His gaze darkened, heated, until she thought she would burn in the sensual depths of his eyes. “You made it very difficult to look away.”
Every nerve in her body fired at once. Definitely flirting. But why not? It was just a game. Neither of them had anything to lose, and they would never see each other again. Jacks and Sinners definitely didn’t mix. She tilted her head and gave him what she hoped was a sultry smile. “You’re a dangerous man, Jagger. I’m lucky to be getting away. Panties and all.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I am a dangerous man. If you have any sense, sweetheart, you’ll run down that road and never look back.”
Sweetheart. The term of endearment did strange, fluttery things to her stomach, and she wished it was something more than a casual throwaway expression.
With great reluctance, she took one step back and then another, her eyes drinking in their last fill of the man who awakened desires she had long thought dead.
“Wait.”
Arianne halted her steps, then relaxed when Jagger pulled her gun and holster from his saddlebag. “You might need these.”
His fingers brushed over hers when she took them from his outstretched hand. Her blood sizzled. No doubt about it, Jagger tripped every hormone in her body in a way no man ever had.
“Especially with dangerous men like you around.” A smile tugged at her lips.
“Where do I find you if I need to talk to you again?”
Her heart quickened. “Are you asking so you can come and kill me if your brothers decide to exact vengeance on me after all?”
“I’m asking in case someone in the club gets it in his head to act without my authority and I need to warn you.”
Her desire faded beneath the very real chance he was right. She knew the biker culture as well as he did. “You think that’s a possibility?”
“You know this world. Everything is a possibility.”
She weighed the risk of letting him know where she lived versus the risk of one of his men—Axle, most likely—coming after her on his own. Although the risks on both sides were considerable, part of her trusted Jagger. He’d acted with honor, a quality lacking in pretty much every Black Jack biker she knew. The situation could have gone an entirely different way if not for him.
She gave herself a mental slap. Was she really considering giving her personal details to a member of the Sinner’s Tribe? Rubbing her hand through her hair in distraction, she turned and walked down the sidewalk. “I’ll take the risk.”
“Arianne.” His deep, husky voice stopped her in her tracks, and she looked back over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved, and it was the hint that maybe there was more to his flirting that loosened her tongue.
“Banks Bar, west end of Villard Street.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I work the bar Tuesday to Saturday. And Mondays if there’s a game on. If you’re in the neighborhood for reasons other than killing me or warning me about being killed, I’ll buy you a drink. Say thanks for saving me.” Should be safe enough. She’d be working at Banks Bar only a few more days, maybe a week or two at the most. Once she got her fake passport from Jeff, she’d be leaving Conundrum behind.
“Thought you were a mechanic.”
“I was … am. But I quit when I thought I was leaving and my boss hired my replacement before my last day so I could show him the ropes. Banks, my boss, wouldn’t accept my resignation. He didn’t believe I’d leave. Good thing, too. It means I can make some extra cash before I go.”
“Got it.”
When Jagger didn’t say anything else, she stared down at her hands. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why had she invited him for a drink? He was being courteous, not coming on to her.
Cheeks burning, she cleared her throat and gave him a weak smile. “Okay, then. Well … say bye to Max for me.”
Then she turned and walked away.
FIVE
Respect must be shown, in order of importance, to your colors, bike, executive board, club members, clubhouse, other patch holders, prisoners, and chicks.
Flavio Fuentes screamed when Zane pointed the gun at his head.