by Lane Hart
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2019 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved.
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Edited by Angela Snyder
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WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18. PLEASE NOTE THAT IT CONTAINS VIOLENT SCENES THAT MAY BE A TRIGGER FOR INDIVIDUALS WHO HAVE BEEN IN SIMILAR SITUATIONS.
Synopsis
I never thought I would be stupid enough to make a deal with the devil, but here I am doing just that.
It's not like he really gave me a choice. I have to give the Governor what he wants, or he's going to throw all of my Savage Kings MC brothers into prison for decades.
And what exactly does Governor Satan need from me? That's the real kicker because he's insisting that I...date his daughter. No, not just date her. He wants me to convince Isobel to stop spiraling out of control before she ends up dead, or worse - ruin her father's chance at getting re-elected.
I have no clue why his beautiful wild child is partying her way through life, crossing off items on a mile-long bucket list, and I don't really care. Somehow, someway, I have to convince her to put down roots and go back to being the picture-perfect good girl her father raised.
As if I'm not in deep enough, I've never wanted anyone more than the free-spirit who refuses to spend her short life standing in one place for too long. Too bad Isobel is going to hate my guts when she finds out I'm the asshole who has to lock her back up in a cage.
And if I fail to do so, well, there won't be an orange jumpsuit waiting for me. I'll never make it to prison because the Governor dug up all my dirt that I thought I had carefully buried.
If he tells the Kings that I started prospecting with them as a DEA rat ten years ago, they'll never forgive me.
How could they when I still haven't forgiven myself?
Prologue
Sax
Twelve years ago…
“Hi, Mrs. Neil. This is Sax. Is April there?” I ask when her mother answers the phone.
“Sax?” Mrs. Neil replies with a hitch in her voice. “Oh, Saxon, I’m so sorry. Of course you haven’t heard,” she trails off as she begins to sob.
An incredible pressure builds in my chest as someone else takes the phone and the crying grows more distant. “Saxon?” a male voice I recognize as April’s father says.
“Mr. Neil? Yeah, this is Sax. I didn’t hear from April yesterday over Valentine’s Day, and I just wanted to call and check in on her. I didn’t want to be pushy; I know we agreed to see other people while I’m out here at school, but…”
“Saxon, listen,” Mr. Neil interrupts me. “April…April passed away last night. Her mother and I are making arrangements for her memorial, once her autopsy…” his voice trails off in a harsh sob as I slowly lower myself to the foot of the twin bed in my dorm, beyond stunned.
Did he just say…he just said April passed away? That’s why she hasn’t returned my calls?
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “I-I’m so sorry, sir. Wha-what happened?” My voice breaks as tears flood my eyes, and a hot wave of anguish chokes my throat.
“We’re not entirely sure yet,” Mr. Neil replies after a few moments. “The police showed up here last night and told us that they were called out to some bar…where they found April. The doctors are saying it was an overdose, but we just don’t know.” He pauses to blow his nose while I let all of that information sink in. “Saxon, if you’ll excuse me, I know how close you and April were. I’ll let you know as soon as we find out more. For now, I-I need to go, son.”
“Of course, sir,” I manage to squeak out. I hear the line disconnect just before a hitching sob rips through me, completely incapacitating me. My lungs must have shrunken in my chest, refusing to expand while my heart crumbles around them.
How could April possibly be dead? She and I were good together for two years until last fall when I got accepted to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill on a football scholarship. It was only a few hours away, but she had convinced me we should try to see other people until she graduated and could join me. I had agreed, not wanting to pressure her, but had given her a promise ring, which she always wore when I was home visiting. We were planning to have a future together some day…
I knew she had been on some dates with other guys, just like I had hung out with a few other women. I had never known her to do any sort of drugs, though, and had no idea how she could have suffered an overdose.
When I can finally breathe normally again, I throw a few things into my backpack and grab my helmet, determined to ride my old Honda Magna bike all the way back to Emerald Isle tonight.
***
The next few days pass in a hazy blur of tears intermixed with periods of the most horrifying loneliness I had ever known. April’s parents were finally able to get more details about her death, which they shared with me when they called to tell me about her memorial.
She died on the floor of some shithole biker bar called the Savage Asylum, run by a group of local trailer trash that called themselves the Savage Kings. She had died after ingesting some sort of tainted methamphetamine, which the bikers had no doubt supplied her. The police made some unrelated arrests for the drugs, but nothing, not a damn thing, has been done about April’s death!
I’ve been so wracked with grief leading up to her memorial that I haven’t yet had time to get angry. That all changed during the course of the viewing at the funeral home.
“What the hell are they doing here?” I growl at my friend Tony. Tony and I had played football together in high school and graduated together. April’s memorial is the first time I’ve seen him since leaving town.
