Vicious
Page 8
“I’m in my right mind for the first time in a long time, Seals. Don’t make me come after you. Just surrender.”
St. John hurried across the parking lot and climbed onto his HOG. He knew Lawless was calling him by his real name to get a rise out of him. He broke the morning silence with the thundering roar of his Harley.
Really? You want to fuck with me?
“Want to know who I watched die tonight?” St. John knew it was petty to set Lawless up like that, but he’d had enough of getting reamed.
“Who?” he replied without much concern.
St. John started to answer then stopped as he heard a woman’s voice in the background beg Lawless to return to bed. Voodoo’s voice.
“You motherfucker. No wonder you don’t give a shit about this case or my ass. You’re too busy getting laid. Fuck you, Lawless. You ain’t near the cop they said you were.”
“Screw off, Seals.”
“It was your brother, Rage,” St. John taunted.
“What did you say?” Lawless yelled.
“I watched your very own brother executed while you were busy sticking your dick in your partner.”
Strangling the phone to hit the button that would end the call, St. John sighed. “Fuck, I really am all alone in this.”
CONTINUED IN BOOK 4
About the Author
LS Silverii is a highly decorated law enforcement officer from Cajun country with over 25 years of heart-racing experience.
Vicious is the third in the Savage Souls Series. The dark romantic suspense series takes you behind the badge and into an often-unknown world of outlaws to experience the raw rush and ruggedness of true alpha heroes.
Connect with me online:
www.silverhartwriters.com
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If you enjoyed reading Vicious: Savage Souls, I would appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy this book, too.
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Links to my Other Books
Savage Souls Series
Broken – (Book 1)
Damaged – (Book 2)
Vicious – (Book 3)
Shattered – (Book 4)
Redemption – (Book 5)
The Shadow Ops Series
Danger’s Desire – (Book 1)
Danger’s Heat – (Book 2)
Danger’s Passion – (Book 3)
The Cajun Murder Mystery Series
Bayou Roux: The Complete First Season
Bayou Backslide: A Cajun Murder Mystery Series Special Edition
A Darker Shade of Blue: From Public Servant to Professional Deviant; Policing’s Special Operations Culture: A Darker Shade of Blue
Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad
Thanks for being a Savage Souls reader. To show appreciation for joining me on this outlaw adventure, I’m giving away Sterling Silver Biker Pendants. Each episode in the series has a unique piece of biker jewelry that symbolizes that book. Enter by clicking the link below and you might become one of the Savage Nations Most Wanted Prize Winners.
forms.aweber.com/form/32/368041932.htm
This Is What’s Waiting For You Next:
Shattered
Savage Souls Series
Book 4
St. John looked out over the foothills. The view that led into the Rocky Mountains was surreal. The tranquility of the moment contrasted the reality of the day—of his life for that matter. He’d look back at the screen door that led out and onto the back porch, but his eyes always cut back out into the wilderness. So did his thoughts.
He was totally committed to the agency when he began. His friendship with partner Jeff Graham long filled a void for a true brother. Once his disillusionment with federal law enforcement crept across his conscious, it was the friendship with Graham that kept St. John grounded. After all, they depended upon each other in their war against the dark side. The battle lines were so clear back then—good guys versus bad guys.
Shit changed quickly once promotions overrode family obligations. Graham’s agency upward movement and St. John’s commitment to his ailing parent’s was the first fissure in the brothers of the badge. But what finally turned him away from the hypocrisy of the bureaucracy was the accidental overdose and death of his college sweetheart and wife. It was one thing to be a widower, but another to be a federal cop with a junkie for a wife.
It was why he volunteered for the mission. The agency had a snitch capable of introducing a pledge to the Tallahassee Chapter of the Savage Souls. St. John jumped at the chance to do something special and bold. Most of his co-workers had prematurely set their sights on pensions.
St. John hated the outlaws at first and swore to destroy every last one of them. Over the course of each month, he’d grown to know them and feel a connection deeper than anything he’d experienced with sports or federal service. There was no GS grade promotional ladder to climb, or draft picks to out play. The outlaw’s fringe existence was an ideal—sometimes a romantic notion of a last ditch effort to find true freedom in an otherwise overly regulated, totally impartial existence.
His stream of consciousness was broken at the sound of the thin wooden slats of the screen door slamming back against the thick threshold. Three brothers acknowledged him with a “SFFS,” before they hurried off the porch and toward the mechanic shop.
St. John tried to relax but the last two days had been tense since he sent Vengeance to the hospital with a broken wrist and the confrontation with Justice. Yet, despite that, he still felt more connected to the brothers than he ever had to his fellow law enforcement co-workers. He yanked his cell out of his vest’s pocket and deleted his message to Graham. It was his concern over him that caused the fight with the blood brothers anyway.
Fuck him if he doesn’t even bother to message back to say how’s he doing.
His heart ached as the last thread of hope he had for reconnecting with his partner and friend snapped. He also debated over decisions that’d have to be made soon as the Savage nation would head out west to reclaim their weapons from the deranged nomad, Gray Man. Would he intervene and allow the government to seize the stash—it would also mean the arrest of his brothers and his very own end of the operation. Ultimately, that too would mean his return to a desk job of following up on leads about dime bags of dope and unregistered hunting rifles.
“Hey Opie,” the voice frazzled him.
He spun around, “What’s up Justice?”
“I still ain’t happy about what you said to me the other day.”
“I’m not going to apologize for it. I spoke my mind, and as far as your brother, he got what he deserved.”
Justice stood about as tall as St. John. His body was big and thick, with muscles developed from steroids and jailhouse-style weightlifting that focused on pumping up his arms and chest. He extended his hand.
“I respect you for standing up for what you believe in. And for Vengeance, he got what he deserved.”
With those words, St. John became even more conflicted about loyalties to his agency versus his brotherhood. Justice had become a mentor, but someone with whom he held equal footing with as far as speaking openly. He’d even been free to give the national president and former military hero recommendations on the way he handled club business. In an odd sense, St. John truly wanted Justice to succeed.
“I never know where I stand with you, and it’s unnerving. I’ve been nothing but loyal, yet I feel like you lose trust in me.” St. John implored.
Justice stepped past him and fell into the rocking chair, “Son, I never know who I can trust. It shifts fro
m moment to moment, but honestly, I get a might suspicious of people who always ask if I trust them. Just do what you’re supposed to do and trust will follow.”
“I understand.”
Justice shoved a wad of chewing tobacco inside his mouth, “When we going to be ready to head out? I feel like a ship without a rudder since Rage’s murder. Without his intel, we’re shooting in the dark, and I still don’t know who’s communicating with Gray Man.”
“You think we should hold off on the grab job?” St. John asked.
He crossed his legs and shook his hole-filled boot sole, “I thought about it, but it might be best if we go up in a small pack to watch for a few days. No communications other than just us.”
“You mean just us?”
“Who else would you recommend?” Justice asked.
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