Chapter Twenty Three

JAGGER WALKED INTO the Whale's Tail Coffee Shop, followed by Maverick and Wire. Katrina waved him over to the table. She'd spent the afternoon trying to hunt down her dad through all his usual contacts. Nobody had seen or heard from him for almost a month.

Jagger leaned down and kissed her before sliding into the booth beside her. "Anything yet?"

"No." She leaned against him, comforted by the size of him.

His leather vest was warmed from the sun. She sighed in failure. That morning, she'd set out to use the coffee shop as her headquarters and go through every contact she'd kept on her phone. No one had seen her dad.

"I don't understand how he could disappear again." She lowered her voice. "I even called the prison to see if he was locked up. Is there another prison or maybe a county jail I can call? If he was out riding, he could be anywhere, I suppose."

"I've thought of that and had Bane call the county jails. He's not locked up." He put his arm around her. "Did you get something to eat?"

"I had one of their pre-made sandwiches with coffee." She rubbed his stomach. "Do you want me to order you something?"

He shook his head. "We stopped on the way back and got a burger and beer."

Cora slid into the booth across from them. "I have an idea. Hear me out before you say no, okay?"

Katrina nodded.

"Let me hire a private detective—"

"No," said Jagger.

Cora jerked her gaze to Wire, looking for support. Katrina squeezed Jagger's thigh under the table to soften his approach. Cora wasn't used to Jagger's sternness directed at her.

"She's worried about my dad, too," whispered Katrina.

"Havlin's taking care of all searches. There are men in Seaglass Cove looking, and Hatchet has a crew in Beaverton looking for Ruger." Jagger paused. "Everyone needs to remember Ruger hasn't done anything. He's a free man. He can come and go as he pleases. He wasn't happy about Katrina and me being together when he left. Maybe he needed to take a ride."

"For a month?" Katrina pursed her lips and shook her head. "He wouldn't stay away from me that long without answering my calls."

"Phones break all the time," said Maverick.

Surprised to hear the big guy talk, she shook her head. She had a feeling something was wrong.

"Even if that happened, there are phones everywhere. He can buy a new one. He knows my number by heart." Katrina raised her brows. "Something is wrong."

"We'll broaden our search." Jagger rubbed the back of Katrina's neck. "We'll find him."

Cora slid out of the booth and stood by Wire. "I don't understand why I can't pay for a detective."

Wire led her aunt to the other side of the shop. Katrina sagged in her seat. She might not be buddy-buddy with Cora, but her aunt was trying to help. Her concern was real.

"Put the search away for a bit. I want to take you for a ride." Jagger slid out of the booth and stood.

As she gathered her notes and slipped them into her back pocket, she caught Cora's gaze. There was no mistaking the worry. On impulse, she went to her aunt.

"I'll keep looking and making phone calls." She lowered her voice. "If he doesn't show up by the end of the week, I'll drive back to Beaverton."

"I can go with you."

She glanced back at Jagger. He would never let her go alone. Not now that he claimed her.

"Let's think positive that he'll show up." She swallowed hard. "It's not the first time he's taken off."

Cora hugged Katrina. With her arms trapped to her sides, she let her aunt show her affection in her own way.

"Kat?"

"Coming." She pulled back. "I'll talk to you later."

"Call if you find him."

"I will." She walked to the door, threw the peace sign to the others, and stepped out onto the sidewalk with Jagger. "Where are we going?"

"For a ride." He stepped off the sidewalk, grabbed the extra helmet on the back of his Harley, and handed it to Katrina.

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" He put on his skull bucket and straddled the motorcycle.

She studied him as she got ready to ride. He was in a mood.

Her mood had already plummeted the more she searched and talked about her dad. Maybe a ride would help them both.

She climbed behind him and hugged his waist. It was a gray day with low clouds. She wore jeans and a T-shirt. From her time in Seaglass Cove, she knew the nights could get cold.

"Do I need a jacket?" she asked.

"Nah, you're good."

Jagger rode away from the coffee shop. Gazing over his right shoulder, she let the wind relax her. Despite growing up in a motorcycle club, she never had any desire to ride a motorcycle herself. She liked being Jagger's backpack—a term he hated. He was old-fashioned and called it riding two-up.

He rode across the highway and toward the water. Less than five miles from the clubhouse, he pulled onto another road, followed a channel inland, and stopped at a boat dock.

