Page 23 of Jagger
“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.”
