Page 51 of Savage

All at once she sags against me and lets out a gut-wrenching sob. I walk us over to the bed and sit down. She curls her shins back against the mattress, so she’s straddling my waist and then I lay down, taking her with me.

Is it the smartest move I can make? Fuck no. But I do it because I don’t have a fucking clue what else to do. I don’t relish her tears the way I did Ivy’s. I feel them. And I fucking hate that. I hate her for that, for making me feel.

When she’s done drenching my shoulder, she slides off me and lies on her side in the hollow of my arm. My hand rests against her hip, and her thigh is hooked over mine … and my heart is skipping like a fucking schoolgirl’s.

How the fuck did we get here?

I not only managed to screw shit up completely by taking her instead of putting a bullet in her head, but I went from being her captor, her tormentor, to what? A fucking boyfriend? Her old man? Her saviour?

Jesus Christ, I need my head checked.

I don’t know how to process any of this shit. Her tired body sags against me, and sleep takes her over as I hold her and breathe in her sweet clean scent with her hair all up in my face. I stare at the ceiling and wonder where the fuck I go from here. Because any way I look at it, I’m completely fucked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

KICK

TWO YEARS AGO

As the high wears off for the third time tonight, the truth of our situation settles in. I’ve been selfish. I mean, I’m always selfish, but I’ve been particularly selfish with her safety, and that’s not really a luxury I have with a clubhouse full of bikers gunning for this chick’s head and dead Angels everywhere. It’ll be sunrise soon, and we need to get her out of here. Propelled by new fears for her safety, I pull her close and kiss her forehead and then I jump up from the mattress and tear around the room, gathering together her things.

“We need to get you out of here.”

“Jesus, Kick. You couldn’t at least wait until my heart rate slows before you kick me out?”

“If they find you here, they’ll kill you.”

“Not if I get to them first.”

“You’re not still going through with this crazy fuckin’ vengeance plan, are you?” I spit.

She snaps. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction from her. She motherfucking snaps and lunges at me. “They raped me. They busted up my face and took things from me, and you can’t even imagine what that feels like.”

“I was there,” I grab onto her arm and yank her towards me. “I don’t have to fuckin’ imagine. I saw every goddamned second of it.”

“And yet you still expect me to let them live with what they’ve done?”

“I expect you to be smart,” I say. “Every single fuckin’ brother in this club can outwit, outshoot you and overpower you. Going in there half-cocked will only get you killed. Right now the only thing keeping you alive is that Slayer supposedly has you in hiding. That angle is gonna be shot to fucking shit if I can’t get to the security tapes before Prez does. Not to mention the line of bodies you’ve left in your wake. We need to get you out of the city. I may know of someone who can help, but the only way we’re gonna make it there is if we get you outta here before the rest of the club wakes.”

“I’m not leaving until I’ve looked that motherfucker in the face and put a bullet between his eyes.”

“No, you’re not. You shoot him, you’ll be dead within seconds. Silencer or not, princess, you got lucky, but that pile of bodies in the club lounge isn’t gonna go unnoticed for long. Every motherfucking brother in this club is gonna turn this house upside down to find the killer. And they’re gonna start with this fuckin’ room because my loyalties have already been called into question. You have to cut your losses. You gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“The only thing I’m going to be cutting is his balls off. I’m gonna start with your prez, and finish with the big guy.”

“Tank didn’t touch you,”

“He didn’t stop them either.”

“If he’d put his hands on you, I would have killed him myself.”

“Like you killed the rest of them?” she snaps. “How can you share a clubhouse with them, knowing what they did to me?”

“What fuckin’ choice do I have?”

“You could leave? You could have left when you helped me, and never came back.”

I laugh, but it’s a vile, empty sound. “You don’t get it. There’s no leaving the club.”

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