Cowboy is my dad’s best friend and the VP in the club, the other uncle is our Road Captain. My cousin Lucky is his
son, and he’s in the club too. I’m closest to Lucky and Rome.”
“Wow, so practically your entire family is involved with the club?”
“Yeah, Cowboy and Aunt BeBe’s oldest son is prospecting with us right now, so he’ll be the next patched member, I’m
sure. Linc’s a good kid.”
“Prospecting…so he’s in training to become a member, right?” Again, the one and only biker romance I’d read came to
mind, and I remembered that term was used quite a bit, along with calling their wives Old Lady, and their club meetings were
called Church. I wondered if Jagger’s club was the same.
Jagger barked out a laugh. “Sort of. It’s kind of like pledging a fraternity. If you survive the hazing and doing all the
grunt work, you’ll become a full-fledged member of the club. It’s a chance to prove your dedication and loyalty to the club.
Every club is a little different, but ours requires prospecting for a year, then your membership is put to a vote. If you don’t get
voted in, you have to turn in your cut and leave the club.”
“Your cut of what? You mean, like money you’ve earned doing prospect stuff?” I asked, wishing again that I had a
Bikers-for-Dummies handbook. The tea kettle started to whistle, so I grabbed it and poured the water into the waiting mug.
Jagger laughed again. “A cut is what we call the leather vests that we wear, remember?”
“Oh, you did tell me that earlier, didn’t you? Sorry, it’s a lot to take in. So why not just call them vests?” I asked,
genuinely curious. I was fascinated by this whole new world he was telling me about.
“Hell, I don’t know for sure. I think I heard once that it’s because they originally were leather jackets with the sleeves
cut off, but I don’t know if that’s true. I’ll ask Sinner when I talk to him. I’m sure he can tell me all about it.”
“Who’s Sinner? Did I meet him tonight? There were so many names, I couldn’t keep track of them all,” I told him. I
finished adding a splash of milk to my tea, and stirred it, before carefully carrying the mug into the living room.
“Sinner is my grandpa, and no, he wasn’t there tonight.”
“Wait, you call your grandpa Sinner?” I asked, shocked at the thought. I settled down in my comfy chair and kicked my
feet up on the matching ottoman, pulling a soft, plush throw over my bare legs to ward off the chill from the air-conditioning.
“I told you, Angel, none of us use our given names. Since I started prospecting myself when I turned eighteen, I’ve
called them all by their road names, even my dad. He’s always King or Prez to me now.”
“Wow,” I mused. “I remember I went through a phase when I was about fifteen where I thought it would be cool to call
my parents by their first names. My mom just ignored it, knowing it would pass soon enough. Not my dad, though. The first time
I called him Dave, he grounded me for a week.”
“I’ll bet it was the last time you called him Dave, too, wasn’t it?” Jagger teased.
“You bet your butt it was,” I assured him, before drawing the subject back around to the club. “So, how long have you
been a member? Did you have to prospect for a year, or did you get a break because of your dad being in charge?”
“Nope, no breaks, in fact, I’m pretty sure our time was rougher just because we were his kids,” he chuckled. “Rome
and I prospected together, and King wanted to make sure nobody could say we hadn’t earned our patches.”
“It sounds like you have a lot of respect for him,” I said, loving the way he spoke about his family, even though it was
so vastly different than my own.
“I respect the hell out of him, as a father and a president,” he told me firmly. “He and Sinner worked hard to build the
club into something good for the community, and it hasn’t always been easy. MC’s have a bad rep, and there’s been a lot of
resistance to the Guardians from citizens and the cops over the years, because they’ve assumed that we’re into all the shit that
the one-percenters do.”
“I remember you said that earlier today…one-percenters. I’ve heard that phrase, but I don’t know exactly what that
means,” I confessed, feeling a little foolish at everything I didn’t understand about his world. I picked up my mug and blew on
the tea before taking a small sip. Mmmm, pure ambrosia.
“One-percenters are the hard-core outlaw clubs. They say that ninety-nine percent of society is law-abiding and
follows the rules set by authority, but they are the one percent who operate outside of those rules. They tend to run drugs,
women, guns, you name it. We don’t do that shit. I’m not saying we always follow all of the rules, but we don’t fuck around
with shit that can get you sent up doing hard time,” he said gruffly.
“So, what does your club do exactly? I know you do the charity rides for the youth shelter. I think that’s great, by the
way. What else do you do?” I hoped I wasn’t asking too many questions, but I really was fascinated. Listening to his deep,
growly voice rumbling in my ear wasn’t exactly a hardship either.
“Well, Sinner formed the club back in 1978. Back then, he skirted the law a little more than we do now. They sold a lot
of weed and raised a lot of hell when they first started. He told me that he started the club mainly to piss off his old man, who
was a preacher. Sinner had been with another club before that, but they all got busted for stealing cars and running some kind of
chop shop. The president and officers got sentenced to hard time, and the club disbanded. Sinner was only a prospect and
wasn’t too heavily involved, so he only got six months in jail for possessing stolen property. He had a stereo system from one
of the cars. Anyway, his dad disowned him for what he called his sinful ways, and a few years later my grandpa got together
with some other buddies and formed the Guardians. His best friend started calling him Sinner as a joke, and that’s how he got
his road name.”
“And the 5th Circle Guardians…is that a nod to Dante’s Inferno, and the 5th circle of Hell?” I asked.
“See, that right there shows you’re different than most people I meet. Most of them have no fucking clue what the 5th
Circle stands for. Yeah, again, Sinner was trying to piss off his old man. Plus, Sinner’s real name is Virgil, like the character in
the story, so he thought that it was funny as hell.”
“Wait, so you can tell me your grandpa’s real name, but you won’t tell me yours? That makes no sense, unless yours is
something really embarrassing. Your name isn’t Hobart or Ebenezer, is it?” I teased him, laughing as I tried to imagine calling
out ‘Oh God, Hobart, right there’ in the throes of passion.
A bark of laughter came through the phone. “Hell no, I promise my name isn’t Hobart or Ebenezer. I’ll tell you what, if
you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll tell you my real name after our date Monday night.”
I got goosebumps when he murmured ‘good girl’ in my ear like that. Who knew I had a praise kink? Not me, that’s for
sure.
“OK, so I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours, deal?” I asked playfully. I caught myself giggling and twirling a
piece of my hair around my finger and dropped my hand down to my side in disgust. Good Lord, I hadn’t acted this twitterpated
around a guy even back when I was a teenager. What on earth was wrong with me?
I heard voices in the background, and Jagger asked me to hang on for a second. I could tell he put his hand over his
phone to muffle it a little, but it sounded like there was another problem by the aggravated tone he responded with.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Switch to the other register in the meantime, and I’ll try to get it back online,” he said to
whoever was with him.
“I’m sorry Angel, but I’m going to have to cut this call short. One of our credit card readers went down, and that means
cashing out the tabs at the end of the night is going to be a fucking nightmare if I can’t get it up and running again. I’ll try to call
you tomorrow before we leave on our ride.”
“No problem. Good luck fixing it, and if I don’t get a chance to talk with you in the morning, have a safe ride.”
“Thanks, Angel. Goodnight and sweet dreams,” he said, his deep voice doing weird things to my insides again.
“Goodnight, Jagger,” I said softly.
I finished my tea while scrolling through my social media on my phone and then made the mistake of Googling
motorcycle clubs and the Guardians in particular. I spent the next few hours engrossed in the strange new world of bikers and
their clubs, learning more than I ever really wanted to know about the lifestyle they seemed to lead. The romance I’d read had
mentioned women who hung around the clubhouse to service the bikers there and I had assumed it was strictly fiction, or at
least an exaggeration on the author’s part. Turns out, it was not. Different clubs gave them different names from what I could
tell, but club sluts, club whores, sweet butts, and club bunnies seemed to be the most popular. Sweet baby Jesus, what have I
gotten myself into?
I went to bed, then tossed and turned the rest of the night, trying to reconcile everything I’d read with what I had learned
about Jagger so far, and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I finally drifted off to sleep sometime after four in the morning
and was barely awake when Jagger called a little before eleven to let me know they had just finished with Church, and were
heading out soon.
“We’re going to ride down through Brown County on into southern Indiana. It’s gonna be a beautiful day for it,” he told
me, and I could tell he was glad to be going.
“Is the whole club going, or just a certain group of you?”
“It’s a club ride, so everyone who can make it will be there. There are seventeen bikes in the line-up today, and some
of the guys are bringing their wives or Old Ladies.”
Old Ladies. Now that was a term I knew, even before reading about it last night.
“Wow, that’s more than I expected. How big is your club?”
He paused for a moment before answering, “Well, there are twenty-six patched members, plus a couple who are
retired, like Sinner, who still come around. A few of those twenty-six aren’t fully active. They don’t work at club-owned
businesses, but they do show up for mandatory Church and club rides.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you guys had other businesses besides the bar. What else does the club own?” I asked, wondering
if it was any place I’d been to before.
“We have a custom bike shop, a mixed-martial arts gym, a barber shop, a tattoo shop – which is where my brother
works – a strip club, and a security company.”
I ignored the part about the strip club, focusing instead on the security company. “Is Guardian Angel Protection the
name of the security company?” I asked, recalling the circle of flames in the company’s logo.
“Yeah, it is,” he told me proudly.
I was impressed. My apartment was equipped with their alarm system – although I usually forgot to set it – and I knew
several other people who used them as well.
“Are you ready to go, Jag?” I heard a woman’s voice ask in the background. He muffled the phone again, so I couldn’t
really make out his response.
“Sorry, it looks like we’re ready to head out, so I need to go. Have fun with your folks tonight. We’re still on for
tomorrow night, right?” he confirmed.
“Yes, just let me know where you want me to meet you,” I replied with a smile.
He groaned. “Let me pick you up, Angel? I don’t like the idea of you having to drive home late at night.”
“I’ll be fine, Jagger. I’d really rather meet you there,” I said nervously, hoping he didn’t press the issue.
He heaved a frustrated sigh. “OK, I get it. I’m glad you aren’t letting men you just met know where you live, but Angel,
after tomorrow, I want to pick you up for our dates.” His tone left no room for argument, so I didn’t even try. Besides, I was
kind of stuck on the idea of more dates with him.
“Thank you for understanding,” I replied, relieved he wasn’t angry about it.
“I’ve gotta go, now, before they leave my ass behind. Talk to you later, Angel.”
“Bye, honey. Have a safe ride,” I said, before pressing the button to end the call.
I spent the afternoon finishing the unpacking and organizing that I’d worked on the day before, and fielding calls from
Emma and Brad. Emma wasn’t thrilled when I told her about Jagger, but she was cautiously optimistic once I’d told her all
about him. Brad just wanted details about the size of his dick. I’d threatened to tell Drew, which had finally shut him up. They
were a mismatched pair, but they adored each other, and their relationship was solid.
Brad was a gym teacher at the same elementary school I taught at. He also helped coach the high-school football team.
He was very tall, and so muscular that he looked like he could bench press a small car. He was also one of the goofiest,
sweetest, most laid-back men that I had ever known. He rarely took anything seriously. Drew, on the other hand, was an
investment planner. He was only a few inches taller than me, slender and fit, but not overly muscled. He was also intense and
serious, and the total opposite of Brad in every way.
I’d told my mom that I would bring dessert for tonight’s dinner, so I baked a chocolate cake in between phone calls. I
jumped in the shower once the last box was emptied and broken down to be taken out to the dumpster. I threw on shorts and a
T-shirt leftover from my college years, threw my hair up into a messy bun, grabbed my purse and the cake, and headed out for
my parents’ house. They lived in a suburb about twenty minutes away, in the house I’d grown up in.
Mom was a teacher, although she taught fourth grade. Dad was in charge of public relations for one of the IndyCar race
teams based here in Indianapolis. My brother Matt worked for the same team as part of the pit crew, so he traveled all over the
country with them, following the racing circuit for a good part of the year.
I’d dated one of the drivers, DJ, for almost three months last year, and even spent part of the summer traveling to the
races with him. I’d stayed home one week, and then dumped him after Matt called early one morning from Florida to tell me
he’d just caught a groupie taking the walk of shame out of DJ’s custom RV. Matt had punched him in the gut and then called me.
DJ’s car took a hit on the third lap of the race later that day, after he repeatedly disregarded the advice of his seasoned crew
chief and made an epically stupid move on the track. He was fine. The car was not, nor was his racing career once the team
owner got hold of him. I hadn’t been heartbroken over DJ, I was more pissed off than anything, but my ego took a beating that
had been only slightly soothed by his public firing the day after the race. I actually hadn’t dated anyone since.
Dad greeted me at the door and took the cake from me to carry it into the kitchen. Mom was getting the steaks ready for
the grill, and as I got a whiff of the marinade she used on them, I realized how hungry I was. Since I’d gotten up so late, I’d
eaten breakfast and then skipped lunch.
Luckily, the grill was hot, and it didn’t take Dad long to have them ready for us. I helped Mom by making the salad
while she got the potatoes finished up. I had decided on the way over that I wasn’t going to mention Jagger. Not because he was
a biker, but because they – Mom especially – would keep asking me about him every time we spoke. There was no sense
telling them about a man I likely wouldn’t see for more than a couple of dates, if that. I couldn’t imagine his interest lingering
on me any longer than that. Not only was I sure I wasn’t his type, but he had also already admitted that he didn’t do
relationships.
Mom and I talked about teaching as we usually did, sharing stories about our students and venting about some of the
ridiculous guidelines that we had to abide by that had very little to do with education and a lot to do with bureaucratic red tape.
This was one of the rare weekends that the IndyCar teams weren’t racing, so Dad and Matt were both able to join us for
dinner. Matt, of course, had walked in the door just minutes before we sat down to eat. God forbid he get there any earlier and
risk getting put to work in the kitchen. He and Dad spent a good part of the meal regaling us with the latest news and gossip
from the racing circuit. Apparently, my ex-boyfriend was in danger of being fired from yet another race team after getting into
an on-camera shoving match with someone on his pit crew after the last race, followed by a bar brawl with some disgruntled
fans later that night.
“He was already on thin ice for being such a cocky little shit and never listening to anyone, but now he’s getting a
reputation as a hothead, too. Rumor has it that his days with that team are numbered.” Matt’s expression was gleeful as he
shared this news. He absolutely despised my ex.
