by K. L. Savage
PIRATE
RUTHLESS KINGS MC BOOK 6
K.L. SAVAGE
Contents
Author’s note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Epilogue
Surprise Scene
Acknowledgments
Want More Of The Ruthless Kings
COPYRIGHT© 2020 PIRATE BY KL SAVAGE
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. PIRATE is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.
ISBN: 978-1-952500-13-8
PHOTOGRAPHY BY WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPY
COVER MODEL: ZACK SALAUN
COVER DESIGN: LORI JACKSON DESIGNS
Editing and Formatting: MASQUE OF THE RED PEN
SECOND EDITION PRINT 2020
Created with Vellum
To everyone struggling with alcoholism and addiction and the people at their side seeing them through it. It takes an unwavering strength to beat your own battles. Never forget how strong you really are.
And to Lisa B. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Author’s note
According to the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, alcohol is the 3rd leading cause of death in the United States, which is around 88,000 people a year.
Please, don't be a part of that statistic.
Fighting any type of personal battle isn't easy. The journey to find yourself again can seem never ending and while some roads are longer than others, be proud of yourself that you're walking down the path to bettering who you are.
Battling the beast isn’t easy, but nothing good in life is.
Don't give up on yourself; it’s the worst thing anyone can do.
You are loved.
You are not alone.
Seek help. Seek guidance.
There are always people willing to support you.
All you have to do is reach out. Take that first step.
It’s the most difficult but it will also end up being the most rewarding.
PROLOGUE
PATRICK
PATRICK
Thirteen-years-old
I hear a lot of terrible stories at school about kids who get hurt by their parents—their personal brand of monster. Teachers whisper about the children too. It’s always, “How do the parents not know their uncle was abusing their child?” and “It’s usually always a family member.”
Well.
It isn’t this time.
The monster who took me and my little sister off the street walking home from school is a stranger to me. I’ve never seen him before in my life. He’s older, middle-aged, big guy, and he throws one hell of a punch.
I groan, lifting my hand to my head and flip over onto my back, blinking away the blur. It’s dark, damp, and there’s water dripping in the background. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my eyes. My head is throbbing where that damn guy hit me.
“Where the fuck?” My voice cracks as I look around, confused and scared when I see that I’m in a chamber of some sort. The bars remind me of the dungeons in the video games I play.
“You said a bad word, bubba.”
The high-pitch sound of my sister’s voice has me snapping into big brother mode. “Macy!” I grab onto the iron bars and pull myself into a standing position to see my seven-year-old sister in the cell across from me. “Macy, are you hurt? Are you okay?” I can hardly see her. Her curly blonde hair is out of its braids, and her pink dress is filthy, but I can’t see her face.
God, don’t let her be hurt. I’ll never forgive myself. I’m supposed to take care of Macy. I have to protect her. I let that guy take us. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were just walking and… He came out of nowhere. I didn’t have time to react.
“I’m okay,” she says in her tiny voice. “Are you okay?” Her tone increases, and I know she’s on the verge of tears.
“Oh, that’s good, Macy. I’m so glad that you’re okay. The man is bad. Don’t talk to him, understand me? Don’t talk to him.”
“I’m scared, bubba.”
“Everything will be okay, Macy.”
“Why did he take us? I’m always a good girl, bubba.”
I lean my head against the metal and do my best not to lose it. She’s so little. She doesn’t understand shit like this yet. She believes in Santa and unicorns. She thinks if she doesn’t eat her veggies, the evil veggie man will come and take her away. My eyes burn, and I squeeze the bars in my hand so hard I feel the edges of the metal break my skin.
“I don’t know, Macy. I don’t know why he took us. This man can’t be trusted. He takes kids like us because he likes it. Did he hurt you when he took us, Macy? I need you to be honest with me.”
“No. He gave me a sucker while you slept.”
“Don’t ever take anything from him again!” I roar and push my face between the gaps of the cell. “Do you understand, Macy? He isn’t good. You can’t trust anything he gives you.”
“I won’t anymore. I promise,” she says. “You’re scaring me, bubba. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.” The small edge of the control she has snaps, and she starts to wail.
“I know. I’m going to get us out of here, okay? I’m going to get us out.” I sniffle and wipe my nose on my shirt sleeve. “I love you, Macy. You just … you gotta stay strong for me, okay? I can’t do it without you. You’re the muscle, remember? I need you to be brave.”
“You can count on me, bubba.”