She hopped off the Harley and removed her helmet. Jagger took her hand and led her to the water. There were at least twenty boats tied to the six-finger dock.

"Watch your step." He led her onto the floating pier.

She held on tightly to his hand. Once she got used to the boards moving under her feet and the rocking of the current, she raised her gaze to the boats and the water. The sun was on its way down. The light reflected on the choppy water, making her squint.

The cry of a seagull overhead had her looking up. The bird swooped down in front of them before skimming the water.

Jagger took her to the end of the pier. "Let's sit."

She lowered herself to the dock and let her feet hang off the side. The water was still a good foot or more below her toes.

Jagger sat beside her, dropping his booted feet over the side.

"It's beautiful here." She pointed. "Does the channel go out to the ocean?"

He moved his hand to the right. "It follows the route through there and keeps going until you reach town, where it meets the Pacific Ocean."

"This reminds me of the Columbia River back home." She scooted closer to him.

Jagger put his arm around her. "I brought you out here because I'm going to take off in the morning and visit Beaverton."

"Oh, I'm glad." She exhaled in relief. "I was thinking I'd wait until the end of the week and go back home to see if I could find my dad, but tomorrow is even better—"

"You're not going, Kat."

Her spine straightened. "Why can't I go?"

"I'll be going places you're not allowed to go." He put his arm around her and made her stay beside him. "It'll be faster if I go alone."

"What happens if you find him?" She lifted her feet, trying to stand, and he stopped her.

"Then, it's best if you're not there." He pushed her legs back down, forcing her to stay on the pier and listen. "Dio's riding with me. Give me two days. If I'm not back by then, I promise Dio will have news of what's keeping me. Regardless, you'll find out about your dad."

Her chest squeezed, compressing her lungs. She stared at the water. If she wasn't there when Jagger found her dad, who would stop him from going too far in his punishment?

Regardless of what Jagger believed, she hoped her dad would listen to her. If it came down to choosing having her in his life or her walking away with Jagger, she believed her dad would choose her—that alone would protect Jagger.

"Will you call me every few hours when you're gone?" She leaned her head on him. "Please."

He kissed her temple. "As long as you stay in the clubhouse."

"You won't know where I am because you'll be gone."

"I'll know."

It was only two days. She could stay inside and wait if that meant he returned with her dad, and both of them were safe.

"I was reminded of something today." He stroked her back.

"Hm."

He picked up her leg, bringing her foot onto his lap. "I remembered the day I got a call that you'd walked into Pete's Tattoo and wanted some ink. Pete knew better than to touch you."

"I was sixteen."

"A hellion." He chuckled. "I rode over, hellbent on spanking your ass, because you knew Mama Sue would raise hell if you came home all tatted up."

"She was old-school and believed tattoos were what set apart ol' ladies from biker bitches. That's why I wanted to do the bottom of my big toe. I figured she'd never see it." Her stomach warmed. "I talked you into letting me do it, though."

He slipped off her shoe and turned her foot.

She looked at the odd-shaped tattoo. "Pete sucked at tattoos. It doesn't even look like a heart."

"No. Pete's one of the best." He caressed the bottom of her toe with the pad of his thumb. "It's not a heart."

"Yes, it is."

He locked his gaze on her. "It's a scale off my dragon."

"Wha...?" She grabbed her foot and looked at the deformed heart.

Jagger pulled up the front of his shirt to where his dragon tattoo was inked on his chest, over his heart. She studied his chest, his shoulder. Most Havlin members had the solid black-inked dragon tattoo in some shape or form, but Jagger's dragon was more complex with scales.

"Look closely," he said. "Over the dragon's chest."

Her gaze zeroed in. She leaned closer, not believing what she was seeing. Not once in the past had the tattoo caught her attention. Only when Jagger pointed it out could she see a heart-shaped scale over the dragon's chest.

He pulled his shirt down and grabbed her foot again. "I claimed you long ago, Kat. You were only sixteen, and I knew you were my ol' lady. I didn't know how I'd make it possible because of your dad, and even if life got fucked up along the way and I never was able to have you, you were part of my heart. Nobody else gets that. Only you. You got the Havlin dragon scale, and I..." He patted his chest. "Got your heart."

She put her foot down and threw herself at him. For once, she was at a loss for words.