Mom asked me to pass her the butter, then smirked as she commented that it was a shame that DJ had torpedoed such a
promising career. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” she added with more than a hint of sarcasm. She wasn’t a fan DJ’s
either.
“Yeah, karma’s a real bitch. That’s what the sonofabitch gets for cheating on my little girl.” My dad scowled as he
reached for another helping of potatoes. He despised my ex even more than Matt and my mom combined.
I just snickered and rolled my eyes at them. To this day, they were all more upset about his cheating than I had ever
been.
I was able to head home a little earlier than usual since Dad called Matt out on arriving too late to help with the
cooking. I giggled at the expression on my brother’s face when Dad stood up from the table and said, “We cooked, you clean,
son.” As soon as Mom and Dad turned to head into the living room, I stuck my tongue out at Matt, and then ducked when he
balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at me. The shot went high, flying about three feet over my head.
“Mom, Molly’s being a brat again!”
“Wow, the amount of whine in your voice is a lot more impressive than your aim, big brother,” I mocked with a grin. I
pushed back my chair and stood, only to have Matt lunge around the end of the table and grab me around the waist. I shrieked
loudly, trying to get away as my butthead brother began tickling my sides, knowing full well that I cannot stand to be tickled. I
returned the favor by tickling his neck, which was so sensitive that he started begging for mercy within a millisecond. It was a
scene we’d played out many times during our childhood and beyond because we were mature that way. I figured we would
only stop once we were old enough for one of us to break a hip or something.
“Children, do I need to put you both in time out?”
We both froze mid-tickle and looked to where our mother was standing, hands on hips and brow arched, staring us
down with the very toughest “mom face” she could muster without laughing. This, too, was part of the routine.
“She started it,” Matt grumbled good-naturedly.
“I would never,” I protested in the most over-the-top Scarlett O’Hara impression I could muster, complete with a hand
raised to clutch my non-existent pearls.
Matt snorted and started clearing the table. I said my goodbyes, assured my dad that yes, I was leaving the rest of the
chocolate cake for him and mom to finish, and headed back to my place.
I hadn’t realized that the ringer had accidentally gotten turned down on my phone until after I got home and saw the
missed call and a text from Jagger. His voicemail message was short and to the point, just saying he was back from the ride and
for me to call him when I was done. The text was pretty much the same thing.
I immediately called him back, only to get his voicemail this time.
“Hi, Jagger. I’m sorry I didn’t hear my phone ring earlier. I’m home now, so feel free to call me if you have time.
Otherwise, just text me to let me know where to meet you at tomorrow night.”
I put the phone on the charger, after double checking the ringer volume, and got things ready for my workday tomorrow.
I packed my lunch – turkey club wrap, chips, and an apple – and made sure I had my laptop and everything else I would need
packed in my messenger bag. I’d graded some papers Friday evening and had entered the grades in the online gradebook, so I
double checked that I had everything in the bag so I could return the papers to the kiddos in the morning.
I’d just washed my face and brushed my teeth before getting into bed, wearing another of the shirts I’d swiped from
Brad at some point, when my phone chimed. I picked it up from the bedside table and saw a text from Jagger apologizing for
not getting back to me earlier. He asked if I could meet him tomorrow evening at seven, at an Italian restaurant not too far from
his bar. I loved Italian food, and this particular restaurant was a favorite, locally owned place with the best food ever. I
confirmed, then asked how his ride was. He responded with, “It was great. We’re all hanging out at the clubhouse for a while,
then I’m going to head home.”
He'd mentioned the clubhouse in our conversation at the bar and had explained that some of the members lived there,
but most of them, including him, had their own places and just kept a room to “crash in if they partied too much”. I’d wondered
how often that happened but hadn’t asked.
It was almost eleven, and I had to be up at five-thirty in the morning, so I told him I needed to get some sleep.
“OK, Angel. Goodnight and sweet dreams,” he texted back. The smile was still on my face when I fell asleep.
When my alarm went off the next morning, I was still smiling. My smile lasted through the morning, even though the day
seemed to drag on. It lasted through recess, when Brad cornered me to pump me for more details about Jagger and his nether
regions. It perked up even more when a text came through around one-thirty from Jagger, just telling me he was thinking about
me and was looking forward to seeing me tonight. I’d responded that I couldn’t wait.
My smile finally fell from my face during school dismissal at four o’clock, when Ethan Morgan’s mother walked up to
me as I was releasing the kids who were being picked up by their parents. Ethan was one of my favorite students so far this
year, and his mother wanted to give me a few books that she was donating to our classroom library, for which I was extremely
grateful. She was a beautiful woman, with long brown hair and a sweet smile. She was pregnant, about five or six months along
if I had to guess, and I knew that Ethan was less than thrilled that he was getting a sister instead of a brother.
Mrs. Morgan didn’t cause my smile to disappear, exactly. It was the sight of her husband, who apparently wanted to
meet me but had gotten a call as they’d stepped out of their car. She’d gestured toward the parking lot, and the man in question
saw her and gave her a quick, distracted wave before turning around to continue his call. For a split second, when I’d glanced
over at him, I’d convinced myself I was wrong. When he turned his back to us and I saw the now-familiar skull and flames
emblem on his leather cut, I knew I wasn’t. It was Jagger, and I tried to control my horror as I looked at his sweet, pregnant
wife and his little boy who I absolutely adored.
 Chapter 4
Jagger/Cole
I was getting worried. It was seven-fifteen, and Angel wasn’t at the restaurant yet. That wouldn’t bother me much,
except she hadn’t responded to either of my last two texts this afternoon, or the one I sent five minutes ago asking if she was on
her way. Her phone went straight to voicemail both times when I called, like it was turned off.
I was kicking myself in the ass for not insisting on her real name, or her address so that I could check on her. I had no idea if
she was just running late, had a flat tire, or had run into some kind of trouble, and I fucking hated not knowing.
I picked up the phone to try to call her again, and a text popped up before I could hit the call button. Relief flooded me, until I
read the message.
Angel: No, I’m not on my way. I would think it’s obvious that I’m not coming.
What the fuck? I tried calling her and got her motherfucking voicemail again.
Me: Pick up the phone and talk to me, Angel. What’s going on?
I waited for a response, then tried to call her again. Voicemail, again. And she didn’t even have a greeting which gave me her
name or let me hear her voice. Just one of those automated things telling me the number I had reached, yada, yada, yada.
Angel: What the hell do you think is going on, Jagger? I have no interest in seeing you again. I’m sure you can
understand why.
I looked at the phone in shock, unable to believe that my sweet Angel had typed that. I hadn’t heard her curse before, for one
thing. What the hell was going on here?
Me: No, I damn well don’t understand. What’s wrong? Talk to me, please.
Angel: Lose my number.
Her response was immediate and final. When I tried to call her a few minutes later, an automated voice came on the
line telling me the caller was unavailable, then disconnected. I tried to text her, but it didn’t show as delivered. She’d blocked
me. She had fucking blocked me.
I was stunned, and read back through our text thread, which I had kept since Saturday. There was no hint of anything
wrong, and less than six hours ago, she’d told me she couldn’t wait until tonight. So, what the fuck had happened between now
and then to cause her to shut me out?
I had the host cancel our table, and stormed out of the restaurant, pacing around the parking lot to calm the fuck down
before I got on my bike and rode straight to the clubhouse. I wanted to get a drink and either punch someone or fuck someone,
and I could get all of that there.
Two hours later, I’d had more than a few drinks, but that was as far as I’d gotten with my plans. I’d turned away the
club bunnies, including Paisley who I’d fucked more often than the others. My dick just wasn’t interested, and I tried to tell
myself it was because of the whiskey I was downing. I’d tried to talk Bull or Joker into sparring with me in the gym we had
downstairs, but they both already had their sights set on a couple of the other bunnies for the night. My dad and Rome were
having a conversation at the other end of the bar, but all I heard was something about a run-in with some uptight bitch who
apparently had something against bikers. Shit, it must be going around.
That was the only thing I could come up with. I remembered Angel’s questions about the club, which I had taken for a
genuine interest in learning about it. Now, I had a sinking feeling that she was either fender fluff - a groupie who wanted to brag
about being with a biker – or that learning a little about our lifestyle had freaked her the fuck out. Dammit, I couldn’t believe
I’d been so wrong about her. That’s what I get for thinking I could have an actual fucking relationship with a decent woman. I
slammed my fist on top of the bar, catching the attention of the guys around me.
“You OK, Jag?” my dad asked, looking at me with a frown. Rome was staring at me in surprise. I didn’t usually lose my
cool like that.
“Yeah, Prez, I’m fine, just in a mood. I’m heading up to my room to crash,” I grumbled, grabbing my glass, and throwing
back the last of the whiskey. I slid off the bar stool and headed a little unsteadily toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms
when Rome stopped me.
“What the fuck’s up with you tonight, bro? You’re hitting the bottle even harder than I do.” I looked into his face,
identical to mine in almost every way, and wondered – not for the first time – how he’d gotten lucky enough to find his woman
when we were still kids. I also wondered if he knew just how close he was to fucking it all up if he didn’t cut back on his
drinking. I knew Abby was just about at the end of her patience with it.
She’d been on him about it for the last year or so, but he was convinced that it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t drink all the
time - maybe two or three times a month - but when he did, he didn’t stop until he passed out. She was worried about him.
Hell, we all were, but he didn’t see his binge drinking as an issue. He never, ever drove after drinking. He would either crash
here, or one of us would drag his sorry ass home and put him to bed. I’d noticed he was choosing to stay here more often, and I
knew it was because Abby was so upset with him every time she saw him that way. It had really hit her hard when their son
had found Rome passed out in the bathroom at their house. Luckily, he was too young to know any better, and had thought it was
funny that his daddy was ‘sleeping’ on the bathroom floor. Her pregnancy had been tough this time around. She’d had such
terrible morning sickness - more like all-day sickness – that she had been put on bed rest for a few weeks early on until the
danger passed. Now, they were keeping a close eye on her, and she’d cut down to working part-time hours for the club, helping
my dad with administrative shit. She didn’t need the added stress of dealing with Rome’s drunken ass.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I mumbled as I tried to brush past him. He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop and look at
him in frustration. “I’m just…fuck, man, I don’t know what I am. Pissed off, confused as hell, take your pick.” I didn’t add
disappointed and a little hurt to the list. I wasn’t about to act like a goddamned pussy in the middle of the clubhouse, especially
over a woman who wasn’t what I thought she was.
“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me what bug crawled up your ass, then don’t,” he groused. “I’ve dealt with enough pissy
little bitches for today. I’m heading home to my woman. I still need to talk her into letting me go down to the school tomorrow
to confront E’s teacher.”
That got my attention. “He’s having trouble in school?” I asked in surprise. My nephew was a great kid, and as far as I
knew, had loved his first month or so of kindergarten.
“Not E, man. He loves it. His teacher is the problem, or at least she is now. The bitch apparently has a thing against
bikers because she was all sweetness and light with Abs like normal, until she caught sight of me waiting by the car this
afternoon. Abby said she looked like she was about to pass out when she got a look at my cut, and then hightailed her prissy ass
back inside the school without a word. Abby was so upset on the way home. She’s afraid Miss Walsh will hold it against
Ethan, and the kid thinks his teacher is great.”
My thoughts had wandered as soon as he mentioned bitches with a thing about bikers, because it reminded me of Angel.
I’d wished him luck with whatever the hell it was and shuffled off toward my room for the night.
I woke the next morning with a helluva headache, and a niggling thought in the back of my mind that I was missing
something important here. I forced myself to get out of bed and stumbled into the attached bathroom, thanking the fucking
universe once again that the club had voted to add private bathrooms when they’d remodeled a few years ago. After I’d
showered and dried off, I checked the closet and pulled on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, then slipped on my cut. I always
kept a few changes of clothes here, and that habit came in handy on mornings like this.
I headed down into the common room and strode right on through it to the kitchen, knowing that someone would have a
pot of coffee brewing. I spotted Bull, our club secretary and all-around IT/computer guru leaning against the counter, munching
on a bowl of cereal. Bull was one of the guys who lived here full-time and had ever since he and his Old Lady had split up a
few years back. I briefly considered giving him Angel’s phone number and asking him to track down her identity for me. I knew
he could do it – he did the background checks for the new employees we hired, as well as for anyone wanting to prospect or do
business with us. I was struck again by the feeling that I was overlooking something, but before I could open my mouth to ask
him, my dad, King, walked in.
“Morning, Prez,” I greeted him as I poured a cup of coffee for myself. I grabbed another mug and poured one for him,
sliding it to him on the counter. Bull nodded to him and waved his spoon in his general direction while crunching away on his
cornflakes.
“Thanks,” my dad muttered, taking a sip of his coffee before looking me over. “Feeling better this morning?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Need to get to work soon. Irish and I have a meeting with the accountant this afternoon to
work on the quarterly reports.” Irish was the club’s treasurer and handled that shit for all the businesses.
King nodded and took another sip of his coffee before glancing at Bull, then back to me. “Get some breakfast. You look
like shit. Come see me in my office before you head out.”
“Will do,” I said, wondering how I could get out of the little father-son chat I could feel coming on. That was the last
fucking thing I needed this morning.
He refilled his coffee mug, then turned, and walked out of the kitchen. Bull nudged the box of cereal my way, but I
looked at it with distaste. I could not face milk this morning, not on top of the whiskey I was sure was still swirling around in
my gut.
I looked in the pantry and found some granola bars and grabbed a couple. I ate them while I finished my coffee, then
poured another one and headed off to find King.
His office door was open, and I knocked on the door frame as I popped my head in. He was sitting behind his desk, and
I smothered my smile at the sight of the reading glasses he was wearing as he glared at his computer screen. He was forty-five,
and hated the reminder that he was getting older.
“Come on in and close the door, Jag,” he instructed as he pulled off the glasses and tossed them on top of the papers on
his desk, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before giving me a serious look.
I took a seat and set the mug on the corner of the desk, in the only clear spot available on it. The papers spread
everywhere made it glaringly obvious that King and the other officers needed Abby’s organizational touch to keep things from
going to hell.
 “We’ve got an issue going on that I need you to look out for. We caught a couple of street rats trying to deal over at
Fallen Angels.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Most of the local gangs knew better than to try to deal drugs in our territory
– we were too well-established – and actually doing it at our strip club was pretty damned ballsy of them.
“Were any of the strippers involved?” I asked, and King nodded grimly.
“Just one, as far as we can tell. Velvet. One of the guys was her boyfriend, apparently.”
