Page 22 of Filthy Savage
Axe
“Help, someone! Help!”
That’s Angel, all right.
Fuck. She’s being hauled off by four Los Diablos members. Great. Them again. Why are Los Diablos after Angel anyway? They push her into the back of a van in the shadowy far corner of the parking lot. I pivot and sprint toward them. Their backs are to me, so my approach from the diagonal doesn’t get their attention. Not right away. I notice that none of them are visibly armed, but I drag the handgun tucked into my lower back at the waistband of my pants, ready to use it if I have to. I close in on the first and second fuckers, presumably hanging back to give their friends up ahead coverage from behind. When I’m close enough, I smash the weapon into the back of his head with everything I’ve got.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion after that. He lets out a painful shout as he begins to collapse from the blow, his arms coming up to shield that side of his body, but it’s too late. The motherfucker stumbles forward and crumples to the ground, taking the guy nearest him down to the asphalt with him. It’s just too bad that they’re so fucking loud, because the two guys up ahead who are holding on to Angel react at the same time. One reaches for his gun while the other tightens his grip on Angel, and he picks up the pace to a slow run across the parking lot toward what I assume is their van.
It’s the worst possible time to have my attention divided, but the patches at the back of the truck force their way into my mind, pulling my attention to the fact that I’m breaking ranks right now. The Satan’s Saints, Mongols MC, and Los Diablos clubs in and around this area are supposed to be in a temporary truce. We’re supposed to be hands-off. I’m not supposed to mess with these motherfuckers, but at the moment, I don’t fucking care. No way am I going to stand around and let them mess with this woman. Not my Angel. I don’t care if Silas, Dean Roman, and Antonio Vasquez made a truce. I’m protecting what’s mine.
Somehow, Angel manage to wrench herself free from the guy up ahead, just as the other douchebag pulls his gun from the holster over his shoulder. I don’t fucking hesitate. While Angel is fighting like a hell-broad, sinking her nails and shoe heel into her kidnapper’s limbs, I take my shot. I aim a couple of feet lower and a few inches to the right than I would during target practice. Then I shoot. He’s fucking lucky I respect my Prez. I won’t completely screw the pooch by killing these Los Diablos assholes, even though I have more than enough reason to, with this stunt they’re pulling with Angel right now. But fuck. I won’t break the truce outright. Not today.
I smile with satisfaction as the bullet hits the guy somewhere above his knee. Three down. When I turn my focus to Angel again, I see that she’s taken care of business. The prick that tried to haul her off is now on the pavement, struggling as my sweet girl kicks the shit out of him. Getting his ass kicked by a lady should be lesson enough, but I make it to her side and finish the job.
“You picked the wrong fucking woman to mess with, fucker,” I tell him, my gun now at his temple to make sure he hears the message loud and clear. My gaze meets Angel’s face and I nod. “Did they hurt you?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” She wraps her arms around her body protectively, still hyped up from the attack.
Turning back to look at the Los Diablos member, I press the gun a little harder to his temple. “Collect your boys and get the fuck out of here,” I bark.
“Fuck, all right,” he answers.
I slide his weapon from his gun belt and toss it across the parking lot. “Don’t fucking try this again. Next time, I won’t be this lenient.”
“You know I can’t guarantee that,” he tells me from his spot on the ground. “This ain’t fucking over. Orders are orders.”
“Then you should tell your Prez that he’d better make sure he takes me down before he tries this again. If he’s stupid enough to ignore my advice, no one’s walking away.”
As he stands and limps away, Angel’s eyes are on him and the other members as she catches her breath, her body still tense and ready to keep fighting for her life. It’s strange that she’s not in a panic. Most people would be frantic out of their skulls after something like this. I mean, the guys were hauling her off, and she saw me shoot someone. I have to wonder what kind of hell she’s been through before this. The fact that she doesn’t seem the least bit scared after going through such an ordeal makes me see her in a whole new light.
She’s not the sheltered girl I thought she was.
For a man like me, I can appreciate that fact.
After the Los Diablos men help their injured comrades to the van and leave, I lead Angel back to her car. She leans on the side of her vehicle, catching her breath for a minute. I’m finding that she’s way too levelheaded as she drops to her knees and picks up everything that was thrown from her purse. When she straightens up, the woman casually begins to fix her lipstick in a tiny compact mirror. This makes no sense at all. She must’ve been through worse than this before. Maybe Angel has spent a lot more time around Dean Roman and his club members than I thought.
“Excuse me, um, Mr. Alpha Dude …sir?” Angel says from behind me, giving me a startle. “I’m not really sure how you took them all down so fast, but thanks for the help. I still need to close up the library, if you were planning to wait around,” she says, pointing back toward the half-lit building. “Not that you have to. I’m, fine now.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“Okay,” she says. “Be back soon.”
“I’ll bring my ride around while you take care of that.”
I keep my gaze on her as she walks to the back entrance of the library, her body regaining her usual composure. I smile a little at the fact that the sway of her hips makes my dick hard as fuck, even now. As I head back to my ride, I notice a folded sheet of paper near the spot where the last guy was duking it out with Angel. It’s too dark in this spot, so I scoop it up and head back to my bike.
I’m still baffled. Only one question drills at my mind while I push the bike key into the ignition and turn on the headlight. The same question lingers as I smooth out the crumpled sheet of paper. Is the Los Diablos MC President involved in this attack? Why would Antonio Vasquez let this happen at a time like this? Coming to a truce is not easy for any of us. For him to risk that it all goes to shit for this, for me, it makes no sense at all.
I squint down at the note as I hold it out in front of the bike’s headlights. Fuck. I fucking want to turn back time ten minutes and blow every one of those motherfuckers off the face of the earth. Someone printed out and gave them all of Angel’s information. The library address, her home address, her phone number, and even the route she takes to go home after work. At the bottom of the sheet, there’s a handwritten note that someone wrote on the printed sheet. The fucker scrawled in my name, the words ‘Retrieve and hold girl for leverage’beside it, along with today’s date.
Why the fuck are the Los Diablos looking to gain leverage on me? Is he trying this same shit with Silas and Sabrina? And why now? If these fuckers have a specific beef with me, the timing couldn’t be worse. The Satan’s Saints and Los Diablos are closer to allies now than they’ve been in years. Relations have been pretty decent since Vasquez was shot. It went a long way, having Tate’s old lady, Molly nurse him back to health. Nothing about today’s attack makes sense. The only possible explanation is that these members decided to go rogue. Or maybe they’re not from this Los Diablos club chapter at all.
Whoever it is, I can’t take the chance leaving Angel on her own. More of them could be after her. Confused about what to believe, I head back to Angel’s car to wait for her.
She beat me to it, though, and I find her leaning against the driver side door of her car, completely put together, as though nothing happened earlier.
“Well, well, look who it is,” Angel choruses. “I’m glad to see that my suspicions about you were true.”
