Salvage (Savages and Saints Book 3)

by C. M. Seabrook

  My lips cover hers, raging hunger that teeters on the edge of insanity. Lorelei’s arms tighten around my neck, and I lift her hips, the hardness of my cock straining between us.

  “I need you,” she whispers desperately.

  I grip the back of the seat with one hand, lifting her with the other and fill her with one powerful thrust.

  “Oh God.” Her nails dig into my flesh and her pussy clenches around my cock. So damn tight. Liquid heat spills around me and her hips begin to move, frantic and wild.

  Hungry kisses, heated touches, pulling us into a maelstrom of ecstasy.

  Control is lost.

  My thrusts are hard and she takes each one, crying out my name, letting it echo on the water.

  Her breaths come harder and I know she’s close. The need for my own release throbs in my balls.

  Our eyes lock.

  Love.

  Lust.

  Trust.

  She may not have said the words, but I see it in her gaze. Can see the very depths of her soul. The broken fragments she’d thought were lost for so long. I reclaim them. Sinking into her, not just physically but with every ounce of my being.

  I swim under the surface, salvaging those pieces that had sunk so long ago.

  “Every part of you, Lor.” I thrust hard, my fingers tangling in her hair. “I want every piece. I don’t care what I have to do to get it.”

  “You have me,” she cries out. “I...I love you, Damon.”

  Those words.

  They undo me.

  My hips slam into her. Flesh pounding against flesh, the blinding rise of my orgasm too much.

  Finesse is gone. I grip her hips, plunging inside her, fiery pleasure racing through my body, those three words erupting emotions inside my soul.

  She lets out a strangled cry, her body jerking around me, her nails biting into my flesh. My own release tears through me, shattering, pulsing, sensations so intense I wonder if I’ll ever recover from it.

  With her in my arms, I sink into the chair, murmuring the words I’ve been so desperate to say. “I love you, too, Lorelei.”

  Chapter 18

  Lorelei

  I love you.

  Three words that can be so powerful, yet so destructive. I’ve never said them before. Not to Damon. Not to any man. The only person I’ve given those words to freely is my son.

  And now Damon.

  I meant them. God knows I do.

  I’d expected the fear to rise the moment I said it. But it was the opposite. Amidst the pleasure, I felt peace.

  Driving back, Damon reaches out and touches my cheek. Like every time he touches me, my heart flutters. I know I don’t deserve the man. Not his forgiveness or his love. But I take it. Right now, in this moment, I choose to take it all.

  Love.

  Expectations.

  Hope.

  Is it possible the man has saved me in more ways than one?

  I believed a lie for the past eleven years, thinking I needed no one. Believing I was living when I was just existing.

  “I want to live.” I don’t realize the words have been spoken out loud until Damon glances over at me.

  “You’ve always wanted to live, sweetheart.” He gives me a small smile. “You just didn’t know how.”

  Zee meets us down at the docks when we approach, helping Damon tie off the boat.

  “I was starting to wonder if I should go back out looking for you,” he says, chuckling and giving Damon a knowing smile.

  But I forget to be embarrassed that he knew what we were doing when I glance up the cliffs towards the massive house that looks down on us. Floor-to-ceiling windows cut across the whole back of the house, giving a perfect view of the lake.

  “Wow,” I say as we walk up the path. “This place is incredible.”

  “Had to do something to make Quinn fall for me.” He winks, and I see why she fell for the man. He’s all bad boy charm with a double dose of trouble.

  “Bullshit,” Damon says, slapping his brother-in-law on the back. “She’d be happy in a shack as long as she had you.”

  Zee gives a dimpled smile and shrugs. “I needed to build her a house big enough to fit all her shoes.”

  Inside, Nolan is stretched out on a U-shaped couch beside Quinn, a giant bowl of popcorn between them, watching the newest Avengers movie on a screen that looks like it belongs in a movie theater rather than a living room.

