Page 9 of Savage

Heat rushed to my face as I turned away. “Shut up.”

We both knew I didn’t actually mean it. Not when I curled up on the bed twenty minutes later with Talon’s shirt hugging my body…and his scent wrapped around me like armor.

4

SAVAGE

Leaving her room was one of the hardest things I’d done in a long time. The only reason I managed it at all was because Tamara was curled up in my shirt, wrapped in my scent, tucked safe inside our walls. If I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes, holding that soft cotton to her chest like it was armor, I would’ve been parked outside her door all damn night.

That girl was mine.

And now that she was under my roof, under my protection, nothing else took priority.

Not the bar. Not club business. Not sleep.

Only Tamara.

My boots echoed against the hallway floor as I made my way to the office I had in the clubhouse. I did most of my work at Midnight Rebel, but I was also set up so I could work here.

The air felt different. Thicker somehow. I wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, obsession, or both. Either way, my pulse hadn’t settled since she’d walked into that bar and flipped my world upside down with one look.

I dropped onto my chair and turned on the lamp, shadows spilling across the papers strewn on my desk. Numbers,invoices, bar orders…all of it faded from view as I inserted Tamara’s flash drive into my laptop and downloaded all the files. Then I grabbed my phone and hit Deviant’s number.

“Sav,” he answered on the second ring, his voice low and rough like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. In the past, he probably wouldn’t have. But the tech genius’s old lady kept him from getting lost in the work like he used to.

“I need eyes on that clinic,” I said without preamble. “Cross-check their patient lists and transfers. Look for licensing issues. Track where the money’s coming from. Find out if they’re backed by anyone—government or private. There’s a file labeled Transfers—Internal Use Only. Tamara got it downloaded onto a flash drive. Sending it to you now. She thinks patients are disappearing.”

He was quiet for a beat. “You think, or she thinks?”

I leaned forward and growled, “She thinks. So I know.”

Another pause. Then a low whistle. “Got it. Want traffic cams, too?”

“Pull everything. Traffic cams. Street surveillance. Anything pointing at that mobile clinic. If you find movement at odd hours or missing time stamps. If something so much as breathes near that place, I want to know.”

“On it. I’ll ping you when I have something.”

I hung up and sat back, staring at the monitor but not seeing a damn thing. The door creaked open behind me, but I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Fox slid onto the chair opposite me with a look that said he’d heard more than I’d wanted him to. Maverick followed, closing the door behind him before leaning against the hard surface with his arms crossed.

“Mav filled me in.” Fox’s voice was calm but low, his version of warning bells. “Said you had that look. The one you get when you’re itching to make someone bleed and burn shit down.”

“Sounds about right.”

He watched me for a beat, his expression unreadable.

Fox had cause to be concerned. Few people knew what lived beneath the businessman they saw when they looked at me. I rarely lost control. But when I fought, I did it like I was out for blood. No finesse. No rules. Just raw, unhinged violence that left a message. They didn’t send me to talk. They sent me when they wanted someone to bleed.

He leaned forward and cocked a brow. “She yours?”

There was no hesitation. “Yeah.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed just slightly, his mouth twitching with the edge of a grin. “Thought so.”

“Figured Mav would’ve already run his mouth to you,” I muttered, my voice bone-dry and laced with sarcasm. “Thought you two shared everything over pillow talk these days.”

Maverick rolled his eyes and shot me the bird.

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