Savage Kings MC Box Set 2

by Lane Hart

  “Yeah, but the money would be awesome,” he replies with a grin as he rubs his finger and thumb together.

  “They may pay out millions, but then they own you. No one is ever going to own me again.”

  “I hear ya,” he says with his palms up in the air. “If I didn’t have to get back out there, I would offer to buy you a drink.”

  “Next time I’m in town maybe,” I say. “See ya, Tim.”

  “Bye, Izzie,” he says with a smile before heading back on stage, leaving me alone in the hallway.

  That’s the thing about traveling around so much, I spend a lot of time alone. Sure, I’ve met some great people, but they’re only temporary. We’re ships passing in the night or whatever, sometimes literally. After practically being a nun for the first twenty-some years of my life that I spent with my nose buried in books, I have a lot of catching up to do in the bedroom. And it’s nice to be close to another human being for a few hours, even though I know I’ll be leaving them behind as soon as the sun comes up.

  Picking up my guitar case and throwing on my crossbody hobo purse, I head out the back entrance of the bar and into the darkness, reveling in the coastal breeze as it whips strands of my hair around into my face. In fact, I’m so distracted by the cool night air that I don’t notice I’m not alone until a strong hand clamps down on my bare shoulder.

  “Back off!” I yell as I whirl around on the stranger, slamming the end of my guitar case into their knees.

  “Shit,” the short man in khakis and a dark polo shirt curses. When he glances up, I get a good look at his face and let out a breath of relief since I recognize him.

  “What are you doing here, Stu?” I ask my father’s main henchman.

  “Sorry to startle you, Miss Washington, but I need you to come with me,” he says when he places his hand on my forearm that’s still holding the case. “I’m afraid your father insists.”

  A huff of laughter is my first response to his statement. “My father can insist all he wants, but I’m not going anywhere with you,” I tell him. “Now get your hand off of me,” I order through gritted teeth as I try to break free from his grip. He only squeezes my arm tighter.

  “Yo, asshole, does she need to draw you a picture?” a deep voice asks from behind us. I squint at the figure approaching but can’t make out many of his features. The street lamps behind him are casting his face into shadow as he strolls over to us. He’s tall, broad-shouldered and wearing leather, which usually means trouble. The next thing I know, he’s wielding a big ass knife and pressing it across Stu’s throat as he gets in his face. “Take your fucking hand off her before I slice your head clear off your body.”

  Whoa! That’s one harsh threat from the stranger, but it works. Stu releases my arm and even takes a step backward, most likely to get the knife blade further away from his jugular.

  “Go home, Stu. Be sure to remind my father that I’m not a dog and I don’t appreciate being treated like one,” I say to try and diffuse the situation before my dark knight decides to draw blood.

  “H-his birthday dinner is tomorrow night at seven,” Stu informs me. “He would love for you to come.”

  “I’m sure he would,” I mutter. “Take care, Stu.” Giving up, probably because he realizes it’s a lost cause, my father’s errand runner finally turns around and leaves, heading to the street to try and cross the busy highway.

  “Um, so thanks, but he wasn’t going to hurt me or anything,” I tell the stranger, watching as he closes and puts his potential murder weapon back into the knife holster on his belt. His arms are bare, making the glow of the streetlight dance along his thick, chiseled biceps as the muscles flex with his movements.

  “No problem,” he responds. “But I wasn’t going to actually hurt him. Well, unless he kept on insisting.”

  When I lift my eyes to his face, he’s grinning down at me in such a playful, friendly way that I think I imagined his violent display just moments earlier. It’s pretty dark out here, but I would almost swear he’s the same blond man I saw from the stage. That’s highly unlikely, though.

  “Right, of course not. You were just posturing,” I say sarcastically. “I bet that knife of yours wasn’t even real.”

  “Totally a fake. I’ve just been carrying it around, hoping for the chance to come to a beautiful woman’s rescue.”