“How did Ace find out?” I asked. Ace, King’s half-brother, ran the strip joint for the club.
King sighed heavily and didn’t look happy. “He didn’t. Bodhi heard some rumors and got suspicious. He ended up
searching her locker & found some pills in baggies, no marks on ‘em. Oxy, X, Hydros, not sure what else. Couple of loaded
needles, too, that I’m guessing is H, but that seemed to be her own personal works. Caught both of the assholes when they came
to see her last night to drop off more product for her to push.”
“What happened to Velvet and the rats?”
“She’s been fired and strongly advised to get her scrawny ass out of Indy for a while for her own good. Bodhi and Skid
grabbed up the assholes before they made it inside. They called Trick, and it was dealt with in-house.”
In-house. Code for club justice, no cops. It rarely happened within our club, since we ran a pretty clean outfit, but
occasionally, someone crossed a line and justice had to be meted out. Trick was our Sergeant-at-Arms, so he was in charge of
dealing with all internal infractions, as well as threats against the club from outsiders. He also ran our MMA gym, and
occasionally fought in our underground fight ring along with Hawk and a couple of the other brothers. That was a piece of
business I hadn’t mentioned to Angel since it wasn’t strictly legal – the fights or the betting that took place on them. It was a
piece of business we shared with La Famiglia Rossi, also another connection I’d kept to myself. Some parts of club business
were just that – club business – and even the Old Ladies weren’t told everything, for their protection as much as ours.
“Are they still breathing?” I asked, not altogether joking.
King snorted and nodded his head. “Yeah, they’re still breathing, at least when Trick got done with them last night,
don’t know about this morning. They’ll both walk with a limp from now on though. He’s been practicing at the batting cages
lately, so they both took a Louisville Slugger to the kneecap.”
“Ouch,” I winced.
“I’m betting K-Dog did worse once they got dropped back on his doorstep. They were part of his crew, and the shit
was part of his stash that they had liberated and repackaged for their own side hustle. Word has it that he was not impressed by
their entrepreneurial spirit.”
I just shook my head at the stupidity of the motherfuckers who decided it was a good idea to rip off one of the meanest
gangbangers in the city, and then invade our territory to sell the stolen shit on top of it.
“K-dog called me to let me know he had one more guy missing, who went rogue along with a trunk full of pills and
hardcore shit – meth, crack, and enough H for the entire block. He’s offering a nice chunk of change if we happen to stumble
across the guy. He also offered us a marker if we find and return any of his shit, too. Keep your eyes and ears open in case the
dipshit tries to move his business over to Inferno.”
“Will do, but do we really want a marker from K-dog?” I asked, not liking the idea of accepting an offer for a future
favor from that guy.
“Nope, no way in hell we’re gettin’ in bed with him and his crew. He’s not my type,” King flashed me a smart-ass grin.
“If we do find anything, we’ll turn it over to him, then turn down the money and the marker, and just tell him we consider it part
of cleaning up our territory. We’ll call it a professional courtesy, so we don’t offend the fucker, and be done with it. Builds up
goodwill from him toward the club but keeps us at a distance.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said with a satisfied nod, hoping that we were done, and I was going to be able to avoid the
father-son chat I’d thought I was in for.
“Now for the second order of business. Just wanted to give you a heads up, your mother may come nosing around,
looking for money. She hit me up first thing this morning.”
I rolled my eyes and barked out a disgusted laugh. “Too late. She got me for two hundred Saturday night.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “Is that what was wrong with you last night?”
“Nah, just…some shit happened that pissed me off. No big deal,” I told him, hoping he would drop the subject.
“Anything I need to be aware of? Did she say what she needed the money for?” he asked sharply.
“No, you know Christy. She whined, she cried, I paid her, she left,” I stated the facts without emotion. I’d stopped
letting her get to me, for the most part, a long time ago.
King sighed heavily, and I saw the look of regret on his face. It’s the same look I’d seen for years, and I knew it’s
because he felt like he let us down when it came to our mom. They’d gotten married when Christy got pregnant with Rome and
me when they were eighteen and had split up for good when we were seven. Shortly after that, she’d hooked up with a man
who didn’t want to raise another man’s brats – his words. Christy had dropped us off for our regular weekend visitation with
our dad and hadn’t come back for six months. By that time, he’d gone to court and gotten full custody on the grounds of
abandonment, and he’d settled down to raise us, with help from his parents, Sinner, and Grandma Frankie.
 “Just send her to me next time, Jagger.”
I nodded and took another sip of my coffee. “I mean it, Jag. You shouldn’t have to put up with her shit. Just call me and
I’ll deal with her next time.”
“I got it. I will,” I promised as I nodded again and downed the last of my coffee. I could feel my brain cells starting to
fully come back online, and it felt good to be firing on all synapses again. My thoughts turned to Angel for a moment, and I
forced them away. I needed to focus on business, not on a woman who clearly had me fooled.
I noticed him looking at me closely again and had to bite back a groan. He wasn’t done with the Dad Talk, I could tell.
“You ready to tell me what’s been chewing at your ass since last night?” he asked, arching a brow as if he was just
daring me to deny anything was wrong again.
I started to shake my head, and he put up his hand to stop me. “Jag, you’re my son. I know when something’s bothering
you.” He paused, giving me a chance to come clean, then shook his head and smirked at me when I kept quiet.
“I heard that you brought a woman to the bar Saturday night. Not a club girl. Viking described her a sweet little thing,
pretty, a real lady, in fact, and that was a direct quote from the old fucker.”
I snorted a laugh. Viking was in his late sixties, an old friend of my grandpa’s, and one of the founding members of the
club. He ran the fabrication part of our custom bike shop. He was also the biggest damned gossip in the club. I’d wondered if
he had noticed Angel at the bar that night. He hadn’t been one of the brothers who’d just happened to stop by the table, forcing
me to introduce her to all the nosy bastards.
I sighed and flopped back in my chair, running my hands through my hair in frustration. It was clear he wasn’t gonna
drop this until I spilled my guts all over his desk.
“Fine, there was a woman. I brought her to the bar, we had a nice time, I talked to her Sunday, we were gonna go out to
dinner last night, and…she blew me off. Just totally fucking ghosted me and I have no fucking idea why.”
My dad’s brows damned near hit his hairline. He was clearly surprised by my answer.
“Well, hell, son. I wasn’t expecting to hear all that. So, let me get this straight. Instead of you fuckin’ and duckin’, she
did it to you this time?” I could tell he was trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.
“There wasn’t any fucking,” I snapped, and could have kicked my own ass as the smile slid from his face, replaced by
his serious concerned dad expression.
“You didn’t have sex with her? You just talked and were taking her to dinner…like a date?” The way his voice rose in
confused surprise would have been fucking hilarious if it had been happening to anybody else.
“Yeah, Prez, exactly like a date. She was different…she’s a teacher, for fuck’s sake. She smacked my hand when I ate a
French fry off her plate at the diner, and then she – “
“Wait, you took her to the diner, too?” he clarified.
“No, that’s where I met her. She came in and warned me that the parking cop was about to write a ticket for my bike
and…that doesn’t matter. The point is, I thought we had something going, and I was wrong, and it just fucked with my head a
little bit last night, that’s all.”
“And the French fry thing….” He drawled out, trying to prompt me to explain more.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” I repeated. “All I know is, one minute she’s texting me yesterday afternoon that she
can’t wait to see me last night. Then the next, she’s a no-show at the restaurant, won’t respond to my calls or texts, until she
finally texts back that it should be obvious why she’s not coming, and I should understand why she doesn’t want to see me, then
tells me to lose her number. On top of all that, she fucking blocked me!” I hadn’t realized how loud my voice got until I
finished, and realized I’d been damned near shouting at the man. “Fuck!” I yelled, grabbing the back of my neck, and squeezing
at the sudden tension at the base of my skull.
“So, what, she decided she didn’t want to be a piece of fender fluff after all?” he asked.
“Don’t call her that!” I all but snarled at him, then realized what I’d done. Luckily, he was still in Dad mode rather than
acting as my president at that moment.
“OK,” he said slowly. “So, why do you think she changed her mind? Viking said she was a real lady…too much of a
lady to handle a biker?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know and it’s driving me crazy. She was so different, and I pursued her, not the other
way around. I had to talk her into even stopping by the bar for a drink, but we had a real connection, or at least I thought we
did.” Shit, I felt like such a pussy pouring my heart out like this, and if had been anyone other than my dad, or maybe Rome, I
knew I would never dream of it.
“Tell me about her. You said she’s a teacher? What’s her name?” he asked.
I laughed, but there was no real humor there. “I called her Angel,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. “She told me
she wouldn’t tell me her real name until I told her mine.”
My dad laughed. “You mean to tell me you didn’t even get her name? Damn, son, I thought I taught you to be a little
smoother than that.”
“Fuck you, old man,” I said without heat, and he flipped me off as he laughed again.
 “Yeah, I know, I should be the last person trying to give you advice about women or relationships, right? God knows I
don’t know shit about either one,” he said with a shake of his head. I knew my dad had hook-ups, sometimes with citizens,
sometimes with bunnies – although we’d both made damn sure we never used the same ones. As far as I knew, he’d never
actually dated a woman since the clusterfuck he’d called a marriage to my mother had ended.
“So, track her down. Get Bull to check her out. What school does she teach at? What grade? Do you know her
address?” I could see his frustration grow with each shrug of my shoulders and negative shake of my head.
“Do you know any-fucking-thing about her besides her damned phone number? Jesus Christ, son, what were you doing
with her? You weren’t talking, you weren’t fucking…” he trailed off with a smirk and I just rolled my eyes at him.
“We were talking, just not about anything like that. We talked about the club, and how she called her dad by his first
name when she was fifteen, and he grounded her for a week, and she doesn’t like me to eat her French fries because her brother
used to do that at the dinner table and…Look, I can’t explain it. She’s just different, that’s all, or at least I thought she was.
Hell, I don’t know.”
He had a thoughtful look on his face. “Jag, did you just hear yourself? You sound a helluva lot like Sinner when he gets
to rambling on about my mom. Think about that and go talk to Bull.”
I nodded and grabbed my now empty coffee cup, then stood up to leave, glad that our fucked-up version of the Dr. Phil
show was coming to an end.
I had only taken a few steps down the hall when I heard him yell, “Shit!” I turned around as my dad came barreling out
of his office.
“When did this happen?” he asked urgently as he spotted me. “Yesterday afternoon?”
“Yeah, why? Why does that matter?”
“Dammit, son, you need to talk to Rome or Abby and find out what E’s teacher looks like. Rome was telling me about it
last night. He went with Abby to pick Ethan up yesterday, and the teacher got all pissy and hauled ass back into the school
when she spotted Rome in the parking lot. She’d been nice to Abby before that, and they figured the sight of his cut spooked
her. But, if she’s your Angel, it was the sight of your identical-goddamned-twin and his pregnant wife and kid that shook her
up.”
I stood stock-still for a moment, as Rome’s words from last night tried to filter through my memory bank. I’d only been
half-listening as he’d said something about E’s teacher. Son of a bitch! That’s what had been fucking niggling at me since I
woke up this morning.
“What the hell are you standing here for? Call your brother and go get this woman back if she’s your Angel. Good God,
boy, maybe I need to meet this woman for myself. She must be something else if she’s got you this damned rattled. I think she
may deserve a man who thinks a little quicker on his feet.”
That brought me out of my daze. I narrowed my eyes at my old man, who looked younger than his forty-five years. He
was a good-looking man and had often been mistaken for our older brother rather than our dad over the years.
“You stay the hell away from her until I get her locked down. I’ve seen you in action, Dad. No way am I letting you
anywhere near her yet.”
He barked out a surprised laugh and slapped my shoulder as I turned to head down the hallway. It didn’t even register
until later that I’d called him Dad, for the first time I could remember in years.
Rome didn’t answer my call, which probably meant he had an early appointment with a client at the tattoo shop. His
phone was glued to his hand otherwise these days in case Abby needed him.
She was my next call.
“Hey Jagger,” she greeted me, sounding too damn cheerful for my grumpy ass to deal with right now.
“What does E’s teacher look like?” I demanded tersely.
“Huh? Well, hello to you too, Abby. How are you this – “
“Quit bustin’ my balls for a minute, will ya, Abs? This is important. What does she look like?”
“Um, she’s young, about my age I suppose. She’s beautiful. About my height, with blonde hair that’s kind of wavy. Why,
Jag? What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly, and I could hear the worry in her voice.
“Everything’s fine, Abs. I just think I might know her, and if I do, it explains why she acted so weird yesterday
afternoon.”
“Why would knowing you make…oh my God, tell me you did not fuck-and-duck with my son’s teacher!” she gasped,
sounding absolutely appalled.
“Look, do you happen to know if she drives a Honda Civic?” I asked.
“I have no idea what she drives. Is your chick’s last name Walsh?”
“Fuck if I know, babe.”
“Oh my God, you’re such an ass, Jagger. What else do you know about her?”
I smirked at that question, my tension easing at the possibility that I had found Angel and could work this out after all.
“Well, she smells like vanilla and peaches, kisses like a wet dream, and has an ass that would bring a man to his
knees.”
“I take it back, Jag. You’re not an ass, you’re a pig,” she sputtered. “I have no damn idea what she smells like and I’m
not kissing her, but I can tell you that she has a bodacious booty. One of the other dads stared at her so hard the other day he
almost walked into the side of his own car because she bent over to help one of the kids tie their shoes.” She giggled at the
memory of it, and I clenched my fists.
Jesus Christ, I was losing it. Here I was, ready to throat-punch some asshole for looking at the woman who may or may
not be the same woman I’ve only known for two damned days now.
“Hey, wait a sec. I took a picture of her and Ethan when I picked him up on his first day, so I could add it to his baby
scrapbook. I’ll text it to you…hang on.”
I heard her fumbling with her phone, and moments later, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I held my breath as I
opened it, and there she was, looking cute as hell in a light blue dress with a thin navy-blue sweater over the top of it, and her
hair in a ponytail. A few of her wavy curls had worked their way loose and were framing her face, and she had a wide smile as
she stood with her arm wrapped around E’s shoulders. He was grinning ear-to-ear. Fuck, I would be too, if she had her arm
around me right now.
“Fuck yes, that’s her!” I almost shouted into the phone, before the reality of the situation hit me. “Dammit to hell,” I
yelled and smacked the palm of my hand against the wall.
