Savage Heart

by Sara Fawkes

  “My boy was a sniper with the Marines,” Damian interrupted coolly. “He understands solo warfare more than most of the men in this club, and more than any of the new recruits likely will as well. And perhaps you should count the skulls on his cut before you decide he can’t take care of business for the club.”

  A column of four tiny skull patches lined the inside edge of Ash’s leather vest. Each one signified a kill made for the honor of the club. Four times since he’d been sent out to take care of business, and four times he’d been given a skull. While each patch would have been a point of pride to any other club member, they were a heavy weight on his soul.

  Damian sighed. “If they knew exactly what is asked of the Warlord, I don’t think they could ever say I was playing favorites.” He looked at Magnus. “You more than anyone should know that.”

  Ash had only heard his father mention the rank of Warlord in passing before, but he knew what it was. Back in the eighties, the Savages had gone to war with another rival local gang, the Rebels. A Warlord had been picked from the ranks back then to lead the charge and organize any hits, assassinations, and other offensive actions.

  The war had been long and bloody, and only settled when his father had negotiated a tentative peace. The Rebels had dwindled after that, their ranks thinning until the chapter house had finally closed its doors only months after the war was done.

  The Warlord back then had been Magnus, who had stepped down from his VP position to lead the charge. The aftermath was still felt today; the Savages had earned the respect of locals, but at a large personal cost. While it had opened a number of doors to enterprises previously closed to them, it also meant increased attention from the cops.

  He would be right in the middle of all that, deciding who would live and die.

  “You would report to me, and me alone,” Damian continued, watching Ash for his reaction. “I have to approve of any hits or offensive actions before they’re carried out. You will be responsible for any members who get out of line, desert their brothers, or go rogue in any way. You have my permission to deal with them as you see fit. Can you undertake this task?”

  Ash nodded, but it wasn’t enough. “I need to hear you say the words,” Damian said.

  “I will become the Savage’s Warlord.” Saying the words drove the truth home, but he kept himself straight, not allowing the burden to show on his features.

  “Good.” Damian didn’t smile, but he felt the approval from his father. “We’ll talk more about this later….”

  “I have one more subject to bring up,” Magnus interrupted, leaning forward and peering at Ash. “The woman upstairs is a liability. You brought someone in here whose whole job is investigating and finding a story. We need to figure out how to deal with her.”

  The implicit threat in the other man’s words sent a rush of heat through Ash. “She’s mine,” he said, meeting the VP’s stare head on. “I lay claim to her as my property. If anyone so much as lays a finger on her, I’ll have his head.”

  “Does she know this?” Damian asked.

  Ash shook his head. “I’ll make sure she understands.”

  “And if she decides to tell her story to go to the cops or the news, will you take care of the problem?”

  “I’ll eliminate it personally.” The words hurt, but he meant every syllable. “Savages Forever.”

  “Forever Savages,” Magnus replied, finishing the club motto. He grunted and then looked at Damian. “All right. My objections are retracted.”

  “We need to iron out a story about how your van got into that ditch,” Damian said, “but for now you’re excused. I need to talk to my VP.”

  Ash wasted no time in leaving the meeting room. His feet felt like lead, dragging along the rough floors of the clubhouse. He ignored any members who tried to talk to him, trudging instead up the stairs in silence until he reached the dark room where Eve still slept.

  He knelt down beside her bed and watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling as she slept quietly. Reaching out to her pillow, he tenderly grasped a stray lock of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. She murmured in her sleep, and Ash ran his fingers along her arm, the touch feather-light. This time when she stirred, he heard the whisper of his name on her lips. The sound made his heart constrict painfully.

  It was the wrong thing to do, considering his orders only moments before, but he lifted the covers and slid into the bed behind her. Eve stirred as he pushed her up and onto her side, wrapping his arms around her soft form. She instinctively snuggled close to him and he tightened his grip around her, burrowing his head in the crook of her neck.

  This woman fit perfectly against his body, as if she were made as his compliment. The thought of having to silence her forever made what heart he had left ache. So he pushed those thoughts away and simply enjoyed her presence, allowing himself the luxury of forgetting everything else except the beautiful woman in his arms.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You didn’t answer your phone all weekend.”

  “I was busy, Murray.”

  “Or return any of my calls.”

  I stared at my boss, blinking slowly. “They were my days off,” I replied, knowing that wasn’t the right thing to say if I wanted to keep my job.

  But I couldn’t make myself care anymore.

  Murray’s eyes narrowed as he peered at me. “I heard the most interesting news this weekend about a biker double homicide on highway 50. People called into a local radio station saying they saw motorcycles at the scene, but the police say they have no suspects. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  My boss watched me expectantly, but I just stared at him, curious what the media had to say about the incident. I had kept myself out of contact with everyone, even my grandmother, trying to make sense of what I’d seen. After a short stay in the clubhouse, Ash had taken me home and dropped me off at my apartment.

