Cedric: A Savage Kings MC Novel

by Hart, Lane

  I didn’t just sell my soul to the devil to help my mom, I gave up my life and my freedom, along with pretty much everything else, including my pride, my self-esteem, my hopes and dreams. And worst of all, I had to give up Cedric, who I haven’t seen since the day Lowell dragged me from his house.

  I used to like myself. Not anymore.

  Now, I’m just an empty vessel thanks to the pills I pop like Tic Tacs daily. I like to call it Russian roulette when I take a few various tablets from my husband’s bathroom stash. None of them are labeled, but I’m sure he knows what they are. He usually doesn’t care what I take either, preferring for me to be a docile wife who doesn’t fight him or argue with him. I just do what he wants when he wants because it’s easier than fighting. Fighting is a lost cause. This is my pathetic, miserable life, and nothing is going to change unless I lose my mother. That’s not something I would ever wish for in a million years, no matter what I have to do to keep her alive.

  * * *

  Cedric

  When the dark cloth is finally removed from my head, I gasp for air and then try to figure out where the fuck I am and who the hell the…now ten, ten fucking men with ski masks over their faces are! Most are wearing black pants and long-sleeve black tees like it’s a required kidnapper uniform or something. It doesn’t help that I’m also hanging upside down by my ankles and hogtied wrists with all the blood rushing to my head.

  The silence as they all just stare at me through the creepy eye holes is really starting to freak me the fuck out.

  “Well, are you dickheads gonna say something or just stare at me all night?” I snap at them.

  “You already know what we want from you,” one of them swaggers forward and responds, his words muffled by the mask. Each step of his boot echoes loudly like we’re in some sort of big, empty warehouse. It’s pretty dark, though, so I don’t know that’s where we are for sure. The windows are all high with just a little bit of moonlight shining through onto the assholes.

  “Actually, I don’t have any fucking clue what you want from me,” I tell him.

  He smacks his palm against my chest, right over my Savage Kings’ patch, sending me swinging back and forth like a pendulum before finally stilling again. “Give us all the dirt on the Kings that we need, and maybe you’ll get to live,” he says.

  “I don’t know shit about any Kings,” I respond.

  “That prospect cut you’re wearing says otherwise,” the fucker mutters.

  “What, this fucking vest? I got it at Goodwill.”

  “Stop lying and start singing like the canary we all know you are, you little cunt!” he bellows. “Sing or your head is going to get dunked into a big, dirty pool of water for however long it takes for you to break.”

  “Okay, there’s no need to waterboard me or whatever,” I agree with a sigh. “I’ll sing.”

  “Let’s hear it,” one of the men says.

  And so I sing. “What is love? Baby don’t –” The lyrics are cut off abruptly when I get whapped in the face.

  “Try again,” the asshole growls.

  So I do.

  I sing the beginnings of at least twenty old hits before the men lose their patience and get tired of hitting me in the stomach and face.

  Someone brings the lead guy a big ass gun like the one I saw the guys with earlier. He doesn’t even need to cock it before firing it up at the ceiling.

  Okay, so first they threatened to drown me, and now they’re bringing out a gun. I don’t think they have a fucking clue what to do to torture me. Or maybe they do and aren’t trying very hard.

  “Now are you ready to talk?” the guy I’m assuming is the boss asks.

  “Yeah! You want to hear me do Biz Markie? Oh baby you…” Before I can draw it out any further, I get punched in the stomach, turning my song into a grunt. “Maybe your questions…need to be more specific,” I suggest, wetting my dry lips that taste like copper.

  “Fine,” he grunts. Crouching in front of me, he says, “Give me all the addresses for the Savage Kings.”

  “You could probably find that out with a quick internet search,” I tell him. “Easier to punch it into Google than punch it out of me.”

  “Are the residences monitored by security systems?”

  “Oh yeah,” I respond. “There are mines all around the perimeters. One wrong step and BOOM!” I lie. “Some are even surrounded by moats filled with crocodiles and piranhas.”