“What’s wrong? Did you not want it to be her? Because you kind of sounded like you – “
“What’s wrong is that she saw Rome there with you yesterday and thinks I’m him. That’s gotta be it. I told her I had a
brother, but I’m almost positive I never mentioned that we’re identical twins. If she saw him with you and E, she would have
thought I’m a motherfucking married man cheating on his pregnant wife. Fuck me sideways, she’s gotta be hating me right about
now.”
“Uh, yeah, that would do it. So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Abby asked curiously. “I’ve
known you forever, Jag, and I’ve never heard you get so worked up over a woman.”
“As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll let you know. Promise.” I told her with a chuckle. The relief I felt was unreal,
but I knew I could fix this as soon as I could speak with her. “Hey, what time does that school get out for the day?”
“At four o’clock, why?”
“Because I’m going with you to pick E-Man up today, that’s why, and you’re going to help me explain to Angel what
happened.”
“Her first name is Angel?” Abby asked.
“Don’t know that either, but that’s what I call her,” I said with a grin.
“You don’t know her first…are you shitting me right now? You’re gonna fuck this up, Jagger, I just know it and then I’ll
have to make Ethan change schools. I will kick your ass if that happens, do you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am, loud and clear. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck this up.” I assured her.
I called Irish and the accountant and moved our meeting up by an hour, so I would have plenty of time to meet Abby at
the school. The meeting didn’t turn up any issues or concerns, so it didn’t run long.
I pulled into the school parking lot at three-thirty, bypassing the line of cars wrapping half-way around the building and
the school bus parking areas up in front, parking in the back of the lot as Abby had instructed me. Apparently, there were very
clear rules about the pick-up and drop-off lines, and heads rolled if somebody fucked it up and parked in the wrong place. I’d
taken time to run home and swap my bike for my cage. I hoped I could talk Angel into going to dinner with me, and I didn’t
want her driving separately. I wasn’t sure she’d be dressed for the bike, and I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to have her riding
on it anyway, so I was stuck with four wheels tonight instead of two.
Riding on the back of a brother’s bike was a big fucking deal to a lot of us. We didn’t just let any bitch ride with us.
That was an honor reserved for a serious girlfriend, at the very least. Someone you intended to be with long-term. Of course,
not every member of the club felt that way, but the men in our family did. Sinner saw to that. The only women who had ever
ridden with me were related to me - Abby, my little cousin, and my Grandma Frankie a few times before she got too sick to
ride. She’d loved the freedom of it, having spent over forty years riding with Sinner by that point.
I spotted Abby’s car pulling in about ten minutes later and groaned as I saw my dumbass brother driving it. Why the hell
was he here with her? I got out of my car and leaned against the trunk as he parked next to me. I crossed my arms over my chest
and glared at him as he exited the car. He just flashed me a shit-eating grin as he walked around to help his wife get out of the
passenger side.
“Why are you here, Rome?”
“You couldn’t pay me to miss this shit, man,” he said with a laugh. “When Abby called to tell me about it, I rescheduled
an appointment just to see this. It’s gonna be fucking epic!”
His laughter cut off with a grunt when Abby elbowed him in the stomach. “Quit picking on your brother, Caleb. It’s not
nice to make fun of someone who just can’t help how much of an idiot he is.”
I gaped at her, clutching my hand to my chest, and putting on my best pouting face.
 “Abigail, you wound me. How am I the idiot in this situation? I’ve done nothing wrong, except to have the misfortune to
have been born with the same face as this asshole.”
Rome reached around his wife to try to smack the back of my head, but I ducked out of the way.
“God, I swear, I can’t take you two anywhere. Now behave yourselves before the kids get out here and see you two
acting like kids yourselves.”
“Yes, ma’am, we’ll behave,” Rome and I solemnly, in perfect unison.
“Ugh, stop doing that freaky twin thing,” she said with a shiver. It creeped her the fuck out whenever we did that, which
I had to admit, was kind of freaky at times.
We waited for several more minutes, with Rome and Abby both grilling me for info about Angel. I told them everything,
well, mostly everything. I left out the scene on the desk in my office, and the parts where I acted like a total pussy. No sense
giving my shithead brother even more ammunition. I finally heard the faint ringing of the dismissal bell from inside the
building, and noticed that a tall, muscular guy had exited the building and was standing at the front of the car pick-up line.
“That’s the gym teacher, Mr. Dolan. Ethan really likes him, too. He’s always out here helping Miss Walsh and the other
kindergarten teacher with the pick-ups.” Abby told us, and I glanced at Rome only to find him looking back at me, then we both
turned at the same time to glare at Mr. Fuckface Dolan. He was too damned young and good-looking to be around Angel all
day, and I knew Rome didn’t want him around Abby either. He was a possessive motherfucker, and it appeared that was going
to be another twin trait we shared.
I saw her blonde hair first, as she escorted what looked like dozens of little monsters out of the building and directed
them to line up on the sidewalk by the curb. It looked like it would be easier to try to herd cats, but she managed it just fine.
The kids – most of them anyway – appeared to be hanging on to her every word, my nephew included. Her hair was piled on
top of her head in what I’d heard Abby refer to as a messy bun. She was wearing a red short-sleeved shirt that looked silky
from here, with a slim-fitting black skirt that hit right above her knees. That skirt clung to the sweet curve of her ass and those
thick, luscious thighs, and I damned near whimpered at the sight. I had a sudden vision of bending her over her desk, shoving
that skirt up her thighs and over her glorious ass, ripping off her panties and fucking her until she screamed my name. My real
name. I’d not used my given name in years, but I had a sudden craving to hear it from her lips.
I watched through narrowed eyes as the damned gym teacher moved closer to her, and she smiled at him and shook her
head at whatever he’d said to her. I gritted my teeth as I watched him come to a stop right next to her, then he said something
that made her smile at him again.
“I’m going to walk up to get Ethan. Are you guys coming with me, or are you just going to keep shooting death rays at
the hunky gym teacher?”
“Hunky? What the hell, baby girl? You think that guy – “ Rome was too pissed off to notice that Abby was just bustin’
his balls.
“Calm down, Stud. You know I’m kidding. Let’s go, before Ethan’s the last kid left standing there,” she interrupted him,
taking his hand and leading him across the parking lot. I could hear him still grumbling under his breath as I followed them up
to the building.
Angel was distracted by a little girl who needed help with her backpack and didn’t notice us walking up. Fuckface did,
though, and glared daggers at Rome as he held Abby’s hand, before he saw me standing just behind them. His eyes widened
almost comically, and he touched Angel’s shoulder to get her attention. She turned to look at him, her face blanching as she saw
Abby standing there. She didn’t even spare a look for Rome, obviously thinking he was me, and I hated seeing the look of guilt
and shame on her face.
“Angel,” I called to her softly, and she shot startled eyes my way. I stepped forward, so that I was standing right next to
Rome, and her wide eyes darted between the two of us, then I saw her expression change as the truth sank in.
“Oh, shit. You have a twin,” she whispered, then clapped her hand over her mouth right before Fuckface Dolan started
laughing and told her she owed a dollar for the swear jar.
 Chapter 5
Molly
Oh my God, twins! I could hardly believe it. My gaze slid from Jagger’s to the man who was obviously his twin brother. His
twin was grinning, clearly enjoying my predicament.
“Hi, Miss Walsh. I’m Rome, Abby’s husband, Ethan’s dad, and Jagger’s more handsome brother,” he teased with a wink as he
introduced himself. Up close, I could see a few minor differences. His beard was a little thicker than the scruff that Jagger had,
and when he smiled, I noticed his dimple was on the opposite cheek. He also had a small, faint, hairline scar bisecting one of
his eyebrows.
“It’s…um…nice to meet you,” I said faintly. I felt like I’d been through a whirlwind of emotions in the past twenty-four hours.
Hurt, anger, disappointment, humiliation, guilt, more hurt, more anger. Now, I felt the smallest spark of joy starting to seep its
way into my veins.
I looked at Abby, who was smiling widely, obviously trying not to laugh. God, I felt like such a witch. I’d been so shocked
yesterday, and I knew I had been rude to her, but at the time, I’d felt it was better than screaming that her husband was a lying,
cheating pile of steaming dog crap.
I glanced around, noticing that there were only a few students left, and they were gathered over by Sarah, the other kindergarten
teacher at the school. Because our kiddos were the youngest, we were tasked with making sure they all made it to the right
parent or onto the right bus at the end of the day. Brad didn’t have a class for the last period, so he had dismissal duty with us
every day.
“So, aren’t you going to introduce me?” I heard Brad ask. I could tell by his voice that he was loving this. He’d been ready to
track Jagger down to kick his ass last night, but calmer heads - mainly Emma’s and Drew’s – had prevailed. Now that we knew
Jagger wasn’t married, he was clearly back on Team Hottie McBiker.
I turned to look at him, shooting him a warning glare that hopefully no one else could see. He just raised his brows and grinned
back at me, and I shuddered to think what was going to come out of his mouth.
“Uh, Brad Dolan, this is Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, Ethan’s parents,” I said, skipping over Jagger for now. I looked at Rome and his
wife as I explained, “Mr. Dolan teaches Physical Education.”
Brad nudged me, and I glared at him over my shoulder. “And this is Jagger. He’s…Ethan’s uncle.”
Rome chuckled and Jagger almost glared at me, not at all happy with my lame description of who he was.
“Oh, I think he’s a lot more than Ethan’s uncle,” Brad murmured wickedly, before holding out his hand to Jagger. “Brad Dolan,
Ethan’s gym teacher and her best friend,” he said, gesturing to me with his other hand.
Jagger narrowed his eyes at Brad as he shook his hand, then slid them over to look at me. I just gave him a small smile,
wondering if this could possibly get any more awkward.
“Angel, could I speak with you?” Jagger said, making it sound more like a demand than a request. Yep, it could get more
awkward.
Brad nudged me toward Jagger, not even trying to be subtle. “Why don’t I walk Ethan and his parents to their car?” He didn’t
bother waiting for an answer as he turned and headed down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. Abby smothered a grin and
followed him, taking Ethan’s hand. Rome smiled at me again and clapped Jagger on the back.
“Good luck, bro,” he said with a laugh, and sauntered off to follow his family.
“I have one thing I’d like to say to you before we begin, Angel,” Jagger said, and I nodded for him to continue. I was sure he
was going to tell me off for the way I’d treated him, and I knew I would deserve it. He took my hands in his and turned me, so I
was directly facing him.
“Hi, my name is Cole Morgan, but everyone calls me Jagger,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. I couldn’t help but laugh in
relief. “And you are?” he prompted.
“I’m Molly Walsh. It’s nice to meet you, Cole.”
“Molly,” he repeated as a smile broke out on his face. “I like that. It suits you. I think Angel suits you even better though.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment, then we both started to talk at once. I held up my hand to stop him.
“Please, let me go first. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and didn’t ask you for an explanation. I just felt so guilty and
ashamed, thinking I’d unknowingly helped you cheat on your wife – your pregnant wife – that I just shut you out.”
“Hell, Angel, you have nothing to be sorry for. I hadn’t mentioned I was a twin, so what the hell else would you think after
seeing someone who looks exactly like me – only not quite as handsome – with a wife and kid? Shit, I figure Rome’s just lucky
you didn’t haul off and smack him in the middle of the parking lot. I’ve seen those killer reflexes of yours, remember?” he
teased, squeezing my hands a little.
He started to pull me close, then thought better of it as he looked around at the few remaining kids and parents in the
parking lot, then glanced at Brad and Sarah, who were making no pretense about doing anything other than staring at us. Brad
still had a gleeful expression, and I knew I wouldn’t be living this down anytime soon. He’d probably already texted Drew and
Emma. I groaned and rolled my eyes, and Jagger arched a brow at me.
 “So, Brad’s your best friend, huh?” he asked. I noticed the disgruntled expression on his face but decided to ignore it.
“Yes. We met in college and have been friends ever since. I interviewed for the teaching position here a week after I
graduated, and they mentioned that the Phys. Ed teacher had just turned in notice that she was moving out of state with her
husband. I told Brad, and he called them for an interview before they even had the job opening posted. Most days, I’m glad to
be working with him. Today, not so much,” I said, turning to give my bestie a pointed look. He just laughed and pulled his
phone out of his back pocket. I saw him point it in our direction and not-so-subtly snap our picture, before frantically tapping at
the screen. I groaned again and dropped my head.
“What’s wrong?” Jagger asked curiously, and I raised my head to look at him. I tipped my head toward Brad.
“See that? That’s Brad texting everyone we know to tell them about this. I’ll never live it down. I can just hear them
now. We’ll be sitting around with our walkers in the nursing home, and Brad will say ‘Remember that time Molly didn’t know
that guy she dated was an identical twin, and thought he was married?’ They’ll think it’s hilarious.”
Jagger got a funny look on his face for a second, before he chuckled. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll never
live this down, either. My dad thinks I’m a fucking moron, and figures you deserve better than a guy who literally knew nothing
about you and had no way to track you down. Abby is afraid I’m gonna fuck this up and Ethan will have to change schools, and
Rome – well you saw him. He loves to give me shit, no matter the situation. This is a fucking gold mine of ammunition for
him.”
I frowned at his comment about Ethan. “Why would Ethan need to change schools?”
Jagger shrugged. “Well, she figures I’ll piss you off so badly that it would be awkward for you around Ethan and them.”
I squeezed his hands, which were still holding mine. “I would never let our…situation effect my relationship with one
of my students,” I assured him truthfully. “I will admit though, that I hated the thought of having to interact with his parents after
yesterday,” I said with a rueful smile. That smile faded when I remembered how rude I’d been to Ethan’s mom when I’d
spotted her husband in the parking lot. I’d literally just turned around and all but ran back into the building, without saying a
word to her. “Oh God, your sister-in-law must think I’m a horrible person. I was so rude when I – “
Jagger interrupted me with a shake of his head. “No, she understands now. She was upset yesterday, but she thought you
just had something against bikers. It’s all good now. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if she has to take sides, she’s gonna be on yours.
She was as bad as my dad was when she found out I didn’t even know your first name.”
I smiled and shook my head, still feeling ridiculous about everything that had happened, when a thought occurred to me.
“Hey, how did you figure it out? How did you know to show up here today?”
“I’d love to take credit for figuring it out, but I’m not that smart, apparently. Besides, I was hungover as hell this
morning, so I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.”
