Savage Kind of Love

by Nicole Snow

  I blinked, a little too long just to moisten my eyes. In truth, I was swallowing my pride one more time, vowing this would be my last lie.

  “It's about a job. I know you've got more places opening their doors everyday here in Missoula. Surely, you need workers you can trust?”

  Moose grinned. “Even the machine shop's got an online application. We're not Luddites. Don't you know how to fill those out instead of bothering the Prez, beautiful?”

  Crap. Not the response I was expecting.

  I smiled right back at the savage looking biker. “Look, I really, really need to make some money. I thought he'd be comfortable giving me a few minutes in person. I did take a blow to the head working for your MC, you know.”

  His smile melted. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

  “I'll see what I can do. No promises. Keep your lines clear and be ready to go when we call. If Blaze is gonna hear you, then it's gonna be on his schedule.”

  I mouthed a thank you, but Moose didn't wait around to hear it. He waved and took off, riding into the waning darkness, leaving me alone.

  A sad look at my account confirmed I really needed a job. Damn it.

  Was I cut out working for the Prairie Devils again? I refused to be a stripper. If there was something for me, it had to be in a bar, polishing tools, manning a register – anything that didn't involve taking my clothes off again.

  If I had to be Saffron, I knew I'd wind up naked in front of Blaze. And that idea caused me to burn, equal parts horror and lust, an emotional knot with all the complexities the damned man wrapped around me.

  “Grab me another cider from the fridge.”

  I cringed. Mom never took her eyes off the TV as she ordered me around. Whatever magic the pain pills had worked obviously wore off the last few days.

  She was back to staying in bed all the time, watching her trashy shows and endless musicals, popping pain pills when she wasn't yelling at me to fetch drinks or junk food.

  “You know what you're taking is pretty intense, right?” I picked up the bottle on her nightstand. “Says right here...no alcohol. May cause liver damage.”

  “Damn it, Shelly, you think I'm concerned about getting more fucked up than I already am? I said I want my bottle, and I want it now!”

  I threw up my hands. There was no use arguing. I'd long stopped wondering if I was enabling her to a slow suicide.

  I brought her the cider, all right. But I only poured half in a tall glass and filled the rest with water. If she was going to poison herself, I wasn't going to help her do it any faster than absolutely necessary.

  “This goddamned country,” she muttered after taking a sip. “Tastes like horse piss. Nobody can do anything right anymore.”

  She went right back to staring at the screen. There was an old show playing, one of those sit coms from the early nineties. The episode was ending, and a family shared a group hug after suffering some petty and hilarious misunderstanding.

  I remembered why I never watched TV or movies anymore. Their problems were easily solved with a laugh, an explosion, or a flick of the writer's pen.

  Real life didn't work that way.

  I got up from the rickety chair next to her bed. Then a hand shot out to my wrist, so fast and sudden I gasped.

  “I was wrong the other day, Shelly. You're a good girl. At least you try. Your fucking brother thought he could buy me off...”

  I didn't know what to say. Receiving a watery eyed compliment from my mother was almost as alarming and unexpected as hearing her criticize Jordan.

  “You put up with a lot of shit for me. I appreciate it. You deserve better than this.” She sighed, real tears lighting up her eyes. “A woman does a lot of thinking when she's stuck in one place like this. At least when my damned legs aren't setting my brain on fire and I can actually think straight.”

  “Yeah?” I said quietly.

  Her candidness was freaking me the fuck out. Had something finally broken inside her? Or was it some strange cocktail of drugs going straight to her head and making her feel guilty?

  “Go. Make the most of your life, baby. Stop working these shitty jobs and don't you dare get into the same bullshit as your big brother!” She bared her small sharp teeth. “I see right through him. Those thugs he's with have got him by the nose, and he's too damned stupid to see it. I don't care how much money they throw at him, and he throws at us. They're using him.”

  I nodded. She definitely wasn't wrong.

  “Make something of yourself. Do what you love with people you love. Find a good man. I'm not getting any better...you still can.” She looked at me very intently.

