Savage Protector: Outlaw Justice

by Gayle, E. M.

  Him.

  He killed the engine and hooked his helmet on the handlebar. There was only one way to get through this and that was head on.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought we made it clear you were no longer welcome here.” He hid his wince at Axel’s anger as he and two other men he didn’t recognize came out of the Wrath headquarters. The place was a behemoth of a building that used to be a local saw mill and covered several acres of land. “You were crystal clear you wanted nothing to do with us, so what makes you think you can waltz right in and act like you belong?

  There was more than a little rage in his former friend’s voice and the two guys with him looked surly at best. Showing up a mere twenty-four hours after cutting ties wasn’t his best idea, but it was the only one he had. The fact he’d have to put up with the shit they’d give him also not fun.

  “I need your help.”

  Axel raised a brow. “You shitting me?”

  “No. I am not shitting you. I have a serious problem and I need help. I don’t have much money to hire you, but whatever it takes, whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

  That brought a slight smirk to his old friend’s face.

  “Anything?” he asked, clear disbelief written in his eyes. “Well, come on then. By all means lets go in the office and you can discuss what you need with JD. Although you might find he’s not in a generous mood after the shit you said yesterday. I can’t even imagine how hard up you must be for you to drag your ass in here so soon. Personally though, I could give a fuck about what you want, but I’ll enjoy watching you get put in your place.”

  Houston ignored Axel’s jabs and followed them in. He didn’t care how difficult they made this for him or how much bullshit they made him take as long as they agreed to help.

  He stepped into the main gathering room, not altogether surprised that the place hadn’t changed much in a decade. Other than a few new pieces of furniture and a sweet seventy-inch television hanging on the wall, everything else had stayed the same.

  Despite the dread sitting heavily on his chest, a strong sense of nostalgia washed over him and soothed some of the rougher emotions he'd been dealing with over the last several hours.

  The grainy image of Izzy being thrown inside the van outside the hotel kept flashing before his eyes. And with so little intel to go on he had nowhere to funnel his growing rage.

  “I think this calls for a drink.” Axel pointed to one of the guys Houston didn’t know. “Zook, get us some fucking beers and bring them in the office.”

  When the man named Zook went to the bar, Houston got a look at the back of his cut and noticed the missing club patch. He was a recruit. Part of the club, but not yet official. Recruits had to make it through an unspecified probationary period before the club would consider them for full membership. Basically, they made sure you weren’t a pussy or a narc.

  He followed Axel into the office, a glorified conference room for club official meets or church as they were sometimes called depending on the current President’s rule. Although technically church was the universal MC code for a fucking club meeting.

  The furnishings in the room were sparse with the focus completely centered on the long, scarred table his father told him was made with some of the wood left behind at the mill. Up on the wall hung another old piece of lumber that had the club mantra burned into it.

  Reap what you S.O.W.

  Back in the day when his father started the club with his military buddies, they’d put the club’s focus on the fact that every action has consequences with a goal to make sure true justice was served. Sometime between then and the fateful night of his mother’s death, the club motto and everything else about it went to shit.

  Violence had become the norm and nearly every member had taken the stance of kill or be killed.

  The anger already sitting in his gut grew. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t his life any more than the Corps, although at the moment he had nowhere else to turn. Everything was fucking shit and getting worse by the second.

  Time to find some control.

  “So lets have it. What the hell happened that brought you willingly into the mill? Thought you were too busy with your new bitch to worry about the likes of us. She get tired of you already?” Axel handed him a beer and he had to use every ounce of his training to accept it instead of smashing it across his face. Instead, he watched him take the seat across from him while clenching his jaw to keep quiet. The other guys had melted away and he was left facing him with the worst possible news.

  “I thought I was too. Although we both know that things can change when we least expect it. But I thought you wanted me to talk to JD?"

  "You will if I think it's important enough."

  He didn't like the smirk on Axel's face or the shit attitude and was itching to do something about it. Fortunately for them both, he didn't have time for a god damned pissing contest. He was fast becoming a cautionary tale about what not to do when it came to burning bridges.

  Old scars ran deep and it was only a matter of time before they festered again. Which meant he was going to have to suck it up for her sake.

  “As a matter of fact, she is the reason I’m here.”

  Axel smiled, but smothered some of it by taking a swig of beer. “Not surprised it involves pussy. Most problems do. Thank God we got out of that business. More power to the fuckers that want to manage that shit.”

  Houston was kind of surprised to hear the club no longer dealt in prostitutes. His father had loved that part of the biz, JD too.

  “She was kidnapped. Right under my fucking nose.” Again, that turmoil eating him from the inside out flared to life.

  The smirk on Axel’s face disappeared. “No shit?”

  “Yeah, no shit. And I think whoever took her isn’t going to let her go—alive.”

  “What the hell, man? Who is this girl? She worth something? Or did she just get in some kind of trouble and can’t get out?”

  “It’s kind of complicated. One minute we’re sitting by a pool and the next I come back from the head and she’s gone. If not for my gut and the signs of a struggle I would have assumed she ran out on me.”

  “So who the hell is this chick? What makes her so God damned important?”

  “Yeah, that’s the kicker and why I’m here instead of the police.” He pulled out Izzy’s drivers license and slid it across the table. “I found this in a hidden compartment of her purse.”

  Axel eyed it warily before picking it up. “I’m not going to like this am I?”

  Houston shook his head, waiting as Axel read it.

  “Fuck.”

  Yep, that about summed it up. This situation was fucked front ways, sideways and every other God damned way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Axel

  Axel stared at the tiny picture on Isabella Mazzeo’s drivers license still in complete shock. There wasn’t a whole lot that surprised him these days, but Houston randomly hooking up with the daughter of the man they were investigating…

  He hated coincidences, if that’s what this was and that seemed unlikely. They could not afford to let this fuck things up for the club and their latest mission.

