Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3)

by Natasha Thomas

  About a month and a half ago I finished with the books for the week, and left Kitty Kat’s like I’ve always done, through the staff exit at the back. Train, Shifty, and Trig were in earlier, but I hadn’t seen them for a little while, so for all I knew they were still here somewhere. It isn’t uncommon for them, and the some of the other brothers to come in at opening staying till close, they didn’t usually make themselves scarce though.

  I had just shut the back door, checking it was locked, when I was pinned to the brick wall off to the right of the exit. Now at this point most women would scream for help, kick, scratch, any number of things, but me, I didn’t do any of that. The first thing that went through my mind was ‘please don’t kill me’. I knew better than to beg, plead, or bargain with whoever my attacker was. My dad before he died told me that some sick fucks like it when women do that, they get off on it. The last thing I needed was to find out this guy was one of those types. If he was I wasn’t giving him any ammunition for his sick little fantasy.

  Second to hoping I wasn’t going to die in an alley that smells like ass, and off fish was the repetitive chant ‘Oh fucking hell no’ that ricocheted through my conscious. There was no fucking way I was going to let some asshole rape me. That shit would not happen without me putting up a hell of a fight. For a split second my mind flashed to a mental image of Tank. Tank in all his six foot seven, 280 pound glory, and what he would do if he were here right now. Useless imagery I know, but what are you going to do? It’s hardly like I was thinking all that rationally at this point. The adrenaline coursing through my veins had me considering ways out of this situation that would only be possible if I had superhuman strength and a jetpack. Which I’ll have you know I don’t have at my disposal.

  Making the decision to fight I kick back with my right leg connecting instantly with his shin. The hit he takes is enough for him to momentarily loosen his hold so that I can turn around and prepare to defend myself, but I’m not a fighter that’s for sure, and I have no formal training when it comes to self-defence. My Dad taught me a few basic moves to use in case of emergency but I’ve never had to use them until now. However if there was a situation that would be classified as an emergency this would be it.

  After receiving a nasty backhand to the side of my face that makes me see black spots in my vision, and causes my head to spin I bring my knee up nailing the asshole right in the junk. It’s then I begin running in the direction of the well-lit parking lot. I thought I was home free until I got tackled from behind hitting the concrete with a bone jarring thud. Crying out in pain as my left side took the brunt of the impact I knew I’d definitely bruised a couple, if not broken a few ribs. It was more than likely I’d be sporting beautiful colourful marks by the next day. I didn’t have time to worry about the burning pain in my side, or the possibility it was worse than I thought, that I could have internal bleeding. I had to get away, and I had to do that now.

  I used the only thing left available that would do any damage that wasn’t already subdued by his hands, or crying out in pain from being tackled; I pulled my elbow back, and connected with his nose. Hearing the crunch of bone was sickening, and for a split second I feel kind of sorry for the guy. But that pity passed quickly when I felt a fist plough into my belly just below my ribs, a wave of agony tearing through me stealing my breath. In that moment I felt like what I’m sure he intends to do has become inevitable. If it wasn’t for the tell-tale scrape of the backdoor opening there was no doubt that I would have been raped, killed, or both that night. Thankfully I got away with three bruised ribs and midsection resembling a 1960’s tie-dye shirt.

  I hate to say it, but the three sluts that work at Kitty Kat’s; Sapphire, Emerald, and Rose unwittingly saved me from a fate worse than death. And as much as I dislike them, and they vocally despise me I silently thanked their laziness and desire to cut out before the end of their shift. They never saw me, I made sure of it by crawling to my car in the shadows, taking off home as soon as I can hoist my ass into the car.

  Most people are probably wondering why I didn’t report it, or at least tell the MC what happened. Honestly? I don’t want to involve the police because if it’s an enemy of Devil’s Spawn out to fuck with them it will involve retaliation, which will end in an MC war. I don’t want that on my conscious, and regardless of the reassurances I’d be given that it wasn’t my fault I didn’t want to be the person that risked peoples’ safety because I couldn’t deal with this myself.

  As for not telling anyone else it’s simple; whoever I tell will without a doubt report back to Priest, or at the very least tell someone else who will. I know what that will mean for me, and it wasn’t pretty. Tilly will find out, it will freak her the hell out, and upset her. Lou, Priss, and Ronnie will be told, and they’ll turn all mother hen on me in turn pissing me off unnecessarily. The MC will put babysitters on me making what little privacy I do have evaporate instantly. And Tank… He’ll lose his ever-loving-mind. No one needs to be a party to that, least of all me. It doesn’t matter that we’re no longer friends, or that he has nothing at all to do with me anymore; if he finds out he’ll go thermonuclear badass on someone in reaction to it.

  It didn’t matter anyway because after two and a half weeks of healing, wrapping my ribs tightly when I needed to do any strenuous activity, and ensuring I wore shirts that didn’t ride up giving the world a peek at my discoloured torso I was back to normal with no one any the wiser. I mentally high-fived myself for getting away with it too, I never get away with anything.

