Hound was in his usual position when he sat a stool in thecommon room—hunched over a bottle of beer cradled in both hands.
But his eyes were on Jag.
“Yo,” Jag greeted.
“Yo,” Hound replied.
Jag passed Hound at the back to get to the end of the bar,and then he went behind it, because Hound was the only one in the common room,there wasn’t a Club prospect to serve them, so Jag had to get his own beer.
He did that, popped the cap, and then turned to standopposite where Hound was sitting.
He took a drag from his beer and then leaned into hisforearms on the bar, cradling his bottle the same way Hound was.
“You good?”Hound asked.
“Yup,” Jag answered.
Hound stared right at him.
Jag took another pull from his beer.
Hound spoke again.
“Right then, if you’re good, why am I here when I could beat home in a house where my kid is asleep, and my wife is pretty much always inthe mood to fall on my dick?”
Jag flinched and reminded him, “Dude, you’re talking aboutmy mom.”
“Yeah,” Hound agreed.
Even if it was totally gross, Jag couldn’t stop his chuckle.
“Jagger,” Hound said in a warning tone.
“Okay, there’s this girl,” Jag started.
Hound didn’t move, didn’t say a word.
He also didn’t take his gaze from Jagger’s.
He was there.He was interested.He was listening.
He was all Jagger’s in that moment.
Something about that made Jag feel great.
At the same time it totally fucked him up.
“I’ve known her for ten years,” he continued.“And the onlythings I know about her are, she has a dad and a brother, good taste in music,she dresses great, runs a store, her mom is dead, and today was the day Ilearned her first name.”
“Sounds to me like you’re takin’ things slow.”
Jag chuckled again before he handed that shit right back.
“You’d know all about slow, brother.”
Hound nodded his head once.“Yup, you don’t push a womanwhen important shit is at stake.Like her heart.Her emotions.Her loyalties.Her sons.And your brothers.”
Jag was no longer chuckling.