  Growling in annoyance, the man stands up and tells the other guys, “Put a bag back over his head. This time a plastic one. And don’t take it off until he’s dead.”

  Shit.

  I hear the rattling of a plastic grocery store bag and then a masked man is coming up toward me with it.

  “Any last words?” the new guy asks me.

  “Yes, wait!” I exclaim.

  “Well? Spit it out, fucker,” he says.

  “Okay, so those plastic bags are, like, really bad for the environment. Sea turtles see them floating along in the ocean and think they’re jellyfish, so they eat them and then they die. Which is incredibly tragic since sea turtles are an endangered species and all. You should really switch to reusable–”

  That’s the last thing out of my mouth before the plastic is being fitted around my upside-down head and secured tightly underneath my chin.

  “Someone get me the duct tape,” the man calls out even though it’s already becoming hard for me to suck in any air. Or maybe I’m just panicking because I thought this was all just a final test of my loyalty, one by the Savage Kings before they vote on whether or not I get to patch in.

  None of the men sound like the Kings, though, so now I’m not so sure. Either way, I refuse to say shit. I’d rather my last words be about the environment than betraying the Kings who have given me a home for the past two years and taught me what it really means to be a man. My dad was a man, sure, but he was the emasculated kind who puts on a suit every weekday to go into the office and be some other guy or woman’s bitch. My dad is a sweet guy, but he’s a pussy, the kind of man who would hide rather than stand up for himself and fight. I obviously took after him growing up, my sole male role model, and am trying my best to be better than that.

  Just when I’m certain I’ve taken my last breath, the pointed end of a knife slices through the bag right near my mouth and then the rest of it is slowly removed from my head.

  “One last thing.” The man in front of me rips off his cotton ski mask and stares down at me with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. “Reece wanted me to tell you congratulations, you’re no longer a pussy.”

  I let those words sink in for a few seconds before I slam my eyes closed and exhale in relief. “Oh, thank fuck.”

  The entire place lights up like the sun is rising, causing me to blink to try and see what’s going on. Across the empty room, a group of men filter in, all in a similar uniform. The only difference is that these guys are wearing black leather and jeans and I recognize each one of them.

  “Cut him down, for fuck’s sake,” Torin Fury, the Kings’ president, demands. Several guys pull off their masks and take out knives when they come over to start cutting the ropes holding me upside down. “And remind me to never piss off you or your crew, Roman.”

  “Same goes for your prospect,” the man with curly auburn hair says as I’m finally eased down to my feet. “The kid broke Verek’s nose, and he is pissed!”

  “Now I look like Owen fucking Wilson with a smashed in beak!” a guy with brown hair shaved close on the sides exclaims. Not that I have any guilt about messing him up. Serves them right.

  “Seriously guys?” I ask the Kings when they all come to a stop in front of me. “Were you trying to fucking kill me?”

  “Nah, just seeing what you were made of,” Abe replies with a grin while stroking his black beard. “Shit’s been too quiet lately, so we needed to see how you would hold up under destress.”

  “Duress,” Chase amends with a chuckle.

  “That’s what
I said, right?” Abe grumbles, his brow crinkled.

  “Duress?” I huff. Pointing over to where I was just hogtied and hanging upside down, I say, “I think most people would call that cruel and unusual torture.”

  War, the most fatherly of the crew, walks up and clasps his big hand on my shoulder. “I had no idea that the Myrtle Beach Kings were gonna go all out like that, or I wouldn’t have signed off on it. You okay, kid? We heard and saw everything.”

  “So you all told them to beat the shit out of me?” I say in disbelief.

  “You held your own,” Reece says with a grin. “I taught you well, young Padawan.”

  “My ears are still ringing from the beating, and they nearly suffocated me!” I mutter.

  “Maybe this will make you feel better,” Maddox says when he offers me a handful of paper.

  No, not paper. Patches.

