Savage Heart

by Sara Fawkes

  Chapter Eight

  Ash

  “So, you got an old lady now?”

  “Shut the fuck up and hand me that wrench.”

  Rooster handed Ash the tool, but didn’t seem inclined to let the subject rest. “C’mon man, details. How’s she in the sack? And did you see those tits? Fuck, man, if you’re not gonna tap that, maybe I should give it a shot.”

  Ash ignored his friend, resisting the urge to ram the large adjustable wrench into his buddy’s ball sack. Rooster knew better than to go after the girl without Ash’s permission, but if he’d noticed Eve than others had too. Not everyone would be as respectful, especially since Ash hadn’t officially claimed her as his when he’d brought her to the clubhouse.

  Shit.

  “Is she really a reporter though?” Rooster said, not knowing or caring how close he was to having his dick punched. “Cuz man, that shit could bite us in the ass.”

  “I got it under control,” Ash muttered, pulling at the dented side cover, but the thing wouldn’t budge. Grumbling, he grabbed a rubber mallet and started whacking on the engine, trying to break the seal.

  “You sure you should be doing that?” Rooster asked nervously. “I mean, you were just stabbed.”

  His side was definitely burning with each strike, but Ash wasn’t about to admit it. He kept going until, with a sticky pop, the gaskets finally let go. Leftover oil from when he’d drained the engine dripped to the ground, but Ash didn’t pay it any mind. Rooster scooted back as Ash got back to his feet, then laid the chrome pieces he’d removed onto the workbench. He whistled, surveying the damage. “Damn man, what did you do to get all these scratches?”

  “I had to lay her down.” Rooster fidgeted, obviously still annoyed. “Damned cager turned left out in front of me. Car didn’t even bother with blinkers. My brakes are soft too, found that out the hard way.” He craned his neck over Ash’s shoulder. “Think you can fix it all?”

  “I can do the body work, get them straight again, but you’re going to have to get them re-chromed to fix all this. I can flush and bleed the brakes for you while we’re waiting for the chrome guys.” He looked back at Rooster, who didn’t seem to be taking the news well. “I can order new parts if you’d rather do that, although I don’t know if they’d be available any faster.”

  Disappointment was etched on Rooster’s face as he shook his head. “Go ahead and get it back in shape and put it on like that, I don’t have money for new pieces or chrome.”

  “I promise to get it looking as good as I can.”

  They shook hands, then Rooster headed back out to his car while Ash got his tools ready. He had some bikes he needed to pull apart for clients, but club members took precedence over any others. The mechanic shop connected to the clubhouse and served as one of the moneymakers. As long as it turned a profit, nobody bitched, and it was a cheap place to get the bikes worked on.

  The shop was also Ash’s baby; he’d sunk most of his money into the deal, and even if it went belly-up, he didn’t have any regrets. It didn’t make him or the club as much money as some of their other ventures, but he loved it.

  He’d just sat down with a hammer and dolly set, intending to pound out the dents, when another bike pulled inside the shop. Magnus’ motorcycle was clearly distinguishable, an old Harley from the Second World War. There had been some safety updates in the two decades he’d owned it, but the bike still looked like it had come right off the beaches of Normandy. Magnus however didn’t seem to care about collectability; he rode the bike daily, and more than once had taken it across the country to Sturgis.

  The club’s Vice President however had a scowl on his face, and Ash grabbed a towel as Magnus met his eyes. “Get your ass in the office, we need to talk.”

  He followed Magnus through the doors and into the club’s main area. Except for them, the clubhouse was empty, everyone else at work or elsewhere. Ash had sent Elvis, a club prospect who knew his way around bikes enough to work in the shop, to get parts about fifteen minutes prior. If there were any girls in the house they were upstairs, asleep.

  “Look,” Ash started as they walked into the meeting room, “if this is about Eve, she’s…”

  “Fuck that bitch, I don’t give a damn where you dip your wick.”