  I hadn’t seen or heard from him since. No lie, that part hurt.

  “Because,” Murray continued after a moment, sounding annoyed at my lack of response, “a story like that could go a very long way toward you keeping your job here.”

  Ignoring Murray for a moment, I stared around the office. I’d given this place a year of my life, and, when all was said and done, I had nothing to show for it. I was paid less than a temp, had no benefits or vacation time, and no real desire to work here. The only thing that had kept me coming here was the hope of getting my foot in the door, but I was tired of playing games.

  This weekend, I’d been kidnapped, taken on a high speed chase, and been in a wreck. My head still hurt days later, even though I was popping Advil pills at regular intervals. The dark clothes I wore covered my bruises, most notably the large purple patch on the back of my shoulder where I’d struck the edge of the toolboxes when the van rolled. I’d seen a man killed, two if I counted the man who’d fallen out of the van, at the hands of my lover.

  By comparison, the threat of losing my job meant little to nothing to me anymore.

  “Come on, kid, give me something here that’ll let me keep you.”

  Disappointment etched Murray’s features, his mouth twisting down. For the first time, it occurred to me that maybe my boss didn’t want me gone, that maybe the decision had truly been taken out of his hands. As bosses went, he’d never been terrible, although he had exacting standards as to how things happened. We’d never butted heads in the year I’d been here, a miracle now that I thought about it.

  Maybe he did like me, but it was too late. I shook my head sadly. “I’m sorry, Murray. All my leads went to dead ends.”

  He let out a deep breath. “Oh well, can’t say I didn’t give you a shot. I can give you a week to get your affairs in order.”

  “Actually,” I said, leaning against the small box of items atop my desk I’d already packed, “I’m leaving today.” I stuck out my hand. “Thank you for giving me the job, Murray, but I quit.”

  He stared at me as i
f I’d grown another head. “You sure about this, kid?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Absolutely.”

  Murray looked like he wanted to argue his case—odd, since he was letting me go only a second before. I couldn’t stay here any longer or I might change my mind. Grabbing my box of stuff, I gave him a tight smile. “Good luck with everything,” I said, meaning every word, then stepped around him and headed toward the entrance.

  I stared at the elevator doors for a long time before hitting the button to the lobby. The sane, grounded side of me screamed to go back up there and do whatever I could to get my job back. Think of your grandmother, it cried, and where are you going to get rent money?

  Where indeed.

  Forcing myself to step out of the elevator before the doors closed again, I looked around the lobby. I remembered the first time I’d stepped in here, thinking I’d hit the mother lode with my job. Fresh out of college, thinking that if I got my face on television I could somehow change the world. It had only taken me a year and a kidnapping attempt to disabuse me of that notion, but now I was on my own once more.

  Somehow, at that moment at least, the thought wasn’t quite so daunting as it could have been.

  “Ms. Parker?”

  I turned, raising my eyebrows as Lieutenant Sharpe approached me. Really, it shouldn’t have surprised me that he’d approach me. He wasn’t in a uniform, making me wonder if he might be a detective. Hefting the box onto one hip, I cocked my head sideways. “Can I help you, Mr. Sharpe?”

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Parker, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Now isn’t really a good time…”

  “It’ll just take a minute. Where were you on Friday night around eight o’clock?”

  Riding away from the scene of a crime didn’t sound like something I should say to a cop, so I just shrugged. “Probably at home, why?”

  “Can any of your neighbors vouch for that?”

  The box in my arms was getting heavier the longer I held it, and I shifted to under my other arm. “What’s this about, Mr. Thorpe?”

  “We had an accident on the highway out toward Folsom that night. Witnesses said they saw motorcycles leaving the area, and I wondered if you had any information for me.”

  “Yes, I saw that on the news.” It amazed me how coolly I was taking this interrogation. I should have been nervous at the very least, but I couldn’t care less. The lethargy and devil-may-care attitude that had made me quit my job allowed me to roll my eyes and sigh. “Look, Mr. Sharpe, I just lost my job because I couldn’t find my boss a story. If I had anything to do with something like that, I’d be upstairs celebrating my promotion with my not-as-lame-as-I-thought boss.”

  “Miss Parker…”

  “If you want to know anything, talk to my boss. He was the one that told me about the motorcycles being at that scene, maybe he knows more.” I shifted the box again, starting to get irritated. “Now can I please leave so I can go home and start searching for a new job?”

  His interest was piqued when I mentioned my boss knowing something, but I didn’t care. The reality of my situation was starting to break through my numbness. I was jobless, with a mountain of college debt to my name and a grandmother to support. I looked away from the detective, taking in a shaky breath. “Please. If I discover anything, I have your information.”

  Without waiting for his answer, I left the building. Only when I was outside did I look back to see if he’d followed me, but I didn’t see his silhouette through the window. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back, then stopped in my tracks.

