Jagger

by S. Nelson

  Five minutes had passed and I still hadn’t responded to the text. There was a chance it could be a wrong number, but deep inside I knew it wasn’t. Still . . . I hesitated.

  Did I want to start talking to Jagger?

  Open myself up only to be disappointed in the end?

  Being guarded was a natural defense, but after warring back and forth with myself for another ten minutes, I finally gave in and typed a response.

  Kena: Who is this?

  Three little dots appeared on the screen.

  Unknown: Jagger.

  Unknown: How are you?

  My breath caught in my throat, small beads of perspiration forming by my hairline. I had a sneaking suspicion it was him, so why was I so nervous? What about him had me suddenly flustered? Closing my eyes, I brought forth the memories of when I’d met him two nights prior. Fast-forwarding past the unfortunate encounter with Marcus, I focused on when my eyes first met his. I’d been so infuriated after hearing that ass call me a freak that I hadn’t seen anything but red. Still in the throes of anger, I soon calmed when I’d realized that someone had come to our rescue.

  A stranger.

  A gorgeous, tattooed, tough and intimidating-looking fighter.

  The first thing I noticed about Jagger was his eyes. I knew it sounded all dreamy and lovely and cliché, but it was the truth. His eyes captivated me as soon as our gazes met, the amber color almost mesmerizing. The shade was beautiful, but it was the intensity behind them which drew me in and held me prisoner.

  To what, I had no idea.

  Not yet, at least.

  I’d only had seconds to rake in his entire being before I came across as some sort of visual stalker, so I’d made it count. My eyes darted from his dark golden hair, to his strong jaw, to his full and inviting lips. Then my gaze went lower, noticing his muscular arms which were covered in ink before dropping to the cut physique hidden underneath his clothing. I’d seen him earlier in all his glory while he was in the ring, only wearing a pair of black shorts, his chest bare and on display for all to see. Based on the shouts of the women, they were enthralled with him as well—not that he paid any attention. And not that I’d noticed.

  Kena: I’m fine.

  Shaking my head, I’d instantly wanted to delete my response, but it was too late. I was sure he’d already seen it, seen what a doofus I was. Not having used that word since I was a kid, it seemed to fit perfectly. My lack of flirting, even over text, proved how out of practice I’d been. Not that I’d ever had much experience, of course.

  Throwing my phone in my desk drawer, I busied myself with numbers. Work needed to be done, plus I needed a very real distraction. My impatience to hear Jagger’s response annoyed me, though, and it was simply one more thing to add to the growing list of reasons why I’d chosen to keep myself hidden from the world as much as possible. My family didn’t understand it—Braylen, mainly—but they didn’t have a handicap they had to endure. Sorry, not handicap . . . challenge. No, to hell with that. It was a handicap, no matter how they tried to spin it. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a “poor me” type of girl, but I hid behind it when it suited me. Which was quite often.

  My cell vibrated inside the drawer, drawing me back from my internal deliberations. Closing my eyes, I willed my inner strength to barrel forth, to deter me from glancing at his response, but it was futile. Curiosity won out and I pulled the drawer open to retrieve my phone, swiping the screen so I could see his reply.

  Jagger: I’ll text you later. Have to take care of something.

  The door to my office came crashing open, my surprise at the intrusion swallowing the disappointment I felt reading Jagger’s last text.

  Mom, you scared me, I signed before relaxing in my chair.

  “Sorry, sweetie, the door flung open too easily,” she said, smiling widely as she approached. My mom, Caroline, was a beautiful woman. While she was short in stature, matching my five-foot-three frame, she made up for it with her feistiness, a trait my father often told us he loved. Although there were a few times I was sure he wasn’t a big fan, mainly when they argued. Thankfully, those occasions were few and far between.

  Did you need me? I asked, waiting to find out why she’d burst in.

  Rounding the desk, she came to sit on the corner, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind my ear. She hesitated before speaking, which told me she was going to say something I didn’t want to hear.