  I studied her eyes, wondering who the hell was lecturing me. The senile fog that often clouded them wasn't there. They were as vivid and sharp as my own reflection, and it made me want to cry.

  I squeezed her hand tight. Mom slumped down on the bed and started to cry. For the first time in well over a year, I gave her a hug, and she squeezed me back with one withered hand.

  “We'll figure something out to make this better. It's not too late, Mom. Maybe we can get you some better help, or I'll have Jordan take shifts with me. I'll make him do whatever you need and stay away from that stupid club!”

  If only it were that easy, I thought with a cold shudder. But I'll try.

  “Stop bullshittin' me, girl,” Mom said, throwing water on my mad hopes. “I'm not letting any strangers insert their nosy asses in our lives. I'm beyond help, and so is your big brother. He left a screwed up child and came back to us a fucked up man. You keep away from him.” Her breathing grew tense and shallow.

  “He's lost. Probably my fault. But you...God, you, girl, still have time, despite my screw ups. Please don't waste it.”

  She stopped talking. Rough sobs ripped through her body and I held her tight, shedding tears myself. Whatever was behind this emotional cascade, there was no doubting it was real.

  I held my mother until she settled into a soft sleep. Then I picked up the cider, poured the rest down the drain, and got ready for the night.

  I prayed it would be the night to deliver me from this.

  My phone rang just as I started to doze off. It must've been around five a.m. I'd waited all damned night for something to happen, and now I was pissed I'd have this conversation with the sandman's dust in my eyes.

  “It's Blaze,” the voice said on the other end of the line. I instantly tensed up. “Come by our clubhouse in the next hour. Make sure nobody sees you. Trust me, my guys have seen Grizzlies in the area lately, and they've been hanging way too close to your place for my liking.”

  “Okay. I'll be there.” I spoke to a dead line.

  Asshole. He couldn't even wait for me to reply.

  I changed into fresh clothes and then got into my car. My heart almost stopped when I got to downtown Missoula. A man on a motorcycle stopped next to me at a red light.

  My hands shook on the steering wheel as I forced myself to look over at him.

  Jesus. It was just an old man out for an early morning joy ride. Probably some guy who'd picked up a Harley and a new woman to feed his mid-life crisis.

  Much as I didn't want to admit it, dickhead Blaze had me rattled. All this crap did. I needed to get a grip.

  I got to the Prairie Devils' gate and blew my horn. A second later, the gate opened, and I rolled inside, parking next to the row of bikes.

  The garages were open but none of the lamps overhead came on. The only light came from the cracked door leading into the clubhouse. I watched a shadowy figure approach, thinking it was somebody Blaze had sent for me.

  I started to get out, only to come face to face with Mister Bad Tempered Bastard himself. I slid backward, pushing my door shut, and then straightening up fast so I didn't look like a total pushover.

  “I never expected I'd see you back here. What's so important you want me involved, Shelly?”

  My eyes went wide. It was strange to hear my real name on his lips. Part of me regretted giving him somethi
ng so intimate. The other part – the one I desperately wanted to silence – purred its approval.

  “Can't we go inside?”

  He gave me a cautious look and then nodded. I followed him into the clubhouse. If he went berserk when I spilled the truth, I hoped there were others around.

  I could pretend all I want, but this man scared the hell out of me. Almost as much as Dubs, except that disgusting creep didn't press other buttons like he did. And right now, just looking at Blaze played me like a piano, sending me through the full spectrum of flushed, sweaty heat and taboo shocks throttling my system.

  “No drinks this time. If we're gonna talk, we're both gonna do it sober. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and led me over to an empty table.

  I didn't resist. The place wasn't a mess like the last time I saw it. Someone had cleaned recently, or else the men had laid off their wild parties for a few nights.

  Blaze held out a chair and didn't sit until I was seated. His gravity was like a tiger's pacing around the table, finally settling in front of me. He even smashed his palms together and flexed them like a big beast testing its claws, its power.

  I shuddered.

