outside of his club. They
were his family, the only ones who mattered. Everyone else was trash.
He decided he couldn’t stay in his house while this woman
was taking over his bed. He snuck out of the bedroom and into the vast living
room. Jagger stood in the window, baring his nakedness and gazing at a patch of
trees near his house silhouetting in the moonlight. No one could see in, and there
were no other houses for miles. Still, if they came wandering by, he’d be happy
to show them. He was proud of his body. He was proud of the man he had become,
and he wasn’t planning on hiding that from anyone.
He found his way to the casino, still feeling on edge.
Something big was going to happen; he could feel it. As per usual, when he
entered into a room, people stared. He was, by any account, a striking man; his
disheveled hair hung around his high cheekbones and strong, chiseled chin. He
had just a hint of stubble, deciding not to shave that evening, for fear that
the sound of his razor would awaken the blonde woman, and he would be forced
into an awkward conversation.
He looked around the room, contemplating his first table.
Then he noticed her out of the corner of his eye, a dealer he'd never seen
before. She was beautiful—her long, shining hair, olive skin, almond shaped
eyes, and that blood red dress. There was something familiar about her,
something that he was drawn to. He caught her gaze and their eyes locked.
Britton. It was Britton. How did she find him here?
Her heart began to race as he approached the table. Did he
realize who she was? He flashed that exact same smile she remembered seeing the
last time they were together.
Britton wanted to run. She wanted to call the whole thing
off and never come back, but she couldn’t. This was what she had been waiting
for, and training for. She was an FBI agent after all.
Jagger cautiously sat down in front of her. He wanted to
gauge her reaction. Being the head of a giant crime syndicate, he could never
be too careful. Still, this was Britton. This was his first love, his only
love. But why was she here? Things weren’t adding up—it would be too much of a
coincidence. Plus, he knew she had gotten out of Nevada. Why would she ever
come back and drudge up all the shit from her past?
She gave him no reaction to gauge; she just politely smiled
as he sat down. Did she not remember him? That seemed impossible. He thought
about her all the time; all the time. He replayed the night of the accident as
he looked into her eyes.
She was breathtaking. At sixteen, he had never seen a
more beautiful woman, and she was all his. They'd known each other for eleven
years, and in those eleven years he had watched her blossom into a strong,
powerful, and stunning creature. He stared at her from across the room. He knew
she was trying to get his attention. He knew all her ‘laughs’ were to make him
jealous. Okay, he thought to himself, let’s get out of here. He recognized he
shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel. He had been steadily drinking for the
past four hours. Still, he wanted her. He wanted to be inside her. He needed to
take her to their secret place. He needed to take her now. That single thought
glazed over his realization that he was too drunk to drive. Besides, he knew
those roads. What was the worst that could happen?
He loved when she took control. She climbed on top of
him, teasing him. He felt the car glide around the curve. He was hydroplaning.
Jagger panicked, slamming on the brakes, and sending them straight into a tree.
Britton was thrown from his lap, into the windshield.
He opened his eyes. Where was she? Why was it so dark?
Where was she? He managed to open the collapsed door and slide his body out. He
reached inside, fishing for her. He grasped her shoulders and pulled, cradling
her in his arms. He had to get away. His affiliation with the biker club had
already landed him in juvie a number of times. Now he was