Savage Burn

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I can feel the seed of panic trying to weave itself inside me. My hand itches for my sketchpad. I have work to do and I need that mental escape that isn’t anywhere in the near future.

  There’s a knock on the door at the same time Rick’s phone buzzes with a text. “They’re here,” he says, wiping off his face with a towel. He leans over and kisses me. “Coffee strong enough to grow hair on my chest and horns on my head will be waiting.”

  “Horns on your head?” I laugh.

  “Devil that I am,” he says, giving me a wink and walking out of the bathroom.

  The things that man says barely make sense and yet, they make total sense.

  The devil that he is seems light and funny, but the truth is, there’s some self-hate beneath that comment. Suddenly, I really want to get out there with him and the rest of the guys.

  I hurry and finish up my hair and what make-up I can, considering Rick was better at packing my clothes than my make-up. He tried, though, and I love that he did. Pink gloss, pink cheeks, a bit of mascara and I’m ready to join Rick with the rest of the Walker team. There has to be something we can do right now, to end this. If anyone can find dirt on Gabriel, it’s me. I’m missing an opportunity somewhere.

  As if the monster himself leaped into my mind and read it, my phone buzzes with a text from Gabriel that reads: Good morning to the future First Lady of the country. How do you feel?

  I reply with the most honest reply I can summon: Like throwing up.

  Is it time to go to the doctor? he asks.

  I grimace and type: I’m better than yesterday. I’ll see how I am tomorrow. And then for reasons, I can’t explain, instinct has me building in an excuse for not being home. How is work?

  Proving this is all obligation to him, his reply is: Busy. You didn’t reply to me last night. I was worried. I even called.

  He called?

  I quickly check my call log, but there is nothing. I decide this feels like a test or something. It feels like something I can’t quite name. Going with my instincts, I dial his number. “Hey,” I say when he answers.

  “Hello.” That’s it. Nothing more.

  “I didn’t get a call last night. I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

  He doesn’t deny or confirm the call. He simply says, “You sound better.”

  “I am a lot better. I just can’t eat much yet. I’ll get there.”

  “I sent you flowers. I hear you weren’t there to get them.”

  He sent me flowers? A five-alarm warning goes off in my head but I remind myself I was pretty hard on him last night and he’s likely been instructed by Pocher to play the romantic. “I hate that I wasn’t home. I stayed with Linda last night because I felt crappy. Right now, I’m at the grocery store getting soup and I’m going to sit at the coffee shop a while on my way home, and try to get some sketching done.” And because I know Linda would have told me had he used her flower shop, I say, “Too bad you didn’t use Linda’s shop.”

  “Too bad indeed. I’ll have them sent to her place.”

  “Don’t do that. That’s her competition. Just—bring me flowers when you come home. That’s what I want.”

  He’s silent a moment. “Feel better. I love you.”

  I can’t say it. I can’t say it. “Do you?”

  “What kind of question is that?” he demands.

  “One from a sick person. Just—I’ll see you this weekend.”

  “And I’ll tell you more about how I feel this weekend,” he promises. “Feelings are better expressed in person.”

  “Yes. I guess they are. I look forward to it.”

  “Do you?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I challenge back.

  He laughs. “You are feeling better.” And his tone is lighter as he adds, “See you soon, buttercup,” and he hangs up.

  I pull up my text messages with Linda and because I’m worried about who might read this, type a coded message: Thanks for letting me stay last night when I was so sick.

  She replies with a wink. Just a wink. God, I love her.

  I set the phone down and I frown. The call with Gabriel is over and I should be relieved. I’m not. Something feels off. Nothing about that simple exchange was as simple as it seemed. That foreboding feeling is back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Savage

  The Emma suite, or whatever the flip it’s called, sports a long-ass dining room table that is loaded down with coffee, donuts, and random MacBooks belonging to our visitors. Those visitors include Smith, Adam, Asher, and Adrian—who I haven’t decided to like or hate yet. Good thing he’s on the opposite side of the table between Asher and Smith, while I have only Adam, who I’m least likely to punch, but yeah. It could happen.

