Page 22 of Jagger
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 isMolly.”
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.
