Savage Love

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Why keep a distance?”

  “It’s complicated. Just keep a damn distance.”

  “Where are you—”

  I shut the door and head for the subway, and it kills me to be walking away from Candace, but I do believe she’s safest with Lilah. Pocher won’t touch her. I don’t know how Kane has drawn that line in the sand after killing Pocher’s brother but he has, and I intend to have him draw that same line for us.

  Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at the location of the cigar and whiskey club an hour early, which was my plan. I take up a discreet spot in a coffee shop across the street from the club, where I watch the comings and goings. The result is not much more than a bunch of stuffed shirts who leave a little looser than when they entered the joint. As for the choice of meetings spots, Pocher probably holds a shit ton of meetings here while indulging in his cigars and whiskey and that’s most likely why Kane knows he’s here. He has this place watched. He knows this is the meeting spot Pocher favors. Or perhaps it’s the Society that favors this spot.

  I glance at my watch and it’s five minutes until six. There’s no sign of Kane but he may be waiting for me to show myself. I dial his phone. It goes to voicemail. If the bastard no-shows, he’s next on my hitlist.

  I toss cash on the table and exit the coffee shop, walking across the street to the door of the club. Kane is still nowhere in sight, and I decide, fuck him. I’ll negotiate. I’ll figure this shit out. I always do. I enter the building to a security desk. “I’m here to see Pocher,” I announce to the stiff-necked geek behind the desk, with jet black hair, and wearing black-rimmed glasses.

  “He’s expecting you, Mr. Savage. Go right down.”

  Jesus.

  Mr. Savage comes out sounding like a pervert porn show on that man’s lips and I pray to God that I never hear my name spoken that way ever fucking again. And he said it while telling me to go “right down.” And what do I do? I go right down the steps, just me and my arsenal of weapons they didn’t check me for. Lucky me. Unlucky them. And fuck me, already the spice from the many versions cigars reek, punching a hole in my nostrils. I’m not smoking a cigar, for any level of peace.

  At the lower level, I’m inside what feels like a damn sex club for old people. There’s antique furnishing and smoke in the air, while low hanging chandeliers are dropped over the top of heavy wooden tables. Even the hostess that greets me has cleavage to her belly button but she’s not old.

  She bats her eyes at me and points to a room behind a curtain. “Are they naked back there? Because if they’re naked back there, I don’t want to see a bunch of old man balls.”

  She laughs. “No. They’re not naked.”

  She better be right, I think, heading in that direction. Once I’m at the curtain, I inch it back to find a large room with a random cluster of sitting areas. Pocher’s sitting at a table, with two armed guards standing behind him. I inventory their weapons, or potential weapons, and how they carry their bodies, their hands. They have skills, just not my skills. There’s also a pretty girl chatting Pocher up to his left. He’s fifty-something, thin, almost gaunt, with graying hair. She’s twenty-something with ridiculously large breasts and blonde hair. On any other day, I ignore her, just like I am this day. On any other day, those guards would already be dead, but I’m showing restraint. For now.

  “Rick Savage,” Pocher greets. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight. Join me.”

  I stop on the opposite side of the table but I don’t sit. “What do you want with Candace?”

  “You. She brought me you. And we both know you're far more useful to me than she ever will be, though she decorated Gabriel’s arm quite nicely. A shame he’s dead. I had big plans for him.”

  “If you think me a man without resources, you’re wrong.”

  “You should sit.” He motions to a waiter. “Get the man a vodka.”

  The choice of vodka is his way of telling me he knows all my dirty deeds. Gabriel told him. Tag probably ran his mouth as well until he figured out he was a liability. I press my hands on the table. “What do you want?”

  “A trade.”

  A waiter sets a vodka in front of me. I ignore it, focused on him. “I don’t trade.”

  “I know you know who, and what, I am. I know you know what that can mean for you, good and bad. And I know you like money. Five million a year to be my personal problem solver. And of course, my guarantee you and all those you love stay safe.”

