Page 12 of Savage King

Struck by fire and ice at Tessa’s words, Skathi immediately knew who had just entered the gym, and a pool of anxiety filled her belly. Tension thickening her muscles, Skathi dragged in a deep breath, closed her eyes, then let it out. A breathing exercise she’d learned in the service for dealing with hostage situations. Breathe deep and slow when the need to scream for help crawled through your blood.

Even after two years of separation, it only took a single thought of him to twist her insides into a wriggling mass of hurt, confusion, betrayal, and anger.

She hated him for what he’d done to her…but she’d once loved him as well.

Refusing to turn around and give him a moment of her time when she’d already spent two years of her life loving a lie, she grabbed her water bottle and her gym bag with the gym name—Steele Fist MMA Training—embroidered on the side, she headed toward the women’s locker room, Tessa hot on her heels.

“I can’t believe he still comes here to show off—after what he did to you. Withher. What an asshole.”

Skathi opened her locker and pulled out the shower caddie, determined to finish showering and changing so she could leave before Aaron showed his ass. The man just couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut, especially around her. He loved to remind her he was better off without her, that he never wanted her in the first place, that he was just using her, and that now that he’d “dumped the dead weight” he was living his best life.

With his new wife. A tiny brunette who’d been a headlining showgirl at The Wynn until Aaron fucked her, married her…and got her pregnant.

That last one…that hurt the most.

So much. Because Aaron hadn’t wanted that with her, children, even to the point of refusing to stop wearing condoms during sex. Now, though, she knew he was keeping it wrapped because he was still having sex with other women, and her getting an STI would have brought his indiscretions to light before he was ready. Before he was done using her.

Swallowing the fiery ball of tears in her throat, Skathi forced herself to move.

Tessa slammed her locker closed, the sound ricocheting through the subway tiled room. “Yeah, tonight is a three margarita night, Sky, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

After a quick shower, Skathi dressed in her usual jeans, t-shirt, and boots, and pulled her hair into a no-nonsense ponytail. One thing people learned about her quickly was that she was about comfort and utility over polish. What she wore to her night at the clubhouse had been something she’d pulled from the back of her closet where she’d consigned it after her divorce. Aaron had loved to go out and party, showing off for his friends, and she’d tagged along because she’d wanted to spend time with him.

When they weren’t in the gym training him for his next bout, or at home with her trying to get him to spend time with her one on one, they were out on the town taking advantage of all the legal sins the city oozed from its pores. The city that glittered so brightly at night it could be seen from space was really a black morass, a soul sucking bog that entrapped and slowly suffocated those who dared to tread too heavily within it.

Sadly, Skathi couldn’t blame Vegas for Aaron’s many sins. By the time he’d met her, romanced her, and put a ring on her finger, he’d already been a pro at manipulation, deception, and disloyalty. Too bad, despite having been an elite, trained soldier, she’d still been as naïve as a babe when it came to men. She’d swallowed his lines, hook and sinker, and now she was paying for it.

“You’re going to be okay,” Tessa offered, jerking Skathi from her thoughts. Still tense, still angry, still sick to her stomach from having been so close to him, Skathi felt nothing like okay. But she’d handle it as she always did.

“You know I’m not, but what else can I do but keep going?” She shrugged before lifting her heavy gym bag and slipping the strap across her chest. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll be home at six. I’ll have all the cake ingredients ready.”

Tessa’s smile could light up the room. She clapped her hands, her toned arm muscles twitching. “That’s what I’m talking about!” At five-foot-nine, and one hundred and forty-two pounds, Tessa was a welterweight boxer who was training for a sponsored bout in three months. She was in top shape and ready to kick butt…but she still gorged herself on Skathi’s dessert treats.

As they slipped from the gym through the back door to the trainers’ parking lot, Skathi waved to Tessa.

“See you later, Tess Mess.”

“I’ll be there with the tequila!”

After a week of business as usual in the club, including the beat down Slick earned for his bullshit at his own patch party, Odin and a crew of brothers parked their bikes in the lot behind Lock ‘n’ Load.

Slim, a man who personified his name, came striding from the large warehouse building located just across the lot. Back behind a line of chain link fence and razor wire were another two quite large warehouses, and in the distance Odin could see a watch tower, which probably overlooked an outside shooting course.

After introductions, Slim offered them a tour. The watch tower was his first stop.

At the top of the tower, Odin and Trouble stepped up the edge and looked down.

A field of what looked like randomly placed items spread out before them. A broken-down bus, a busted-up Jeep, old rusted barrels, stacks of crates, stacks of loose pallets, long, overgrown grasses, and tactical dummies in full gear were placed throughout, their gear dinted and marred by bullets from previous sessions.

Paper targets showing the outline of a man’s upper body and head were also hung in what looked like random placements.

The sound of gunshots and the scents of gunpowder filled the air.

Slim stepped up to the ledge and explained, “I thought I’d bring you to the training course first so you can see one of the most requested services we offer.”

Down below, a single figure moved through the arena, their lightweight urban tactical urban rifle raised.

“Who’s that?” Odin asked, pointing, his gaze caught. He leaned in, not wanting to miss anything, the hairs on his arms standing straight up, as the thrum of something unnamable yet thrilling poured into his blood.

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