  “You cheap fucks couldn’t afford more than donuts again?” I ask, enjoying the hell out of my fourth donut. Or so it may seem to everyone else, but I’m living one of my moments. Those moments. The seemingly mundane ones that happen not long before the most brutal, bloody moments. I have that sense now, the calm before the storm, and a storm is coming.

  “You know what they say about donuts?” Adrian asks. He’s talking about donuts. I still don’t hate him. Still don’t like him either.

  “You eat what’s sweet and not the hole,” I say, grabbing another chocolate glazed to finish me off.

  He laughs. “And you can only eat just one.”

  Smith mumbles. “Please don’t encourage his shit jokes,” Smith mumbles. “I can’t take it.”

  “One day you’ll find a woman who doesn’t mind,” I assure him.

  “You found a woman,” he snaps. “Anyone can.”

  I give him a fake grin and shove a donut into my mouth.

  Asher jibes at him and that side of the table gets into a conversation. I lean in closer to Adam and lower my voice. “Kane Mendez of the Mendez Oil Empire. He’s dangerous. He’s brutal. He cannot be controlled, which is why the Society hates him. He’s our resource.”

  “A resource you call dangerous. Why is he dangerous?”

  “His father was one of the most notorious drug lords to ever live.”

  He arches a brow. “Was? Where is his father now?”

  “Dead. His uncle runs the cartel, though there are rumors that he’s a front for Kane himself.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? And you want to get him involved?”

  “The Society, and that means Pocher, they’re his enemies. My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Gabriel is being supported by Pocher. We need to know our enemy and no one knows him better than Kane Mendez.”

  “How do you know Kane Mendez?”

  “I made a lot of contacts in my years with Tag. And enemies, too, which is why I stayed away from Candace.”

  “You mean Wes? Because, man, I get it. Having a man do what he did to your woman’s bed would fuck with anyone.”

  “Wes is a fly that I should have killed years ago. Tag will take care of him to make sure I take care of Gabriel. What I’m concerned about right now is how we take down Gabriel and get rid of Pocher before he decides Candace is too much of a liability to let live. If that means doing things Walker won’t do, then I will step away. I’ll walk away.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” he says. “I’m all in. You saved my life, man. Whatever that means, I’ll help save your woman, but I need you to exhaust every option that isn’t Kane Mendez first.”

  “And what options are there?” I bite out.

  “Remember where you put the proof to take this asshole down.” He grabs a piece of paper and sets it in front of me. “Write down mission details.” He motions to Asher, who is now listening in on our conversation. “Then Asher can hack and hunt for the proof that Gabriel broke laws.”

  “I’ll get Blake to help, too,” Asher agrees. “We’ll get what we need to ruin him and there’s no reason Pocher will focus on Candace. Gabriel’s nothing but a political puppet to him right now. Put him in jail, and Pocher distances himself.”

  �
��Tag won’t leave Gabriel alive,” I assure them. “He’ll fear he’ll talk to make a deal.”

  “And that won’t be our concern,” Adam says. “If Tag kills Gabriel, he kills Gabriel.”

  I don’t correct him. I don’t tell him that me, Candace, and her father will be liabilities to Tag as well. I don’t tell him that between Tag and I, the game has become kill or be killed. My endgame with Tag doesn’t need to include Walker Security. In fact, it’s better that way.

  “Damn shame, though,” I say dryly. “The idea of Honest Gabe being ass-fucked every night by a big brute who calls himself Cindy sits mighty pretty with me.”

  “He knows something,” Candace announces, entering the room and pausing to take in the table of men before her eyes find mine again. “Gabriel knows something, Rick.”

  I stand up and round the table to stand in front of her, catching her shoulders. “What does that mean?”