“Who are you talking about, man?” Tony asks me to clarify.
I jerk my head over towards her silver casket where three men in dark jeans and button up shirts, wearing leather vests, are standing over April. The back of two of the vests are emblazoned with the logo of those goddamned bikers, the Savage Kings.
“Oh, you don’t remember him?” Tony asks. “That skinny guy in the prospect vest is Chase Fury. I don’t know who the military dudes with him are, though. I haven’t seen them around before.”
“April died inside their fucking club from drugs they probably gave her. I ought to go over there and beat the shit out of those bastards right now!”
“Dude, Sax, that’s a really bad idea,” Tony says as he puts a hand on my arm. “Those guys would kill you. Look man,” he continues as I shrugged his hand off of me, “I didn’t want to lay a bunch of shit on you right now, but April…man, she changed after you left. I get why you’re pissed at those guys, but you have to understand, your girl was running around and getting into all kinds of shit.”
“What are you talking about? What kind of shit?” I demand, turning back to Tony.
“I’m not here to talk trash on a dead girl,” Tony defers softly, raising his hands to pacify me. “I’m just saying that it ain’t like those dudes held a pipe to
her lips, you know?”
“You’re not helping, man,” I say on a sigh as I rub my swollen eyes. “I shouldn’t have left town. If I had just…if I had just put off college for another year and stayed around for her, she would still be alive.”
“Aw, man, you can’t know that,” Tony starts to say before I interrupt.
“I do know that! This shit wouldn’t have happened if I had been here for her. But it did happen. I can’t make it right, but I can promise April and her family this: I’m going to get back at those bastards. I’m going to show everyone what they are, and what they did to her. They walk around this town calling themselves fucking ‘Kings’. When I’m done with them, people will remember them for the scum they truly are.”
Chapter One
Sax
Present day…
I’ve never been tortured, but I’m pretty sure nothing could be worse than having an angry cat slice its razor blade claws down your bare chest while you’re sleeping.
“What in the ever-loving fuck, Willy!” I yell as I jackknife into a sitting position to assess the damage he just did to my sternum. The little shit has already disappeared when I lift my chain necklace to see if his claws went deep enough to make me bleed.
Thanks to the sunlight streaming in through the port windows, I watch as two sets of red streaks slowly appear on my skin, burning like hellfire.
“Now I know exactly how you lost your eyeball,” I grumble to myself.
“W-what?” the naked brunette curled up beside me asks groggily without opening her eyes.
“Nothing. Go back to–” I start to tell her to go back to sleep when I finally hear what obviously sent the evil pussy running for his life.
Barking dogs.
A whole pack of them judging by the chorus growing louder every second.
My boat isn’t out to sea, but I am docked at the marina. I have no idea why someone would have a bunch of dogs out here so early in the morning.
“DEA! Come out slowly with your hands behind your head!”
Son of a motherfucking whore.
“Oh shit!” my companion says when she scrambles out of the bed and ducks down beside the mattress.
Are the feds actually coming after the Savage Kings for a few pounds of marijuana? Okay, fine, maybe I’ve hauled more than a few pounds of weed along with a few large, military-grade firearms. The exact weight of the plants would probably be closer to tons by now. Still, the shit’s been legalized in about a dozen states, so it doesn’t really make sense why they would give a shit.
I would call the guys to give them a heads-up except my cheap flip cell phone loses signal as soon as you drive into the gates of the marina. Guess the Kings are shit out of luck until I’m given my one phone call in jail. I just hope I don’t see them all sitting in lockup first.
Since I don’t want the fed assholes barging down here into the galley where some newbie with his finger on the trigger can easily blow my head off along with my not too bright guest’s, I quickly grab a white wrinkled Savage Kings t-shirt from the floor to throw over my head, then pull on a worn pair of jeans over my boxer briefs.
“Get up and put some clothes on!” I tell last night’s distraction, unable to remember her name at the moment. I’m pretty sure it starts with an L. Maybe. Not that it matters because I won’t be sleeping with her again. First of all, it’s impossible for my heart to get severed again if I stick to my strict one-night stand only policy; and secondly, if the feds have me surrounded, then I’m guessing my nights may not be free for a few months, or hell, years.
Thankfully, the girl listens to me. She quickly redresses in her slutty red halter dress that she was wearing last night when I picked her up at the bar.
“Keep your hands where they can see them, don’t make any sudden movements, and just do whatever they say, okay?” I tell her in a rush, and her brown rat’s nest bobs, giving me a nod of understanding. “Let’s go.”
Even though the booming voice told me to come up with my hands on my head, I hold them straight up in the air, palms empty so they can be sure I’m not armed just before my head clears the deck.