I arched a brow at him, giving him my ‘teacher look’ that indicated he’d done something I wasn’t pleased about. He
caught my look and rolled his eyes a little, dropping his head.
“What can I say, Angel? I was pissed as hell when I got your text last night and headed to the clubhouse to cool off. I
had a couple of shots of whiskey, then a couple more, and then a few more after that. Before I knew it, I was well on my way to
being completely shit-faced and had to sleep it off in my room there.” I resisted the urge to chastise him, knowing I wasn’t
much better. I’d had a few glasses of wine during the pity party Brad and Emma had thrown for me.
“I’d sorta heard Rome last night, telling my dad about some woman who apparently had something against bikers, but I
didn’t hear the details,” he continued. “Then, Rome stopped me and told me about her too, but I was distracted worrying about
you and wasn’t listening. When I told my dad about what had happened and mentioned that you’re a teacher, he put it all
together and told me to call Abby to find out what E’s teacher looked like. She actually had a picture of you that she’d taken on
his first day, so she texted it to me.”
He tugged me a little bit closer so that we were standing only a few inches apart, then smiled down at me. “I gotta tell
you, Angel, I was relieved as hell when I saw your face in that picture. I’d been ready to have our computer guru track you
down by your phone number,” he admitted, not looking a bit guilty about it.
I just shook my head at him and smiled. “We’re a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”
Jagger threw back his head and laughed. “That we are, Angel, that we are. Maybe that means we deserve each other?”
he suggested with a wicked grin that made my insides all fluttery.
“Hmmm, maybe we do,” I agreed softly.
“So, are you done for the day? Maybe we can have a do-over of last night. I can call and get us a table?”
I glanced at my watch to find that it was four-twenty-five. Technically, I was off the clock at four-thirty, although I
usually stayed until around five to tidy my room and put things back in order before the custodians came in to clean in the
evening.
“I need to put a few things away in my room and gather my stuff to take home. Can you give me about fifteen minutes?”
Jagger flashed me a quick smile. “Sure, Angel. Can I see your classroom?”
My brows rose in surprise at his request, but I was pleased by his interest. I nodded and turned to head for the building
entrance. I smiled to myself when Jagger kept hold of one of my hands as we walked up the sidewalk. I noticed that all the
parents and students were gone now, and Brad and Sarah had apparently lost interest in us at some point and had gone back
inside themselves.
I saw Jagger’s eyes glancing around as we walked down the hallway to my classroom, taking in all of the posters and
displays decorating the halls.
“How long has it been since you stepped foot in an elementary school?” I asked with a grin.
“Since the day I got out of fifth grade and moved up to middle school,” he said. “This place is smaller than I remember.
Well, I guess it’s probably the same, my perspective has just changed,” he chuckled. “My kindergarten classroom was right
there.” He pointed toward my room as we approached the doorway and I stopped with a gasp.
“Wait, you went to school here? And this was your classroom?”
“Yeah, I went here. Grew up just down the road. God, this brings back a lot of memories,” he said, glancing around the
hallway again.
“Jagger, this is my classroom!” I said in amazement, as I pointed to the door he’d indicated.
His eyebrows raised, and he barked out a laugh. “You’re shittin’ me, Angel. You’re teaching in my old room?” He
shook his head and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tugging me against his side for a quick hug. “This is some kind of
weird mind-fuck.”
I snaked my arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “You have no idea how weird it is,” I told him as I looked
up to meet his gaze. “The school changed the classroom layout about ten years ago, and the kindergarten rooms were moved.
Over the summer, the administrators switched the classroom layout again, and the kindergarten rooms were moved back here. I
spent part of my summer break getting my stuff moved from the other classroom and set up in here.”
“Damn, Angel. It’s almost like this was meant to be, huh?” Jagger said, with a look on his face that I couldn’t quite
decipher. He smiled down at me and kissed my temple, similar to the way he’d done at the diner when he left that day. I felt
myself melting at the sweet gesture.
I opened the door to my classroom, and Jagger followed me inside. I turned to find him looking around with interest. He
smiled as he took in the various learning areas I had set up, then walked around, and checked out each individual area while I
put away a few things that the kids had left out and gathered my stuff.
“This is great, Angel. So much better than what I remember of kindergarten. We just had our desks, little carpet squares
to sit on for story time, and a toy kitchen set in the corner. That was about it, I think. Between this room and having you for a
teacher, it’s no wonder Ethan likes school so much.”
I blushed at his praise, loving to hear that Ethan liked school. He was a sweet little boy, smart, helpful, and well-
behaved for the most part. His only trouble so far had been teasing and chasing girls on the playground. After meeting his dad
and uncle, I had a feeling that both nature and nurture had something to do with that behavior.
Jagger was in the corner of the room, crouched down looking at the books on the shelves in the reading area when Brad
popped his head into the room.
“Hey, baby doll, you ready to head out?”
I saw Jagger’s head whip around as he sprang to his feet, glaring daggers at Brad in the doorway. Brad caught the
movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to greet him.
“She’s going with me,” Jagger ground out before Brad could say anything more, and I could see his jaw clenching from
clear across the room. I shot a puzzled glance at Brad, who was smirking at Jagger. What on earth?
“Sure, man. I didn’t realize you were still here,” Brad said easily, not fazed in the least by Jagger’s demeanor. I sure
was though. I wondered if it was a biker thing, and Jagger just didn’t get along with other men unless they were in his club? If
so, that would have to change. Brad was one of my best friends, and I wasn’t going to put up with anyone being rude to him.
Not even someone as hot as Jagger.
“I’m going to have dinner with Jagger, but thanks for checking to see if I needed a ride,” I said to Brad with exaggerated
politeness.
“No problem, Moll. Talk to you later. Nice meeting you, Jagger,” he said with a friendly wave as he turned and left.
I waited a few seconds before rounding on Jagger, intent on pressing him on his brusque behavior with Brad. I’d
noticed it outside, too.
Jagger was crossing the room toward me in long strides, his gaze laser-focused on my face. He stopped a few inches
closer to me than normal, invading my personal space in a way that I was sure was intentional. I lifted my head to look at his
eyes, which bore into me as if he were looking to find answers there. Answers to what, I wasn’t sure.
“Does he always drive you home, baby doll?” he said barely concealed anger. Ah-ha…that explained it. Mostly,
anyway.
“Not always,” I replied calmly, taking his question at face value, and ignoring the implication that the ‘baby doll’
comment bothered him. “We were at our friend Emma’s house last night, and I had an extra glass of wine with dinner,” I
explained, downplaying it just a bit. It had been two extra glasses of wine instead of dinner, but whatever. I’d been too upset to
eat. “I left my car there and Brad drove me home, then picked me up on his way in this morning.”
 Jagger looked a bit more relaxed after my explanation, and his eyes softened as he looked at me. “I’m sorry you were
upset last night, Angel.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just a really weird coincidence and poor communication. It’s fine now,
and I’d really like to just forget it and move on.”
He reached for me, wrapping his arms around me, and pulling me close to him. His arms felt wonderful around me, and
I felt safe and protected, which was so strange considering we’d just met. I took a deep breath, and the subtle smell of his
cologne combined with the leather of his cut filled my senses, making me crave more. Whatever scent he was wearing, he
smelled incredible.
“Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, his voice low and rumbly in my ear. I allowed myself to relax into his touch for a
moment before pulling away, conscious that we were still in my classroom where my fellow teachers could walk by the open
doorway at any moment.
“I have everything I need, so we can go,” I said softly. Jagger dropped his hands and stepped back, and I turned to pick
up my school bag and purse. I slipped both over my shoulder, and Jagger took my hand as he led me from the room. We walked
down the hallway hand in hand, and I waved through the window of the front office as I spotted my principal standing by the
reception desk. She did a double take as she caught sight of Jagger and returned my wave with a strained smile as her eyes
darted between us.
“Is she going to be a problem, Angel?” Jagger asked grimly as we stepped outside the main entry doors. “She didn’t
look thrilled to see me.”
“I don’t think it will be an issue,” I assured him. “She’s actually a really nice person, and very supportive of the
teaching staff. You aren’t a parent or guardian of a student, so I’m not breaking any rules. There’s nothing in there about
uncles,” I said with a chuckle, following him across the parking lot toward a blue Dodge Charger parked at the far end that I
assumed was his.
“Is there any kind of a morals clause she can pull out of her ass, that you can’t date a biker or some shit?” he asked
warily.
I stopped walking and he stopped and turned to look at me. “There is nothing in my contract that dictates who I can have
a personal relationship with. As long as I’m not doing anything illegal, my behavior when I’m not at work isn’t subject to their
approval,” I stated firmly, wondering how often in his life he’d been unfairly judged because of his club affiliation.
“Good, because I’m not giving you up without one helluva fight, Angel,” he told me as he opened the passenger door
for me. I shot him a startled look at his declaration, and he gave me a gentle swat on my butt. “Get in the car, Molly,” he
growled, and I slid in, settling in on the leather seat and buckling my seat belt as he shut the door and walked around to the
driver’s side. I stared straight ahead as he got in and buckled himself in, unable to look at him. My mind was replaying his
words and the smack on my backside, and it was all I could do not to lunge over the center console and kiss the daylights out of
him.
“It’s not even five o’clock yet,” Jagger said, startling me out of musings. “Do you want to eat this early, or would you
like to stop by the bar or check out the clubhouse for a while first?”
“Either one is fine with me. Do you have to work at the bar later tonight?”
“No, I usually only work during the day. Hawk is one of two assistant managers, and he’s handling the evening shift ‘til
close tonight. But I do hang out there some evenings and get roped into working half the time,” he explained as he turned on the
car and pulled out of the parking space he’d backed into.
“Well, then maybe we should go to the clubhouse then, so you don’t get roped into working tonight,” I suggested. “Am I
dressed OK for it, or should I stop at my place and change?”
He turned his head and looked at me, running his gaze quickly down my body. I knew I looked good in my red blouse,
black pencil skirt and black peep-toe pumps. I’d needed the boost of confidence the outfit gave me as I had gotten dressed this
morning.
“Nah, as long as you’re comfortable in it. You look beautiful, by the way. I was so happy to find you that I forgot to tell
you that.”
My smile widened and I thanked him before I settled more comfortably in my seat, glancing around at the car’s interior.
“I’m surprised you aren’t on your motorcycle today,” I told him.
“I stopped by my place and switched my bike for the cage earlier in case I was able to talk you into going out with me
tonight. I figured you might not be dressed right for the bike.”
“A cage is a car, right?” I remembered reading that when I researched motorcycle clubs.
Jagger shot me a smile before turning his attention back to the road. “Yeah.
“I have a confession to make,” I said, causing him to glance at me again. “I googled motorcycle clubs Saturday night.”
“You did? And did you learn anything interesting?” he asked teasingly.
“More than I probably wanted to know, honestly,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle.
Jagger glanced at me quickly, reaching over the center console to take my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Anything you want to ask me about, Angel?”
“Well, um, I did read that a lot of clubs have women who live with them, or hang out with them, and their sole purpose
is to…service the needs of the members. Is that only the one-percent clubs you were telling me about, or does your club do
that?” I asked hesitantly.
Jagger pulled his hand back and ran it over the back of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable at my question. My
stomach clenched with a sense of dread as he heaved a sigh before answering.
“Yeah, we have a few bunnies who live in rooms over the garage on the compound. They also eat and drink for free
while they’re there, and they…make themselves available to the guys.”
“So, they’re prostitutes?” I asked. I knew I probably sounded judgmental, mainly because I was.
“No, Angel, they aren’t whores, they just enjoy sex and like to hang around with bikers. They take care of the club, and
the club takes care of them. They like the lifestyle, and the brothers like the easy pussy.”
I cringed at his bluntness, and he apologized. “Hell, I’m sorry, Molly. I’m not one to dress things up in fancy words. I
call it like it is. They like fucking bikers, and the bikers like having pussy on tap, plain and simple. Some of them are hoping to
snag a man for themselves, but I don’t know of any of my brothers who would make a club bunny his Old Lady.”
“So, all of your club brothers are having sex with the same women, and nobody minds?” I asked, trying to wrap my
head around it.
“No, nobody minds Angel, because there are no feelings involved. The women are just a wet hole to get off with. It
sounds crude, but I don’t know how the hell else to say it. That is literally all it is.”
I didn’t say anything, just taking it all in and trying to decide how I felt about it. Jagger reached for my hand again, and I
looked over at him to find his eyes on me before they flickered back to the road ahead.
“Have I scared you off?” he asked, looking pissed off at the idea.
“No, but I…I’m not exactly comfortable with it all. I’ve just never been one for casual sex, so it’s hard for me to
understand. I’m trying not to judge, I mean, it’s not really my business who you’re sleeping with.”
Jagger squeezed my hand and tugged it toward him, resting our joined hands on his thigh. “Maybe not who I was with
before we met, but it’s very much your business now, Angel. And for the record, I won’t be touching anyone else while we’re
seeing each other. I’ve never had an actual adult relationship, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know the rules.”
I gave him a small smile as he met my eyes. I left my hand in his, and we rode in comfortable silence for the next few
minutes until Jagger turned on to a side street leading to an industrial area. We passed several small, older warehouses, before
turning again onto a road with a ‘Dead End’ sign at the corner. The only thing on this small stretch of road seemed to be a two-
story brick building with windows only on the second floor, and a tall, chain-link fence around the building and adjacent
parking area. There was a gate blocking the entrance to the lot, with a guard shack next to it that I noticed was unoccupied.
Jagger hit a button on a garage-door style remote clipped to his driver’s side visor, and the gate slid open,
automatically closing as soon as we drove through. I looked around with interest, noting the half-dozen or so motorcycles
backed up in a neat row by the door of the main building. There were two smaller buildings within the fenced-in area that I
hadn’t been able to see from the road, one of which was attached to the larger building with a small, enclosed walkway. The
other was the garage that Jagger had mentioned, with five garage bay doors along the front and an entry door on the side nearest
the two-story building.
Jagger parked in front of the main building, on the opposite side of the door to the row of motorcycles. He flashed me a
smile as he got out, and I opened my door and stepped out of the passenger side as he hurried around to meet me. I glanced at
my purse, before deciding just to leave it in the car so I didn’t have to keep track of it inside. Jagger assured me it would be
safe – “nobody would have the balls to break into my car in this parking lot” – and took my hand as he closed the car door
behind me. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and tried not to look as freaked out as I felt.
