Beautiful Savage (Savage & Ink Book 2)

by Victoria Ashley

  By the time I make it out to the parking lot, all I feel like doing is popping a handful of pills and passing out right here in my shitty old Dodge Neon so I don’t have to deal with anyone else today.

  James has sent me six texts since he left my house earlier. The latest one said he’s at my house waiting for me. I have no desire to go home and pretend I want him around, when really, all I want is to be alone.

  Ignoring all my messages, I sit here with my eyes closed.

  Twenty minutes past—maybe more—allowing myself some time to unwind before I finally drive off, unsure of where I’m going.

  It’s dark and quiet out here, almost relaxing, so I’m not really concerned about my destination at the moment.

  I just keep driving.

  When a motorcycle pulls up on my left at the next stoplight, it’s kind of hard not to look over at the noise to see who’s causing it on this otherwise peaceful drive.

  What I don’t expect is for the guy on the motorcycle to catch my attention, but as soon as he turns my direction and I catch the way his dark hair falls over his eye, I can’t seem to look away.

  He’s got this rough, edgy look that calls to me, drawing me in.

  His eyes are focused on me, as if he’s amused that I’m checking him out the way I am. Even with the dark facial hair around his mouth I can see that he’s smirking, most likely enjoying having this moment of power over me.

  It’s enough to have me quickly turning away and looking straight ahead once again.

  He may be sexy as hell from what I can see, but I’ll never allow another man to have power over me.

  Not again.

  The light turns green, and for some reason, instead of driving off I look beside me at the mysterious motorcycle guy to see he’s watching me, as if he’s waiting for me to take off first.

  Unable to stop myself, I rake my eyes over his body, starting at his black boots and slowly moving up his muscular thighs, all the way up to his leather jacket he wears so damn well.

  This guy was definitely made for that bike.

  Both seem to be dangerous and powerful at first glance.

  It’s not until the vehicle behind me honks two times that I finally manage to pull my eyes away from my distraction.

  I’m about to drive off when the dick sticks his head out the window and screams at me. “Move, bitch! I’m going to be late because of you. Get out of the way!”

  The guy beside me catches my attention again, when I notice him kick the stand down on his motorcycle and get off.

  I don’t know what else to do, so I watch him as he walks over to the car behind me, reaches into the window and slams the asshole’s head into the steering wheel.

  He doesn’t even bother saying anything to the guy. Instead, he walks right back over to his motorcycle, as if nothing unusual just happened, and drives off.

  I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me, but when he takes a left turn, my eyes seem to follow.

  My heart is racing in my chest at what just happened. It definitely has nothing to do with the asshole behind me, and everything do with the sexy, dangerous guy that just drove off.

  Without giving it much thought, I finally give the jerk behind me what he wants and drive off, taking a left.

  I find myself driving around for a bit, before I pull up at a place called Savage & Ink.

  As much as I’d like to say I’m here only for the drinks, a part of me knows that’s a lie. I’m curious about this man who lost it on some asshole at my expense not long ago.

  There are a lot of motorcycles parked out front, but I can’t tell if one of them belongs to him or not. I can only assume this is where he went once I lost him a few blocks over.

  Jumping out of my car, I head toward what seems to be a tattoo parlor attached to the bar. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten some ink done and knowing there’s a shop in the area has me itching for one now.

  When I step inside, I look around at the art on the wall, my mouth curving into a small smile. This is definitely the right place to get some ink done.

  I don’t see anyone in the tattoo room, so I push open the second door and step into the bar area.

  It’s full of bikers drinking and playing pool.

  Most women would be intimated by this scene. Not me. I taught myself years ago, when I turned sixteen, that the only way a man will learn what no means is by showing him.

  I still remember the look on my dad’s friend’s face when I stabbed my steak knife into his arm after he grabbed my thigh during dinner one night.

  He never touched me again and my dad started letting me make my own decisions after that. He must’ve learned that day too that I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore and I’d learned to stand up for myself.

  Then, by seventeen, I was living with some friends who were just as screwed up and unwanted as I was. That’s when I got into pill popping, snorting cocaine and drinking, looking for ways to escape.

  I’ll be twenty-six in a few months and I’ve only gotten angrier and more bitter with time—numb to any other emotions.

  Most people don’t know the true meaning of a bitch until they’ve met me and pissed me off.

  I feel eyes settle on me from around the room as I take a seat at the bar and wait for the bartender to look up from the cooler.

  He must be refilling it, because it’s been a few minutes and he still hasn’t noticed me sitting here.

  “Mind giving me one of those beers? Actually, make it two.”

  He pauses for a second, as if he’s surprised to hear a woman’s voice, before he grabs two bottles and stands up.

  His amber gaze lands on me, his eyes locking with mine as he pops the cap off the first beer and slides it across to me.

  I swallow as I watch him pop the top off the second one and take a swig, as if I didn’t just order two beers.

  Well, shit. Motorcycle guy works here.

  “Who are you here for?” he questions. “Blaine? Or one of these other assholes?”

  I snatch the beer from his hand, right as he’s about to tilt it back again. He watches me as I bring it to my lips and take a drink. “What makes you think I’m here for anyone?”