Standing in front of my boat on the wooden dock are four guys in suits with their handguns pointed in our direction and another four in black utility uniforms. Each of those men are holding a dog leash that’s threatening to snap thanks to the surging, growling, barking German Shepherds on each of the ends.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” my latest regret is chanting over and over from behind me. I don’t even swivel my neck around to see if she’s following my orders, afraid to make any sudden movements.
“What’s going on?” I shout over the noise.
“Saxon Cole, you’re under arrest!” one of the gun-toting dickheads yells loud enough to be heard over the ear-splitting raucous. “We also have a warrant to search your boat!” Slipping his gun into his shoulder holster, he pulls out a folded sheet of paper from the inside of his suit jacket.
“Let her off the boat,” I say with a tip of my head behind me. “She just met me last night and doesn’t know anything.”
With a nod, the fed holding the papers waves the girl over to the dock; and she scurries off my boat and huddles in his arms. Then she has the nerve to glare at me like I’m now some kind of villain. Hell, she was the one who put my hand between her bare legs in the bar last night and asked if I wanted to get out of there.
“So what the fuck am I accused of doing?” I bellow at the fed as I lower my hands to the back of my head as he originally requested.
“Somebody cuff him and then let the dogs search,” I hear him order, ignoring my question. “No surprise they’ve already caught the scent of drugs.”
“I’ll save you boys some time,” I reply. “There are no drugs on my boat. But there is a half-feral cat in the galley. He’s a mean little thunder cunt who will gladly claw your dogs’ eyeballs out,” I warn the idiots because it would be a mistake if they corner the feisty feline.
As if he answers to the vulgar name, Willy comes barreling up the stairs beside me, skidding as his claws attempt to dig into the slick deck floor. The barking goes from annoying to deafening with his sudden appearance. As if fearing for his life, Willy scrambles up onto the side of the boat and then launches himself through the air and onto the vacant yacht sitting next to my boat.
The drug dogs are then tugging their handlers in the direction of the feline.
I consider taking advantage of the distraction, trying to make a run for the control room just around the corner to start up the engine. But if these fuckers shoot up my boat, I won’t get very far before it sinks. And if they shoot me, well, I doubt anyone else would adopt Willy once I was gone. God help them if they tried.
Deciding there was really no reason to attempt to flee, I simply say, “Told you so,” to the guy I assume is in charge when another one steps onto the boat with me and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he starts, reading me my Miranda rights. I’m pretty sure this means I’m still fucked, even though they won’t find shit during their search.
***
I’m not sure how long the government pricks keep me waiting in a cement dungeon with nothing but a cot harder than a boulder and a foul-smelling toilet, but I’m guessing it’s around eight to ten hours, judging by my stomach.
The first few hours it growled, hungry for something to eat while I waited for someone, anyone, to come tell me what the hell I’m in here for. While I assume it’s drug related charges because they’re the Drug Enforcement Agency, they need some sort of proof of illegal activity. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what evidence or witnesses they may have.
My mind continues to race with possibilities while my stomach goes from an inconvenient hunger to a constant, gnawing ache. Forget my six-pack of abs, my abdomen is beginning to look more like one giant sinkhole.
Enough is enough!
Getting up from the rock-hard bed, I finally go o
ver and bang my fists on the heavy metal door that only has a tiny sliver of a window. If I stand on my toes of my boots, I can almost see out of it. Almost. All I’m able to make out from this angle is the lights in the ceiling.
“Yo! Did you fuckers forget I’m in here? I want my goddamn phone call!” I roar at the top of my lungs. “Hello! Anyone? You have to fucking feed me and shit! I have rights!”
I pause in my shouting to put my ear to the door and listen for the sound of footsteps or other prisoners, anything.
Nothing. Not a peep. It’s like I’m the only person in this entire hellhole, which is good for the other Kings but really sucks for me.
“Dammit!” I exclaim with one last slam of my fist on the door before I trudge back over to the cot and lay down.
I wonder how much time I’m looking at in a shithole like this. Five years in prison, same as Ian? It could be ten years or more for racketeering if they’re trying to bring down the club. Fuck, I could even spend the rest of my life in four concrete walls if they somehow found out about the Russian murders. But if it is about the Russians, where the hell is everyone else?
The not knowing is worse than just having them tell me how deep the shit is so I can start preparing myself. But for now, all I can do is wait and think the worst.
Chapter Two
Sax
Hours, maybe days later, after I’ve fallen asleep, having succumbed to the exhaustion and hunger even though the bright as fuck lights in the dungeon never go out, I startle awake at the sound of a door slamming in the distance. When I sit up, my heart races in my chest with hope that I’ll finally get some fucking answers.