Page 3 of Savage

“You got somethin’ else you need to be discussing with me, Newbie?” Prez is standing in the door way, looking back at me with a pissed off expression on his face.

“No, Prez,” I say, and rise from my chair.

“Then get the fuck outta here,” he says, but before I can pass, his arm shoots out and stops me in my tracks. “Wait.”

“What’s up?”

“You been with Ivy?”

“Yeah.”

“I know why she’s a coke whore—the whole fucking club knows that kid is messed up—but you’re the only one that’ll let her whiny arse stay the night. Why is that?”

“’Cause I don’t care if she cries. She gets what she needs, and I get what I need. It works.”

“You gonna put her on the back of your bike?”

“Hell fucking no.”

“I like fucking her as much as the next brother, but that bitch is damaged goods, and not even you can tape that shit back together.”

“I’m not looking for an old lady, Prez. Made that mistake once before.”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his greased-back blond hair. “Life’s too fucking short for the same old pussy day in and day out, kid. Thank fuck for club whores or else my dick would have fallen off years ago. My old lady hasn’t let me inside since she found me in this very room, eatin’ out two pussies at once.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Prez.”

“Shut up, arsehole,” he says and whacks me on the back of the head as I walk towards the door. “Kick? Do the blow on your time, yeah? I don’t need you falling off your bike and getting your stupid arse arrested while you’re wearing my patch.”

“Yeah, Prez.”

I stalk through the door to find Tank leaning against the wall outside church. He slaps me upside the head too, but this time I’m quicker with my retaliation. I punch him in the side and shake out my fist when he doesn’t even flinch. He’s one hundred per cent muscle mass.Fucking giant cunt.

“Clean up your face, fuck-stick. You look like you’ve been eating clam with red sauce.”

“Makes sense.” I shrug with a wicked grin. “I about punched a hole through that perfect cunt into her stomach, and then I kissed it better, but what’s a little blood between brothers?”

???

The warehouse sits empty, save for Dr Calder. No surprise there. It’s 2:00pm on a Sunday in a quiet part of Erskineville. We sit in an unmarked van with blackout windows and fake plates. We sit, and we watch. When it looks as though no one’s coming or going, Tank revs the engine, and we pull up to the back entrance and slip from the van in plain, dark clothing, hoodies covering our faces.

Tank kicks in the door. It takes him all of three seconds for the thing to splinter off its hinges. We’re under instructions to collect the Dentist, deliver him to the club, and keep him safe until Raphe is out of lock-up.

Easy enough.Right?

Wrong.

The music hits me first, some fucking classical shit played way too loud. I can’t hear fucking jack over the noise, but it’s the scent of blood—a lot of blood—that sets off my twitchy trigger finger. When I see him, bent over a rusty surgical chair, a flash of long chestnut hair behind him, and I feel more so than hear the screams coming from the woman that’s strapped to the seat, I explode. The coke high wore off about two hours ago. I feel a little like shit warmed up, but I have all my faculties about me. I’m thinking one hundred per cent clearly when I raise my gun and shoot him point blank in the back of the head. The dentist lands in a heap, a pair of shiny, blood-drenched dental pliers falling from his hand and onto the putrid concrete floor. The tooth he’s extracted skitters across the ground. It reminds me of the games of Knuckles that Ethan and I would play with the other MC brats at clubhouse parties.

The naked woman beyond him had gone completely still when she watched the dentist fall, but now her screams start up again.

“What the fuck? You still fuckin’ high, motherfucker?” Tank says, shaking his head. “Prez is gonna bust your balls in a fuckin’ vice, brother.”

He raises his gun and aims it at the brunette’s head.

“No!” I shout and throw myself in front of her, knocking over a tripod with a video camera attached. The camera comes loose and slides across the floor. The brunette continues to scream like a fucking banshee.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you?” Tank lowers the gun. I turn and face the woman, who begins thrashing against her restraints.

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