“I know I can.” I hiccup. I don’t have the heart to tell her I have no idea how to get us out. The room is small, split in half by these cages. The bars look like they are driven into the ground, and the wall behind me is made of stone.
I won’t let that stop me. I’m getting my sister out of here. I don’t care about me. Macy is who matters. I pat and rub the stone, checking for any that are loose. When that fails, I try the bars again, pulling and pushing against them to check for any weaknesses.
Nothing.
“Fuck!”
“Bubba, you can’t say bad words.”
“You’re right, Macy, but this situation calls for them.” My brows crease when I see something etched in the stone. I get closer, tilt my head, and run my fingers down the lines. “Tallies,” I sa
y to myself, so Macy doesn’t hear me. I follow the marks, counting five, ten, fifteen, forty, sixty, hundred, and they keep going. I continue to trail them, walking along the edge of where the wall meets the dirt, and soon the tallies change from the color white to a patchy red.
When they come to an end, something is sticking out of the indent in the wall. I lift my hand and pluck it out, then lift it into the air. I squint my eyes, trying to make out what it is. It’s sharp, jagged, dirty and old. I cock my head, and realization dawns on me. I drop it as fast as I can and smash it into the ground.
A fingernail.
We aren’t the first people here. Something tells me we won’t be the last.
“What was that, bubba?”
“A bug,” I lie.
“Aw, you killeded it,” she scolds me.
I love when she adds an extra ‘ed’ to words. It’s adorable, even if it is wrong. I never have the heart to correct her.
“I—” I’m cut off by the jingle of the door handle. “Get back, Macy. Get back. Huddle in the corner.” I know that won’t help, but I don’t even want this guy to see her when he walks in the room. The first face he will see is mine.
The door swings open, and metal smashes against the stone. Dust flies in the air. And the guy is standing in the middle of the doorway, unmoving.
“What do you want?” I ask him. “What the hell do you want with me and my sister?” I shout, but he doesn’t look my way.
His focus is on Macy.
I follow his line of sight and jerk my head to him again. “You won’t touch her! You son-of-a-bitch! Take me instead. Leave her alone!” my scream echoes off the dungeon walls, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You sick fuck. Look at me! Look at me. I’m who you want. Take me. Do whatever you want to me. Leave her alone. She’s little. She’s so damn little. Don’t hurt her,” I plead with the monster. I don’t know what else to do.
He’s silent.
“Fucking look at me!” I yell until spit flies from my mouth. Macy is crying in the background, and when he finally gives me his attention, his cold glare almost has me taking a step back.
Almost.
I won’t back down.
He reaches behind his pocket and grabs a Barbie doll as he takes two steps in front of Macy’s cell and kneels. The stranger doesn’t say anything as he inserts the Barbie through the gap, and Macy comes out of her corner.
“Is that for me?” she asks him, and he nods eagerly, his filthy hair hanging like strings in his face.
“Macy, don’t,” I warn her. “Don’t take anything from him, remember?”
But she doesn’t listen. It’s a damn Barbie doll. Of course, she wants it. She curls her small fingers around the doll and takes it from him. He uses the opportunity to wrap his hand around her wrist and tug her until she’s flush with the bars.
“Bubba!” she cries out for me and tries to yank her hand away, but the guy seems to hold on tighter.
“Let her go, you sick bastard! Let her go. Take me!” I grunt as I try to pull the bars from the ground or bend them in half by some damn miracle, but they don’t budge.
“Pretty,” the man finally says and brings his other hand through the hole of the cage and touches her face.
“Don’t you dare.” I lift my leg and kick the metal blocking me from saving Macy. I punch too, slamming my fist against the bars. They don’t even shake, but my bones do. I feel the force of every hit through my entire body. “I’ll kill you if you touch her. I’ll kill you!”
He ignores me, which only pisses me off further.
I run my hands through my hair and yank on the strands from stress. I don’t know what to do. I can’t get to her. “Macy, don’t talk to him, okay?” A last-ditch effort to try to help. No matter what I do, Macy is in danger. What else can I do?
The stranger finally lets her go and gets to his feet, stomping his big body closer to me. His face catches the light coming through the door, and when he’s close enough to the bars, the smell of beer smacks me in the face. I only know what it smells like because my dad drinks it. The man has shiny cheeks, dirty with oil, and his teeth are yellow. He sneers, licking the front of his teeth with his tongue.
“What do you want?” I ask, a bit more pathetic and weaker than I’d like to sound. I’m scared.