  Ash’s bike was parked on the sidewalk in front of my building, with him leaning casually against the seat. He pulled a set of earbuds from his head as I slowly moved forward. “Miss me?” he said with a cocky grin.

  There was no way I was going to dignify that with a response, especially the truth. “You never called.”

  He shrugged, his eyes flickering to the box in my arms. “Sorry about your job.”

  Way to ignore my question. I snorted. “Meh, I wasn’t enjoying it all that much.” I set the box on a nearby trash can, then crossed my arms. “Is this going to be a habit, you showing up unannounced wherever I go?”

  He pushed off the bike and stepped toward me. “Maybe,” he murmured, tipping my chin up to look in his eyes.

  The single touch made me immediately melt, but only for an instant. It felt so damned good to have him there, and I almost wanted to cling to him and let him make all the decisions for a while. That wasn’t my style, but for once I understood the temptation.

  Almost.

  Steeling my spine, I lifted my chin so I was staring him in the eye. I wasn’t going to break down, especially not now. But I would enjoy his presence for as long as I could.

  “What did Mr. Sharpe want to talk about?”

  I cocked my head sideways and peered at the biker. “So you saw me talking to him?”

  “Not precisely.”

  I squinted up at him, not sure what his answer meant, then shrugged. “He wanted to see if I knew anything, but of course I was at home all weekend.” More of my mask slipped as I remembered watching Ash shoot the driver, seeing the truck headlights bob as they ran over the second gunman. I swallowed, feeling a little nauseous.

  Ash’s arms enveloped me unexpectedly, and he pulled me against him. “You’re brave,” he murmured against my hair. “And incredible. And so damned sexy right now in that pencil skirt.”

  The mood change brought a surprised laugh out of me. Ash looked at me with innocent eyes. “Blame Mad Men. All you’d need is a pair of Cuban hose and some heels, and I’d be breaking all kinds of public indecency laws right here.”

  Far from turning me on, his sudden lechery only made me laugh, which helped to chase away the bad memories. Maybe that was the whole point.

  “Your boss seemed nice. You should have at least stayed the week.”

  “My, what?” I stopped laughing and stared at him. “Wait a minute, how did you…”

  He reached beside my neck and plucked something off my windbreaker. I stared at the tiny device, not even the size of his fingernail, then back into his eyes. “You had me bugged? What was this, some kind of test?”

  “I wanted to keep tabs on you,” he said, shrugging. “And you passed with flying colors.”

  “That’s like getting into stalker mode there,” I argued, pissed, but he just smirked at my anger. “Seriously, what would you have done if I’d said anything to my boss, or tried to keep my job? Would I have ended up in some burned out car too?”

  His smile didn’t budge an inch. “Something like that.”

  My amusement dimmed a bit as I tried to interpret that reply, then I gave up and sighed. “What are we?” I asked instead, looking for a serious answer. “What did I get myself into with you?”

  I trailed off as Ash stepped forward, grabbing my wrists and twining them behind his neck. He sat down on the bike, pulling me forward so I leaned against him. It felt delicious to be in his arms again, and I felt my body immediately respond to his closeness.

  “Why don’t we take a ride and find out?”

  Those blue eyes melted every bone in my body. I leaned down and laid a soft kiss on his forehead, and felt his arms tighten around me. I could easily lose my heart to this man, but somehow that realization didn’t bother me like before. “What kind of ride?” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.

  His wicked grin told me exactly what kind of ride he was imagining, and I felt my face heat up. “You do know I’m wearing a skirt,” I murmured. “Difficult to straddle a motorcycle without, you know.”

  He laid a kiss on my belly through my shirt, and butterflies broke out in my stomach. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “If anyone looks at what’s mine, I’ll break their face.”

  Words like that should not make me feel all warm and tingly. They shouldn’t. But I grinned down at him, knowing he meant every word. “I really should be out hunting for a ne
w job,” I murmured, leaning down to press my lips to his. The kiss was soft and gentle, but his hands squeezed my buttocks, as if in promise of what was coming.

  “Mount up.”

  He straddled the bike first, and then I climbed up onto the passenger peg and carefully pulled my leg over. I was getting the hang of mounting a motorcycle, but sitting proved difficult; the tight skirt rode up almost to my hips. When I tugged at it, Ash placed his hand on the skin there. I knew he was doing it on purpose, keeping the skirt hiked up, and stuck my tongue out at him as he handed me my helmet.

  His look was smug and unrepentant. Ass.

  We reached the highway with ease, and as he weaved gently through the traffic, I leaned forward and started whispering in his ear. I told him what I wanted to do to him, and what I wanted him to do to me. I might have even reached down and given him a little caress through his jeans, just to emphasize my point.

  If my words had him riding well over the speed limit, well, we didn’t get pulled over. Speed just meant we got to the good stuff faster.

  Look for the continuation of Kane and Eve’s story in summer 2014!

  You can find Sara Fawkes online at:

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