  He smiles and reaches for the untouched beer. I’m not sure if he recognizes me from the stoplight, but he has a look no woman could forget even if she tried. “Because women don’t usually come here alone. You don’t see all the assholes behind you, eyeing you over while thinking up ways they can get you on the back of their bike and in their bed?”

  I look over my shoulder, while taking another drink of beer. “I’m not worried about them. None of them can handle me.” I bring my attention back to the man in front of me and the crooked smile on his sexy lips has me a little hot and bothered. “They can look all they want, but they won’t be touching unless they want to lose a nut. I deal with assholes like them all day.”

  The crooked smile turns into a full one as he runs his hand over his short beard and leans against the bar. His confidence as he locks eyes with me has me looking lower at his firm chest in that black t- shirt he’s wearing.

  I couldn’t see how toned he was when he was wearing that leather jacket on his bike, but I have to admit that his body is enough to make any woman sweat. He looks like a tattooed God.

  He’s definitely the kind of guy I wouldn’t mind taking some sexual frustration out on.

  I look back up to see his dark hair falling over his face while he looks around the bar, as if he’s keeping an eye out for something to go down.

  “Then maybe this is the right place for you to be. Some of these dicks deserve to lose one . . .” he brings his attention back to me, his eyes becoming intense as they land on my lips around the beer bottle. “Or maybe both.”

  I smile and lower the bottle. “Does that include you too? You’re looking at my lips like you wish this bottle was something else.”

  “I’m a man, love. It’s only natural that I wish it were my dick. But it’s because I’m a
man that I won’t slip it between those beautiful lips until you’re begging for it. And since you’re not I’m going to mind my own damn business.”

  He goes back to working but looks back over at me occasionally as if he’s checking to make sure I’m okay.

  I also don’t miss that he gives a few dirty looks over my shoulder as if he’s warning assholes to stay away or something.

  Whatever it is that he’s doing seems to be working, because even after being here for over an hour, not one guy has messed with me or has attempted to talk to me.

  I have to admit I like the way he controls the room. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to go anywhere without being groped by some loser.

  “People here are intimated by you, aren’t they?” I can’t help but look him over from head to toe as he stands there, leaned against the wall, watching the room.

  “What makes you think that?” He pushes away from the wall and the way his thighs flex when he walks toward me has me licking my bottom lip and watching closely. “I haven’t done or said anything to make you believe that.”

  I lean over the bar and stop once our lips are almost brushing. The feel of his beard tickling my skin makes me want to yank him to me by it so I can kiss him, or maybe even bite him, but I don’t. “It’s in your eyes. All you have to do is look at people and they know not to fuck with you. I find it very intriguing.”

  When I go to pull away, he grabs the back of my neck, keeping me in place. “People still fuck with me. Just the ones who carry knives and guns. This is only the early crowd, love. This ain’t shit compared to what I’m used to dealing with.” I swallow when his lips move around to brush below my ear.

  “You should go before I have to kill someone tonight for trying to put their hands on you. I’ve already broken a guy’s nose over you. Don’t make me do it again.” His words have me swallowing. “The night crowd is beginning to swarm in. This is no place for you.”

  With that, he grabs the beer I am currently sipping on and tosses it into the trash.

  I stand up and slap the bar, angry that he did that. “Hey! I wasn’t done with that. That’s a waste of my money.”

  “You are now. It’s on me anyway, so really, it’s a waste of my money.”

  “Fuck you,” I say in his face. “I don’t need someone telling me what to do. I can handle myself.”

  “Fuck you right back, baby. But even that won’t make me serve you another beer.” He nods toward the door, his eyes now dark. “Get out.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Maybe,” he says as I stand up. “But I do what I gotta do. Always have. Always will. Now get the fuck out.”

  “Fine. Thanks for the beer, bossy asshole.” Even though he said the drink was on him, I toss some cash on the bar, not wanting anything from him.

  My entire body is heated with anger as I walk out of the bar and jump into my car.

  It’s been years since I’ve allowed a man to tell me what to do, yet here I am allowing this stranger to have power over me and I don’t even know his name.

  I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, before I drive off. I don’t even realize where I’m going until I find myself sitting outside Jaxon’s old home.

  I sit here for a while, staring at the rundown house, remembering the past and trying to imagine what Jaxon must be like now that he’s a grown man.

  It has my chest aching because he will always be my best memory. The only good ones I have are filled with him, yet I know I can’t go looking for him.

  Seconds turn into minutes as I sit here, trying to calm myself down, before I head home and hope like hell that James is either gone by now or has found a new supplier to buy from.

  After dealing with that hot asshole at the bar, I need an escape more than anything now . . .

  THIS NIGHT IS GOING TO kill me if I don’t get out of this bar soon and away from the chaos of Savage & Ink.

  I’m on edge, my whole body covered in sweat as I stand out here in the cool night air, doing what I can to chill out before I kill someone.

  I’ve already slipped up and lost my temper once today, thanks to some woman I don’t even know. She’s a sassy-mouthed, sexy as hell pain in the ass.