  I pull my weapon and point it at his head. Of course, his guards pull their weapons and point them at me. The woman screams.

  “Go,” I order her, and she all but falls out of her chair trying to comply. Even before she’s gone, I’m addressing Pocher. “You and I can die together, Pocher,” I say. “I’m liking the way the world feels after, aren’t you?”

  “You won’t leave that pretty little Candace. We both know that.” He sounds gallant but the slight quiver of his lips tells me otherwise.

  “I know you know who, and what, I am. Do you really want to take that bet?”

  His cellphone rings on the table where it lies, and I can see the caller ID. It reads “Kane Mendez.”

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Take that call. Tell him you’re busy.”

  His eyes narrow on me and he picks up the phone. “This is Pocher.” He listens a moment and then says. “Very well.” He hangs up. “It seems we're done here,” he says.

  “Done?” I laugh. “I’m not feeling done at all.”

  Pocher motions to his men to put away their weapons and they do. “We’re done, Rick Savage.”

  “I’m pretty sure the only time I’m done is when you're bleeding out all over the table.”

  “I’m sure Kane Mendez has explained to you why that’s a mistake as he’s explained to me your value. You, Candace, and all those connected to you are granted immunity.”

  My cellphone rings and I pull it from my pocket to find Kane calling. I hit the answer button and he says, “Put the gun down and walk away. It’s done. You have my word and that’s all you’re going to get, but I do believe you know I do not offer such declarations lightly.” I disconnect the call and shackle my weapon.

  “Call off Alejandro.”

  “I heard about your situation with Alejandro but I didn’t hire him. Tag hired him and used him to destroy a year of investment in Gabriel. Thankfully, someone killed Tag.”

  I believe him. Pocher is an opportunist. That’s why I’m here. I turn to leave and he says, “Rick Savage.”

  I turn to look at him. “Should anyone, including your pretty little woman, do anything to harm me or my organization, war will be officially declared. And you do not want to go to war with us.”

  I smile. Just smile. And with that, I walk out of the room. I don’t stop walking until I exit the club to find Kane Mendez leaning on a fancy silver 911 Porsche, not so unlike my San Antonio rental. Only I didn’t look like an arrogant rich bastard the way he does right now. Mr. Antonio Banderas in a black suit, and black tie, that probably cost as much as ten Average Joe’s suits.

  I close the space between me and him and he pushes off the Porsche, straightening to greet me. “You’re a little damn late.”

  “But not too late,” he says, in that heavily accented but highly educated way he communicates. “It’s handled. You have your freedom and once again, we are even.”

  “What did you say to him.”

  “What I said doesn’t matter. I’d already been working on a new rope to tie him up with, which was why I was gone today, but your impatient ass couldn’t just wait.”

  “He called.”

  “And you could have put him off, but it’s done. The rope is now around his neck.” His cellphone buzzes and Kane eyes his message. “Lilah says they’re leaving the station in fifteen minutes and then headed to our apartment.” He clicks the locks on his car. “Shall we go get our women?”

  “Considering Pocher claims he didn’t hire the assassin hunting my future wife. Yes. We
need to go get our women. Now.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Candace

  I think I’ve decided I like, perhaps even love, Lilah Love.

  This, after I’ve been with her and a few other people she’s been bossing around for roughly two hours in a conference room at the police station. Lilah doesn’t work at the police station. She’s an FBI profiler on a task force and she works from home. However, you’d never know that Lilah doesn’t work at the police station. She owns the place right now and I’ve quickly learned that Lilah isn’t tolerant of stupidity. She’s fine with about anything else. She doesn’t care what your size is, your race is, your sexual preference. She just can’t stand stupid.

  In between her bossiness, and snipes, and calculations about who killed the victim tonight, I’ve decided it’s been too long since I’ve had a pencil in my hand. I’ve managed to find a notepad and began drafting a project but it’s hard to focus when I just can’t stop watching The Lilah Show.

  At present, Joe, an intern with glasses and a bush of curls on his head, comes into the room. “I feel like we're going in ten directions. Can we go one at a time?”

