by Gayle, E. M.
Savage Protector
Outlaw Justice
EM Gayle
Gypsy Ink Books
SAVAGE PROTECTOR
By
E.M. GAYLE
Copyright © Eliza Gayle
writing as E.M. Gayle
All Rights Reserved
http://emgayle.com
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Contents
About The Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Also by E.M. Gayle
Books Writing As Eliza Gayle
About The Book
Outlaw Justice Trilogy Book 1
Houston Reed is a trained killer. It’s in his blood.
His violent past with the Sins of Wrath motorcycle club is always threatening to consume him, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind.
Then she walks into his life.
Beautiful. Innocent. Uncorrupted.
Now all he can think about is possessing her.
Taking her for his own.
Corrupting her body and soul.
For her…he will let the violence consume him because no one…no one…is going to come between him and the woman he wants.
Excerpt
I had to admit, the morning after my first one-night stand with a stranger had started out better than I could have imagined. I peeked out the hotel window to see the sun had come up and blanketed Seattle in an achingly beautiful warm glow. Summer was supposed to be long gone by now and the gray days of Fall settling in. Mother Nature obviously had something else on her mind today and even the most pessimistic among us couldn’t ignore. I was grateful for it.
My body ached from the previous night’s activity, but it was so worth it. Houston Reed, my motorcycle riding badass I’d found on a pier, had skills even I couldn’t have dreamt of. What that man could do with his hands, his tongue and his giant cock were so far out there they should be considered criminal.
There was also no walk of shame.
Although if I was to get technical, that was only because I had no home to walk back to.
My name is Isabella and I’m a runaway bride.
I giggled as the image of my veil being ripped from my head by the wind as I made my dramatic mad dash from the church to a cab swept through my mind.
While it sounded glamorous for like half a second, I knew all too well it was not.
My father might be sitting at the breakfast table with his standard fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and two pieces of rye unbuttered toast this morning, but underneath that civilized veneer he would be seething.
I’d screwed up. Big time. And the great criminal mastermind, Frank Mazzeo, would not let that go unpunished. He had standards and rules for every person in his life and that included the daughter he seemed to hate.
Chapter One
Houston
The one place Houston hoped to never return to again loomed in front of him.
Home.
The old cliche about how there was no place like home might be kind of true, but that didn’t mean you had to return. Except in his case he did because at the moment there was no where else to go.
Despite the sick sense of dread sitting in his gut, he admired the view from his seat as the train entered the Sultan city limits. Rich, green trees with yellow-tipped leaves surrounded an eclectic mix of old and new buildings. While only a short ride from the busy city of Seattle, Sultan felt like a completely different, slower paced world. With the mountains as a breathtaking backdrop and a well-preserved, old-fashioned town set below, it was still as pretty as any postcard. Early fall meant no snow yet, but before long it would blanket the higher elevations.
If not for the heavy cloak of the past weighing on his shoulders, he would enjoy the beauty in front of him. As it was, the only decent thing about his arrival would be getting out of this cramped seat and stretching his aching leg. Getting hit by a stray IED six months ago had done more than leave scars on his body. He rubbed the soreness surrounding his right knee. The accident ended his career in the Marine Corps too soon and left him with no choice but to return to his childhood home.
After cutting ties when he was eighteen, he lived free of his father’s legacy, the Sins of Wrath motorcycle club, for ten years. For once his life had not included drugs, illegal weapons or the constant threat of a raid that could lead to a stint in prison.
The violence and death on the other hand, escalated. War wasn’t easy, nor was it pretty. But it had felt right clear to his bones. Enlisting in the Corps was exactly the path he needed when he was eighteen years old, and it was still the path he needed at twenty-eight. That it could be yanked out from underneath him with no warning and in the space of a breath, still made him angry.
The train eased into the station, blocking his view of the town, and came to a stop. Houston stood and grabbed his C-bag, stretching his arms and legs as he moved. The final segment of his trip that started in Oceanside, California was only a couple of hours, but that’s all it took to tighten him up.
He exited the train and breathed in the cool, clear mountain air, surveying the surrounding area. No smog or festering decay to deal with here. From outward appearances, Sultan seemed quiet, peaceful and clean. It wasn't the outside that concerned him. Eventually he'd have to dig deeper and revisit the underbelly he chose to forget.