  “I'm sorry about before,” I choked out. “It was a long night. I shouldn't have been so hasty to flip you off and run.”

  He shrugged, as if I'd done nothing worse than step on his toe at a crowded dance. Damn!

  How could a man be so infuriatingly smug and sexy at the same time?

  “Stupid things were said on both ends. What's done is done. I'm more interested why you've put insults aside and returned to my clubhouse. Moose said you were pretty damned insistent about having this talk.”

  I closed my hands, lacing my fingers together in a tight nest, mirroring him. I tried not to sigh too loud, collecting ill thoughts into words. Better to get it out sooner, rather than later.

  “I lied to you. My brother, Jordan, isn't just a stupid weed dealer. He went out West and joined the Grizzlies before coming home. He's been a full patch member for at least six months.”

  I forced myself to look directly at Blaze. The raw, dangerous heat growing in his eyes was like having a gun aimed at my head.

  “I'm so, so sorry,” I offered, knowing it wouldn't do much good.

  I'd betrayed him, and everything about this rock hard man said he wasn't one to take treason lightly. Slowly, he leaned in, focusing his gaze so hard I couldn't take it anymore and had to look away.

  He went for my hand. When his big calloused palm went around my wrist, I screamed.

  “Tell me something new, baby. Saw right through your lie the day after you told me.”

  “Huh?” My heartbeat picked up even faster. “You knew?”

  It was hard to process.

  “Yeah. My guys saw him coming in and out of your apartment. Sporting his MC's colors the whole time, proud as a fucking peacock.”

  A dozen terrible thoughts surged up at once. Oh, God, Jordan hadn't been around for days, and Blaze knew about his patch. Was my brother even alive?

  “He's still breathing,” Blaze whispered, as if reading my mind. “Already got one dead bear on our hands. No point in making another unless those fuckers give us a damned good reason.”

  “Then...you're not mad? You understand I just wanted to protect him? I thought you'd hurt him or...”

  Blaze took his hand off mine. He moved like lightning, slamming both fists on the table, and jolting out of his chair.

  “Of course I'm fucking pissed! You lied to me, Shelly. You spat right in my face, right in the face of our whole club with your bullshit.”

  He turned around and pointed at the grinning devil on the back of his cut for emphasis. Then he faced me again, calmer.

  I was shaking. Cowering, actually.

  Blaze wasn't just some foul tempered guy to piss off and walk away from. He showed me his true nature, reminded me what he was, a walking storm in leather and fury.

  All bets were off right now. I blubbered like an idiot and started mouthing apologies.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry...” Just like a broken record.

  “Stop it!” He growled. “I've heard enough apologies. You're a lucky girl, babe,” he said, moving to me like a panther and snatching my hands in his.

  I whimpered. Jesus, no matter how many times I thought I was ready to face him, to feel him, I was wrong. Seeing him up close, enraged, and sexy as a loaded weapon completely wrecked my sanity, my self-control.

  Melting into him, he pulled me closer, shifting his hands off my wrists and around me. My breasts pressed against his chest, adrenaline hardening the wicked need in my nipples.

  “Lucky? Why? I sure don't feel like it, Blaze.” The words came out like mush.

  “You are. You're maybe the third person I've ever given a second chance. Only because your brother's stint in the Grizzlies directly affects my club, and because I know you're not a born liar. People do very stupid, very shitty things when they're afraid.”

  “Are you going to kill Jordan?” Point blank. I couldn't hold it back anymore, even if I was afraid to hear the answer.

  He shook his head. “No. Not yet. Kid's barely finished prospecting. He lives on two conditions.”

  I sucked in a breath and held it. Blaze held up his fist and extended a finger.

  “One: he keeps being useful and feeds me information I can use to find out what the hell the Grizzlies are doing. Your brother's a sloppy fucker. Doesn't take much to keep eyes on him with our brothers and hang arounds.”

  “What else?” I whispered.