“You good, Molly?” Jagger asked me, tilting my chin up when I didn’t answer him. His eyes searched mine, then slid
down to follow the tip of my tongue as I tried to discreetly lick my suddenly dry lips. His gaze sharpened, focusing on my lips
in a way that did nothing whatsoever to calm me down before he brought his hand up to cradle my jaw.
“You are so fucking beautiful. I think I could look at your face for the rest of my life, and I would still think that every
damned time,” he told me softly, and that unexpectedly sweet statement – delivered as only a man like Jagger could – took my
breath away. I couldn’t even formulate a response as he slid his hand from my jaw to clasp the side of neck, angling my head as
he lowered his lips to mine.
This kiss started off differently from those we had shared on Saturday night. Those kisses, even the very first one, had
been an explosive expression of pure lust and desire. This kiss was soft and tender, his lips gently brushing mine before
lingering and then sliding his tongue along my lower lip. My lips parted, and Jagger accepted the invitation, deepening the kiss
as he slipped his tongue inside to tangle with mine. I moaned softly and pressed my body closer to his. The hand on my neck
tightened ever-so-slightly, and he rubbed his thumb gently over the pulse point at the base of my throat as he pulled back to
draw in a breath. He let go of my hand and brought his up to cup the other side of my neck, then leaned his forehead against
mine. He turned his head slightly so that he could whisper in my ear, and his low, throaty voice made a shiver race across my
skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere in its wake.
“If we weren’t in the middle of a goddamned parking lot, Angel…” he left his warning unfinished, and my mind raced
with all of the sexy possibilities to fill in the blanks. I really wanted to hear what he would do to me if we were alone. I also
really wished I had the nerve to just come out and ask him.
“Come on, we need to go inside before I change my mind about dinner and just take you home with me.” Jagger said as
he guided me toward the double doors. He reached for one of the doors, holding it open and ushering me inside with his other
hand at the small of my back. As soon as I stepped into the large room, Jagger was at my side, taking my hand again as he led
me over to the bar along the left wall.
My eyes darted around the huge space, taking in everything. It was cleaner and brighter than I had expected. I had a
picture in my mind of a dark, dingy, smoke-filled man cave, with a few motorcycle parts used as decoration. I was wrong. It
was definitely a man-cave, but there was nothing dark, dingy, or smoke-filled about it. The overhead lighting made up for the
lack of windows on the main level, so it was reasonably well-lit without being overly bright in the room. There was a huge,
fully stocked bar that ran the length of the left wall, with bar stools in front of it. There were round tables and chairs scattered
around in the center of the room, with a couple of pool tables to the right. I could see an open doorway leading into a kitchen,
and a set of stairs and a couple of hallways that led Lord knows where. The walls were covered in motorcycle memorabilia of
all kinds, with a few scantily clad women on some of the framed posters. I could see a raised stage area in the back corner,
with two stripper poles on it, and a couple of sofas and chairs in front of it for prime viewing, I guessed. Luckily, there weren’t
any strippers in sight at the moment. Actually, as I looked around, I realized I was the only woman here. I couldn’t say I wasn’t
happy that I didn’t have to come face-to-face with any of the club bunnies right now. I needed to ease into this whole scene.
There were two men playing a video game on the largest TV screen I’d ever seen, one man cussing a blue streak as the
other one ambushed him and he died on-screen.
There was another man watching them, offering commentary on their skills, or lack thereof. As he turned his head
slightly, I realized that he was the flirty guy from the bar the other night. Trick, I think his name was.
Jagger came to a stop at the end of the bar where an older man sat nursing a beer and watching what looked like one of
the Fast and Furious movies on another big screen TV mounted to the wall behind the bar. The man looked more like my idea
of a typical biker, with weathered skin and world-weary eyes. His hair was straight and long, gathered into a ponytail at the
nape of his neck. His hair and bushy beard had been brown at some point but were now heavily sprinkled with gray. I guessed
him to be in his late sixties or so.
“Hey, old man,” Jagger greeted the man with a clap on the shoulder. The man turned to look at him, his scowl turning
into a huge smile when he caught sight of me standing at Jagger’s side.
“Well, hello there, darlin’. I didn’t get a chance to meet you at Inferno the other night. I’m Viking, and I’m sure as hell
glad to have something pretty to look at around here.” he said, getting to his feet as he introduced himself.
Jagger rolled his eyes and pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist again.
“Viking, this is Molly Walsh. Angel, Viking is one of our founding members. He and Sinner have been best friends for
fifty-odd years,” he told me with a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said as I held my hand out for Viking to shake. He gave me a grin before taking my hand and
raising it, winking slyly as he turned it over to kiss the back of my hand with a courtly bow totally at odds with his worn leather
cut and rather scruffy appearance.
I laughed softly as Jagger rolled his eyes again and shoved at Viking good-naturedly. “Give it up, old man. She’s mine.”
That last comment shocked me, and I couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through me at his words. I knew he didn’t mean it the way
it sounded, but a girl could dream.
“Oh, that’s the way it is, huh?” Viking barked out a laugh and raised his brows in surprise, giving me an appraising look
before turning back to Jagger.
“Well, I guess you aren’t as big of a dumbass as I thought. Treat her right, boy. This one looks like a keeper.”
“Hell’s bells, sweet thing, you’re with Jag again? You know you can do so much better, right?” came a loud voice from
the other side of the room. I looked up to see the flirty biker making his way over to us, grinning widely as Jagger flipped him
off.
“Shut up, asshole,” Jagger groused. I hid a laugh when he tightened his arm around my waist, dropping his hand to grip
my hip possessively. I’d always thought of possessiveness as being a bit of a red flag in the dating world, but somehow, it
didn’t seem that way with Jagger. Maybe it was a biker thing?
“Hello again, Angel,” the biker said with a seductive purr that probably had women dropping their panties left and
right. He bent to kiss my cheek and was stopped by Jagger’s hand gripping the front of his shirt and pushing him back on his
heels.
“Knock it off, Trick,” Jagger warned in a low tone that gave me chills, but it didn’t seem to faze Trick in the least if his
smirk was anything to go by. “And her name is Molly.”
I heard Viking snicker behind us, but Trick just laughed, then bumped his shoulder into Jagger’s. “It’s nice to see you
again, Molly,” Trick said with exaggerated politeness.
“You, too, Trick,” I said with a small smile, trying not to melt when Jagger squeezed my hip and pulled me flush against
his side, then dropped a soft kiss to my temple.
“Jagger, sorry to interrupt, but can I see you for a minute?” I turned to look as another man approached us. He was tall,
probably six-foot-four or so, and heavily muscled, with a shaved head and tattoos over every visible inch of his arms and up
the sides of his neck. Even the backs of his hands were inked. His eyes flickered to me questioningly, then back to Jagger.
“Sure. Molly, this is Bull, our club Secretary. Bull, this is Molly. She’s mine.” Jagger’s matter-of-fact proclamation
stunned me. That was the second time he’d said that. I felt myself flush under Bull’s steady gaze. He tipped his head toward me
in acknowledgement.
“Nice to meet you, Molly,” he said in a gravelly voice which matched his tough exterior. The guy seriously looked like
he could eat ground glass for breakfast.
“Hi,” I said softly, more than a little intimidated by him but trying not to let it show.
“Angel, can you sit here for a few minutes while I see what Bull needs? Viking will keep you company. Trick will not,”
he said, shooting a glare at his club brother. Trick just winked at me unrepentantly, then jumped back when Jagger stepped
closer to him.
“All right, message fucking received, man. She’s off-limits,” he said with a chuckle, then looked at me and smiled. “I’ll
see you around, I’m sure, Molly.”
Jagger just grunted and turned toward me, pulling out the stool next to Viking and helping me hop up on to it. My slim-
fitting pencil skirt didn’t allow for a lot of movement.
“Prospect, get her whatever she wants to drink,” he said ordered the young man behind the bar, before kissing the top of
my head and following Bull from the room, disappearing down a hallway to the right of the front door.
“What can I get you, ma’am?” the prospect asked. I doubted he was even old enough to drink alcohol, let alone serve it,
but I supposed underage drinking was probably not even a blip on the radar of a motorcycle club.
“Um, just a Diet Pepsi, if you have it,” I replied. I knew I needed to keep my wits about me, so drinking anything
stronger right now wasn’t a good idea. He nodded, and grabbed a glass and added ice, before opening a refrigerated case
against the wall and pulling out a can. He poured it into the glass with a flourish, carefully watching the fizz rise to the top of
the glass and stop right on the edge of overflowing, before handing the glass to me.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, beyond happy to get some caffeine flowing through my veins. I needed it after the
afternoon I’d had.
“So, Molly, how did you meet Jagger?” Viking asked, scooting a bowl of pretzels toward me, and gesturing for me to
help myself. I grabbed a couple of them, more for something to do with my hands than out of any real desire to eat them.
“We met at a diner. I warned him he was about to get a parking ticket. He invited himself to join me for lunch,” I said
with a wry smile. Viking chuckled and shook his head.
“Smooth operator, huh?” he asked.
“Something like that,” I agreed with a smile. I took a gulp of my drink, relishing the burn of the carbonation as it hit the
back of my throat. As I placed the glass back down on the bar top, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and saw
another biker approaching us with a quizzical look on his face. He was an extremely handsome man, tall and very fit, with short
dark hair smoothed back from his face, and a small scruff of hair on his chin. I would guess him to be in his early forties, based
on the hints of gray at his temples and in his stubble. He looked vaguely familiar, although I was sure I’d never met him before.
I would have remembered, believe me. He came to a stop next to my stool and looked over my head to speak to Viking.
“Who’s your friend, Viking?” he asked, flicking his gaze to me, and giving me a wide smile. Yeah, he knew he was sexy
as sin.
“This here is Molly. Jagger brought her,” he told the man, sharing a look with him that I couldn’t interpret. The man’s
smile widened even more as he looked back at me, his gaze roving over me with an interest that seemed more curiosity than
anything else.
“Angel, I presume?” he asked me, and I nodded in surprise.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” he told me. “Where’s Jag?” he directed his question back to Viking.
“Bull needed him for something. They went toward the office.”
“And he left you out here alone?” the man looked back at me to ask, looking annoyed. I hoped it wasn’t a breach of
biker etiquette – if there was such a thing – for me to be in here without Jagger. Before I could answer him, Viking spoke up.
“Nah, he left her in my care. He knew I’d look out for her.” Viking barely even looked at the man, as he fished out a few
more pretzels from the bowl and popped them in his mouth. He didn’t look concerned about the situation.
“Good,” the man told me with another devastatingly attractive smile. “I’d hate to think the boy was stupid enough to
leave you in the middle of the clubhouse alone.”
I smiled nervously, not sure what to say to that comment.
 “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m King, Jagger’s dad, and President of this MC.”
I gulped. Holy crap on a cracker! That’s why he looked vaguely familiar. I took a closer look, and slightly revised my
earlier estimation of his age, realizing I was getting a glimpse of Jagger in twenty years or so.
“It’s nice to meet you, uh, President…King…sir.” I managed to say. I wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing, ogling
Jagger’s dad, or whatever the heck had just come out of my mouth.
Jagger’s dad threw back his head and laughed, and Viking laughed so hard he choked on his pretzels. “King will do just
fine, sweetheart,” he told me with a smile, still chuckling at my awkward formality.
I heard the unmistakable clack of pool balls and turned to see that one of men who had been playing video game was
now racking the balls, and Trick was selecting a pool cue from the holder mounted on the wall. I looked at the table, admiring
the incredible craftsmanship. It was a beautiful walnut table with hammered metal accents, covered in orange felt which
matched their club emblem. The legs of the table had been painted to look like the table was being engulfed in flames.
“That’s a gorgeous table,” I murmured, not really speaking to anyone in particular. King apparently heard me though.
“Do you play, sweetheart?”
I glanced up at him and nodded. “I used to enjoy it in college, but I haven’t played in a while.”
“Hey, Trick, Bodhi, why don’t you guys let Molly here join you for a game?” King called out, and both men swiveled
around to stare at me. I was fairly sure the one he called Bodhi hadn’t even realized I was here until now.
Trick waved me over with a huge grin. “Sure thing, Prez. Come on, sweet thing, I’d love to play with you.”
I rolled my eyes at his clear double entendre, and Viking snorted to himself. “You’re gonna get that boy killed, Prez,” he
warned with a shake of his head, but King just smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, old man, I’ll keep an eye on him. Besides, it will keep Jagger on his toes.”
King turned to me and noticed that I was having difficulty discreetly getting off the high barstool without letting my skirt
slide up my thighs.
“Allow me,” he said, and I let out a small squeal as he placed his hands around my waist and lifted me off the stool and
set me on my feet like I weighed nothing. Oh, sweet Jesus.
“Uh, thanks,” I said with a breathless chuckle, mortified at the sound that had escaped me when he picked me up.
Jagger’s dad must think I’m a complete idiot.
“No problem,” he replied easily, guiding me over to the pool table with his hand on the small of my back.
“Have you met these two assholes yet?” King asked, gesturing to Trick and Bodhi.
“She and I met the other night, Prez,” Trick said, winking at me again. It seemed to be an automatic reflex for him. See a
woman, wink at her - not that I was complaining.
“I haven’t had the pleasure yet, babe. I’m Bodhi, and who might you be?” he asked with a charming grin. Good Lord,
another sexy biker. This one had wavy, sun-kissed blond hair that went just past his shoulders, making him look more like a
surfer than a biker. I wondered if his road name was a reference to the movie Point Break, but I wasn’t sure if it was polite to
ask. I’d have to remember to check with Jagger.
“That’s Molly,” Trick volunteered. “She’s Jagger’s.”
Bodhi’s eyebrows hit his hairline at Trick’s statement. I was a little surprised to keep hearing that myself.
“No shit?” Bodhi asked, looking stunned.
“No shit,” Trick confirmed with a nod. “He’s damned near pissed a circle around her.”
I snorted, and King chuckled beside me. Oh God, now I’m snorting. How embarrassing.
Trick chalked the tip of the pool cue he was holding, then handed it to me.
“You ready to play?”
I nodded and accepted the stick with a smile, eager to play again. I eyed the table critically, as Bodhi picked up the
triangle rack and started to place it on the table again.
“Do you mind if I rack?” I asked him.
He looked at me in surprise, then handed it over. “No, babe. Go right ahead,” he conceded with a wave of his arm over
the table.
