Page 29 of Savage

She frowns, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did he … did he say something to you?”

“Didn’t have to. It’s written all over that dumb fucker’s face.”

She straightens her top, yanking hard on the hem, and then balking when she sees she just exposed more of her precious lacy underwear than she intended too. Her face is beet fucking red.

“You’re a perfect fuckin’ ten, darlin’, just the way you are. Some of these bitches need all that shit: hooker heels, short skirts, the make-up … you don’t. You’re not gonna lose your job because you’re not dressing like a slut. In fact, Prez might fire you because you’re trying to look like a slut. Fucker is crazy jealous.”

She smiles. I’m sure deep down somewhere in that girly head of hers that she’s twisting my words the way women do. She’s probably telling herself right now that I’m only humouring her. I’m not. I don’t bullshit people unless I think I can gain something from it. Raine’s legs are firmly closed to me and despite the fact that my cock is gonna be starved for pussy for fuck knows how long, I’m okay with that. I wasn’t lying when I said Prez would likely beat my head in if he walked into the club and caught me fucking Raine; he really would beat the shit out of me. Her first shift he called a club meeting to tell us what was going down with her and to let us know that if he caught any of usgoingdown on her, he’d beat the holy living fuck out of us. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that he was factoring his own needs into that equation.

“Perfect ten, huh?” Raine asks, jolting me back into the room.

I nod.What, does she want it in fucking writing?

“And what’s Ivy?” She’s not asking because she’s jealous; I don’t think Raine has a malicious bone in her body, but she’s gently poking buttons that she has no right to be pushing at.

A humourless laugh escapes me. “Ivy is a red-hot fuckin’ mess.”

“She was when you left her in the hall the other day.” She quietly adds, “I’ve never seen her look so broken, Kick.”

Ah, hell. This is why I’ve stayed in my room for three fucking days. Knowing that shit is one thing, but having to deal with the fallout? I’d rather take it up the arse with a rusty sword than deal with that clusterfuck. “Yeah, had to be done, though.”

She nods. “That doesn’t mean it was easy for you.”

“You got a point, Raine? Or are you just gonna poke at the past and make me feel even more like shit?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“How’s the new girl coping?”

“Indie?” I ask, rolling my head on the sofa back to look at her. “She’s not. Tried to off herself in my room.”

“I heard.” She offers a sad smile, and fuck me, it’s one of the sweetest fucking things I’ve ever seen. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck is with you women? Why the hell are we talking about this shit?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be alone, Daniel. It’s a hard place to be.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head, but she’s right; alone is the hardest place to be. Alone fucking sucks, but what can any of us do about it?

I let her words sink in for a beat, and then I blow out an exasperated breath. “Can’t even take a fucking nap in peace,” I say, and push up off the couch.

Raine chuckles. “You’re welcome,” she shouts after me, and I give her the finger as I continue down the hall to my room. To Indie. I’ve left her to sit and stew long enough. Now I need answers; now I need her to trust me. Though that shit didn’t work out so fucking well for the last woman who put her faith in me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KICK

TWO YEARS AGO

Iset my empty pack of smokes on the concrete floor beside me. My arse hurts. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but the girl has been dozing on and off for what feels like hours, sleeping fitfully. She wakes—expecting to be somewhere else, maybe—and startles when she sees me, and then after glowering at me for the longest time, she eventually slips back under.

The door opens, and the girl jumps and then skitters back against the wall, instantly awake and huddling in the corner as Tank and Prez stalk into the room.

“Time for round fuckin’ two, bitch.” Prez throws his arms wide, looking gleeful at the panic he’s seeing in her. I want to empty my clip into his dick, but I glare at him instead, wishing I had the balls to do something to save her from him.

I’m not under any illusions; I’m no fucking hero. I’m the antihero here because I didn’t fight harder, because I watched and I got off on it, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him do it again. She’s so fucking strong, and he might hold her down and use up her body until she’s physically broken and bloody, but she still won’t break, not mentally. I know that as inherently as I know I deserve to burn in hell for the things I’ve done, and the things I’ll no doubt do before I’m dead. I know that as well as I know that my prez won’t give up. And I know that she’ll die screaming because of it.

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