Page 16 of Savage Temptation
“Tell me about the Den.” I pick neutral territory for now so I can ease him into all the other shit I need to ruin our night with.
Jagger rolls his thick shoulder. “You know we don’t mind getting a little dirty. The Den is a place where we take our frustrations out with anyone willing to step into the cage. And get paid to do it.”
My mouth hinges open. Now that he mentions it, I recall seeing more puckered white lines on the backs of his knuckles than I remember being there.
I grab his hand and press kisses over the warm skin. Did he ever step into that cage and fight with the rage he must have felt when I left? I place another kiss over the largest of scars. There’s so much I wish I could take back. “An underground fight club. I gotta see that someday.” I release his hand and take a deep breath, knowing I can't hold back the conversation we need to have any longer.
The fire in the pit of my stomach is a whole other kind of heat than what I felt a few minutes ago.
“Speaking of Euphoria,” I start. “There’s something you need to know. A lot of things, actually.”
Jagger leans his weight against the bike and I can feel his attention on me as I stare off into the bayou.
“I came to you because if I hadn’t I'd probably be dead and in the belly of a gator right about now.”
Jagger’s stance goes from casual listening to intense in a snap. I hold up a hand and push on before he can ask me all the questions I see ready to burst free.
“Very long story short. Oliver is in on dealing Euphoria. I stumbled in on him doing a deal in the back of the theater’s dressing room tonight and the murder in his eyes was scary. I swear I saw the cold insides of my dirt grave reflect at me from the depths of his soulless, brown eyes.”
Jagger wraps me in his arms. “No one will ever touch you again unless you want them to.”
I feel him nod and despite the darkness I can practically see Jagger thinking up a plan of how to dispose of Oliver’s body.
“Where is Oliver now?”
“Right now?” I give a half shrug, because I am just realizing the answer to that question myself. “Um, the fucker is probably contacting all his friends in the underground of New Orleans. All the dirty cops and anyone he can tap on the shoulder in order to find me. I’m probably on someone’s security feed and they'll find me running through all the back alleys to your place.”
That’s a sobering thought.
“How long have you been in New Orleans?”
Mental brakes grind at the change of direction, but I can understand how the dots are connecting for him. I inhale and exhale slowly. “Three weeks. Tomorrow is, or was, our last day here.” There’s no point in lying.
Jagger tenses. “You were going to leave without coming to see me?”
“It was the plan, yes. I was scared to come to you no matter how much I wanted it. I keep telling myself there is no way you would want to see me after what I did to you. To us and then I had no choice.”
I sigh heavily and rub a hand over my chest, but it does nothing to help the pain subside.
Jagger tucks me under his chin, and I rest my cheek over his heart. The rhythmic beat soothes my shaky nerves.
“Who was he making a deal with?”
I fill him in on everything from the flowers to the Russian dude.
“Trust me when I say everyone from the flower delivery dude to the governor is dirty in this state.” The more I explain the darker his expression turns. Murder has two shades, I’m quickly learning. There is black as death, cold. That is Oliver’s. He exudes an aura of decay and maliciousness where love and light go to die.
Jagger’s shade of murder is fiery red. Vibrant with rage and freshly infused with the energy of wrath and vengeance. An aura of death lingers just under the surface but there’s a layer of protection that shines through. He’s always protected those weaker than him. I’m happy to see that hasn’t changed.
I like his version a lot better. It fills my soul with heat and makes me feel safe in his presence, as odd as that is to think after what I did to our love.
I close my eyes and hope it all ends soon. Living five years with constant stress and secrets is killing off parts of me that used to love the light.
“Hey, look at me, baby.” Jagger tips my chin up. “He will not live to see the sun rise. That’s a promise.”
There’s that red energy again. He can’t stand to see others suffer. It’s what I love most about the big guy.
Jagger cups my face and tips my head up with his thumbs under my chin. His gaze blazes into mine and more than our hearts fuse at that moment. Our souls firmly reconnect. He means what he says and I know better than to doubt him.