  Mother. Fucking. Patches.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. We voted this morning at the table right after you hit the road,” Maddox confirms with a smile. “Pending you not dying or ratting anyone out once the MB Kings had a little fun with you first, of course.”

  “Holy shit,” I mutter as I stare down at the patches – the Savage Kings rocker that goes at the top of my cut. The North Carolina one for the bottom. And then finally, the big ass bearded skull king for the center.

  “Better get to sewing,” Dalton says when he comes up and slaps my back. “Might take a while to get all of those on tight.”

  “Holy shit,” I say again. I can’t believe it’s finally happening. After two and a half years of hanging around the clubhouse, becoming a prospect and doing all the shit work for the guys, I’m finally in.

  There have been so many times that I wanted to say screw it and walk away, tired of waiting and wanting to be with Evelyn. But I always knew that the Savage Kings were my best shot, not just to wear the cut but to earn respect, a lifelong brotherhood, and maybe even soon, making a damn good paycheck.

  “If you want to be part of our convoy tomorrow in the charity ride, you better sew that shit on tonight,” Miles tells me.

  “I’m riding with you all tomorrow?” I ask him with a grin that soon falls. “Fuck. I don’t have my bike.”

  “Roman?” Torin asks, looking to the head Myrtle Beach guy.

  “Oh, right,” he says. “As an apology to you from the Kings of Myrtle Beach, we would like to offer you your choice of any Harley in stock at our dealership.”

  “You guys have your own Harley dealership?” I say in disbelief.

  “Fuck yeah,” Roman replies. “Best one on the entire east coast. One of the twins will meet you there.”

  “Twins? Are they hot?” Sax pipes up and asks just as two identical blonde surfer-looking dudes step forward from the MB group.

  “We think so,” they say at the same time with matching shit-eating smirks.

  “So, Sax, do you think Isobel would be up for you adding another dick or two in between the sheets?” Ian chuckles, one of the few times he’s not been brooding in the last few weeks.

  “My bad,” Sax grumbles.

  “Are we gonna just stand around here all night, or are we going to get shitfaced?” Cooper interjects. “Because I, for one, think it’s been too fucking long since we had a night off from our wives. God knows we love them, and I don’t know about you fellas, but my dick needs a break before my woman fucks it right off!”

  “Amen!” Dalton agrees. “One last hurrah before Chase and Abe become daddies who drive minivans and shit.”

  “Oh fuck you!” Torin tells him with a flash of his middle finger as we all head for the door of the warehouse. He’s had a minivan for years now to haul his two kids around. “You’re just jealous because Peyton won’t call you Daddy in the sack until you knock her up,” our president says, making the other guys chuckle.

  * * *

  The Kings keep up their teasing of each other the rest of the night as we all hang out in the VIP section of the Myrtle Beach Kings’ beachfront club. I learn all sorts of shit about them that I didn’t know as an outsider, and someone even gets one of the servers to find me a needle and thread so I can make my patching in official.

  I’ve just gotten finished with my sewing when Ian sits down next to me with his glass of water. “So, I’ve never seen you with any girls,” he says.

  “You’ve only been out of prison for a few weeks,” I point out while he watches me squirm into my cut under his hawk eyes.

  “Few months,” he corrects. “And in those months, I’ve never seen you with a girl. What’s up with that?”

  “Nothing is up with that.”

  “It’s okay if you like men too,” he tells me.

  “I don’t like men,” I assure him with a chuckle. “No offense to you or Gabe. How is he, by the way?”

  The mention of his significant other, or one of Ian’s significant others since he’s also with Quincey, has the convict frowning. “Gabriel’s…hanging in there,” he grumbles. “Just nine more months to go. Quincey and I are going to see him tomorrow after the charity ride.”

  “Good,” I say. “Tell him I said hello.”

  “I will,” Ian agrees gruffly and then clears his throat. “Now, let’s get back to you. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to deflect. I’m the master of deflection. Tell me about your girl.”

