Sinner's Steel (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #3)(7)
“Excellent.” Connie cleared her throat. “Today isn’t really a good day to die. I have … overdue library books.”
Evie cringed on Connie’s behalf. “Um … this is Connie. Short for Constance.” She made the obligatory introduction and Jagger nodded.
“Pleasure.”
“All mine.” Connie’s cheeks brightened. “Maybe we should all go for a coffee at the restaurant down the road, and get to know each other. Gene can man the till while we’re gone. Well, not really ‘man’ the till, ’cause he’s not really a manly type. More like a boy, since he can’t legally buy alcohol until next year, and he can’t rent a car—”
“Connie—”
“Although he doesn’t look like a boy with his head all shaved and those piercings in his ear, which some of the girls think are hot, but not me because I don’t like the competition. Unless, of course, you have piercings and then I might change my mind.”
Evie raised her voice. “Connie.”
“You’re a beautiful girl, but I got an old lady.” Jagger flashed the grin that had sent no less than half the senior girls in school into a frenzy. Okay. So some things hadn’t changed.
“Old lady?” Connie frowned. “You look kinda young to have an old lady.”
“He’s twenty-eight and an old lady is the biker equivalent of a wife.” Evie buried a tiny sliver of disappointment. Aside from Zane, Jagger was the only other man she’d ever really cared about. Mark, her ex, had been a port in a storm that had turned out to be a sinkhole. After her mother died, and she’d been left alone with her twelve-month old son, Ty, the void in her life had begged to be filled. Although she didn’t love Mark, and had told him as much, he’d had a crush on her since high school and wanted to give marriage and fatherhood a try. She should have known a Vegas wedding after two weeks of dating was a recipe for disaster. The thrill had lasted only until the first time she caught him with a bottle in one hand and a woman in the other.
“How about we talk about that bike out there that needs a new paint job?” Jagger gestured to the Harley Softail in the parking lot, visible through the store window.
“I thought that was Axle’s bike.”
“It’s now a Sinner bike by forfeit,” Jagger said with a straight face. “And it needs that Black Jack patch on the fender covered with a Sinner patch.”
Connie licked her lips. “You’re just a whole lotta nasty, aren’t you? Got any friends who don’t have old ladies?”
“One hundred or so.”
“Well, be sure to tell them that Evie is the best custom painter in Conundrum, probably the entire state, and while they’re here getting some new artwork, they just might want to browse the store and see what’s on offer. Like me.”
Oh, God. Connie could lay it on thick, and she was going all out this morning. But then she’d said last night that she thought outlaw bikers were more exciting than the everyday bikers who frequented the shop. Not that Connie had led a sheltered life. Her facial piercings, tattoos and short, perky bob hinted at her rock star roots—her dad was the guitarist in a famous heavy metal band and her mother was the band manager. She’d spent her childhood on the road, and she was always chasing the same kind of adrenaline rush that had eluded Evie ever since Zane ran away.
“You painted all those tins in the shop out back?” Jagger’s eyes sparkled. He had always encouraged her artist talent, whether it was drawing pictures in the mud beside the creek that ran through Stanton, or sketching portraits of her friends.
“Never made it to college so, yeah, my artwork is now splashed on the gas tanks and fenders of Conundrum’s bikers. But I draw the line on stolen bikes.” Especially since the bike in question belonged to a member of Viper’s MC.
Jagger’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his voice dropped to a low, commanding tone. “I need it covered before I move it.” He folded his arms and glared, a look all the more frightening for the weapon holstered under his leather vest. “The Evie I knew would have jumped at the chance to take a bit of a risk.”
Evie startled at his sudden change of demeanor. So this was the new Jagger. Did he really think he could boss her around, and drag her into his criminal world? Well, she knew the old Jagger and the old Jagger wouldn’t make her do something she didn’t want to do. She just hoped that part of him was still here.
“This Evie isn’t interested in doing anything illegal,” she countered. “Like handling stolen property. I have a child at home and no one to look out for him if his mother lands her ass in jail. And since I have a strong feeling you aren’t going to pull that gun on me and make me do your bidding, you’re welcome to come and catch up in my shop while I work.”
She would have to steer the conversation clear of her relationship with Viper—if that was what it was. Somehow she didn’t think either of the two outlaw biker presidents would be happy she knew the other. And as for risks, she’d taken one big risk in her life and it had led to both her greatest heartbreak and her greatest joy.
Jagger’s annoyance was evident in the firm press of his lips and the tightening of his shoulders, gestures she knew very well. She suspected few people ever disobeyed him now that he was president of an outlaw MC, and the fact that she had made him capitulate gave her no small amount of pleasure.