  Ash immediately bristled at hearing Eve referred to as a bitch. Magnus didn’t seem to care however as he continued, “I want to know exactly what happened to you yesterday.”

  “I already told you everything.”

  “From what I heard, you seemed fuzzy on the details on who exactly got you.” Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Did a Jackal stab you?”

  Ash stared at the VP for a long moment. It was no secret within the club that Magnus relished the idea of going to war with the Jackals. Both clubs vied for the same Sacramento-area territory, and their supply lines often merged. Damian worked hard maintaining the peace, but tensions were high any time the two clubs crossed paths. All it would take was one renegade to do something rash, cross the line, and both clubs would be forced into a confrontation.

  In this situation, however, Ash knew what he’d seen. “Neither of the riders were patched with the Jackals. I didn’t get a good look at the one who shanked me but the other guy had on a full helmet.” He stepped forward and laid his hands on the desk. “Why are you so keen to pin this on them?”

  Magnus sighed. “Because Hoop just heard from an informant that the Jackals may have set up that shootout that got Buddy.”

  Ash swore, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs. Magnus glared at the wall, his grizzled face fierce. “If I could trust the informant for certain, I wouldn’t hesitate to declare war. But the information is from a junkie and only hearsay at this point. I’d need more to even bring the subject up.” He glanced at Ash. “Have you gone to see Buddy?”

  “He’s awake, although they won’t let him go until they’re certain the internal damage is healing right. For a while, they were afraid he’d have to shit through a tube in his side forever. Guess they had to take out a lot of intestine.” Ash smirked humorlessly. “That big man joked to me that he always wanted one of those bariatric weight loss surgeries. I suppose this is one way to do it.”

  Magnus didn’t smile, just stared off in thought. “Is there anything else you need?” Ash asked after a moment of silence.

  “I need you to go collect rent from the apartments, we have people behind three months or more. Bust a few heads if necessary, they need a reminder on why it’s smart to pay us on time. And make sure Kandy’s got her girls squared away, she’s bitching about having to hire a bunch of newbies.”

  Kandy was in charge of the club girls, most importantly the ones who danced at the Kandy Shack. The strip club wasn’t as big as some in town but prided itself on having the most beautiful girls around. Many of the women who showed up at the club danced there, and special attention was given to Savages club members. Hoop had been trying to lay claim to Kandy for years but she enjoyed her independence too much to wear any property patch, or ever consider being a house mouse. She could be a bitch, but apparently that was what Hoop liked about her.

  “And keep an eye out.” Magnus looked Ash square in the eye. “I know you think I’m gunning for the Jackals, and maybe you’re right, but something’s brewing out there. I’d rather have it out in the open than hidden in the shadows. Your dad still thinks diplomacy will save the day, but I know it’s only a matter of time.”

  He’d barely gotten up to leave when Magnus’ voice stopped Ash again. “You got a handle on that girl of yours? Doesn’t sit well with me that you’d bring someone paid to snoop into our house.”

  “I can deal with it if something happens.” He didn’t elaborate and Magnus didn’t ask for anything more as they parted ways. Back in the shop, Ash picked up his tools to work on the dented pieces for Rooster, then set them down again with a sigh.

  Eve. What the fuck was he doing with her anyway? He should have run her off the minute she’d told him she was a reporter,
but what had he done instead? Tried to fuck her? His dick stirred at the memory of the redhead beneath him, and he could almost taste her sweetness again on his lips.

  Fuck! Why hadn’t he taken her when he had the chance? Twice he’d had the chance, had her in his arms all but begging for his cock, and twice he’d let her get away. The first time wasn’t his fault—they’d been interrupted—by that second time in her apartment? His dick had been straining against his jeans, aching for release, but then he’d gone and opened his damned mouth. He’d felt the change in her, and just stepped back and let her get away.

  Hell. He felt like nutting just remembering about how she’d tasted. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  You’re getting old, man. Maybe he didn’t look it, but that was how he felt sometimes. Thirty had hit him hard, and lately he’d found himself thinking more about his actions. Once upon a time, nothing would have stopped him from tapping that sweet ass. He would have locked himself in that tiny apartment and fucked the ever-living shit out of that beautiful girl, and not thought twice.