  “Mom, look how big the TV is,” Nolan says when he sees me. “It’s even bigger than Damon’s.”

  “The kid’s going to start giving me a complex,” Damon mutters, even though I see the laughter in his eyes.

  “I’ve always had the bigger toys,” Zee jokes, sitting beside his wife, grinning.

  “Except for the one that really matters.” Damon smirks back.

  Quinn groans. “Okay, I don’t want to hear about my brother’s–” She stops herself when Nolan glances over at her. “–truck.” She gives me an apologetic look. “I don’t want to hear about his truck.”

  Both Zee and Damon laugh, and Quinn’s cheeks flame red, but Nolan has already turned back to the movie, oblivious.

  Quinn stands and motions me towards the kitchen. “I’m pouring myself a glass of wine. Would you like one?”

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  “I’m finally done breastfeeding.” She pulls out a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and pours two glasses, handing me one, then taking a sip. “I wanted to keep it up for a little longer, but the second time he bit me–” She rubs one of her breasts in memory. “–I stuck a bottle in his mouth and never looked back.”

  I love her honesty. Breastfeeding wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, it was downright painful.

  “I had to stop nursing Nolan when he was only three weeks old because he wouldn’t latch properly. I’d always felt it was another way I’d failed him.”

  Quinn tilts her head, studying me with eyes the same color as Damon’s...as Nolan’s.

  “Whatever happened in the past, you’ve done a great job raising him. He’s polite and sweet, and I’m so glad to finally get to spend time with him.”

  Guilt twists in my chest, because I realize it isn’t just Damon I kept from my son, but his whole family.

  “Hey.” She leans against the island and reaches across to me. “I’m not judging. You did what you had to do to keep you both safe. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

  Through the monitor, a baby whimpers and I see Quinn wince and hold her breath waiting. After a few moments of silence, she exhales.

  “Oh, thank God.” She finishes her glass of wine and pours herself another one. “You must think I’m terrible. He’s been waking up throughout the night recently. And all I want is six straight hours of sleep.”

  I chuckle. “Is he mobile yet?”

  “He just started crawling last week, and I swear I’m about ready to pull my hair out. If he’s not shoving some unknown object in his mouth, he’s sticking it in his ears and nose.”

  “I remember those years.”

  “I don’t know how you did it all on your own. I mean–” She winces. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “You did a great job with him. He’s a good kid.”

  I nod.

  “So...” She sips at her wine, and I can see the curiosity in her eyes. “How long do you think you’ll stay with Damon?”

  This time, she doesn’t apologize for pressing. It’s a deliberate question. One she wants an answer to. Not that I blame her. He’s her big brother, and I know their family has always been tight.

  “He’s asked me and Nolan to move in permanently.”

  She studies me. “You don’t seem too sure about that.”

  “I think it will be good for Nolan, but...” I finish my own wine, not sure why I’m opening up to her. “Everything has happened so fast. And there are still so many unknowns.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know how much you know about my stepfather.” />
  “Just what I’ve read in the news, and what Damon has told me. But no one here judges you for his actions.”

  “I appreciate that. But I lived here. I know how people talk. What they used to say about me.”

  She places a hand over mine. “Let the old hens talk. You can’t let what other people say or think about you affect your happiness. People will always talk.” She chuckles. “Especially if you’re going to marry a Savage. Shit, I’ve done it again. Put my foot in my mouth. I’m not saying you’re going to marry him...but, if you do, I’m totally available to help you plan the wedding, and I make an incredible bridesmaid–”

  “Quinn,” Damon says harshly, walking into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around me. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

  She shrugs and lifts her glass. “Blame the wine.”

  He grunts, then spins me around. “You ready to go?”

  I nod, the whole thought of marring Damon spinning around in my mind.

  “Oh. You two are coming to Dad’s party, right?” Quinn asks.

  Damon looks down at me, searching. “We’ll see. There’ll be a lot of people there.”

  “You have to come. Jasper already cancelled–”

  “Quinn,” Damon warns. “I’m not sure we’re ready yet.”

