“That’s right.” Laughter bubbled in her chest. “You nicknamed him ‘the Italian Stallion.’”
Her tension eased momentarily as they shared a laugh, but when she caught Jagger watching them, a delicious shiver wound up her spine. Why did he have to be a biker?
“I’m not paying you two to laugh.” Banks joined them at the bar and scowled. “Dawn, I need you at the table near the dance floor. And Arianne, looks like we got some thirsty bikers in the corner. Get over there and take their orders. I’ll watch the bar till you’re back. Daisy went home ’cause she wasn’t feeling well, so we’re short-staffed tonight.”
Arianne’s pulse kicked up a notch. Aside from taking Jagger’s order, what was she going to say? Fancy meeting you here? Planning to kidnap me again? Nice to see you took me up on my invitation?
“What if they’re here because they figured out who I am?” She kept her voice low as she fished under the counter for a notepad.
“They don’t know who you are?” Dawn gave her an incredulous glance. “No wonder they let you go.”
“Exactly.”
Dawn’s gaze flicked to the bikers and then back to Arianne. “They don’t seem to be in a kidnapping kinda mood. My guess is the Dogs want to patch over, and they’re meeting the Sinners to hash over the details. Only time you ever see that kinda boot-licking going on.”
“You’re probably right.” Arianne had seen dozens of clubs come begging for Viper’s protection and the power of his patch, but he was discriminating to a fault, preferring to grow the club organically rather than inherit men who didn’t make the cut. The Devil Dogs had the same hungry look as the prospecting clubs that had come to visit the Jacks, but unlike the Jacks, the Sinners would likely patch them over.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Dawn said. “It’s not like you don’t know your way around bikers. Or dangerous men. Or biker presidents who are the epitome of dangerous men.”
Maybe so, but she sure as hell didn’t know her way around men so utterly compelling as Jagger. She’d always kept her relationships safe, dating easygoing, eager-to-please beta males. Men she could control. And strictly civilians. She had no interest in getting involved with a biker. Ever. So why drag her feet when she had a job to do?
“Fine. I’ll go.” Arianne flipped open her notepad and navigated her way through the bar to the now rowdy tables in the corner.
She didn’t have to look up to know Jagger was watching her. She could feel his gaze burning into her skin, but instead of intimidating her, his frank interest made her bold. Lifting her head, she shook off her fear, and met his stare full-on, smiling before she dropped her gaze. Confident, not challenging. That was the key.
And from the smile that spread across his lips when she reached the table, she could tell she’d played it just right.
“Vexy.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through her body, sending a rush of heat straight to her core. He’d remembered to use her road name.
“Nice to see you again.” And she meant it. She’d been fantasizing about him all week, mentally stripping off his clothes, running her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, his massive chest, those taut abs, and then lower, tugging off his belt, her own heat rising as she ripped open his fly. Power, barely contained, beneath her, above her. Inside—
Jagger gave a satisfied rumble, as if her words—or her face—had settled something in his mind.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll start with some of this.” The Devil Dog seated beside Jagger pinched Arianne’s ass.
Without hesitation, Arianne grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. “I’m afraid my ass isn’t on the menu.”
Wham. Jagger thudded a knife on the table between the outstretched fingers of the biker’s free hand. “You don’t fucking touch her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. And you sure as fuck don’t disrespect her.”
The table stilled. If he had been any other man, she might have thanked him verbally, or she might have pointed out that his actions were dramatic and unnecessary, since she had the situation in hand. But he wasn’t just any man. He was an outlaw biker president, and his actions weren’t directed solely at saving her ass from a squeeze. In that brief exchange, he’d laid down the law for the bikers on both sides of the table. First, he was in charge. And second, Arianne belonged to him.
So she gave him a simple nod of thanks. Her response seemed to please him. His face softened almost imperceptibly as he unclasped her hand from the Devil Dog’s wrist, then tugged until she released her captive. Her skin tingled at his touch, and when he rubbed this thumb lightly over her knuckles, she felt each stroke as a throb deep in her core.
Still holding her hand, he retrieved his knife and then leaned back in his chair, his icy glare fixed on the now quivering Devil Dog who had no doubt pinched his very last ass.