  But those eyes, the way they seemed to look deep inside him, did something to him. They stopped him in his tracks every time, made him want more than just a quick fuck. He’d always joked about Hoop and Road Rash being so stuck on their women, but no girl had ever affected him like this. Perhaps now it was his turn to get ribbed over a woman, except he had no idea if she could accept the club.

  Heaven help them both if he was forced to choose one or the other because, while he knew what his answer should be, it was no longer so clear-cut.

  Ash put down the tools with a sigh and wiped his hands on a rag. Shit. He needed to clear his mind, and there was only one thing he knew for sure would do the job. Grabbing his helmet off the counter, he walked outside and threw his leg over the Harley V-Rod. The bike was his baby; he’d been through every part, shaving off the weight and raising the horsepower. He’d done a lot of modifications to the bike, although most people wouldn’t be able to tell. It wasn’t the fastest or the meanest bike out there, but he knew it inside and out.

  The motorcycle started up immediately, and in the dying light of the day, he twisted it around and let her fly.

  Chapter Nine

  The stack of brochures I’d amassed taunted me, teetering loosely atop my dash as if waiting for the right moment to spill.

  There wasn’t enough time in my day to get things done, but I’d cobbled together bits and pieces of my work day to work on researching homes for my grandmother. I’d made appointments for that afternoon and evening to tour facilities, but truthfully I wasn’t able to concentrate on the task at hand. The coffee I’d brought along didn’t even help; I was bone weary and needed a day to sleep. Between the stress of impending layoffs, my grandmother’s deteriorating condition, and my pursuit of a story that was simultaneously exhilarating and going nowhere, I was a wreck.

  What was worse, none of the facilities I looked at had anywhere near the kind of care I expected for my grandmother. One was little more than an insane asylum for the elderly. I’d walked out of there when a half-naked woman running down the aisles had been tackled by a pair of orderlies. There was no way I’d subject my grandma to that kind of environment.

  Yet there was something fundamentally flawed in each facility I went through. Not enough light in one, the rooms were too tiny in another, the visiting schedule ridiculously limited in a third. By the fourth tour, I was done for the day, with nothing to show for my time. I’d have to cast my net over a wider area, possibly look into places that were more expensive than my grandmother’s budget would allow. There was no way I’d subject her to any of those places I’d seen today however, of that much I was certain.

  A hot bath and very early bed time sounded utterly divine, but I’d promised my grandmother another visit. Any shot of energy the evening coffee had given me was gone by the time I stepped inside the nursing home. The girl at the desk gave me a chipper smile, and I wondered if she’d only just started her shift. Seeing it made me want to slap her silly for being so well-rested and pleasant.

  Down girl.

  “Your grandmother just had dinner and is back in her room with her guest.”

  I thanked her absently, then the second part of her statement clicked into place. “Guest?” I asked, blinking in confusion.

  “He’s in with her right now?”

  Questions about who and what rose and died on my lips. “Thanks,” I murmured absently, then hurried down the hallway toward my grandmother’s room. The familiar dulcet tones of my former caretaker were audible before I even got into the room. It was the familiar chuckle, however, deeper and unabashedly male, that brought me to a crashing halt.

  My grandmother’s face was beaming even before she saw me. “Oh, hello dear, I was hoping I would see you today.”

  I stared at Ash, seated on the bed beside my grandmother. My eyes fell to where she was holding his hand, then back up to his face in silent question. He lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs, but didn’t seem inclined to break the connection.

  What the hell?

  “My Ethan came to visit me, I’ve been telling him all about my baby.”

  Her words made my heart squeeze, and I turned accusing eyes onto Ash. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed by my ire, nor when the older woman patted his hand. “He’s been gone so long, I needed to bring him up to speed.”

