Destroying Gage (Bloody Saints MC Book 2)

by Roxanne Greening

  With a shaking hand, I grabbed her shoulder and turned her to me. Relief washed over me only to be filled with shame. It wasn’t Savanna, but it was still a woman who went through, who the fuck knows what kind of hell.

  “Help me,” she croaked.

  Her eyes were fused closed as they were so swollen. My chest constricted. I couldn’t leave her here.

  “Save my baby,” she whispered painfully.

  My eyes darted to her stomach. There was a very slight roundness to it. If she hadn’t told me, I would never have known. It was literally the only unmarred spot on her body.

  “I’ve got you,” I tell her as I look for some way to get her to my car. It was only a few feet away, but could I carry her? I wasn’t so sure. I might have to drag her.

  My eyes went to the trunk of my car. I had a go bag in there. An “oh, shit, I need to get the fuck out now” bag.

  She needed clothes, something to cover her and give her some damn dignity.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell her gently.

  “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried weakly.

  “I’m not leaving you here, I promise,” I tell her as I climb to my feet. Rushing to the car, I popped the truck listening as the latch released.

  I quickly unzipping the bag, and I all but ripped it open as I dove inside of it. I had a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a matching soft t-shirt. Pulling them out, I closed the truck quietly.

  Scanning the alley again, I made sure we haven’t drawn attention. I ran back to the girl and lifted her up by her shoulders.

  “I’m going to put these clothes on you. I need a little help, though, can you do it?” I asked, keeping my tone light. As if seeing her damn near death was nothing. I didn’t want to terrify her any more than she was.

  Pushing the sleeves up her arms, I tugged the top over her head and gently lifted it over her exposed breasts. My eyes once again darted to her slight bump.

  “Good,” I praised her. “Let’s get these pants on. You’ll feel so much better.”

  I knew that I would if I was her out her naked. Although, what the fuck did I know. Maybe nakedness was the last thing from her mind.

  I lifted one leg then her other. I put her feet through the leg holes then pulled the material slowly up her legs. There were cuts and bruises all over her white skin.

  More tears filled my eyes. My heart was literally bleeding for her, and the memories of why I left were knocking, begging to be free.

  His wife looked like this when they… no stop. This woman needs me, I can’t go back there.

  She lifted her hips, and I gave a quick tug and sighed when she was covered. I then slipped one arm under her legs and the other behind her back. I winced as she hissed.

  I tried to lift her. I gave it my all, even grunting with the effort. But let’s face it, I wasn’t raised to be strong, and I never found the time or felt safe enough to go to the gym.

  “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to drag you to my car,” I tell her, my voice was fighting the tears that wanted to escape. I didn’t want her to know that I was crying. She needed me to be strong for her.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  It wasn’t, and we both knew it. I grabbed her arms and looked behind me. Thank fuck for the grass! We would only be on the black tar for maybe a foot before we reached my car.

  I started to tug and gave it my all. I wasn’t leaving her behind. ‘Save her’ was currently chanted over and over in my head. Once we reached the tar, I cringed. This was going to hurt.

  “I’m going to let go so I can open the car door,” I paused and swallowed before I told her about the pain to come. “There’s about a foot of pavement between you and my car.”

  She nodded gently. We both knew what was coming, and she accepted it. I promised myself this was the last time someone would hurt her. I would do what I couldn’t do and what I haven’t done for Savanna. I was going to protect and save her from whatever and whoever did this.

  For the first time, the gun resting in the holster at my back had a better purpose. I was going to save us both.

  Chapter 5

  Ronnie

  Two Years Ago.

  I dreamed of a future with freedom from the forced, elegant life that I had. Not once in my short time of freedom did I feel as free as I did at this moment.

  The fact that it was because of this poor battered woman made me feel like shit. She deserved more than my misplaced gratitude.

  Her whimpers made my eyes tear up. I had no idea what she had been through, not really. My imagination had gone wild with all the possibilities.

  Her jaw was so swollen she couldn’t talk, and her eyes were still swollen, but she could at least see through small slits.

  She’s vomited and barely kept any of the liquid protein shakes that I was trying to force down her throat. I cringed at the memory of how I had to drag her into the house.

  The blanket that I collected from inside helped to protect her abused flesh. I hated every moment, and every pull on that blanket.

  I was thankful for the privacy that I had gotten by living in this tiny town. My house was shaded by trees, and my driveway was longer than any of the others.

  This house was a shit hole when I bought it a few months ago. I sanded the floors, painted the walls, and used cheap stick down tiles in the kitchen and the bathroom.

  I was constantly watching DIY shows, trying to learn how to do all of this. Each update, each drop of sweat, every tear of discomfort was worth it. I’ve never in my old life done any of this.

  I would have been a breeder, a fucking broodmare, and nothing more. Just arm candy that kept her mouth shut and probably would have been a shell of myself. Lost in the sea of pain. Sometimes I wondered how long it would have taken for him to break me.