  She quickly spills out a story of text messages, flowers, and an awkward call. “He at least suspects I’m not home. I have to go back. And now, what if he’s having me watched?

  “None of that is happening,” Asher says, his words enough to get me to step to Candace’s side so we both see and communicate with him. “I’ve read the transcripts of his communications and our team is watching video footage,” he continues. “He’s distracted by his campaign manager. Now, does the man have a big enough ego to expect you to sit around and wait on his flowers? Yes. But that’s all this is.”

  She shakes her head and looks at me. “I don’t agree. Something in my gut tells me there’s more.”

  “You aren’t all in anymore,” I say. “He feels that, which is exactly why we need to talk about our endgame and your exit strategy.”

  “Is there anything on my father?” she asks hopefully, looking from me to the entire room.

  “Our guy in Iraq should get to him today,” he says. “We’ll know more then.”

  “What about my mother?” she asks, hugging herself, as if she’s trying to prepare for a blow.

  “I’m working every angle,” Asher promises. “But to be direct, nothing yet. I have to put your father first.”

  “Right,” she says tightly. “Thank you. You’re amazing. All of you are amazing.” Her voice cracks the tiniest bit and I jump into action.

  “Come,” I say, tugging her free of her self-created straightjacket position and taking her hand. “Eat donuts and drink coffee. You’ll feel better.”

  “More donuts?” she asks. “Are you guys trying to make me fat?” The comment doesn’t stop her from claiming the seat next to me and digging into an éclair that she downs with coffee.

  By the time she’s on coffee number two, she’s noticeably less tense, and clearly feeling better, but I’m not. The passing of time weighs heavily on my shoulders, spinning like a top in my head. I feel it. I feel the call to action. It’s time to play the kind of dirty only a man like me can play. The kind of dirty a man like Kane Mendez plays. Fuck morals. Morals are for my future, not my present. Tag isn’t playing with morals. He’s playing with bullets and blood. And if I don’t do the same, I’m going to end up drowning in Candace’s blood. And I won’t let that happen.

  I know Tag.

  Time is almost up.

  I act or he acts.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Savage

  I’ve written down a list of the missions that were on US soil that might have the most chance of incriminating Gabriel, and Asher is hacking his way to what he promises is the proof I left somewhere. Smith offers his open MacBook to Candace. “The transcripts from our surveillance of Gabriel. To put your mind at ease, but I need to warn you. Most of it is him and his campaign manager.”

  “If anything, that will put my mind at ease. I don’t want his attention.”

  Her fear is about my undoing. I need to end this. Now. I lean over and kiss her. “I’m going to make a phone call.”

  She catches my hand. “Everything okay?”

  “Just calling my bossman, Blake, to ask why I’m supposed to trust this Adrian guy sitting here with us,” I say, but she doesn’t immediately let go of my hand. She searches my face and I don’t know what she’s looking for or what she finds, but she seems to reluctantly concede.

  Adrian grabs another donut and goes back to work on his MacBook, doing whatever he’s doing, giving zero shits about what I just said. I’m bordering on liking him now.

  “He tells horrible jokes,” she says. “Anyone who tells horrible jokes can’t be trusted.”

  I lean in near her ear, and my God, she smells like Texas sunshine and the jasmine that used to scent the air by my house on a perfect spring day. She smells like home. “Except me. You can trust me, baby.” I kiss her neck and without looking at her, I get up and head for the other room.

  Once I’m outside on the balcony, I pull that photo of Wes jacking off on the bed out of my pocket. I torture myself with the reminder of what’s at stake. A reminder that I have to do whatever it takes to protect Candace. I’m not sure I can do that with Walker by my side. I’m not sure I can do this in a way Candace would approve, but she’ll be alive when this is over. That’s what matters. A new chapter doesn’t even start until this one ends.