  I know what he means–I’m not ready for it. I hate disappointing him. This is his family. Nolan's family. We should be there. It’s the acceptance in his eyes that gives me the strength to say, “We’ll be there.”

  “Really?” Quinn squeals. “Thank you.”

  Damon raises his brows, concern shining in his eyes.

  My protector.

  “It’ll be good for Nolan to meet everyone.”

  His lips thin, and I can tell he disagrees, but he doesn’t argue.

  “Hey.” Zee comes into the kitchen, frowning. “I just got off the phone with Kade. Have you talked to Abbott lately?”

  “No.” Damon’s jaw twitches. “What trouble is he in now?”

  “Kade just said he left the bar mumbling something about losing a friend. Said he was pretty tanked.”

  “What else is new?” Anger hisses through Damon’s words.

  “Kade seemed pretty worried.”

  “Does he know where he went?”

  “No. And he’s not picking up his cell.”

  Damon sighs. “I’ll put a call out to my men. Hopefully, the fucktard isn’t driving–”

  “What’s a fucktard?” Nolan asks, carrying the empty bowl of popcorn and grinning likes it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

  “Your Uncle Abbott,” Damon says.

  “Fucktard,” Nolan repeats, laughing.

  “Hey,” I say, giving him a warning glance. “No bad language.”

  “But Dad said it first.”

  Dad.

  The room goes silent. Tension diminishes, replaced by emotions. Zee’s brows shoot up, and Quinn looks ready to cry, but Damon just holds me tighter.

  Don’t make a big deal about it. Just accept it.

  I hear Damon swallow hard. “Yeah, buddy, I did. And your mom is right. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  “Okay.” Nolan places the bowl on the counter, seemingly unaware of the looks the adults pass between each other. “Can I have more popcorn?”

  “Um...” Quinn looks at me and I nod. “Yeah, sure. Want to help me make it?”

  Nolan nods, and they move to the pantry.

  “Did you hear that?” Damon asks, his forehead pressed to the back of my head.

  I spin in his arms and smile up at him, placing a palm on his jaw, overwhelmed by the love that shines back at me.

  “He called me Dad.”

  This.

  Right.

  Here.

  Expectations.

  Love.

  Damon may be my salvage, but in the dark depth of emotions that swirl around us, I realize something else - we’re his too.

  Chapter 19

  Damon

  Danger. It’s something I’m usually aware of. Something I sense before I actually see it. As I drive up the long driveway towards my house, Lorelei beside me and Nolan in the backseat playing on the new phone I bought him, I know something is wrong even before I see the beat-up Harley parked under the old oak tree.

  Abbott is on my front porch, pacing, his shoulders slumped, steps uneven, and I know my brother is either tanked or stoned. And the fucking idiot drove here, putting not only his own life at risk, but others on the road, too.

  In one hand, he clutches a half empty bottle of Jameson, which I have no doubt he stole from Kade’s bar, a habit of his since he was a teenager.

  “Who’s that?” Nolan asks, when I put the truck in park.

  “My youngest brother,” I mutter.

  “The fucktard?” Nolan asks, which grants him a disapproving look from Lorelei.

  But I can’t help but grunt, “Yeah.”

  Eyes bloodshot and stance defensive, Abbott stalks towards us.

  “Take Nolan inside,” I say to Lorelei.

  She gives me a worried look, but nods.

  “Jesus,” Abbott hisses, his unfocused gaze pinning Lorelei with a glare. “Didn’t fucking believe it was true when I heard.” He spits, his wrath lacing each word. “You really are sleeping with the enemy.”

  “Abbott,” I warn, not sure what his issue is with Lorelei, or what’s sent him over the edge this time. Who knows with him? The guy has more demons than Hades’ gate. “Get in the truck and I’ll drive you home.”