  “Kevin is going to be an hour late for his shift,” she said, turning her eyes away from mine for a brief moment. “He said he has personal business to attend to that he can’t get out of.” Fidgeting, she finally looked at me again before asking, “Do you think you can help out in the kitchen until he gets here?”

  I knew my mom wouldn’t ask me to help out unless she absolutely had to, so as it turned out I really didn’t have a choice at all. Well, I did, but I’d do anything to eliminate the look of worry in her eyes right then. My dad wasn’t feeling well so he hadn’t come in, and my sister was already at her other job. So it was either I help out or my mother would have to run back and forth between the kitchen and helping wait tables, since we were down a waitress at the moment. Given the option, I would much rather help cook than take people’s orders, seeing as how I couldn’t answer any of their questions and all.

  Our regulars knew I couldn’t speak, but whenever newbies came in . . . Let’s just say I was thankful for my office hidden in the back of the restaurant.

  Who’s going to be helping me out until Kevin gets here?

  “Eddie. It’s a little busy right now, but it’s starting to calm down. The two of you will be fine. Then when Kevin gets in, you can come back here and finish up.”

  I liked Eddie a lot. He’d always managed to make me laugh, entertaining me with one of his crazy, adrenaline-infused stories. Plus, he wasn’t too bad to look at. With shoulder-length black hair—which he always had tied back when working—and brown eyes, he was certainly a cutie. Not my type, but good-looking nonetheless.

  Okay, just give me two minutes and I’ll be right there.

  She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart. I really appreciate it.” Giving my mom a faint smile, I waited until she left my office before taking a few deep breaths to steel my nerves.

  I wasn’t a recluse or someone who shied away from all social interactions, but I did become slightly unnerved when thrown into a situation I wasn’t completely comfortable with. I’d get over it, though. I always did.

  Tying my hair back, I ventured out toward the front of the restaurant. Ten minutes later and I was in full swing, helping cook some of the lunch specials for the day. The time flew by. Between orders, Eddie regaled me with stories of his latest thrill-seeking adventure. A month back he went base jumping with a few buddies of his, said the feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. I listened attentively, nodding and smiling so he knew I was paying attention.

  Although Eddie was only twenty-four, three years older than me, he seemed much older—not necessarily looks-wise, but in experience. I guessed it had to do with him living his life to the fullest. I was sure he had fears, everyone did, but he never exposed them or let them hold him back.

  Glancing at the clock, I noticed two hours had passed. As I was about to search for my mother, Kevin barreled into the kitchen, furiously tying his apron around his back so he could take over. Leaning in, he kissed my temple and gave me a thousand-watt smile.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late, Kena. Please forgive me,” he pleaded, holding his hand over his heart while he gave me the puppy dog eyes. And boy, what eyes they were. Pools of dark blue which promised wicked nights of fun, with full, lickable lips to match. Kevin was quite the sight, standing before me awaiting my faux absolution. Little did he know I could pardon him almost anything, his dimpled cheeks persuading me rather quickly.

  He remained motionless until I smirked and signed, You’re lucky I like you.

  Kevin had learned sign language when he was
a kid. His aunt Louise had been born deaf, so communicating with her that way had simply become second nature for him and his entire immediate family.

  Love you, pumpkin, he hastily signed before taking the spatula from my hand. I laughed at his ridiculous nickname for me, shaking my head and walking back toward my office.

  Braylen had often asked me why I never gave him a chance, seeing as how he’d asked me out a few times in the past. Repeatedly I’d explained that while he was rather attractive, much more so than Eddie—not that I was comparing them to each other—I simply wasn’t interested. To clarify, I had been interested in accepting one of his invitations for dinner and a movie, but after I saw the way women threw themselves at him after one of his shows, I decided not to put myself into a situation which would only serve to hurt me in some way.