  “Oh, so that was like your pickup line?” I ask, unable to prevent my lips from forming into a smile.

  “Exactly,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets to try and appear more casual and less threatening. Damn, if it doesn’t work too. Now he just looks like a good ole southern boy with a handsome, easygoing face and a rock-hard body.

  “Well, it worked much better than just coming up and asking if you can buy me a drink.”

  “If you think about it, it’s a pretty genius plan. Now I bet you want to buy me a drink as a thank you for running off that grabby jackass.”

  He’s obviously flirting with me; and while the good girl in me knows deep down he’s a dangerous guy I shouldn’t waste another minute on, the inner bad girl I’ve been embracing recently wants to go back into the bar and see where things go with him. Even if it doesn’t work out, I can always search for the blond biker I locked eyes with from the stage.

  “Okay,” I agree. “Let me put my guitar case in my car and then I’ll buy you a drink.”

  Reaching down, he takes the case from my hand and whispers, “Should I be worried about you slipping a roofie in my beer so you can take advantage of me?”

  “How else am I supposed to seduce a man like you?” I joke.

  Sighing heavily, he says, “Guess I’ll have to take my chances. Besides, you’re too pretty to have to drug men. You had every guy in the bar eating out of your hand.”

  “You must be the bravest of them all,” I tell him with a shake of my head as I dig around in my purse to find my car keys.

  “I’m Sax, by the way, in case you like to keep records of your victims.”

  “Sax?” I repeat as I start for my white Lexus. “Like sex but with an ‘A’?”

  “Yeah, short for Saxon.”

  “Okay, that’s unique,” I say, popping the trunk for him to place my guitar case inside. “I’m Izzie.”

  “Is Izzie short for Isabella or Isobel?”

  “Isobel,” I reply.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Isobel,” Sax says, then slams the trunk down. “Now, how about you go buy me that drink and then tell me what the hell that scene with the old guy was all about?”

  “You sure you want to hear about my family drama?” I ask as we start back around to the front of the bar.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he questions me.

  “You just look like the type who only wants to talk about motorcycles and whatever else gets women out of their panties.”

  His chuckle is rumbly and hot, quaking all the way through my lower belly.

  “We can postpone the motorcycle and panty-dropping conversations until later,” Sax replies, holding open the door for me to go inside the noisy bar first. “What was that dude saying about your dad when he was trying to drag you away?”

  “That’s par for the course when it comes to my father, wanting me to go where he wants, when he wants it,” I explain, eager to see his face in full light when he joins me in the bar. And holy shit! It is him! My dark knight is the blond biker. I felt a pull to him on stage; and after talking to him, that connection is definitely growing stronger.

  Oh crap.

  What were we talking about? My mind completely blanks as I stare at Sax. Up close, I can see the dark blond scruff along his square jaw that ups his hotness factor even higher. His eyes are light, but I can’t tell if they’re blue or green. He’s even more attractive face to face, that’s for sure.

  Realizing I’ve been gawking at him for too long, I shake my head and finally remember where I left off on our conversation. He was asking about what Stu wanted. And for whatever reason, I find myself opening up to
him like he’s a longtime friend and not a knife-toting stranger. “For over twenty years, I let my father control every aspect of my life. All he cares about is orchestrating perfect appearances. So now, I only do what I want to do, which drives him crazy.”

  “And what is it that you want to do?” Sax asks when we find two empty stools at the bar and climb up on them next to each other.

  “Right now, tonight? No clue.” Reaching down into my purse that’s still hanging across the front of my body, I pull out my tiny spiral notebook that’s covered with cherry blossoms and has an equally tiny pink pen attached to the spine. Handing it to Sax, I say, “Here. You tell me. Spontaneity is my new best friend.”

  “What’s this?” he asks as he thumbs through the pages.

  “My bucket list.”

