Page 24 of Savage

“You came to the club, and Tank stood for you. He said if it didn’t work out he’d hand over his patch and yours, and we’d never see either of you again.”

“Is this the part where you take my cut and kick me out?”

“No, this is the part where you tell me what you’ve been hiding all this time, and why the hell some bitch you found in a warehouse is suddenly your top priority.” Prez gives an amused laugh. “And then I decide whether or not to take your cut and boot you and this hot mess out on your arses.”

“Let’s just say there was a girl—”

“Isn’t there always?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” I shake my head and lean back against the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Indie, who’s still sleeping peacefully on the rug, surrounded by her vomit. I place my fingers over the pulse in her neck and leave it there, focusing on the slow but steady beat. “It ended badly.”

“Let me guess—with a bullet between her eyes?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“What club did you belong to?”

“I didn’t—”

Prez holds up a hand and the denial I have always at the ready falls away from my lips. “Don’t fucking bullshit me now, kid. I know an MC brat when I see one, and you had club runnin’ in your veins since you was a boy. I knew it the second I first saw you.”

I stare at my prez, the man I pledged loyalty to, the man I agreed to die for if push came to shove. I meant that pledge when I took it. If I had to take it again today, I’d still mean it. I take a deep, slow inhalation and let my answer rush out with my breath, as if that could somehow lessen the betrayal I’m about to admit to. “Angels. Hells Angels.”

“Sydney chapter?”

I nod.

Prez whistles low, quietly. It forces my head to snap up and glare at him. “Then you know there’s still a pretty price on your head from the other chapters.”

“I know it,” I agree, still uncertain about my next move. In the time that’s passed since I showed up on Tank’s doorstep begging him to kill me, I haven’t told a single living soul that I gunned down my entire club.

He grins. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t ya, kid?”

I shrug.

“You gonna tell me how your whole club wound up dead inside a little farmhouse in the country? ’Cause I know the Angels and the Banditos have been waging war on one another for several years, but from the look on your face, I’m guessing club rivalry had nothing to do with it.”

“No, it didn’t. But they made a good scape goat.” I don’t bother telling him that I wasn’t the only one to survive. Or that the shit that went down with the Banditos was done and dusted long before I gunned down my club. Word was the cops had tried to cover everything up to save the big bad Bs and the Angels from an all-out war, and I wasn’t about to correct anyone on that front. I’d done enough damage to Ethan and his Ana. And though I knew in my gut that the president of the Savage Saints was a good man—as good a man as any criminal can be—that was a chapter of my life I wanted to remain closed. I’d made my peace with it, and one day, if I ever crossed paths with Ethan again, how that meeting would go would depend on him. If he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t stop him. It was what I deserved. It was my debt to pay for what I had done to them.

“I’ll bet,” Prez says, locking his hands together and cracking his knuckles. “You know how much that pretty head of yours is worth?”

“Nope.”

“Fifty large. Word was that they knew someone had survived, and that the Angels were on their way to that hospital to conduct a little investigation of their own.”

“I thought as much. I checked myself out early and went to Tank, hoping to check out entirely.”

“And he saved your life?”

“Still can’t get a straight answer out of him as to why the hell he’d do something like that.”

“The Angels didn’t take their change of presidency well. Tank knew that. Why do you think he turned nomad? He knew the club was on a different path, and it wasn’t the one he wanted to be on. Way I see it, you did him a favour, and he brought you to me.”

“What are you gonna do, Prez?”

“What else you got to tell me, kid?”

“Nothing.”

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