  “Number two: he doesn't hurt anybody in my club, and he sure as hell doesn't hurt you. I swear, Shelly, the instant he lays a hand on you, he's dead. Don't try to hide it from me. I'll find out and I'll rip him apart with my own bare hands if I have to.” Eyes glowing, he closed his fists and pressed them together.

  Fear and unwanted arousal pulsed through me. His muscles bulged like a champion fighter. No, better than that.

  Blaze's sculpted his body in fire and violence. Not at a gym like most guys who would've fled at the first sign of danger.

  Lighting zipped up my spine. I shivered in place. Muscles deep inside me clenched, spilling heat through my belly, tingling around my womb.

  Fuck him. Fuck him for making me feel like this after he threatened Jordan's life.

  More heat shot through me when he closed his arms around me again, yanking me tight to his chest. I shook again in his rugged embrace, a slave to his words.

  “Let's try this again,” he continued. “You're scared right now, and you should be. I'm giving you and your family one more chance to stay in one piece. But, baby, if you bullshit me again, I'm handling things my way. I won't hesitate and I won't hear you out. If that means putting a bullet in big brother's head, so be it. If you're coming to me up close and personal like this, then we're starting over with a clean slate, and you're gonna tell me the truth about everything. Everything, understand?”

  He repeated it in a whisper so sharp it tickled my nerves. There was no denying he knew his power, his insane ability to turn a girl to putty against his big strong slab of a body.

  I melted. I moaned. I got hotter than hell. He rocked his hips forward, and I hissed when I felt his hardness between my legs.

  Now who's bullshitting who? The pure smoke rolling off his hard body told me there was more going on here than club business.

  Reaching deep, I found the last little smidgeon of courage I had.

  “Is that all this is, Blaze? Club business? Is that what I am?”

  “More,” he said firmly.

  One rough, full, lightning hot word. It was a prelude to the total inferno that came when his hands bound me tight, dragging me tighter against him to connect with his lips.

  I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been kissed. In all my life, it was nothing like this. No man held a single fucking match to the explosion he ignited deep inside me.

  He clutched at my skin, rolling his tight fingers up my back, inch by
agonizing inch. I moaned into his mouth, and he sucked harder, devouring my little breaths.

  His tongue pushed its way past my lips, exploring my mouth, seeking to tame everything he found.

  The fire boiling within shot to my extremities in long tendrils, shocking my toes, my fingers, my nipples, and especially my poor tortured clit.

  He wanted truth?

  Well, he found it in my body, tasting my mutinous desire for a full minute before he jerked back. Breaking the kiss was like being cut adrift. If his hands weren't still on me, I would've fallen right to the hard floor and knocked myself silly.

  “Fuck, baby. What do you think you're doing?” It sounded like a real question he needed an answer to. He pulled me close again, but stopped just short of another kiss.

  Truthfully, I didn't have one. I don't know, I wanted to say, but really I just wanted to taste him, feel him, fuck him a whole lot more. I wanted us to stop using words to speak, and start using skin instead.

  “You can't do this. Won't let any woman toy with me. Moose told me you want a job. Is that true, or was it just a bullshit excuse to talk about your bro?”

  “Yeah.” It was hard to even think straight after having his lips on mine.

  If he went any further, I was sure I'd be sucked speechless. Possibly for weeks.

  My panties were shot, scorched to tatters. Or maybe just soaked so thoroughly they'd stick to me forever.

  Job? What the hell is that?

  “Got ourselves a new skin shop at the old Dirty Diamond. Don't tell me that's what you're thinking?”

  I shook my head. No. Hell no!

  “Something else. I'm not Saffron anymore, Blaze. I told you that. Isn't there something I can learn? I don't care if the money's less or it's menial and boring. I'll do it. I need to get on with my life, and unfortunately I need to make money to do it.”

  His hands tensed on me again. Damn it, the man was sexy all around, even when he was deep in thought.

  My eyes flashed to his neck. I saw the very tips of dark fiery tattoos, and wondered what he looked like with his shirt off. His chest must be just like his arms: hard, rough, and fully inked. The perfect bad boy recipe for making a woman lose her mind.