  “Aren’t you a little young to have one of these?” he questions, holding up the notebook with one blond eyebrow arched. And for the first time, I’m able to finally see the color of his eyes. They’re a beautiful, sparkling sky blue, reminding me of the ocean in the morning when the sun shines down, making the surface of the water glisten. It even takes me several seconds to remember his question yet again. Oh, right, why does someone my age have a bucket list. I’m not usually so absentminded but gazing at Sax for too long could probably make me forget my name.

  Instead of giving him the depressing truth behind my bucket list, I tell him, “It’s never too early to start living like you might die tomorrow. Why have a shitload of regrets on your deathbed when you could have done everything you dreamed of before you die?”

  “Very true,” he agrees with a crooked grin while staring at my face. Eventually, he clears his throat and drops his gaze back to the notebook.

  “Tonight you can help me cross something off,” I say as he reads over the entries. “I mean, if you want to…”

  “Fuck yes,” Sax agrees. “I am all for helping you…” He flips a few pages before picking. “Participate in an orgy.”

  “Try again buddy,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes.

  Chuckling aloud, he keeps reading as he asks, “So tonight, when you were on stage, was that something you were crossing off your list, or is it what you do for a living?”

  “You saw that, huh?” I ask, even though I caught him staring.

  “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about waking up in my bed while you were singing that last song,” he says when he looks back up at me with a knowing look in his eyes, calling my bluff. “Every man in here was picturing you in their bed. In fact, I may have to break out that fake knife of mine again to ward off a few admirers who are still gawking at you.”

  “No way,” I tell him. “Watch this.” I swivel around, putting my back to Sax and smiling at the burly, bearded man next to me when he glances over.

  “Hello darlin’. You have got an incredible set of lungs. How about you let me buy you a drink?” he asks. “Bartender!”

  “Absolutely!” I agree. When the bartender turns his attention to us, I tell him, “I’ll have a vodka tonic, and my boyfriend would like…” Turning to Sax, I ask, “Hey, babe. What do you want to drink?”

  Chuckling while trying to hide it as a cough, he says, “Miller Lite would be great.”

  “A vodka tonic and a Miller Lite,” I inform the bartender. “Thank you so much for treating us,” I say to the burly biker, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  With a grunt, he tosses down a twenty-dollar bill and then stomps off toward the pool table.

  “That was cruel,” Sax says through his laughter. “But I have to say, it is the first time a bear has bought me a drink. I’m kind of flattered.”

  “Just one of the perks of being my fake boyfriend,” I reply with a grin.

  “Fake boyfriend, huh?” he says with his sexy, crooked smile. “Wouldn’t you love to see the look on your father’s face if you brought home a man like me?”

  “Oh my god,” I mutter as I imagine it. “You have to meet my father!” I tell him. “He would flip out if I brought home someone like you tomorrow night.”

  Sax’s smile turns upside down in the blink of an eye at the same time my notebook falls from his hands onto the bar, making me nearly fall off my chair from cackling. “Jeez! You should see your face! Hilarious!”

  “You were joking, right?” he asks as the bartender places our drinks in front of us.

  “No, I was totally serious,” I say while picking up my tumbler and taking a sip from the straw.

  “You want me to meet your father? After we just met, like, ten minutes ago?” he says in a rush, then guzzles half of his beer.

  “Yes, I do. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Lately, I live to piss off my father in as many creative ways as I can. I wasn’t planning to go to his birthday dinner or whatever tomorrow, but now…I’m sort of looking forward to it.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Sax asks.

  “Because he has done nothing but manipulate me from the day I was born,” I admit. “My life wasn’t ever my own. But he’s such an expert at manipulation that I didn’t even realize what he was doing until I finally caught him in one enormous lie!”

  “Damn. It sounds like you hate his guts.”

  “I do,” I agree.

  “Then why would you want to see him on his birthday?” he questions.

  “Because…I don’t know,” I say, sipping my drink and biding my time while I try to figure out how to explain it to a stranger. “Because he’s the only family I have left. So, while I can’t stand to see his face or hear his annoying nagging about my life choices, I would love to bring you along just to piss him off.”

