Page 8 of Phoenix

“I’m aware,” Riggs said.

“How old are you?” Savage asked.

“I’m thirty,” he said.

“I’m twenty years older than Dallas and fifteen years older than Bowie,” Savage admitted. Riggs didn’t know Savage’s wife and husband very well. He knew that he was part of a polyamorous relationship with a woman and a man. He also knew that they had a bunch of kids, but that was as deep as Riggs went when it came to knowing the other guys. He figured that if his club members wanted him to know more about them, they would tell him.

“And that’s not a problem?” Riggs asked.

“Not for us,” Savage said, shrugging. “We decided that no one but us could define our relationship. Besides, people around these parts talk more about the three of us being together than our age differences.”

“Well, I don’t think that I’m ready to throw myself into a threesome so that no one will notice our ten-year age difference,” Riggs teased. He looked back over to where Phoenix was dancing with the guy and his hands were landing places that they weren’t supposed to be.

“You just going to sit here and let him run his hands all over Phoenix?” Savage asked. Riggs couldn’t stop watching them, but going over to break up their slow dance wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t need Phoenix to get the wrong idea about his intentions. Hell, he wasn’t sure what his intentions were when it came to Phoenix, but he was going to have to figure it out, and fast.

Another slow song played, and Riggs stood from the barstool. “Remember, no fighting,” Savage insisted. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Savage because he felt like fighting any guy in the bar who touched Phoenix.

He walked onto the dance floor and tapped the guy dancing with Phoenix on the shoulder. If he wasn’t mistaken, the guy was a prospect and would hopefully listen to Riggs. “I’d like to dance with Phoenix,” he said, not really asking.

“Shouldn’t I have a say in who I dance with?” she asked. “Why are you asking Daredevil if you can dance with me? He doesn’t answer for me,” she said, pointing her finger into his chest. Riggs had met the guy a few times, and if he was correct, he was a nice guy.

“Everyone calls you Dare, right?” Riggs asked. He had heard some story that the guy was up for anything. If anyone gave him a dare, he’d take it no matter how stupid or dangerous.

“Yeah, and I don’t want any trouble. I’m only a prospect and don’t want to hurt my chances of getting into the club—sorry, Phoenix.” He released Phoenix and she looked mad enough to spit nails.

“Dancing with me can keep him from getting into the club?” she questioned. “What kind of stupid rule is that?”

Riggs held up his hands in defense, “I didn’t make the rules, Phoenix. But yeah, as a prospect he has to do what the patched members tell him to do.”

“Like not dancing with a woman on her birthday?” Phoenix asked. She was still swaying to the music, and he could tell that she was tipsy.

“Like anything,” he said. “I could have told the guy to go out and wash my pickup to get you alone,” he admitted. That was all he could think about since she walked into the bar with her three friends—getting her alone. He wanted her all to himself and the attention that the guys were giving her was making that hard to do.

She leaned in closer and Riggs put his hands on her hips to steady her. “Sorry, I’m a bit wobbly,” she admitted.

“I can tell,” he said. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Phoenix?” he asked.

“Just three beers,” Phoenix said, holding up two fingers. He chuckled and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why do you want me alone, Riggs?” she breathed into his ear. She was playing a dangerous game—they both were, but Riggs was having trouble remembering what his excuses were for keeping his distance from her.

They swayed to the music for a few minutes until he figured out how to answer her. “I’d like to buy you a drink for your birthday,” he admitted.

“You would?” she squeaked, “but you told me that would never happen. You said that I’m too young for you.” Hearing her remind him about everything that he had told her had him feeling a bit ridiculous about telling her all that. They were all lies he had set into place to keep from falling into bed with Mrs. Aggie’s granddaughter.

“What if I’ve changed my mind?” he whispered.

“Have you changed your mind, Riggs?” she asked.

“I think that I have, Phoenix. So, how about it—can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“Are you asking me because you want to do something nice for me on my birthday or because you like me?” she asked. He could tell from the tone in her voice that she wasn’t going to let up until he answered, and she’d probably have his balls if he lied to her. He was sure that she was testing him, and he knew the correct answer; he was just a chicken and didn’t want to admit that he actually wanted her.

“So,” she said, waiting him out, “what’s it going to be? You like me or you don’t.”

He let out the breath that he was holding, “I like you,” he admitted. “So, now can I buy you a damn drink?”

She smiled up at him as though she had just won a contest. “Yes,” she said, “you can buy me a drink. Thank you, Riggs.”

Phoenix

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