“Eight ball?” I asked, and at their nods, I placed it on the table and quickly set up the balls in formation, then slipped
my fingers inside the rack to make sure the balls were nice and tight. Once I was satisfied, I carefully lifted the rack, and hung
it on the hook next to the pool cues.
“Nice,” Trick nodded in approval, and I inwardly rolled my eyes at his almost patronizing tone. Typical macho
bullcrap, but I was used to being underestimated when playing pool. As kids, we’d had a pool table in our basement. Dad had
taught us how to play, and I’d spent many hours during my teenaged years perfecting my skills by playing against my brother
and his friends. I wasn’t big into the bar scene in college, but when I had gone out, I’d rarely paid for a drink. I’d found out
early on that challenging a frat boy to a game of pool, with the understanding that the loser buys the drinks, resulted in free
booze for me almost every time.
“Why don’t you break, Molly,” King suggested. He was leaning against the other pool table a few feet away, and I
noticed that Viking had wandered over to join him, as had the other video game player. Great, an audience. Just what I needed,
after not playing pool in at least a year or more. I could only hope my skills weren’t too rusty.
“I’d love to, gentlemen,” I responded with false bravado, bending at the waist over the table as I lined up my shot. I
smiled in satisfaction at the crack of the balls, watching as they scattered perfectly.
I glanced back at the men, who were all watching with approving smiles.
“Impressive, babe,” Bodhi told me, eyeing the table. “Ladies first,” he offered. I glanced at Trick, who nodded his
agreement.
“Solids. Two ball, corner pocket,” I called out with a bit more confidence returning. I leaned over the table, lining up
my shot while trying to ignore the fact that my skirt probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing for me to be wearing right now.
I could feel it riding up the back of my thighs a bit more than I would like. I took a deep breath and exhaled, then drew my arm
back and followed through on my shot in one swift move. I smiled as the number two ball fell cleanly into the corner pocket.
“Nice shot, sweetheart,” King encouraged, while Trick whistled, and Bodhi nodded in approval.
“Four and five, side pocket,” I gestured to the table, eyeing it to get a good angle for my next shot. I sank it, spinning the
number four into the five ball and sending them both into the pocket, then spent the next several minutes running the table. I got
lost in the familiar groove of the game, forgetting my discomfort over my skirt, and blocking out the crowd which had increased
by several more bikers.
“Fuck, she’s kicking your asses!” I heard shouted out, and Trick and Bodhi both groaned good-naturedly amid the
laughter of the other men.
“Eight ball, back right corner pocket,” I announced, needing just one last shot to win the game. I walked around the
table to find the best angle, then bent over and lined up my shot. Crack! The ball disappeared just as I’d planned, dropping
cleanly into the pocket.
I did an excited little shimmy, then placed my stick on the table and whirled around to the sounds of clapping, whistling
and whoops from the peanut gallery, which now included even more unfamiliar faces.
“Who’s the sexy librarian?” I heard a voice holler. It was followed by a grunt of pain, then a voice I recognized even
though I couldn’t see him through the crowd around me.
“She’s a sexy teacher, and she’s mine, motherfucker,” Jagger snapped out loudly, before elbowing his way through the
men surrounding the table.
 Chapter 6
Jagger/Cole

Bull and I finished looking over the new policy from our insurance company, which had made some changes to our liability
coverage on the bar when we renewed it. It had taken longer than I had liked, and I was anxious to get back out there with
Angel.
“All right, asshole, you can leave now,” Bull told me with a roll of his eyes. “She must be something if she’s got you this on-
edge. I don’t think you listened to a goddamned thing I said in the last five minutes,” he grumbled.
“Sorry, man.” I apologized, not actually sorry in the least. I opened the door to his office, and Bull followed me back down the
hall. As I turned the corner toward the main clubroom, I heard shouts and laughter, so clearly more of my brothers had arrived.
I quickened my pace, wanting to make sure Molly wasn’t getting too overwhelmed. I rounded the last corner and stopped short
at the sight of a crowd gathered around the pool tables. There must have been a dozen or so brothers, whooping and hollering
about whatever the hell was going on. I circled around them, intent on reaching the bar, when I registered what I was hearing.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Damn, would you look at the ass on her?”
“Shit, I think I’m in love.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, baby, bend over just like that again.”
“Please tell me she’s a new bunny?”
“Does she look like a damned bunny to you?”
“If she is, I’ve got dibs on fucking her.”
I swiveled around toward the bar, only to see empty stools where Molly and Viking had been sitting. Fucking hell! I turned and
started elbowing my way through the crowd, catching a glimpse of my Angel bent over the pool table with a stick in her hand,
lining up a shot. Jesus Christ, the sight of her round ass up in the air like that made all the blood in my body flow straight to my
cock.
I heard the crack of the ball, and the men around me erupted in whistles and applause. When I heard Lucky ask, “Who’s
the sexy librarian?” my blood boiled as I slammed his side with my elbow. He grunted and stumbled back a step, glaring at me.
“She’s a sexy teacher, and she’s mine, motherfucker!” I snarled. I pushed the man in front of me aside, vaguely registering that
it was my dad, when I spotted Trick, that lousy bastard, lifting my Angel off her feet and swinging her around. She looked
startled, then started laughing as she clutched his shoulders for dear life as he swung her around once more.
“Put her the fuck down, asshole,” I growled, trying to resist the urge to knock him on his ass. I felt a hand on my shoulder and
glanced back to see King standing there, looking amused as hell.
Trick set Molly back on her feet, and she tottered slightly on her high heels. They were sexy as fuck on her, and I had a sudden
need to see her wearing those, and nothing else. I lunged forward to steady her, pulling her close and wrapping one arm around
her waist. I brought the other hand up to cup her chin, raising her eyes to meet mine.
“Having fun, Angel?” I questioned with a smile. Her face was flushed, partly due to enjoyment and partly from embarrassment,
I suspected.
“Yes, I am actually,” she admitted with a soft chuckle. I dropped my hand from her face and loosened my hold on her
just a little.
“Your girl is a fucking pool shark, Jag,” Bodhi all but whined, groaning when some of the guys started ragging on him.
“Yeah, Trick and Bodhi just stood there with their thumbs up their asses while she ran the table. They didn’t even get a
shot,” King said, and he was grinning ear-to-ear. “Good job, sweetheart,” he praised her, and my girl dropped her eyes to the
ground before smiling up at him shyly. Fucking hell, it looks like my dad got to her already. It’s a good thing I trusted the
motherfucker.
“OK, ‘fess up, Molly. Did you hustle us?” Trick asked her teasingly.
“I most certainly did not,” she replied almost indignantly, then spoiled it by laughing. “If I were hustling you, I would have
made a bet with you first. As it is, I just simply kicked your butt at a game you assumed I couldn’t play well.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as Trick’s jaw dropped in surprise at being called out. Bodhi pointed at him and laughed, at least until
he noticed Molly giving him what could only be called a “teacher look”, with her brow arched. That shut him up pretty
quickly.
“You tell ‘em, sweetheart,” King told her, and before I knew it, he had shifted Molly so that she was closer to him than to me,
and then had the fucking nerve to throw his arm over her shoulder and hug her to his side. He gave me a shit-eating grin over
the top of her head, and I knew it was payback for my fuck-up with her. I was never gonna live that shit down.
That reminded me of Molly’s comment outside the school, about her best friend giving her shit in a nursing home about
that guy she had dated, and how my gut had twisted at hearing those words. I hadn’t liked being referred to like that, in the
past tense, as if I were just some random guy she’d gone out with once upon a time. I wanted to be more than that, and for a
fleeting moment, I’d had a vision of being right there alongside her in that nursing home, teasing a gray-haired Molly about our
misspent youth, and chasing her with my walker. It had freaked me the fuck out, mostly by how right it had seemed. As strange
as it was - after only knowing her for a few days - in my mind, she was already mine. I idly wondered how long that feeling
would last.
I eyed my dad’s arm around my girl’s shoulder, and then watched him smile at something else one of the guys had said.
Whatever it was caused Molly to look at me and laugh, then blush and duck her head. King laughed out loud and hugged her
closer for a second before releasing her and taking a step back. I relaxed a little, realizing that he was treating her a lot like he
treated Abby, who he considered to be a daughter after all this time. In fact, if push came to shove, I was pretty damned sure he
would choose Abby over me and Rome any day of the week.
“How ‘bout a rematch, Molly?” Trick asked, holding a pool stick out for her.
Molly glanced at me questioningly, and I nodded. I’d like to see her take him down a peg or two, and I really wanted to
see her bent over that pool table again. I gritted my teeth at the idea that it meant my brothers would all see her like that, too.
I’d never been jealous or the slightest bit possessive over a woman in my life, but damned if I wasn’t going full-on caveman
with Angel.
“Sure, Trick. Bodhi, are you in?” she asked sweetly, as she accepted the cue from Trick. I got the sudden feeling that
she wasn’t quite as innocent as she seemed, under all that sweetness and light she projected.
“Nah, I’ll sit this one out. I need a beer to soothe my bruised ego,” Bodhi joked, then ambled off toward the bar.
“I’ll take you on, babe,” a taunting voice said over my shoulder, and my fists clenched with the need to wrap my fingers
around his throat and squeeze. I turned around to pin my cousin Lucky with an icy stare, but he just smirked at me and shoulder-
checked me on his way to join Trick and Molly at the table.
He greeted Molly with a kiss on the cheek, which startled her enough to make her take a step back and glance at me. I
just rolled my eyes and barked at him to keep his goddamned lips off my girl.
Lucky looked over his shoulder at me and smirked, then flipped me off before turning back around to greet Molly.
“I’m Lucky,” he said, which caused Molly to look at the name on his cut, then shoot another quick glance at me. Seeing
my half-pissed off expression caused her lips to twitch, and she looked back up at Lucky.
“Is that because you’re lucky Jagger hasn’t killed you yet?” she asked with a smile that somehow managed to be sweet,
innocent, and sassy all at once.
I threw my head back and laughed, as did most of my brothers, including Lucky himself.
“He’s lucky none of us have killed him yet,” King told her, chuckling, and shaking his head at the memory of some of
the shit Lucky had done over the years.
“All right, darlin’ Molly, you want to rack ‘em up again?” Trick asked her, before looking directly at me while he
informed the group, “Molly has a terrific rack. She makes sure it’s a really nice, tight…fit.” I knew he was just trying to get
under my skin. The guy was one of my best friends, so it was something we did. Still made me want to punch him in the mouth
though.
I was saved the trouble when Molly flipped up the butt-end of the pool stick like some kind of crazy-ass ninja and
poked him in the gut with it. He gave a startled “oof” and jumped back, and I almost fell over laughing at the look on his face.
“Be nice and behave yourself, Trick,” she scolded him, wagging the stick at him with one hand, while the other was
propped on her hip. She was using her teacher voice on him, and for some twisted reason, that made my dick hard.
“She hit me,” Trick exclaimed, part in shock and part in amazement, I think.
“My girl has crazy reflexes, man. Just a word of advice…never, ever take a French fry off her plate. She’ll smack your
hand before you even see her moving,” I warned him. Molly looked at me and burst into a giggle, then covered her blushing
face with her free hand. She was fucking adorable.
“That’s the second time I’ve heard mention of the fries. I’m gonna need the whole story at some point,” King said,
looking at both of us.
Molly avoided his gaze and set her cue down, grabbing the rack off the hook on the wall and bending over to place it on
the table. Lucky grabbed the balls from the various pockets and rolled them toward her as she placed them in formation inside
the triangle. I narrowed my eyes on her as she leaned over a little farther, causing her skirt to ride up to the middle of her thighs
and her ass to tilt up a little higher in the air. A quick glance around me showed that I wasn’t the only brother whose gaze was
glued to her. Her complete concentration was focused on the task at hand, and she had no clue that she had a bunch of horny
motherfuckers salivating over her curves. I knew damned good and well that I wasn’t the only one picturing her bent over that
table for an entirely different reason. I groaned and adjusted my cock, which was starting to strain against my zipper.
Once the balls were racked nice and tight, as Trick had said, Lucky offered to let her break. Molly picked up her stick
and chalked the tip, then walked around to the end of the table opposite me to take her shot. She leaned over the table, and from
this angle I had a perfect view of the swell of her tits and the top lace edge of her bra as her shirt dipped down in front. Oh,
hell no, that’s it. Not fucking happening.
The balls had barely had time to scatter before I strode around the table to her, took the cue from her hands and tossed it
to Trick.
“What are you doing?” a confused Molly asked as I grabbed her hand and started to pull her through the crowd. She dug
in her heels a little, causing me to stop walking and turn around to face her. I cupped her face in my hands and leaned down so
she could hear me over the laughter and catcalls of my asshole club brothers who had most likely figured out the problem.
“Every goddamned man in here is either looking down your shirt or eye-fucking your ass, with the possible exception
of my dad and Viking…and I’m not too sure about them. So, you and I are going to go upstairs to my room for a while, then
we’ll head out to dinner.”
The way Molly’s eyes bugged out of her head at my words would have been comical if the blood weren’t pumping
through my veins straight to my cock. I’d be lucky if I could even walk up the stairs without breaking my dick at this point.
Without another word, I took her hand and hustled her toward the stairs, holding my other hand high above my head to
flip off the room at-large as I heard Trick whining about me ruining their fun, and Lucky complaining that he hadn’t even gotten
to play with Molly yet. I knew the kind of playing that shithead had in mind. We were cousins, after all, and had practically
been raised together. I was pretty sure that being a pussy-hound was ingrained in our family DNA, with the possible exception
of Rome. My twin had been hooked on Abby since we were teenagers, and he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman
since the day Abs had turned eighteen and he no longer had to worry about her dad - who happened to be a cop - arresting him.
When we got to the base of the stairs, I motioned for Molly to go ahead of me, partly out of a desire to be a gentleman,
but mainly so I could watch that round ass sway at eye-level as she made her way up the steps on those high heels of hers. I
wanted to lean forward and take a bite, but I restrained myself. Barely.
At the top of the stairs, I guided her through the maze of hallways, giving her a mini tour along the way.
“Some of us keep rooms here, and a few brothers live here full-time,” I explained. “All of the officers are in this
building, and the prospects and some of the others are out in the annex, along with a couple of suites for any VIP guests we
have. We occasionally host other clubs for runs or parties or offer an overnight stay for affiliate clubs who are passing through
town, so we have bunkhouse-style quarters over the garage for any other guests.” I didn’t dare remind her that’s where the
bunnies lived, too. I also chose not to point out the four interior rooms up here that were used strictly for fucking, either with
the bunnies or with hang-arounds, for those brothers who didn’t want the women in their private spaces.
