Page 7 of Jager's Prey
“Always.”
I hung up, took the stairs two at a time until I came to the door Swede told me. When I peered in, it was a large lecture room. Mack was seated on the desk, a guitar cradled in his hands as the students looked at him as if he was their biggest hero.
I let myself in and sat in the back.
It seemed I wasn’t quiet enough. The kids, mostly teenagers, turned to look at me. Mack followed their eyes and when he saw me, I offered a mock salute.
“Who’s that?” One asked.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Another wanted to know.
“She’s a friend of a friend.” Mack replied without taking his eyes off me. “You can go now. Remember what I said about next summer. Don’t forget your marks need to stay up. I don’t want to see and D’s.”
The students all groaned.
I smiled—it wasn’t hard to see they liked Mack. Teenagers only made those sounds when they are speaking to someone they respected, someone who’d taken the time toseethem.
They all left. As they walked by me, they stared at me with the same curiosity one would give a new puppy. A couple of the boys blushed at me while a few of the girls waved.
I returned their greeting with a small nod of my head but remained seated until I was alone with Mack. I took him in then, allowing my eyes to travel the muscular frame of his body and the way he rocked slightly when he walked.
Eventually, I pushed to my full height and made my way down to the front of the room and dropped my body into a chair in front of him. He was once again sitting on the desk, leaning backward on his palms.
From where I sat, I could see how muscular his thighs where, the deepness of his eyes and the way he regarded me with his lips in a thin line.
“Mack Salazaar.” I greeted him. “You don’t stay in one place too long.”
“I take it you’re Jager.” He hopped off the desk to pick up the bag for his guitar.
Before I could speak, the rude woman from the front desk arrived with a lone security guard and all but broke into the room.
“Her!” The woman pointed at me.
I tilted my head to the side and crossed my legs.
“It’s okay, Karen.” Mack told her. “I know her.”
“Wait.” I chuckled. “Your name is Karen? Seriously?”
She huffed, turned on her heels and left with the man she’d shown up with.
“What’s her problem?” I asked Mack.
He looked after her, held a breath then pushed it out his mouth.
“Long story.” He finally spoke. “Come. Let me buy you a coffee.”
He strung the guitar bag over his back and led me to the door. Once he opened it, Mack stepped aside so I could exit ahead of him. Once he fell into step beside me, I noticed the way he walked. I’d noticed it before, but I thought it had something to do with sitting too long.
Pins and needles in the legs and all that.
I was told he’d been hurt but anything about what happened had been redacted in the files. Those black bars pissed me off to no end.
Though I was curious as to the extent of his injury, I wasn’t rude enough to ask. Vets usually didn’t like talking about the thing that took them down.
He stopped to drop the instrument not the back of his truck, then we wandered away from the center to a small diner not too far from it.
As we stepped through the door someone called out to him. Mack grinned and offered the man a mock salute. A few others greeted him as well, but he didn’t move to sit with any of them. Instead, he rested a large hand to my lower back to escort me to a table in a corner away from everyone else.