  Lilah gives him a deadpan look and then says simply, “No.” Already she’s dismissed him to read a text message.

  “Agent Love,” he begins.

  Her head whips up, her eyes blasting him. “If you throw peanut butter on a piece of paper does it stick?” she asks.

  “Ah yes.”

  “If you put it on your tongue is it sticky?”

  “Ah yes.”

  “Then get some peanut butter and put it in your mouth right now.” She points to the door and he marches away.

  “Stop,” she says before he leaves.

  He turns and she addresses him, “Eventually you get to the peanut butter and something sticks. Do the work. There’s no way around it in this job.”

  He gives her a blank stare and she motions him onward. “Go home.”

  “Mother of God,” she murmurs when he disappears. “Help me, help them, but on a good note, Lord knows we need one, Kane and Savage are together. Pocher is on a leash. And before you ask, I know nothing else.”

  “Really? Pocher’s handled? That’s wonderful, right?”

  “Very fucking wonderful.” She starts to gather her things and shoves them in her bag. “Let’s get out of here. I just told Kane we were leaving here in fifteen minutes to meet him and Savage at our place. If we leave now, we can swing by Starbucks. I need caffeine.”

  Now I know I love Lilah Love. “I’m in.”

  She leans over my pad and eyes my sketch of a building I’ve always wanted to create and whistles. “You're talented, but I had no idea how that translated to the real world. And in case you’re wondering, Kane told me you were an architect. He investigates everyone. Don’t get offended.”

  “You clearly don’t know much about Rick if you think I’ll offend that easily. As for my work,” I sigh, “right now, I’m wrapped up in military contracts, but I’m going private. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She stands and shoves her bag on her shoulder. “Why the military?”

  “My father’s a general. My mother was, too. She died young.”

  “My mother as well,” she says and shifts the topic back to me. “Is that what made you choose a different career?”

  “I can shoot and fight. I like that I can shoot and fight, but I just didn’t want that to be all that I am. And I always loved art, but being an artist doesn’t make any money unless you're like Chris Merit, or someone famous like him. And I love the bigger than life finished product of architecture.”

  We’ve walked to the elevator at this point and stepped inside. “Was your mother a cop or in law enforcement of some type?”

  “My mother was Laura Love. The cameras loved her.”

  I gape. “As in the movie star?”

  “That’s right. Most believe she died in a plane crash, which is true.” The elevator opens and we exit.

  We’re exiting the building when I ask, “Most people believe?”

  “Pocher had her killed.”

  “Oh.”

  “Believe me, if I could kill Pocher without consequences, I would.”

  I’m dumbstruck. I don’t even know what to say. She moves on. “Starbucks is only a block and a half up.”

  A few minutes later, we’re in line at the coffee shop and I find myself ever so interested in Lilah’s story. “How did you become a profiler?”

  “Family history. My parents wanted me to be an actress. I wanted nothing to do with that world. I followed my father who was a good sheriff who loved his job in the Hamptons. My brother is now that good sheriff who loves his job. He took over when my father became one of Pocher’s protégés and if the polls are correct, he’ll soon be the Governor of New York State.”

  Her phone rings and she answers the call, and while her expression doesn’t change there’s a subtle tension to her. “We’re at Starbucks. Just meet us here.” She disconnects. “The guys are coming here.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  “Other than my father being a little bitch and actually Pocher’s little bitch? Nope.”

  She’s dodged my question, but I don’t push for more. Rick will be here soon. I’ll talk to him. “Can’t Kane used whatever he has on Pocher to free your father?”

  “My father doesn’t want to be free. He’s one of them. You and I have more in common than you realize.”

  We order and then head to a table to wait for our drinks. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “I’ll try not to drink your coffee,” she says, her tone flat like it’s not a joke. She means it. I laugh because my God, her and Savage are just so alike.