  Well that’s a lie, I did tell one person. I told Jasper after breaking down one night on the phone when the pain was all too much. He promised me he’d keep it to himself, and I believed him. Jas is good that way and I trust him implicitly to keep his word. So far he’s proved me right because he has.

  That’s why I don’t like going to Kitty Kat’s. And that’s why now I make sure to come and go through the front collecting the paperwork I need getting the hell out of there ASAP. I don’t stay, I take it home and complete it there. It makes it easier than spending the whole time paranoid that someone is out to get me.

  This brings us back to now, and with it the knowledge that very soon Blackwater is going to come face-to-face with what are possibly the most handsome bunch of eligible bachelors, bar one who’s off the market albeit grudgingly, in the Northern hemisphere. Crossing my fingers, toes, and any other body part that I’ve got the ability to cross, I pray this visit comes and goes incident free. I also pray the nosy bastards they are stay out of my business with everything in relation to Mr No Name. Hopefully allowing me to escape the ‘Adams boy’s interrogation of death’.

  Unfortunately for me my prayers don’t work. Even more unfortunately they begin ‘Operation Reconcile Priss and Tank’ that very afternoon, just not the way I anticipated they would.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hunter

  Guns for hands – Twenty One Pilots

  When I first joined the Navy our instructors told us the best executed plans all have exit strategies just in case we found ourselves faced with unforeseen circumstances, or if we were required to abort our mission. We would need a safe way out when shit hit the fan, which it inevitably always does. What does this have to do with the situation I’m in now? Not having a backup plan is where I made my first mistake.

  The initial plan was supposed to be easy; get in, make contacts, do not make attachments that aren’t absolutely essential to ensuring a successful mission, and get the fuck out with as much information as possible. Well here’s a news flash for you, life isn’t easy and this situation was no fucking exception. If anything it was far worse.

  I’ve been forced to call in the only backup I have; my brothers. Not my club brothers, at the end of the day I know they’d help me if I asked but this time it called for the big guns, my blood brothers. For some reason Priss loves those assholes. If anyone can help me explain this shit to her, help me get her back in my life it’ll be them. With the realis
ation that it’s less than fifteen minutes until the first two of my brothers get here is as much a weight off my shoulders as it is a cause for concern. I might have asked them to come, but when they heard I needed them to help me with something they dropped everything and hopped a flight to Boulder.

  I don’t ask for help, it’s not in my nature. More than that I fucking hate having to do it, I hate relying on other people. Having survived on my own for so long I forget I need a helping hand every so often, but this would be the first time I’ve asked or accepted one from my brothers. The only person I’ve accepted help from in the past was Priss. But seeing as this is about her I can hardly ask for her help in wooing her now can I?

  My brothers are renting cars at the airport, so I don’t need to go pick them up, so I’m basically sitting around with my thumb up my ass waiting for them to arrive. I told them I’ve got a truck they can use while they’re here, but knowing Brody when he gets here tomorrow he’ll want something top of the line meaning fucking impractical to drive around in while he’s here. But that’s his problem, and good luck trying to find something to live up to his exacting standards because we’re in Colorado not the affluent suburbs of Chicago like he’s used to.

  The guy is incapable of going without the luxuries his salary affords him these days. That doesn’t only apply to vehicles it applies to fucking everything, he’s turned into a pussy. I don’t hold it against him, but his thing is not my thing because I don’t give a shit about that kind of stuff. As long as my truck runs, my bike in perfect working order, my bed’s comfortable, and I can find something to wear in the morning that doesn’t smell like cheap perfume or stale beer I couldn’t give a shit what material possessions I own. Brody is in a category all on his own with that one. It pisses me off that he, and Kai seem to have sold out to the all mighty dollar, but that’s their deal and as long as they don’t come in expecting me to serve them fucking caviar and salmon we’ll be okay.

  Loving my brothers isn’t an issue, because I do with everything in me. The issue is that as much as I love them, I want to kill them occasionally too. More fool those idiots because I know seventy-two ways to turn that thought into a reality if it becomes an absolute necessity. So if they fuck with me like they did over the car rental I’m only hoping it isn’t a sign of things to come. I called them here to help, not piss me off.

  When Brody finds out what happened with Priss he’ll be all over that shit trying to fix it because that’s what he does, he fixes shit. Kai and Jas who are due any minute are more like me. The three of us are the closest, they get me without the need for lengthy discussions about our feelings. That’s not to say I’m not close to Noah and Brody, because I am. They’re just more like my dad. They need lots, and I mean lots of information to answer a simple question. They need to know how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, when you took a piss last before they can answer whether they like their steak rare or medium. However give those two a pen and a piece of paper, and they’ll have planned a hostile takeover of a foreign nation by sundown.

  The only one I’m having any real trouble with is Reid. At this point trouble isn’t a strong enough word to describe it either. Murderous intent is closer to what I feel toward him at the moment. When I get my hands on that asshole he’s going to wish he stayed on his pansy ass rock star filled bus with his bunch of dickhead band mates. If I have to I’ll rip that motherfucker limb from limb, and I won’t give a shit whether he’s my brother or not.