  Kevin was the lead guitarist for a local rock band called Breakers, and they had quite the following. Braylen and I had gone to a few of their gigs, and had really enjoyed ourselves. The last time he asked me out, which was two months ago, I’d finally told him the reason why I wouldn’t accept. Instead of trying to convince me otherwise, he simply nodded and kissed my cheek, telling me if I ever changed my mind, he would be the happiest man alive.

  After another couple hours, I’d finally finished my work, so I texted Braylen and told her to meet me at home when her shift ended. Checking my phone one more time, I saw Jagger hadn’t texted again, and it was with vast disappointment that I drove home. I vowed right then not to allow myself to get all worked up over some guy I didn’t even know.

  Jagger

  Annoyed I had been pulled away from texting with Kena, I tossed my cell on the table outside Chambers before entering. No one was allowed to bring their phones inside when we were discussing club business except on rare occasions, which always had to be approved by our president.

  Walking around the large oblong meeting table, I settled into my assigned seat and impatiently waited to find out why we’d all been gathered last-minute.

  The men filed in one after another, taking their seats and conversing amongst themselves. Marek and Stone were the last to arrive, their expressions hiding the direness of what was about to unfold.

  Once our leader pulled his chair closer to the table, he rested his folded hands on top of the etched wood. A frown decorated his face, his dark hair disheveled and sticking up in several places. There were a few more lines around his eyes than from months prior, telling the amount of stress he’d been under. Steering the club away from the Los Zappas cartel was taxing, and even more so on Marek and Stone, since they worked so closely together. I knew our prez was still waiting for the green light to snatch Rico Yanez’s life, and then he would focus his attention on ridding the world of Psych Brooks, Sully’s father. If anyone could even call him that. The man made the Devil look like a pussycat.

  “I have news,” Marek announced, silencing those who were holding their own sidebar conversations. Everyone turned toward the head of the table, eagerly awaiting the next words to fall from his mouth. Brief silence danced around the room, each member taking comfort in the unknown, for as brief as it was. “I got the call I’ve been waiting for.” After briefly locking eyes with his second in command, he leaned forward and pinned the rest of us with his intensity. “Rafael Carrillo called me to tell me we could have Yanez.” Everyone remained silent, fearing they’d miss something if they uttered a word or moved a muscle. “He instructed a few of his men to follow Yanez, gathering his own intel to support our claim that his right-hand man was continuing to deal with the Reapers after he’d cut off all dealings with them. Apparently he found what he was looking for.”

  Marek turned his head toward Zip. “Good work.” Two words and the youngest member beamed with pride.

  Zip had been tasked with following Yanez a while back, trying to obtain any kind of evidence he could to give to Marek, who in turn would bring it to Carrillo to show him just how disloyal the shady bastard had been to the cartel. He’d snapped pictures of Yanez with Sam Koritz, a corrupt DEA agent who’d raided our club, as well as photos with Psych Brooks. It was those pics with the president of the Savage Reapers which had apparently spurred the cartel to take action.

  Looking from one man to another, I wasn’t quite sure where to rest my attention. The room had remained silent, Marek’s words festering for all of us. He was finally going to get justice for his wife, and while the thought pleased me, I wasn’t afraid to admit to myself that I was a bit unnerved at what it could mean for our club. With an integral part of the cartel now being extinguished, would they look to make up for the loss?

  I knew Marek and Carrillo had some sort of agreement, the head of the cartel releasing us from their grip because of it, but I still didn’t trust the guy. Who was to say he wouldn’t go back on his word in the future, forcing us back under their wing whenever he deemed necessary? I hadn’t been privy to any of the meetings that had taken place, so I only had my suspicions to go on, but I prayed with everything inside me that my concerns would remain unjustified.

  “Don’t make any plans,” Stone said, directing his instruction to the entire room. “We’re gonna need you all ready to go when the time comes. Some will come with us to the safe house, others will stand guard at various locations. If anything pops off, we need to be ready.” Stone nodded at Marek before leaning back in his chair.