  I dart away and down the hallway to the bathroom. I’m about to enter the single person room when the back exit starts to open. I have no idea why but my heart leaps. I dart inside and lock the door, leaning on the hard surface and giving myself a talking to. Pocher’s handled. I know this. That means he called off Alejandro. I’m still jumpy though, so very jumpy in a way I wasn’t at the station. I’ll be better when I see Rick. When I hear him say this is over, I’ll know it’s over.

  I push off the door, do what I came in here for, wash up, and fix my face, which means maneuvering around my gun for my lipstick. The gun, the Sig Sauer P238 gifted to me from Rick, is a comforting site and presence, and I find myself leaving my bag unzipped as I walk to the door, my hand lingering on the steel of my weapon. I have to let it go to open the door though, and I swear I have this warning system going off in my head. A fight or flight kind of thing.

  I pause and dial Rick. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, baby. We’re almost there. We’re parking now.”

  “Oh good. Okay. Hurry.”

  “Always when I’m coming to you, baby.”

  I smile and disconnect, already calmer. I shove my phone back in my pocket and drawing a breath, I unlock the door and turn the knob. Suddenly, I’m shoved hard backward and I end up falling down. Adrenaline surges through me as I bring Alejandro into view. The next minute is in slow motion. Alejandro slams the door and instinct, and years on end of training, kick in. As he raises his gun, mine is already in my hand, and I don’t hesitate. I fire at his chest and I hit my target. He flies backward and hits the wall and then slides to the ground.

  I scramble to a sitting position and the door flies open again. My gaze catches on Lilah as she enters, weapon drawn. And then to my shock, everything is in slow motion again, as Alejandro raises his gun in my direction again and Lilah shoots Alejandro in the head. This time blood splatters all over the place including on me. I drop my gun and press my hands to the floor and I’m shaking now. “I shot him in the chest. How was he alive.”

  Lilah kneels beside him and yanks up his shirt. “He’s wearing a vest. Are you okay?”

  I never get to answer. Rick is suddenly in the tiny room with us, pulling me to my feet, enclosing me in his arms, and I’m molded close to his big, hard bo
dy. And the world instantly calms but I can hear Lilah calling in the incident and other voices. There are other voices but they don’t quite compute right now. “Tell me you’re okay,” he whispers, cupping my head and tilting my face to his inspection. “Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I am. I tried to shoot him. I did shoot him. He had on a vest, but I didn’t hesitate.”

  “Shoot for the head,” Lilah says, kneeling at our feet, and now wearing gloves, as she bags my weapon. She stands. “Aim for the head next time. Those bastards always wear vests.”

  “I hope there won’t be a next time.”

  “You’re in love with this man,” she says, motioning to Rick. “There will be.”

  “You saved my life, Lilah.”

  “You can save your own next time.” She eyes Rick. “She did a fucking good job. There are cops that hesitate more than she did. Get her out of here but don’t leave.”

  Rick catches my hand and when he leads me out of the bathroom, we settle into a corner where he proceeds to shelter me from the growing law enforcement presence with his big body.

  “This is over, baby. A few more hours of this hell and this is over. We can start our new life together. And I can actually ask you to marry me properly soon, if you’ll have me.”

  Those words are music to my ears. “I can be Candy Savage?”

  He laughs and I laugh, and I know then, that the future is going to be savagely good, despite a savagely bad path to get here.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Candace

  The shock of Alejandro’s attack is oddly not much of a shock at all. The relief of knowing all this hell is now over dominates to such a degree, there is room for little else but joy. Of course, washing the blood off in the shower at the police station helps that happen, and thankfully Kara and Blake bring me clothes to change into.

  Not long after I’ve freshened up, I have half the Walker clan there to accompany them, Asher, Smith, Memphis, and Adrian. I’m swarmed by all concerned, standing in the center of it all with Rick holding onto me. It’s wonderful chaos, but Lilah isn’t having it. She runs them all off but not before I experience the warmth of family. These people helped Rick find his path to being human again, not me. They’re the reason he felt he could come back to me and for that, I will forever willingly be indebted to them.