  I grab my phone and find Kane Mendez’s number, which I don’t believe he gives out freely. But I have it. We got each other. I’m just not sure what that says about him or me. I don’t even hesitate. I dial Mendez and it goes to voicemail. “This is Savage. We have a mutual enemy, the enemy. And that enemy is threatening the only person in this world I give a fuck about. Call me. Help me and I’ll owe you the biggest fucking favor on planet Earth. And I’m a good man to have owe you a favor.” I disconnect.

  I’ve just slid my phone back into my pocket when Asher and Adam step onto the balcony. “Our man called in from Iraq. The general’s convoy was attacked, but he’s safe. The security team for some prince stepped in and rescued him. He’s presently at his palace.”

  I curse and ball my fist. “Prince Yasmin.”

  “Yeah,” Asher confirms. “Why?”

  “And how did you know that?” Adam ask.

  “The attack was a setup to get the general into Yasmin’s care. Yasmin is a frequent client of Tag’s. They’re close friends. In other words, the general is now a prisoner and all Tag has to say is one word, and Yasmin will ensure the general has an unfortunate accident.” I turn and grab the railing. “Fuck.” I turn back around. “What have you told Candace?”

  “We haven’t,” Asher replies. “We thought you’d want to tell her.”

  “What I need and want right now is to go over there and get the general, but I can’t leave Candace and it’s not that simple.”

  “I’ll go,” Adam offers. “I know that territory well. And you trust me. You know you do.”

  “I’d go too, man,” Asher adds, “but I think you need me and my tech skills here right now. Blake just isn’t free enough to do this the justice it needs. And we need Adam. We have a man on the ground. A good man. Let him do it.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Reynolds,” Adam says. “I’ve worked with him. He’s damn good. He was a SEAL.”

  “You fucking people grow like weeds.”

  “And weeds will take your ass over, man,” he replies. “He’s there. He can move now.”

  “Why aren’t we just killing Tag and being done with this?” Adrian asks, appearing in the doorway.

  Okay. I like this guy. I wait for Asher and Adam to object. They don’t. They all just stare at me. “You take away Tag’s ammunition, he grabs more. That means he comes at Candace. He knows I know him. He knows I know that. I have to hit Tag the minute he has the general. There can’t be a moment that Tag believes the general is no longer under his control, that he lives. And Tag is going to lose patience. We need to act. Now.”

  “We need a few days to plan this,” Adam says.

  “The night of the governor’s Appreciation Ball,” I say. “Tag will expect me
to hit Gabriel. He’ll be watching the show. We’ll make him the show. If Reynolds can pull off an extraction that night.”

  “Where do Gabriel and Candace fit into this?” Adam asks.

  “If you say their names together in a sentence like that again,” I warn, “I swear I’ll pull your balls through your nose.”

  “My point here is that we heard him and Pocher talking. If she tries to leave him, they’ll kill her to save face, and get the dead fiancée story, otherwise known as the sympathy vote.”

  “In a perfect world, we find the evidence we need and have him arrested as he leaves the event,” I say. “But in case we can’t, we need a way to get him out of town, a wealthy investor who wants to donate to his campaign and meet immediately, someone who calls him right before the event would do the job.”

  “That’s doable,” Asher says. “We’ll make him believe he’s meeting whoever in the fuck I come up with. I’m going to go to my room and work on all of this.” He eyes me. “Then I’ll be back and we can work on our other problem child, Honest Gabe.” He starts to turn and hesitates. “What are we telling Candace?”

  “Yes. What are we telling Candace?”

  At the sound of Candace’s voice, my gaze goes to her where she now stands next to Adrian, while everyone else goes bug-eyed staring at me. Assholes.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Candace

  My heart is in my throat and the tension in this circle of men on this patio is tighter than a band about to pop. “Leave us,” I order roughly, closing the space between me and Rick, to stand in front of him.

  Before I can say another word, he’s already pulling me to him, his hands on my arms. “He’s alive,” he says softly, even before we’re alone, but that follows. We’re left on that patio with what should be good news, but somehow I know it’s not.