First things first. He needed to find a ride. With his father incarcerated and his brother God knew where with his super secret FBI shit, Houston was on his own to get home. Fortunately, flocks of tourists made their way through the town this time of year and cabs were easy enough to come by.
“Yo, Hawkeye.”
Houston froze, every muscle going on high alert. He recognized that voice like he’d heard it last only moments ago, not ten years ago. He also hadn’t been called by that name since his last ride on his way out of Sultan. He slowly turned and came face to face with Alexander “Axel” Carver, his best friend from childhood and current member of Sins of Wrath. Make that Vice President of Wrath as evidenced by the prominent patch he wore on his black leather cut.
Well, that answered one question he’d been contemplating the entire ride home. The club was alive and well.
He stared at his former friend, who’d filled out with more than his fair share of muscle. Fucker must spend hours in a gym these days. Despite the changes over the years, time fell away.
“Hey,” he returned, warily closing the space between them. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms so he didn’t know what to expect from this unexpected reunion.
Axel eyed him up and down. “The prodigal fuck up returns. Damn, been a long time, brother.”
He stiffened at Axel’s use of the word brother and the implications it implied. They were no longer brothers in any way.
“How the hell did you know I was here? I thought I was coming in under the radar.”
“You really think
anything important happens around here Wrath don’t know about?”
Houston rolled his eyes. “I hardly think my arrival ranks on the important scale. I’m not part of the club.”
“Uh huh. You think the favored son is going to roll back into town and no one’s going to sit up and take notice? Fuck that. You’re lucky I kept my mouth shut or a bunch of the guys would have been here to greet you.”
The idea made him shudder. “Yeah, not ready for that yet.” First he had to face an empty house full of unwelcome memories he didn’t want to touch before breaking the news to the club that he had no interest in returning. “Thought I’d head out to Pop’s place and get things settled first.”
“That works. I’ll give you a ride.”
Houston waited a couple of seconds to hear the catch before hefting his bag across his shoulder. “Appreciate it, I think. Figured on taking a cab. Didn’t expect a committee to welcome me home.”
Axel shrugged, turning toward the parking lot. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Oh joy. Not even back five minutes and Houston had a bad feeling he was going to have to deal with the club sooner rather than later.
Axel led him to the parking lot and an expensive dark blue four-door pickup truck. “Nice ride.”
“Not my preference, but it’ll do under the circumstances.”
Houston understood. He might not be part of the club, but his love for a rumbling bike underneath him had been ingrained long before he was legal to drive.
He tossed his bag into the backseat and slid into the passenger side of the truck. “Been a while since I’ve been able to ride.”
“How bad is it?”
Axel didn’t need to clarify his question. If they knew he was here then they’d know why. His injury would always be the elephant in the room until he set people straight. Fortunately, his doctor had cleared him for everything but active duty, so whatever Axel was thinking didn’t matter.
He was more than capable of taking care of himself.
“I recovered. Got some nice scars and I get a little stiff if I sit too long. Other than that, I’m good to go.”
Axel shoved his gear into reverse. “Glad to hear it.”
They rode in silence for several miles while Houston took in their surroundings. Axel was probably keeping an eye out for anything needing taken care of and Houston simply wanted to reacquaint himself with the town. Other than a few new restaurants and shops, everything looked pretty much the same.
“Good to see the Tan hasn’t been overdeveloped.” The city was technically named after the Sultan River, but locals tended to simply call it the Tan. “Always loved the fact it held onto roots with a death grip.” Not all roots were bad. And if you were smart, you learned how to cut out the bad ones early on.
“It hasn’t been easy. Developers and businesses are always trying to move in. Fortunately, we’ve got a city council with their dicks on straight who know what’s right for their town.”
Houston nodded. The club had a way of making sure the town's interests aligned with their own.
They turned off Main Street and drove past the fire department and surrounding residential streets. As they got closer to the old homestead, the pressure in Houston’s chest multiplied. Ten goddamned years he’d avoided this. What had he been thinking? He should not have come back.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, wishing he’d bit back the bitterness before he answered.
“You don’t have to stay there. We’ve got more than enough room at the compound. Some of the guys are looking forward to seeing you again.”
Houston shook his head. “I’m good.” He wasn’t about to get into the details of the shit churning in his stomach with anyone, let alone Axel. Any weakness and they’d find a way to manipulate him right where they wanted him.
He and Axel had this conversation too many times. In fact, their last conversation included Houston telling him the club could fuck off for all he cared. He hadn't heard from him since.