  “I don’t have a girl,” I say honestly. I don’t. At least not yet.

  “You’re obviously hung up on someone just like the rest of us schmucks, otherwise you would’ve slipped that cut on and gone to get your dick wet with one of the hundreds of girls dancing in bikinis here tonight.”

  “Fine. I guess hung up is one way of putting it,” I tell him.

  “She break your heart? Leave you for someone else? Fuck you over?”

  “All of the above. Well, she didn’t mean to fuck me over…” I say.

  “But she did.”

  “Yeah,” I answer on a sigh.

  “When?”

  “Over two years ago.”

  “Before you started prospecting?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  “If you’re hung up on her, then why not try to get her back?” Ian questions.

  “I am going to try and get her back. It’s just not going to be easy.”

  “Nothing worth having ever is,” he tells me simply. “You’ve got to earn that shit. Work hard for it. Fucking bleed for it. That way you won’t ever take it for granted once you have it.”

  “Easy isn’t the problem. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, but it’s just taking longer than I had hoped.”

  “Are you doing everything you can right fucking now?” he asks.

  “I-I guess so. Yeah,” I agree. I earned my patch. I’ve become a Savage King, which wasn’t easy, and isn’t something many people are worthy of accomplishing. That was the first part of my plan. The rest, earning enough money so that Evelyn and Rita won’t ever have to worry about medical bills again is going to take a little longer.

  “Then take it easy on yourself. Shit happens when it’s supposed to, not when we want it to. I’m not a patient man — that’s why this mess with Gabriel hit me so hard at first. But then I saw his sacrifice as the gift it was to me, and I decided to appreciate the time we’re apart instead of resenting it. You know?”

  “Yeah,” I agree, wondering if Evelyn will feel the same way knowing I left her with that asshole for two years while he put her through no telling what. I hope she’ll be able to forgive me.

  It may take some time to get everything figured out, but now that I’ve got the strength of the Savage Kings behind me, I won’t cower away like a pussy any longer.

  Chapter Eight

  Evelyn

  Sitting in the waiting room of the nephrologist’s office shouldn’t feel like a vacation, but it does. Which is not fair to all the people around me in pain or worse, going through kidney failure like my mom. Thankfully, my mother is just here for lab work today, and the
n she’ll come back next week to see her doctor and go over the results.

  But here, hanging out in the quiet waiting room, I don’t have Lowell breathing down my neck. It’s peaceful, and I enjoy the rare moments that he allows me to leave his side, which do not come often.

  He goes out all hours of the day and night; but if I want to leave our apartment, he has to take me, like I’m not a grown woman who can drive a car and find my way to the store on my own.

  Blowing out a breath, I rest my head back on the chair and close my eyes to soak in the few moments of reprieve.

  “Miss Young? Evelyn Young?”

  My peace is disrupted when someone calls my name, not my mother’s. I abruptly jump up and rush over to the nurse waiting at the door that leads to the exam rooms.

  “What’s wrong? Is my mother okay?” I ask frantically.

  “She’s still waiting to have her blood drawn, but I need you to come on back and wait for her in an exam room,” she says with a tilt of her head down the hallway before she starts walking hurriedly in that direction.

  “Why? My mother’s not even seeing a doctor today,” I tell her in confusion.

  “No, she’s not,” the nurse responds when we come to a stop in front of a closed exam room. “Go on in, and I’ll come back for you once your mother is finished up.”

  “But…I don’t understand,” I say. “Is this because I was sleeping in the lobby? I wasn’t. I just shut my eyes for a few minutes.”

  “No, ma’am. Please just go on inside,” she begs, lowering her voice as she glances around the hallway nervously. “There’s someone who wants to speak to you in private,” she whispers and then opens the door for me to go in.

  Great. Is Lowell here? Was this some sort of test where he wants to make sure I really brought my mother in to the doctor and not to a male strip club or something equally crazy?