  He steps in front of Lorelei when she tries to walk past him, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  I see the fear in her eyes when she looks up at him, and that’s what sends me over the edge. I know my brother wouldn’t lay a hand on her. He may beat people up for a living and stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but underneath all the pain he wears like a shield, I know the guy has a good heart.

  But I’m on him in less than a second, placing my body between him and Lorelei.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem?” he asks, his words slurred. “You’ve shacked up with Farkas’ whore and her bastard–”

  My fist slams into his face before he can utter another word. I feel the crunch of bone against bone, feel the cartilage in his nose crunch. He staggers back, landing with a thud, the bottle of whiskey rolling a few feet away.

  “Damon!” Lorelei cries.

  “Asshole, you broke my goddamn nose.” He starts to stand.

  “Stay down,” I order. “Or it’ll be more than your nose I break.”

  I watch Abbott from the corner of my eyes, in case he makes another stupid move like trying to get up. Nolan is standing on the porch, and I want to punch my brother again for the fear I see in my kid’s eyes.

  “Go inside,” I say to Lorelei. “I’m taking him in to the station.”

  Biting her bottom lip, she gives an apprehensive nod before walking up the steps, unlocking the door, and disappearing inside with Nolan.

  “You,” I say, pointing at him, disgust making my lips curl over my teeth. “Get in the truck, now. And if you even think about resisting, you’ll be spending more than one night in a cell.”

  Grumbling incoherently, he stands, stumbling a few times before he manages to get the passenger door of my truck opened.

  Anger bristles so hot I wonder if I should call one of my men to pick him up. But there’s something about his behavior, his words, that don’t sit right. Not even from my little jackass of a brother, whose goal in life seems to be making a mess of every situation.

  I get in the truck and slam the door, starting the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

  “You ever fucking talk about Lorelei or my son like that again and I’ll–”

  “Your son?” For a second, he looks almost sober, then he shakes his head. “You’re such a gullible pussy. That chick is playing your ass hard. She’s no better than that psychopath–”

  “Last
chance,” I bite out. “Whatever you’ve got to say, you keep Lorelei out of it.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to keep her out of it when she’s the problem? How can you not see that? It’s all because of her. All of it. Kyle. London. All because of her.”

  “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was supposed to be me.”

  Unease turns to fear.

  “What was supposed to be you?”

  “I’d made a deal. Needed the money...” He groans, closing his eyes. “I’m going to be sick. Pull the truck over.”

  When I do, he jumps out and I hear him retching.

  I get out of the truck and walk around to where Abbott leans against the side, sweat beading on his brow, blood caked on his face and shirt.

  “You’re going to tell me now what you’ve got yourself messed up in.”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “Who?”

  He slams the back of his head against the truck a few times, and shouts, “Shit. Shit. Shit. He shouldn’t have been there. Why the fuck was he there?”

  “Abbott–”

  “Did you know he was supposed to be graduating from med school next fall?”

  A flicker of something Blake said to me about the kid that was shot down, the one I’d seen at the diner with Lorelei that first day, trickles into the back of my mind. Blake said he couldn’t figure out how the guy was involved with Farkas. That he’d been a university student with a flawless record. What was his name?

  “Kyle Cosgrove,” I say, watching Abbott sag down the side of the truck, sitting in the dirt. “You knew the guy?”

  “Yeah.” He buries his face in his hands, and a deep gut-wrenching sob fills him. “He was...shit...Damon, I killed him. It may as well have been me who pulled the fucking trigger.”

  “Please tell me you’re not that much of an idiot to get yourself involved with Farkas.” I lift my brother up by the collar of his shirt, seeing the truth, the guilt in his eyes. I slam him back. “Fuck, Abbott.”

  “It was just meant to be a one-time thing. A quick job. Unloading some packages. That was it. But...” He drags a hand back through his hair. “Kyle. He thought he could pull a few more runs. Got addicted to the rush, the money. I got out, but he...his girlfriend is pregnant. He wanted to buy her a ring.” He spins and punches the side of my truck, leaving a dent.