  The thought of Savanna’s beautiful face framed by her long straight hair made my heart clench. My eyes went back to the broken girl on the couch, which was the furthest she made it in the house. I hope she will be able to move a little more on her own so I can get her into a bed.

  “I wish I could do more for you,” I whispered as I sat on the floor with gauze, medical tape, alcohol swabs, and anti-bacterial cream scattered out in front of her.

  Peeling back the gauze bandage on her shoulder, I cringed at the stitches that I could see. I remember her shudders and harsh whimpers as I pierced her skin with a needle closing the wound. I was so damn thankful I only had to stitch a few cuts on her body.

  The bruises were lightening up a little, not that it helped. The dark purple marks had me originally fearing she was maybe internally bleeding.

  I have been looking online for all the ways that I could medically help her. Short of taking her to the hospital, something I know I should have done and shame filled me. I didn’t take her for more selfish reasons.

  What if they asked too many questions? Zec would find me. But then there was a less selfish reason. What if the person or persons that did this found her there? She would be helpless. I knew the bad guys got to people in the hospital more than they should, and more than people knew.

  Her lips moved, and air passed through her lips. I leaned over, trying to keep myself from touching or putting pressure on her. I was hoping to catch whatever she was saying.

  “Thank you…” she whispered, before swallowing hard.

  “Don’t thank me. Anyone would have done this,” it was a lie, and we both knew it.

  Another swallow and then her lips were moving again.

  “Did I bleed down there,” her words were fearful.

  My eyes darted to where she was talking about, and a frown forced a v between my eyes. Was she worried about getting blood on the furniture? Hell, she was bleeding everywhere.

  Then it hit me. Oh god, my eyes widened so much they burned. I’m not sure if she did while they were doing whatever it was that they did. I knew for a fact she didn’t while she was in my care.

  “Sweetie, I don’t know about before, but I
can assure you that you haven’t since I found you.”

  Her lips trembled, and I hated that I couldn’t reassure her one hundred percent. My eyes once again went to her lower stomach, which was covered by the blanket. One of her hands were now pressed to her abdomen.

  “I wish I could put clothes on you, but right now you need too much care.”

  She nodded slightly as tears tracked down her cheeks in clear heated rivers. Was the baby okay? Once again, I hated myself for not taking her to the hospital. I was no savior, I was just another monster.

  Chapter 6

  Ronnie

  One Year and Five Months Ago.

  I’ve been watching her as the months passed. The swell of her stomach always made me smile. All the bruises have faded, but her body had scars that would always be a reminder of what she went through.

  I haven’t asked her yet. I was waiting for her to come to me, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know what we possibly faced.

  I thought we had freedom and peace, but what if she was being hunted like me? We needed to get the fuck out of here if that was the case. We’ve been sitting ducks waiting to be picked off.

  She was sitting on the very couch she fought to survive. Her eyes looked into mine, and the smile fell from her lips into a frown.

  “Do we have to do this?” Her voice held pain, sorrow, and she shook with fear.

  “Yes, not only will it help you, but I need to know what we’re facing.”

  “Nothing. No one is looking for me,” she said firmly.

  “And you know this how?” I ask her, my voice held a bite to it that had her wincing. My heart tugged. I didn’t want to talk to her like this.

  “Because the only person who cared about me, only cared about her next high. Not the people who held me captive. They only wanted to hurt someone who couldn’t care less what happened to me,” she whispered, her voice started out strong, but the hitches and pain that laced through it had forced her to whisper the last eight words.

  “Please, Maria? Talking about what happened to you will make you feel better,” I begged her.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened to you?” She asked, already knowing that I won’t.

  “That’s what I thought,” she sighed while standing up. Her over-sized stomach made the task harder than normal.

  “I need to find a place to live.”

  My eyes went from her stomach to her face. She wanted to leave? I had more than enough space for her here.

  “You don’t need to leave,” I tell her gently.

  “It’s not just for me but for my son.”

  “What about work? Money?” I asked her.

  “I’ll start looking. Its time I learn to stand on my own. We’ll still be friends if I move out, right?”

  My throat closed at the thought of being alone again. I didn’t realize how alone I was until I found Maria.

  “Always,” I tell her all choked up.

  Chapter 7

  Gage

  One Year and Three Months Ago.

  It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Crow. A few days after our last visit, I was transferred to another prison. I learned why really fucking quickly. The warden of the prison had blood knuckle fighting, and high-end bidders came to watch us fight in the cage.

  Just a few select prisons participated, and I started to compose a list. When I got out of this shit hole, I was going to hunt down every motherfucking warden that participated.

  These matches often got brutal. The bloodier, the better and some didn’t make it. It was kill or be killed, but not all matches were that way.

  To make shit worse, they weren’t just killing each other in the cage. We had to watch our backs in our own damn cells.

  The man in the cell next to mine convinced his cellmate to let him choke him. Thank fuck he wasn’t my cellmate, the stupid fucker played right into the ice man’s hands.

  The guy convinced him that he would just choke until he passed out. The poor sucker thought of the big check he would get, and possible time being shaved off his sentence only to be choked over and over.