He cocks his head and narrows his brown eyes as he looks me up and down. Right as I take a step away, he snakes his hand through the bars and wraps it around my throat. He squeezes. Hard. I can’t breathe. He lifts me off my feet, and I claw at the tops of his hands, digging my nails in his skin. I choke and gasp. My face heats from the blood in my head, and I try to knock his hands away.
I can’t.
“Her,” he finally answers and jerks his arm toward himself. My head smacks against the iron keeping me away from Macy.
He lets me go, and I crumble to the ground. It’s hard to breathe. My vision swims. Everything is blurry. I turn to my side to see him open the cell to get Macy.
“Macy,” I slur and try to crawl to her, but I can’t bend my fingers. It’s too hard to stay conscious.
“Bubba!” her murderous scream pierces my heart.
I try again to move, but darkness is creeping around the corner of my eyes.
“Bubba! Bubba!”
I roll to my side and groan and lift my head as he drags Macy out of her cell.
“Leave her alone.” My words come out broken and slow. It’s a whisper. I still can’t manage to get air after he choked me. The spot on my forehead that hit the metal bars is bleeding, and I’m starting to feel sick. “Macy,” I manage to say her name and claw my fingers in the dirt to drag myself an inch closer to the gate.
“Bubba! Help me, bubba.”
She screams as he slaps her across the face.
“Take me!” I cry to him, tears running down my face as he blatantly ignores me. I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear a tearing of clothes.
“Bubba! Patrick!” her small voice is calling for me as the stranger hurts her.
Clarity forms. Adrenaline replaces the threat of unconsciousness, and now I’m wide awake. “God, leave her alone! Please, leave her alone. Take me. Kill me! Leave her be,” I sob and press my hands against my eyes as I hear the horrible things he is doing to her. “Please, stop. I’ll do anything!” My palms bleed as I hold onto the metal for dear life to try to hoist myself up. “You sick fuck, I’m offering myself. Let her go!”
“Bubba, why won’t you help me?”
I open my eyes to see her fighting him, clawing his face, slapping his chest, but I know in my heart it’s pointless.
Silence.
Nothing.
It’s too quiet.
“Macy?” I roar until my voice breaks. “Macy, answer me. Macy!”
The gate of her cell swings open, and the man has her thrown over his shoulder.
“What did you do to my sister? I’m going to fucking kill you when I get out of here. I’m going to kill you!”
Instead of answering me, he tosses her body in front of me and walks out the door.
When I realize what he has done, I fall to the side and throw up. “Macy,” I sob, clutching my stomach. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry.” My vision is a blur from tears. I blink them away and hurry over to her and reach my hand through the metal bars and shake her body. “Come on, wake up, Macy. I can’t do this without you. Wake up!” I beg her, but the deepest part of me knows she is never going to wake up again. Her eyes are open, staring into dead space. Her neck is bent in a weird position, and her bright blue eyes are gone; only black remains.
“Please.” I shake her one last time and then fall to the floor, pounding the ground with my fists. This can’t be happening. My sister could not have died this way. She’s too young. I need her. She’s my best friend. “Please wake up.” I don’t know if it’s her or me I’m speaking to. Maybe I’m having a nightmare from watching one too many scary movies. That has to be it. This is just a bad dream.
&nb
sp; But when I hear his footsteps come back and see a shovel in his hand as he enters the room, I know the only nightmare here is him. This is reality. My reality. My sister is dead, and he … he… I can’t even think it. I gag and puke again, but nothing comes out. It’s just spit and stomach bile, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
If he thinks I’m going to sit here and wait for him to decide what to do with me, he has another thing coming. I’m going to get out of here. I’m taking my sister’s body with me because she deserves more than being buried in a damn torture chamber. I’m going to lock this guy in his own dungeon.
Death is too easy of an escape for him.
He deserves a life of torment for what he did to Macy.
Macy.
I hold back another sob. I’ll never see her laugh again. Her little hand will never hold mine as I walk her to and from school. She’ll never look at me like I’m her hero. I felt that way, for a long time, but not today. I’m no hero, especially to her.
I couldn’t save her.
Heroes save everyone, and people who are weak, fail.
That’s what I am. I’m a failure.
So instead of laying here and shutting up, giving a shit about my life, I taunt him. “You’ve had your fill? Don’t you want me? Come on, you sick, twisted, ugly bastard. You still have a body here. What? Am I not young enough?” I stand on shaky legs and sway. Blood from my forehead blinds me, and I wipe the wetness away from my eyes. “You took me for a reason; what was it?”