  Two weeks ago Tilly called me asking if I could meet her at the dinner when I got off work, not an unusual request, but also not one she’s made a lot lately so I jumped at the opportunity.

  Seeing as I work at Chasers, and I own a third of the place taking off to meet her isn’t a hassle. Regardless, I wouldn’t turn her down if I had to walk through fucking fire to get there. I’d do anything for that girl, and I do mean anything.

  Half an hour later we were both seated in a booth with Tilly looking stressed the fuck out. Small talk be damned, because with the way she’s looking if I find out anyone’s hurt her I’ll go fucking postal, and rip them apart. Staying as calm as I can I ask,

  “What’s up Til? You look freaked.”

  Tilly started wring her hands together inadvertently ripping the napkin in her hands when she replied.

  “I know you and Priss aren’t talking anymore, so I don’t know if this even matters to you b…”

  I grab her hand to stop her nervous fidgeting, she making me nervous doing that shit, and I need to put a stop to what she’s thinking. It’s important to me for her to understand that’s bullshit. I don’t want her thinking I don’t care about her sister, because nothing could be further from the truth. I care about Priss too much, that’s the problem. I don’t want to see her hurt, or worse, I don’t want to be the one that hurts her any more than I already have.

  “Put that out of your head, yeah? Just because me and your sister aren’t on the best of terms at the moment.” She scoffs at that but doesn’t interrupt. “I’ll always fucking care about her Til. No matter what.”

  Tilly nods at me giving me a sad half smile. One that doesn’t reach her eyes, and it breaks my heart to see her so upset.

  “I heard her talking to someone the other day. I’m worried if you don’t do something soon to make things up to her that she’ll move on. This guy seems really interested in her Hunter. As in, really interested.”

  What the fuck? I haven’t seen any guys hanging around Priss, and I’d know if they were because I pay attention to everything she does. If I find out one of the brothers are sniffing around there’ll be hell to pay. Shaking off my violent thoughts I ask her about what stuck out the most to me.

  “Move on. What are you talking about Til? You know we weren’t together sweetheart.”

  It’s true. There’s nothing for Priss to move on from other than our friendship. And as much as I hate the thought of her doing that maybe it’s better for everyone if she does. We’ve never been anything more than that to my bitter disappointment. Shaking her head at me Tilly squeezes my hand tightly, she knows I’m full of shit and she’s going to call me on it. I know it.

  “I know you think I’m just a kid Hunter but I’m not stupid. I see how you look at her, and I know that you send some of the brothers to watch her when you can’t. I know she watches through the window when you drop me off too. You might not have been together like that, but you love her and she loves you. You have to do something or you’re going to lose her forever this time.”

  Fucking hell! The kid’s more observant than I thought. She’s right though. Not only do I send brothers to watch her when I can’t, but I love the shit out of that woman, and it will probably kill me to watch her with another man. Or I’ll kill him, either way it doesn’t end well for someone. The thought of another man’s hands on her beautiful body. His mouth on hers. Another man claiming what’s mine has me wanting to hit something. Between clenched teeth I enquire,

  “You know who this guy is Til?”

  She looks more nervous now if that’s even possible. I know she isn’t afraid of me, but whatever she knows isn’t sitting well with her. I can read her like a book after six years. Sighing deeply she answers me finally.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a little while, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you because it really isn’t my business, but I think you should know. Reid started calling about four months ago, I think. He’s started calling more often now though. Like, every day Hunter. Sometimes more than once.”

  I see red. Deep blood red. Rivers of it streaming through my vision. My own fucking brother. Reid’s a fucking dead man when I get my hands on him, but for now I’m going to keep this to myself because I want to see him in person. I want him to tell me to my fucking face that he’s moving in on the woman he’s well aware I’ve been in love with for fucking years.

  A small soft hand clenches at mine pulling me back to the present. I can see the worry etched all over Tilly’s face, an
d I hate that she’s having to come to me in the first place, that this is causing her stress, but I’m glad she did.

  “I’ll take care of it Til. Don’t worry I’ll get to the bottom of it, make that shit will stop.”

  She doesn’t look convinced but there’s not a lot more that I can say without speaking to Reid first. I don’t want to tell her there’s no way in hell my brother will be putting his hands on her sister because if he does I’d kill him where he stands. Tilly also doesn’t need to know what lengths I’d go to in order to keep Priss in my life. Needless to say with what I’m planning everyone is about to see what I’m willing to do for the woman I love.

  Afterwards I dropped Tilly at home, drove to the bar to pick up a bottle of bourbon, and made my way home. My intention was to drink myself into oblivion. Try to numb some of the pain I’m feeling. Try to forget what I’m planning for one night. There was probably no point though because I’d spent so many nights that fucking wasted I could barely remember my own name, but I’d still never been able to forget what she smelt like. How she felt in my arms when she let me hold her. How soft her skin was. That she was the only person that had been able to stave off my demons, or how much I love her. But I did it anyway. I drank till I passed out, then I woke up in the morning and did the same thing again.