  The club kept a safe house an hour away, a place that was used in cases of emergency. It was situated in the middle of a residential area, hidden in plain sight. With a soundproof basement, it was perfect for dealing with unsavory people. The last time I knew of anyone making use of it was when Marek and Cutter had tortured and killed Vex, the guy who’d tormented Sully while she lived with her club.

  The boom of the gavel sounded, signaling the meeting was officially over. Rising from my seat, I walked toward the exit, my mind on what was going to happen in the next few days. I was eager to assist Marek in resolving the issue of Yanez, even though I was positive he would never ask for my help, content with leaving me in the background when it came to club business.

  As soon as I walked from the room, I grabbed my cell from the table where I’d left it and glided my fingers over the keyboard to text Kena. Just as I was about to hit Send, the phone was suddenly ripped out of my hands. Snapping my head up, I saw Tripp grinning, rifling through my privacy.

  “Is this the chick we met at your fight? The deaf one?” he asked, continuing to smile at my unease. Why I was nervous I couldn’t say. I just was.

  “She’s not deaf,” I snapped. “She just can’t speak.”

  “So, you gonna fuck her or what?”

  “Gimme back my phone,” I demanded, my anger rising the longer he held my cell captive. The bastard towered over me, but if he didn’t watch it I’d knock him on his ass. Or at least imagine such a thing. While I was quite lethal in the ring, Tripp could certainly give me a run for my money if we ever got into a serious altercation.

  “Answer my question first.”

  “None of your business,” I quipped. A need to defend Kena abruptly took over, even if Tripp had just been messing with me.

  Looking at my phone, he chuckled before tossing it back to me. “If you need help with sexting, just let me know.” He walked away before I could respond, his cocky gait making me want to throw something at the back of his head.

  Sending Kena a quick text, I hoped she was near her phone so she could respond. Walking toward the bar, I nodded toward Trigger to pour me a drink. I liked the resident member of the club, his no-nonsense attitude quite amusing most of the time. Thankfully, I’d never been in his line of sight before. Stone took the prize for that one. Ever since he got with Adelaide, Trigger’s niece, there’s been an all-out battle between the two of them, Trigger going as far as shooting the VP when he found out. Although, since the birth of Stone and Addy’s daughter, the tension has seemed to lessen between the two men, only erupting when Stone wanted to get a rise out of Trigger, and vice versa
. Using Adelaide as leverage, of course.

  Jagger: Did you officially add my number to your phone so you don’t think some random creep is texting you? LOL

  LOL? I’m not an LOL kind of guy.

  Throwing back a shot, I nodded for Trigger to hit me again.

  “You know it’s still early, right?” he asked, flinging a white dishtowel over his shoulder. He could ask me all the questions he wanted, as long as he poured me a drink.

  “So?”

  “Don’t you have to train or something for your upcoming fight?”

  “That’s not for another two weeks,” I retorted, growing agitated that I had to explain why I wanted another shot. I knew I was just the prospect of the club, but although the guys treated me well, it was times like this that I felt as if they undermined me. Or was that just concern? I had no idea and didn’t have enough energy to deem it one way or the other right then.

  Sliding the drink toward me, I tossed it back then slammed the glass on the bar before leaving my seat and walking toward the couch. Plopping down, I gripped my phone, willing Kena to respond so I had something to occupy my time. I didn’t have anything planned for that evening. No fights, and it appeared as if my services weren’t needed with the club yet. Having no desire to sit in my small apartment by myself, I lounged on the sofa and waited.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long.

  Kena: Who is this?

  Did she have that many guys texting her that she honestly didn’t know who it was? That we hadn’t just been communicating before? And why did that thought irritate me?

  Jagger: It’s Jagger. Did you really forget about me that fast? Or do you have a slew of men begging for your attention?

  No way was I gonna come across as insecure. Chicks hated that shit, right?