We got to my door, and I pulled the key from my pocket and opened it. I flipped on the light, and led Molly inside,
closing and locking the door behind us. She looked around with interest, taking in the small but clean space. The rooms in this
main building were all equipped the same, with a queen-sized bed, two nightstands with lamps, a small chest of drawers with a
TV mounted above it, and a leather armchair in the corner. There was a small closet, and a bathroom with a shower – nothing
fancy, but it was nice to have the ensuite bath instead of the communal bathrooms we used to have. I hadn’t done anything to
personalize the space, except for adding a docking station for my phone to charge, with small speakers in case I wanted to
listen to music and mounting a hook to hang my cut on by the door.
I slipped my cut off and hung it up, keeping one eye on Molly who was nervously glancing around the room. The need
to have Molly in my arms was riding me hard so I approached her as she turned around to peer into the bathroom door. I
slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me so that her back was plastered to my front, barely resisting the
urge to grind against her ass. She brought her hands up to rest on my forearms which were wrapped around her and tilted her
head up to look over her shoulder at me. I dipped my head to skim my lips along her jaw line, then nuzzled her ear and nipped
my way down her neck. I smiled as I breathed in the now-familiar peaches and vanilla scent from her shampoo or whatever the
hell it was. It made a subtle change from the overpowering perfume worn by most of the other women I encountered.
“You smell so damned good, Angel,” I said softly, placing gentle kisses up and down her neck. “Like a peach pie or
something.”
Her chuckle broke off as she gasped when I flicked my tongue over the little divot between her neck and her
collarbone. I did it again, then gently sucked the skin there, before soothing it with my tongue. I loved the soft moan that
escaped her, and the way her fingertips dug into my arms just a little. I tightened my hold on her, pressing my erection against
her to gauge her reaction. Her breath hitched and she moaned again, wiggling her ass, and pressing back against me for a
second, and that was all the encouragement I needed. I turned her in my arms and her startled gaze flew up to meet mine.
“I need to kiss you before I lose my damned mind,” I said gruffly as I slid my hand around to cup the back of her head.
Her eyes widened even more, and she nodded slightly. I wasn’t about to ignore that invitation. I swooped down and claimed
her mouth, running my tongue over the seam of her lips, then slipping inside as she opened for me. She tasted just as good as I
remembered, and I deepened the kiss, all but devouring her mouth as the need for more shot through my veins straight to my
cock. The poor bastard was throbbing and straining against my zipper, aching to be released from the confines of my jeans.
I slid my hands down to cup her ass, bunching the tight skirt as much as the fabric would allow in an attempt to get her
as close to me as humanly possible with our clothes still on. I tried to slip my thigh between hers, but that was a no-go without
ripping the skirt. I didn’t have a problem doing that at all, but I figured Molly might object. My lips left hers long enough to
drag in a ragged breath, before I dived back in, kissing her as if my very life depended on it. From the way my heart was
racing, that was a definite possibility.
 “Fuck, I want you so damned much, Angel.” I whispered roughly as I slid my hands up her thighs and over her hips then
higher, untucking her shirt from the waistband of her skirt. I tried to tell myself to slow down - I wasn’t sure how much
experience she had, although she kissed like a fucking wet-dream - but I couldn’t remember ever getting this turned on so
fucking fast.
I slipped my hands under her shirt, skimming them up over the smooth skin at the small of her back. I felt her tremble at
my touch and would have worried that I was moving too fast for her if she hadn’t wrapped her arms around my neck and
pressed herself flush against me. I cradled her in one arm then slid my other hand around to her front, cupping and kneading the
gorgeous tits I’d been dying to touch. I loved the feel of her under my hand, the soft, supple mounds so much different from the
overly done fake tits I was used to when I was with the strippers or club bunnies. The whimper of pleasure that Molly gave me
in return was one I remembered from Saturday night in my office, and I was dying to hear more. I tried to slip my hand inside
the cup of her bra, but between the shirt bunched up between us and the constricting fabric of her bra, I didn’t have nearly
enough room to maneuver the way I wanted to.
“Take your clothes off, because if I do it, they won’t be in one piece when I’m done,” I warned her with an edge of need
tinging my voice. I reluctantly dropped my hands from her soft curves and took a step back, ripping my own T-shirt over my
head and dropping it to the floor as I reached for my belt buckle. Molly stood there, not moving an inch as her wide eyes roved
over my chest and abs before focusing her gaze on my belt and the sizeable bulge below it. I could feel her stare like a soft
caress – everywhere her eyes landed felt like the briefest of touches. I wanted her hands on me in the worst goddamned way. I
felt like I was coming out of my skin with need.
“Not kidding, Angel. Take off your clothes, or I swear to God, I’ll rip them off of you.”
Her eyes flew to mine, and dropped back to my belt as I unbuckled it and slid it free, then popped the button on my
jeans open before reaching for the tab on my zipper. I stopped and stared at her until she met my eyes again. She gave me a
little smile that probably would have warned me I was about to be in over my head with her, if only every drop of blood hadn’t
already shifted from my brain to my dick.
She brought her hands up to unbutton her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders in one smooth move to let it fall to the floor,
leaving her standing there wearing a pale pink bra that barely contained her luscious tits. She reached behind her and lowered
the zipper on her skirt, letting it pool around her feet for a moment before stepping aside to kick it out of the way. The sight of
her standing there in nothing but her lacy bra, matching pink lacy panties, and those fuck-me heels made my cock surge against
my zipper again. I carefully – really fucking carefully – lowered my zipper, adjusting myself to bring some momentary relief.
I licked my lips as I watched her reach behind herself again - this time to unfasten her bra – and the movement made her
arch her back and push her chest out toward me for a few seconds. My cock was pulsing with every beat of my heart as I
watched her slip the bra straps down her arms one at a time, inch by fucking inch as she held the cups in place over her tits. I
clenched my fists against the need to rip that bit of lace out of her hands, my eyes staring at it as if I could see through the
material. She shifted her hands slightly to let the bra fall to the floor, and immediately cupped her hands over her tits instead. I
groaned at her shyness, needing to see her bare skin. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regain control over the need I
could feel racing through my veins. I warned myself again to take it slow. Don’t scare her off, asshole!
I opened my eyes, mentally prepared to slow down and ease Molly into things, when I noticed that she wasn’t just
cupping her tits to cover them. Holy fuck, she was squeezing them together, then kneading them slowly. I glanced at her, only to
find her eyes unwavering as she stared at me, as if she were waiting for my reaction. She smiled again and arched a brow at
me, clearly waiting for a response, and I realized then what I had missed before. I’d thought her hesitation meant she was
innocent and sheltered – not a virgin, but probably not very experienced. But hell no, as I watched her now, circling both
nipples with her fingertips, then running the pads of her fingers over the tight buds, I realized the truth. She moaned softly, her
breath hitching in her throat as she flicked her nipples, before lightly tugging on them. Goddamned, my Angel’s halo was a little
bit crooked, because she wasn’t nearly as innocent as she looked.
With her gaze locked on mine, she brought her index finger up to her lips and slipped it inside her mouth, sucking on it
for a moment before bringing it back down to circle the now-wet pad of her finger over the top of one rosy, pink tip. My cock
surged against my opened jeans, and I felt my knees get a little weak. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of her own
touch, and I watched as a flush spread over the creamy white skin of her upper chest and creeped up her neck. I stepped close
to her and kissed her again, a bruising, almost punishing kiss that pushed the boundaries of my control as she tried to take over,
sucking my tongue into her mouth. The sensation shot straight to my cock, and I grabbed her waist, pulling her close to me with
a grip tight that would probably leave a bruise or two. I dipped my head, sucking hard at that little spot in the crook of her neck
that I’d nipped at a few minutes ago and she gasped.
“Jagger, you’re going to leave a mark,” she cautioned breathlessly, all the while angling her head to allow me even
better access to her neck.
“Good, that’s what I’m fucking trying to do. I want every asshole who looks at you to know that you have a man already,
so they’ll back the fuck off what’s mine,” I assured her gruffly, almost growling at her. I wanted to claim her so I could keep her
all to myself, and even though the thought was completely foreign to me, it felt so fucking right.
 “Jagger,” she admonished, but I interrupted her before she could continue.
“Cole. I want to hear my real name on your lips, Angel. I want to hear you screaming my real name when I’m balls-
deep inside you and you’re breaking apart on my cock. I want every motherfucker in this place to hear that you’re mine.” I
whispered almost savagely against her ear.
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Thus the Pawnees, too, though in actual want themselves, showed
their good will towards us by preparing for us the best they could
afford. One chief placed before us, besides dried buffalo meat, a
small dish of marrow, which by them is considered a great delicacy.
Labor.—The more enlightened a people has become through the
benign influence of religion, and the cultivation of the arts and
sciences, the more the weaker sex attains to that rank in society,
which the Creator intended for them; but the more debased and sunk
in heathenism a Nation lies, the more is woman enslaved, and held
in subjection. So among the Pawnees, too, the men are the lords,
who, while they themselves are not disposed to do any work, and
generally consider it a shame to labor, direct the women, as inferior
beings, how everything must be done. The females, besides
attending to the housework, generally incumbent upon their sex, are
obliged to cut and carry all the fire-wood; prepare the fields for
cultivation with their hoes, plant the corn, weed it, and finally, when
ripe, gather it in; and take care of the horses of their lords, when not
used by them.
The most difficult labor, however, that falls to their lot, is the
erecting of their lodges. As the upper village had been burnt by their
enemies during their absence, the labor of rebuilding of course
devolved upon the poor women, and in the course of about two
months, when we visited them, they had completed nearly 150
lodges. When we observed that the nearest timber to the site of the
village was two or three miles off, and that they have no beasts of
burden, but that all the building material, much of which is very
heavy, was carried so great a distance on the shoulders of the
women, it seemed almost incredible to us. We noticed even girls of
12 to 14 years bearing baskets on their backs, filled with wet turf, to
cover or repair their lodges, which must have been very heavy. Thus
early the females are trained to carry burdens (either at home or
while travelling), which inures them to hardships, but at the same
time deforms them, rendering them low and bent in stature, and
pitiable objects to the beholder. While the men, trained to no work
whatever, are erect, tall and well-proportioned in their form, and
almost feminine in their features, the women are short and low, with
stooping gait, downcast looks, harsh features, and hair dishevelled;
and dirty, ragged, and filthy in their appearance. Such is a picture of
heathenism! Have we not cause to be grateful for the benign
influence of the gospel upon our land, so that we are elevated far
above such a miserable state of heathenism? Unto the Lord be all
the praise!
Though it is generally a feature among heathen nations, that it is
considered a shame for the men to labor, while all the work devolves
upon the females, still the Pawnees seem not altogether indisposed
to be instructed. Mr. Sharpee, who has been acquainted with them
and other Indians in these parts for nearly 20 years, told us that the
Pawnee men were unlike those of other tribes, since they were
willing to lay hold of a plough or any other farming utensil, and only
the instruction was wanting to make them industrious. Mr. Allis, too,
who has been acquainted with them for the last 20 years, and has
lived among them a great portion of this period, informed us that
when the missionaries were formerly living among them, several of
the Pawnees had already commenced the use of the plough. The
good beginning was, however, interrupted by their missionaries
having to leave them.
Dress.—The dress of the men consists in nothing but a small
piece of cloth, fastened around the middle. This, we observed, was
generally the only covering they had on, when in their lodges. When
abroad, they had a buffalo robe or blanket wrapped around them.
The females are more decently clothed than the men. Their dress
consists of leggings, generally made of scarlet cloth, over which a
piece of blue or brown woolen cloth is tied around the waist, the
ends lapping over each other and extending a little below the knees.
The upper dress consists of a shirt, or short gown, made of calico,
reaching to the middle. Over the whole a blanket or robe is slung,
above which, on the back, may frequently be discovered the black
sparkling eyes of a little “papoose” peering forth.
Intoxicating Drink.—It is somewhat remarkable that the
Pawnees are not so fond of “fire water” as other tribes, who are fast
dwindling away from the demoralizing and debasing effects of
intoxicating drink. Nothing, perhaps, has aided more in diminishing
the population of different Indian tribes, than spirituous liquors. To
the missionary it is always gratifying and encouraging to observe,
when a tribe takes a bold stand against the introduction of this
destructive poison. The Pawnees allow none to be brought into their
villages.
Burying Their Dead.—On the highest mounds in the prairie, we
often observed little hillocks of earth, which we were informed were
the places of sepulture of their chiefs and others of their tribe. A tall
bush was frequently stuck in the ground, to designate the spot. We
were also informed, that among the Pawnees and other wild tribes
the cruel practice prevails, when they are on their hunt, and their old
people get so feeble, that they can no longer accompany them, of
leaving them behind, and even burying them alive.—In allusion to
this fact Mr. Allis, pointing to their old and feeble chief, addressed the
other chiefs as follows: “I have learned that you intend to put aside
your old chief, because he is now feeble and sickly, and perhaps you
will even think of burying him, when he can no longer follow you; but
I want you to take care of him. He has been like a father to you.
When he was yet strong, you know his kettle was always over the
fire with plenty. He has always been a friend of the whites, and you
ought to esteem him for the services he has rendered your nation,
and not to bury him before he is dead.”
More might be added, to show the wretchedness of their present
state, but we should fear to become too tedious. Sufficient, however,
has been said to prove that these poor people need the assistance
of missionaries to better them in their outward condition. But, when
we consider their spiritual destitution—their ignorance, darkness and
superstition—

“Shall WE whose souls are lighted

With wisdom from on high,
Shall WE to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?”

“Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord, shall be saved.”

But “how shall they call on him, in whom they have not believed?
and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and
how shall they hear without a preacher?” (Rom. 10:13, 14). In the
face of all difficulties, let us not be deterred from bringing the glad
tidings of Salvation to these benighted savages; thereby perhaps
paving the way for still more extensive operations among the
aborigines of our country; and thus, by breaking unto them the bread
of life, proving the means of repairing, in part, the numberless
wrongs inflicted upon this poor abject race, by people who call
themselves christians.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Missing or obscured punctuation was silently
corrected.
Typographical errors were silently corrected.
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were
made consistent only when a predominant form
was found in this book.
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