  He kept going back to his body to make sure he wasn’t breathing. That was Ice man’s cellmate number two since I’ve been in this particular hell hole.

  The last one he beat to death because his voice annoyed him. Ice Man put his body in his bed, and it took the guards all fucking day to figure out what the rest of us knew. He was dead.

  Yet the ice man still got to stay here in low security. Not once was he thrown in the hole.

  The men cheered and the stench of old and new blood perfumed the air. My opponent screamed as I pulled his hand back and snapped his wrist.

  I was becoming someone that I didn’t recognize. The thought of pain, the blood, and screams of others had excitement coursing through my blood humming like a drug.

  This was an addiction at its best. I was no stranger to killing people. Fuck, I’ve tortured people with a smile on my face. But putting inmates against each other for rich fucks enjoyment, that was something else entirely.

  My soul was darkening and turning black. Honestly, my heart was already black and hard as stone. I held the fucker that I was currently fighting by the hair on his head. My fist planted on his face repeatedly, and my knees pressed harder into the cold blood-soaked floor.

  Fresh blood started to mix, again, with the old. His whimpers died down, and now there was nothing but the sound of flesh connecting with flesh. The noise of the betters hummed in the background.

  This man now looked more like abused meat than human. He had a family, though, and I was going to kill him.

  It was him or me, so I felt no remorse. Not one moment of could I do this. There was no hesitation. The fight started, and we tore at each other like animals who haven’t fed in days.

  The sound of the bell had me releasing a deep breath. My fingers unlatched from his blood-soaked hair, and he hit the ground with a wet squelch.

  Sweat continued to drop down my forehead. I wiped it away with my hand, causing the blood to splatter on my face. The blood soaked my hands and spread over my face like some fucked up makeup.

  I stood there and just looked down at the man I just killed. The inmate was, unfortunately, handed the short end of the deal when he found himself in this prison.

  He died in a riot or so the report will read. He probably could blackmail the warden with some bullshit. But, the fucker had no chance.

  Chapter 8

  Ronnie

  One Year and Three Months Ago.

  It was no big secret that Maria had money saved. I knew that, but her struggle to live normal kept her working. She told me she liked to pretend that the money wasn’t there.

  I lifted another box and put it in the pickup truck that we rented. Maria didn’t have much here, so there was no need for a U-Haul. The little house we found wasn’t around here, but that was only a small relief.

  There was going to come a time when I had to choose between running alone and telling her the truth and begging her to come with me. She was my family, my sister. My heart constricted as an image of Savanna filled my mind.

  She was safe for now but for how long? I needed to get her out of there, but I haven’t figured out how to do that yet. Hell, what if she didn’t want to go? Life on the run was hard.

  The sound of Shawn squawking had a small smile form on my face. I was smitten with the little cutie. The moment those beautiful eyes opened and met mine, I was lost.

  “I’ll get him,” I told Maria.

  Her eyes misted as she nodded. Whoever the father was, she still loved him. Whatever happened didn’t destroy the feelings that swallowed her whole. Sometimes I could hear her crying as she begged for a second chance.

  I was going to find out who he was as soon as I got her settled in her new place. I was going to share a small amount of my past in exchange for Shawn’s father’s identity. I needed to know why she refused to call him.

  My heart swelled as I reache
d into the tiny car seat, which was a favorite of his. For some reason, Shawn slept better strapped into this thing then in a bed or anywhere else.

  Unclipping the harness, I gently pulled his arms out of the straps. Then I slid one hand under his butt while the other went behind his head to cradle him.

  Like a pro, I pulled him up and rested him against my shoulder, making soothing ‘sssshhh’ sounds near his ear. My cheek rested on his head, and his soft downy hair caressed my skin.

  I remembered the first time I held this little boy. I was terrified I was going to break him. He was so small, and he weighed nothing. Only seven pounds and two ounces. The doctor had said that it was a good weight. He measured a twenty and a half inches long. Not that you would know that since his tiny legs stayed bent and close to his stomach.

  “I’ve got you, sweet baby,” I tell him as I rocked him back and forth over and over. My hips swayed while his head rested on my shoulder. The cries turned to little whimpers and then silence.

  I continued to sway back and forth while my eyes closed. Memories came of me dancing in the garden along the stone path by our house. There were roses of all colors surrounding me.

  In these moments, I felt like a fairy drifting through fairyland, a type of utopia. A place where I was free of the chain’s that bound me. Even at seven, I knew what the future held for me.

  I witnessed so many times where women were given to men of varying ages. Some even thirty years there senior. I knew my fate could be just as bad.

  I remember as the years past, the understanding of what might happen to me in the future. The women who were married off would come to visit with their husbands as husks of their former selves.

  Some were bruised while others looked empty. One stood out the most. She hated her life and refused to let it break her. My aunt was one hell of a woman.

  The last time I had seen her, she grabbed my shoulders and told me to run. She said to find a way and get out of here. I was sixteen, and the reality of it all had already settled into my bones.