  Sax is silent for so long, I glance back over to make sure he’s still sitting next to me.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you to see your dad,” he says.

  “You will? You can be on your worst behavior. In fact, nothing would make me happier than seeing the look on his face when he meets you.”

  “Sounds…fun,” he replies, the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.

  “If you’re serious about doing this for me, maybe I’ll do something nice for you,” I tell him, leaning over to bump his shoulder with mine.

  “Oh really? Like what?” he asks.

  Tapping a fingernail on the top of my bucket list notebook, I say, “Like let you pick anything on my bucket list to cross off, even the orgy.”

  “Deal,” Sax quickly agrees. “You’re a kickass negotiator, by the way.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “I get that from my father, unfortunately.”

  Before I can dwell on that, he asks, “So, what about tonight? Have you decided what you want to do yet?”

  “You tell me. I’m down for a little PG-13 fun.”

  “Gotta keep it PG-13 tonight, huh?” he asks as his eyes lower to the zipper on the front of my leather dress. I just know a million dirty thoughts are likely running through his filthy mind. He may very well get lucky tonight, but I don’t plan to make it too easy for him.

  “Well, yeah. I just met you in a bar. What kind of girl do you take me for?” I ask, feigning indignation.

  “The beautiful, sexy, mysterious kind who somehow talked me into meeting her father on our first date,” Sax answers with a devious grin.

  “And what kind of guy are you?”

  Glancing around the bar before his eyes lock with mine, he says, “The outlaw biker kind with so many skeletons hiding in my closet you would run in the opposite direction of me if you were smart.”

  Shaking my head, I tell him, “I tried being the smart, good girl, but it didn’t really work out. Wasn’t much fun either.” Leaning forward, I plant one of my palms on his upper thigh. Then, digging my nails into the denim, I whisper against his ear, “Now I prefer to be a little bad.”

  Sax

  I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck Isobel. It’s not right to enjoy myself while in the process of fucking her over for her father to save the guys.

  But that was before I met her and had her lips brush ove
r my ear, sending a jolt of lust right down to my cock.

  Now, about the only thing I can think about is getting her naked and sinking inside of her.

  Screw it. I’m already going to hell. What does one more blemish on my record really matter in the big scheme of things?

  Sleeping with Isobel isn’t worse than participating in a mass murder with the other Kings just a few weeks ago.

  And it’s not even close to being as shitty as betraying my brothers from day one.

  Still, even after twelve years I’m not sure if I really think of the Savage Kings as my brothers. I’m a fraud who somehow ended up not only getting patched in, but also got elected as an officer by them. As the mother charter’s secretary, I’m in charge of notifying members of shitstorms, planning how to take cover during said storms, and making sure the other charters stay in one piece. That’s a helluva lot of responsibility for a man who once had a goal to send every last member wearing the bearded skull king to prison.

  At the time, I was young, stupid and angry. I was also hurting and wanted someone to pay for ending April’s life before it had really started.

  “You okay?” Isobel asks, her beautiful face frowning at me when my eyes refocus on her.

  “Yeah,” I reply and have to clear my throat to get any other words out of it. “I was just thinking of a few PG-13 activities we could get into tonight.”

  “And? What’s the verdict?” she asks, biting on her lip as she waits for my decision.

  “Have you ever ridden a Harley?”

  “No, I have not, but it is on my list,” she tells me, flipping to the item in her little book.

  “Good. What do you say we check that one off, and I take you out on my boat?”

  “You have a boat?” she asks with both of her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor.”

  “Good, because I don’t sail,” I respond. “And on my boat, I prefer to be called ‘Captain’.”

  “Right,” Isobel drawls with a roll of her iridescent hazel eyes when she tosses her bucket list back into her purse. “I just need to do one little thing before we take off on your Harley and hit the seas on your boat.”