Axel turned the truck into the driveway and Houston faced forward to take in his childhood home. Same blue shutters, same white siding and same black door. It looked well cared for, especially for an abandoned house.
“Club's been keeping it up. We send a prospect over here once a week. Gives them extra shit to do and it keeps the neighbors happy.”
Houston turned and lifted his left brow. “The neighbors? Since when do we care about the neighbors?”
Axel snorted. “Well... About six months after Pops went to prison, the club got a visit from old Mrs. Mallory. She just drove in past the guard without stopping and marched into the mill wearing her brown old lady loafers, clutching her purse and pearls and demanded we do something about the mess.”
“Oh boy.” Houston could easily imagine the scene. His former neighbor had a way of sticking her nose in everyone’s business whether she had a right to or not.
“Oh yeah. JD about lost his shit so we hustled her out of there before he could explode. Been handling the situation ever since. Whatever it takes to keep that crazy woman off club property.”
The laughter Houston had been trying to hold in died instantly at the sound of the current club president’s name. JD Monroe had been his father’s best friend up until the day Houston’s mother died. The memories he kept locked down broke free, tearing through his flesh and blood like claws of a big cat taking down a deer.
Fuck.
He’d come home late that last night to screams and shouting so loud he heard them halfway down the block. He rushed into the house and skidded to a halt at the horrifying scene before his eyes. JD was on the ground, his father straddling him with his pistol pressed right between his eyes. Even more terrifying was his mother standing across the room from them with another gun held to her own head, her finger on the trigger. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed at his father, begging him to let JD go or she’d blow her own head off.
Houston tried yelling at them to get his attention but no one noticed him. Their own shouts and accusations took up all the space. He didn’t know what to do. For whatever reason two people were about to die and he had to do something to stop them.
He ran back outside and around the front to his bedroom window. His plan was to get into the house behind his mother and disarm her before she ever saw him.
He didn’t even make it halfway through his room before a gunshot shattered the fight. Houston tore through the house and down the hall, bursting into the living room. His mother lay unmoving on the floor, her eyes open and a bullet hole between them.
“So what do you think?”
Axel’s question broke Houston free from the memories pulling him under, allowing him to refocus on the present instead of the past.
“Huh?” He’d missed some of what Axel said.
“Didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You were thinking about that night.”
It wasn’t really a question and Houston didn’t bother to answer. None of their lives had been the same after that night. Especially his.
“I think about it a lot too.”
He really didn’t want to get into this with Axel so he kept his mouth shut as they both sat in silence for a few minutes staring at the house.
“Why don’t you go stay at one of the safe houses? We don't use them much anymore.”
Houston shook his head. “It’s time to deal with this.” He opened the truck door and climbed out. “I appreciate the ride.”
“How bout we meet at Bubba’s later? The club can buy you a beer or three. Talk some business. It’s important.”
“I didn’t want to get into this yet, but you gotta know I ain’t interested in becoming Wrath again. That’s my past and I need to keep moving forward.”
“Club’s not like it used to be. You should hear JD out.”
“I don’t see changing my mind.” He also wasn’t sure how he’d feel seeing JD again after all this time.
Axe
l didn’t react, but Houston knew the expectations and discussions were far from over. “You still need to come by for that beer.”
There it was. That edge in Axel’s voice along with the tic in his jaw that made it clear this invitation wasn’t optional.
“I'll see how it goes.” After he faced a few ghosts he had a feeling he might need that beer to get straight again. It was the conversation that came with it he didn’t want to deal with. But maybe with a good buzz and the promise of some nice pussy afterwards he could get through it in one piece.
"Consider it a summons. Here. You’re gonna need these.” Axel tossed a set of keys he caught with one hand. “Check the garage.”
Houston looked at the keys and his friend with sarcasm burning his tongue. They could shove their summons up their asses. Ultimately he would decide where he went and what he did. After twenty-eight years he’d had enough of people telling him what the fuck to do. Whatever game they wanted to play, he wasn’t interested.
He decided to keep those thoughts to himself for now as he grabbed his bag and turned to the house. Time to man the fuck up and get this shit over with and then he’d deal with the rest.
Chapter Two
Isabella
“Almost ready, Ms. Mazzeo?” Angelo, one of my personal security guards had barged his way into my dressing room, to find out if I was ready to walk down the aisle and ruin the rest of my life.