Page 37 of Savage

The lounge is dimly lit, full of smoke and the smell of sex and liquor. Raine’s standing at the bar, a summery dress on, next to no make-up, and her hair all piled on top of her head in a messy knot as she wipes down the bar with a rag, soaking up some spillage left by Country. He never leaves that bar except to take a piss, weigh in at church or head back to the farm once every couple of weeks to feed his fucking chickens.

I glance around and see that ’most everyone is sitting on the lounges instead of taking their seats in the boardroom. In an alcove across the room that houses yet another cum-stained couch, an old pokie machine, and a beat-up coffee table, Ivy is laid out on the sofa. Her skirt is pushed up around her hips, mouth slack, and her eyes are rolling back in her head while Killer positions himself at the entrance of her cunt and slams inside.

“Oh, shit” is all I manage to say before Tank is across the room, grabbing Killer in a headlock and dragging him off her.

Killer thrashes in Tank’s hold, kicking and slapping at the big-arsed motherfucker, but the truth is the kid’s up shit creak without a paddle. None of us are big enough or ruthless enough to take Tank down. It’d take five of us to pull him off Killer.Dude is completely fucked.

“Brother, ease up,” I say, punching him in the head repeatedly. He shakes it off but doesn’t let go.

“She was clean, you fuck. For two goddamn days she was fuckin’ clean, and you go give her blow so you can get your dick wet?”

“She came to me.”

That riles him even more. Killer’s face turns shades of red, purple, blue and every colour in-between.

“Fuck, brother! Killer’s not your problem. She is,” I say, pointing to Ivy, who doesn’t even look as though she’s registered the fact that Killer is no longer fucking her.

His enraged gaze snaps to me and then he shoves Killer away. The kid gasps for breath, coughing and spluttering as he hits the carpet with his junk hanging out. Tank takes the few steps to Ivy and slaps at her face, trying to get the bitch to wake up.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it’s a god damn fuckin’ zoo in here!” Prez appears in the hallway having just come from his office.

Grim slinks along behind him, head down, gaze averted. His face is more fucked up than usual—blood trickles from a cut on his lip and his eye is swelling. Not my fucking beef, but Grim keeps to himself mostly, so I’m kinda curious as to what the hell happened to him.

“Get your arses into fuckin church, now!” Prez roars, and the boys scatter. “Tank, get that bitch to a fuckin’ hospital. If she shoots up in my clubhouse again, she’s out on her arse.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Raine asks, rushing over to Grim when she sees the state of his face.

“Leave it,” he growls, and pushes her away, sending her staggering back into me when she attempts to touch him. I grasp her shoulders to keep her from toppling and glance at Prez, he’s watching Grim with the pitch black eyes of a man who wants to cave another’s skull in.

I circle my hand around Raine’s wrist and tug on her arm to get her attention. Her eyes are glistening with tears. I bristle and then remind myself that this is also not my beef to get into. “Don’t take it hard, darlin’. Grim’s an arsehole to everyone.”

She gives me a humourless laugh. “And here I thought I was special?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s because you’re special that he’s sportin’ that black eye.” I wink and fish out my keys and place them in her hand along with the bag from the chemist. “I need a favour?”

After Raine agrees to take the shit I bought to Indie, I head into the boardroom. We’re one man down, and three of us are showing off some kind of injury. I don’t blame Prez for losing his shit at us. I take a seat beside Grim.

“You look even more like shit than usual,” I mutter.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” Prez roars. “That bitch start talkin’ yet, Kick?”

“Yeah, she’s started. Don’t know if she’s got anything useful for us, though. I think she may have tried blocking a lot of it out.”

“We got a package earlier, left at the fucking gate.” He throws a USB stick on the table. “It’s a copy of the little tape you left behind.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck is right.”

“Seems the cop has done some fuckin’ diggin’, found out which club you ride with. There was a note with that fancy little USB stick there. They want the girl or they release the tape, and you and Tank go down for the murder of the dentist, and the abduction of Kayla Kennedy.”

“If that little fuck goes down, we all go down,” One Eye says. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Why don’t we just hand over the bitch, get the fuckin’ tape back and wipe our hands clean?”

“We’re not handing her over,” I seethe.

“That’s not your call to fuckin’ make, kid,” One Eye shouts. “I knew he’d bring the club down on its arse. I had a feeling about you, you little shit, and here we fuckin’ are.”

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