  I wanted to scream at him, call him a bastard for manipulating my grandmother this way. She had done her hair and dressed nicely however, as if she’d been expecting him, and the smile on her face softened my heart. There were so few things in her life now that made her smile, and I couldn’t make myself break her fantasy.

  “What have you been telling him, grandma?” I asked, sitting down on the bed beside her and hoping my smile was more convincing than I felt.

  “Oh, we were just reminiscing on how we met.” She giggled, the sound surprisingly young. “Our first date, he took me for a ride on his old Indian motorcycle. Even back then, he loved to go fast, and that time was certainly no different. I held onto him as tight as possible, which I think was his whole intention.”

  “Grandpa rode motorcycles?” I asked, engrossed despite my better intentions.

  “Oh yes, he loved those things. He and his friends used to ride every weekend, taking those giant bikes anywhere they could.” She shook her head and absently adjusted Ash’s vest. “I still have pictures of where they use to jump the old Harleys and Indians over creeks, or take dirt roads up and beyond the snow line. They didn’t care if they broke anything, they just wanted to have fun.”

  “Do you still have any of his old bikes?” I asked, curious despite my best intentions. I had no idea my grandfather used to race motorcycles. He’d always liked restoring old cars and had tall tales to tell of his younger years, but he’d never mentioned racing. Probably my grandmother had kept him from saying anything about it since I’d idolized my grandpa Ethan, and she didn’t want me following in his steps.

  “Bless his heart, he had a whole barn full of the things when we married. I kept telling him to give them up—they were so dangerous, you see—but it wasn’t until your mother Lynette was born that he finally stopped riding.” She snorted. “Of course, then he turned to his cars, and I never could break him of that expensive habit. I swear, one of these days those contraptions he built will kill him.”

  A lump suddenly formed in my throat. The real Ethan Reed had died in a car crash nearly a decade ago. There had been no racing involved, just an inattentive driver on a cellphone running a Stop sign. His loss had devastated my grandmother, and was the beginning of the forgetfulness that eventually became a diagnosis of Alzheimer's.

  She seemed to realize the import of her words too, because she released Ash’s hand and stared down at the bed in confusion. All I wanted to do was envelop her in a hug, but I didn’t dare touch her until I knew for certain where her head was. “Grandma,” I said carefully, tugging lightly on Ash’s arm, “we
’re going to step outside for just a minute and talk. I’ll be right back in, I promise.”

  “It was lovely meeting you, Dora,” Ash said, patting my grandmother’s hand. “Maybe we can talk again sometime?”

  His choice of words seemed archaic, and I worried that his sudden reversion from “Ethan” to a stranger might further confused her. She just beamed up at him however, and even I admitted to being dazzled by the smile he gave her. “Show up anytime you’d like,” she said, giving him a saucy smile. “I do love being pursued by beautiful men.”

  Ash just chuckled while my face burned, and I dragged him outside the door as he gave my grandmother a small wave. Only once we were outside the room and away from the entrance a little ways did I finally round on him. “What are you doing here?” I whispered fiercely.

  “Well, I thought about breaking into your apartment again and surprising you, but figured I’d try something different this time.”

  “How did you even find out about my grandmother being here?” I continued, unwilling to be charmed. “Please don’t tell me I’ve somehow managed to get myself a psycho stalker.”

  “You’re not the only good investigator on the planet,” he continued. “And you can blame social media, not some dubious contacts I may or may not have in the CIA. You’ve checked in here several times and posted about your grandmother’s condition. I just followed your leads.”

  “You sneaky…” I’d need to change all my online privacy settings as soon as I got out of there.

  “Admit it,” he said bluntly, “you’re happy to see me.”

  Not on your life. “This was still a dick move, coming to see my grandmother to get to me.”

  “Noted.” His eyes narrowed and he really looked at me. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.”

  My terse reply came out more quickly than I meant. Ash must have seen that because his frown deepened, and I relented. “Okay,” I murmured, lowering my voice so I was sure I wouldn’t be heard by anyone else, “I’m trying to find someplace else to move my grandmother.”