  Leaning my head against the side of the building, I close my eyes and take another drag off my cigarette, holding it in for longer than usual before slowly releasing it.

  I swear if one more fight breaks out tonight that I have to jump in and stop, I’m going to end up breaking someone’s neck.

  This is exactly why I made her leave earlier and pissed her off. No matter how tough she may claim to be, she’ll never be ready for this shit. The last thing I need is some woman getting hurt here because she thinks she can handle these pricks.

  I’m not even ready for it half the time. Plus, I doubt she’ll be back. I’ve lived here my whole damn life and have never seen her. I’d remember if I had.

  That’s exactly why she caught my attention when I pulled my motorcycle up beside her at the light earlier. But it was her beauty and the way she was looking at me that kept me looking.

  I never for one fucking second expected her to walk into the damn bar and take a seat as if she belonged there.

  When I turned around and saw her fiery red hair, I about lost my shit right then and there. But when I got a good look at the piercing in her nose and the ink covering her right arm, I turned into one of those assholes I was wanting to protect her from.

  My cock didn’t only twitch at the sight of her, it about jumped right out of my jeans. It took a lot of restraint not to bend her over the bar right there in front of everyone.

  My entire body stiffens at the sound of glass breaking against the front of the building. I know for a fact that wasn’t a beer bottle. It sounded a lot thicker than that.

  “Damn, these assholes.”

  I crack my neck, before running a hand through my messy hair and preparing for what I’m about to do. This shit never ends up being pretty.

  Taking one more drag, I toss my cigarette against the side of the building and make my way around to the front of the bar.

  My gaze immediately lands on Blaine grabbing his dick and yelling at some insanely huge biker. “The ladies find my cock irresistible. I can’t be blamed for that shit!”

  “Cocky son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you,” the large biker growls, before coming at Blaine with a switchblade.

  Blaine just smirks and opens his jacket, revealing his two pistols. “You were saying, motherfucker?” Keeping his gaze on the big guy, he reaches into his pocket, places a cigarette between his lips and pulls out his American skull zippo.

  He’s standing there all chill and confident as he lights his smoke.

  Just as I think the situation is under control, the door opens and three guys in leather cuts matching the big guy’s, steps outside. They look ready to fight, so I say fuck it and jump right in.

  Swinging out, I connect my fist with the jaw of the closest one to me, knocking him against the building. He immediately pushes away from the wall and comes at me, tackling me into a row of motorcycles.

  Damn this shit hurts, but I do my best not to let it slow me down. If I give these assholes a chance, each and every one of them will be reaching for their weapons, ready to blow mine and Blaine’s heads off.

  I ignore the pain shooting through my side and shove my knee down onto the dude’s throat, before I reach for my pistol and aim it between his eyes.

  He might’ve thought tackling me was a good idea, but clearly, he wasn’t prepared to stumble himself.

  When I look over to my right Blaine is in a headlock, taking blows to the stomach from one guy while his legs are wrapped around big dude’s throat, squeezing him to death and yelling about how his girl loved taking his dick.

  “Everyone calm the fuck down or I’ll put a bullet right between this dickhead’s eyes,” I bark out. “Don’t test me.”

  Everyone freezes and looks my way, before finally releasing eac
h other and fighting to catch their breath.

  I place my hand on the dick’s face below me and push myself back up to my feet. He immediately begins gasping for air and mumbling fuck you under his breath.

  “Blaine is an asshole who can’t keep his dick in his pants. Next time leave your girl at home. But I’m not trying to kill or be killed over this shit. Got it?”

  Blaine jumps to his feet and spits out blood. “Hey. It’s not my fault she showed up after close last night looking for me. Fuck, being a sexy motherfucker is hard.”

  The big dude punches the building a few times letting his anger out, before he bumps Blaine back with his chest. “Touch her again and you’re dead. Next time it’ll be more than just a threat.”

  Blaine smirks as the angry biker, along with his crew, jump on their motorcycles and speed off. “I could’ve handled them myself. You didn’t have to jump in.”

  “There’s no doubt that I’ll always have your back, you’re my boy, but I’m not trying to get myself killed so you can get your dick wet.”

  He grips my shoulder. “Then what kind of friend are you?” He lifts a brow and smiles. “I’ve got a tattoo to finish up, brother. You got the bar?”

  I clench my jaw and nod my head, trying my best not to kill my friend my damn self.

  He slaps my back and walks inside.

  The next few hours seem to go by slow as shit with little to no action. But I know what I’m about to do next is going to cause a big shit storm. It always does.

  The place is full of broken bottles and wasted bikers that don’t want to leave, they never seem to, and since Blaine is wasted now, it’s up to me to get them all out.

  “Out, motherfuckers,” I shout. “Party is over. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  “Suck my dick, Jax,” Cape says before tilting his beer back and tossing a dart at the wall. He’s a big dude. Almost twice my size. “Party is over when we say it is. Plug the jukebox back in.”

  The drunken bastard really thinks I won’t shoot his ass right now to get him and his crew out of here.

  He’s mistaken. Those cuts don’t scare me. I’ve already proven that once tonight with a different crew. He’s been giving me hell all night and I’m two breaths away from snapping.