Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(5)

“Hey, A,” he’d returned.

And Christ.

Yeah.

She just got prettier and prettier.

She barely glanced at his chick when she started up their convo, which did not go over well with his chick.

Or her dude, who Jag felt no remorse about the fact it seemed she forgot he was even there.

“So cool to finally run into you again,” she started it, still smiling big. “I was gonna leave you a note at our place, but the last time I went to visit Mom, there was this other dude who looked like you there and I didn’t want him to get it.”

And he knew what she meant.

Our place.

Reaching out using his dad’s grave.

“That’s my brother, and yeah, no.” He shook his head, for some reason, the thought of Dutch knowing about her, getting her note to him, not understanding what it was, reading it.

Yeah…

No.

“Babe, we’re supposed to meet Slammer, we’re already late,” her dude said, pulling on her.

Another barely-there glance, this time at her guy while she said, “A second,” and looked back at Jag. “He dumped her.”

“What?” Jag asked, his chick grabbing his hand and tugging on it to get his attention.

“Dad,” she said. “He dumped the woman he was seeing, and you were right. It made me sad because it made him sad too. So I should have just chilled and let him have it.”

“Hey, baby,” his chick murmured to Jag, “you said we’d go to that ice cream booth and you’d get me a cone.”

He glanced at her, “A sec,” then back to A. “Sorry, but he’ll move on again. You’ll get it this time when he does and give him that.” After she nodded, he went on, “Anyway, you look good.”

When he said that, her dude got closer to her.

So did Jag’s chick, to him.

“We gotta go, babe,” her dude said.

She spared him another glance and then to Jag, “We have to meet a friend, but you want to hook up later?”

Her dude made a noise.

Jag ignored it and smiled at her.

“There’s a band coming on that’s rad,” she told Jag. “You gotta see them play.”

“We’re in,” Jagger decided.

His chick made a noise.

“Okay, four o’clock? Right here?” she suggested.

“We’ll be here,” he replied.

She smiled huge, bopped forward, and gave him a hug.

It was the first time they’d touched.

She felt good.

She smelled good.

He pulled his hand from his chick’s to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Four,” he whispered in her ear, giving her waist a squeeze, and feeling really good that they were finally going to get the opportunity to get to know each other better.

“Yeah,” she replied, returning that squeeze to his shoulders, and he knew she felt the same way. “Four.”

She bopped back, her dude claimed her, Jag’s chick claimed him, and they were both tugged in opposite directions.

But they kept eye contact over their shoulders as they walked away. And right before she disappeared from sight, she shot him a devil’s horns, and the way she did was funny, cute and cool, so it was also totally hot.

Needless to say, Jag’s chick was not happy about this even a little bit.

So, needless to say, around four, she pitched one helluva fit and he had to deal with her ass.

This meant he missed the meeting with A. By the time he got back to the area where they met, she was long gone.

And he was so pissed that she was, he broke shit off with his chick.

He never saw that girl again.

As for A, it went so long, he thought he’d lost her forever.

And thinking that, he felt it.

Deep.





It was four years before Jag saw her again.

She was in a car.

He was on his bike.

They were stopped at a stoplight.

He looked over to her, she looked at him, and when she recognized him past his shades and his longer hair and his Chaos Motorcycle Club cut, she grinned.

He frowned.

Because there she was, driving down Broadway like years hadn’t passed.

Where the fuck had she been?

No notes?

No sightings?

Nothing?

She made hand motions and he jerked up his chin because, fuck yes, he was gonna follow her.

And he did.

To the parking lot at the Albertson’s by the Blue Bonnet.

They parked.

He swung off his bike.

She got out of her car.

Her hair was longer too, she was thinner, but somehow with that, her ass was rounder, her tits bigger.

And she had more tats.

He gave himself seconds to take her in, and in all that, it wasn’t lost on him that she was even fucking prettier.

And then, no other way to describe it, he bore down on her.

“What the fuck, A?” he growled when he was deep in her space.

She pressed back to her car, but he just moved into the opening she created when she did.

Through all this, she stared up at him, demanding, “What the fuck, what, J?”

“You’ve been gone for fucking years,” he pointed out.