Page 21 of Filthy Savage
It’s like the whole thing’s starting over again.
“I need to get back to work,” I mutter, leaping out of my chair. “I’ve spent enough time obsessing over this. Time to get my head out of my ass and cross some actual work-related tasks off this never-ending list.”
“Starting with that security clearance,” Vincent reminds me. “How’s the questionnaire coming along?”
I groan out a breath. “It’s still in my satchel, in pretty much the same state as it was when I was here last time.”
“You might want to get it out of the way.” Vincent pauses for a moment, contemplating something. “Come to think about it, the form has a question about your parents. It could have triggered the memory.”
I consider it as we leave Vincent’s office. “Fuck. You’re probably right. We sat here filling out that goddamned form on the same day I met Angel.”
Vincent rests a hand on my shoulder, his usual show of support. “There you go. So completing the form and wrapping it up with a neat little bow may get your mind refocused again, or at least less fixated. It’s entirely reasonable to think about them. And about Nancy too. Have you been in touch with her?”
“My sister wants nothing to do with me or anything that reminds her of our parents. Or bikers.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
I stop in the middle of the large all-marble foyer. “Have you spoken to her lately?” I ask, only slightly surprised to hear my voice echo around the space.
Vincent nods. “A few days ago, yes.”
“Did she tell you how long it’s been since she spoke to me? Has she ever talked to you about our parents?”
“She didn’t mention it.”
“That’s just fucked up.” I shake my head as we step outside. “She still believes we can ignore what happened to us. Push it down, forget it ever happened.”
“We all have our ways of coping, Axe. Go easy on her. She misses you, you know?”
“Is that what she told you?” I ask, wiping a rough palm down my face.
“Not in so many words, but yes.”
“I’ll believe that when I hear the words come from her mouth,” I say. “Anyhow, thanks for listening, man. I can’t say if that blow by blow made a difference, but I appreciate you trying to help.”
“Anytime at all, son.”
I study Vincent’s face for a moment, and smile at the concern on his face. He’s been a father figure all these years to both my sister and me, yet I don’t think I’ve ever come out and thanked him for playing that role when he didn’t have to at all.
“One of these days, I might start calling you Pops,” I say as we shake hands.
“I’m not that fucking old,” he says, grinning. “See you soon.”
As I climb onto my bike and reach forward to start the engine, my phone starts ringing. I fumble in my pants pocket for the phone, but by the time I get it out, the ring tone stops. Fuck. I don’t bother checking the voice mail, but shove the phone back in my pocket, start my ride, and drive off.
I’m not quite sure how my aimless driving leads me away from the clubhouse, let alone to the parking lot of the public library where Angel works. As I turn off my engine and climb off, a sudden sensation catches in my gut. Something is up. For a moment, I rationalize that I have no right or obligation to worry about Angel. She’s not my problem. I’ve got other shit to do today, and stalking her around her place of work after two or three hookups is all kinds of wrong.
I’m stand there, like a statue in front of my bike in the dark, telling myself to get on my ride and leave. Except something stops me. A twig snaps in the distance. I scan the empty parking lot, relying on the only two functioning overhead lights and all my other senses. One lightbulb flickers, flashing across my vision as I concentrate on my surroundings. I take in the cool evening breeze, forehead crinkling.
As I launch one leg over the side of my bike, I hear Angel screaming from the far end of the parking lot behind the library. Every part of me reacts on a deep-seated, primal level, as though her screams are hardwired to my brain. As though protecting her is just as crucial as saving my own right arm. As though she’s a part of me. I have no idea how I know it’s Angel. I just do—and I need to protect her right this instant. This bone-deep urge fucking refuses to relent. My jaw tenses, a groan I hardly recognize leaks past my lips, and all my muscles go taut as I search the area with laser focus. I have to find her.