  He handed the card back to JD, his club president. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do about this one. Not without compromising everything. She’s virtually untouchable.”

  JD’s eyes turned hard. “No one is untouchable. I learned that in the Army. All it takes is the right intel, the right team and the right determination and you can get to whomever or whatever you want. No one is that insulated. Not forever.”

  He shrugged. “You want to risk the club over this? Our entire investigation? There are lives at stake. Not to mention our reputation.”

  “Depends on him. How far is he willing to go to rescue this girl? If we say no and he goes after her, his involvement could unravel all the work we’ve already put into this anyway. If this girl ran away from her family like he says, there's a
chance she might have some information she’d be willing to share that might help us.”

  “It’s too convenient. I smell a rat.”

  JD ignored him and continued, “Plus, we could use his skills. And the fact he doesn’t have an inked target on his back like the rest of us, means he could be very useful.”

  “You thinking undercover work?” He didn’t particularly care for the direction this conversation was taking.

  “We need to do something. So far our investigation into those missing girls hasn’t got us shit. A man on the inside would be worth something. A lot of something. I don’t think I need to remind you that we need to get paid.”

  No, he didn’t. The fee for this job was huge and a major cash influx the club could use. They had plans and those plans needed funding. “Going undercover could get him killed.”

  “That’s the risk we all take everyday. You think he didn’t risk his life in the Corps? You’ve seen his jacket. He may have been taking most of his targets out from a mile away most days, that didn’t mean he was safe.”

  It boggled his mind how much information JD could get his hands on. Telling him something was classified was useless. If there was information to be had, he had a contact to get it for him.

  “He severed ties with us a decade ago. Just walked away like it meant nothing. Proved that again yesterday. What makes you so sure he’s going to come back now? Even for her?”

  JD smiled. “The club is in that boy’s blood just like it is yours. The Corps may have given him an adequate substitution while turning him into an adrenalin junkie, but that ended the day the IED hit him. The Corps don't give a shit that he’s mostly functional. On paper he doesn’t meet regs, that means he’s out. I’ve seen this bullshit a hundred times. Someone like him is going to need an outlet. A new mission in life. We can give him that.”

  Axel wasn’t so sure. Houston cutting them out of his life without a glance back had been a betrayal he'd never forgotten. He didn’t fully understand why the Pres wanted him back so much. The club was hot shit. Business was going great, they were about to expand into more legal revenue streams and they were flush with more recruits than they could handle. Babysitting someone he wasn’t sure he could trust anymore did not sound remotely like a good time.

  JD clapped him on the shoulder. “Stop thinking so hard, son. The decision’s been made. It’s time to put the past where it belongs and move on together. Make the offer and go from there. If he wants our help then you make sure he’s in. All in. Otherwise he’s on his own.”

  Hardening his jaw, Axel nodded to his Pres before turning away. Fuck it. If the rest of the club was on board then so be it. He’d make sure there were eyes on him at all times until he was convinced. If Hawkeye tried to screw them over, he’d know and he’d enjoy telling them I told you so.

  He jerked the pack of cigarettes out of his cut and yanked one free. Apparently he and Hawkeye had a lot to talk about. Although it seemed unlikely his old friend would take the deal just to save some snatch he barely knew.

  Axel pulled the game room door open. They’d left Houston on ice in this room while key members of the club discussed the situation. Just because they voted to help him find the girl didn’t mean it was going to be easy. Mazzeo was a clever snake and so far the bastard always stayed one step ahead of them.

  “Hey.”

  Houston pressed the off button on the television. “Hey,” he returned.

  “Looks like this is your lucky day or unlucky depending on what you think of the deal.”

  Houston neither flinched nor cracked a smile. Fucker kept his face blank, making it impossible to read. He smelled like whiskey though. A lot of it.

  “You sober?”

  “Sober enough. What’s the deal?”

  “Club has a spot for someone with your skills and training. You know how this works. The club is already indebted to your family for life and thanks to those old ties we’re willing to back you up as much as we can, but we won’t risk going to war for you unless you agree to patch in permanently. And make no mistake, getting involved in Mazzeo business for no good reason other than pussy means war.”

  Houston nodded his head. “Done. I figured as much before I even turned wheels onto the compound. I’ve already made peace with the past.”

  Axel tried to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure his ass of an ex best friend was taking his commitment as seriously as he should. Peace didn’t come in twenty-four goddamned hours or at the bottom of a bottle. “That ain’t fucking all, asshole.”

  The other man stilled, narrowing his eyes. “What else?”

  “Sit down. There’s some things about the organization you need to understand.”

  “Axel, come the fuck on. I know this club. I grew up in it same as you, remember?”

  “I remember you walking away from all of us at a shit time without so much as a glance back and vowing never to come back. That’s what I fucking remember. You seriously think shit don’t change in ten years?” He was losing his patience.

  “We’ve got the rest of my Goddamned life to hash this out. Time is not on Izzy’s side right now. We’ve got to find her soon before it’s too late.”

  “Pussy that good? Seems crazy to be so wrapped up in this girl so fast. Is there an angle I’m missing here?”

  The transition from frustration to anger that locked down Houston’s face did not come as a surprise. He’d pushed at him for that very reason.

  Houston clenched his fists, but kept them at his side. “Don’t. Go. There. You’re starting to piss me off and I don’t know how much longer I can hold my temper. So unless you want your head bashed in I suggest you stop before it’s too late.”

  Axel really wanted Houston to swing the first punch. Whatever was up his ass needed to be removed. Air needed to be cleared sooner rather than later. “I’m going to give you a pass on threatening me just this once. Do it again and the service end of my pistol is getting shoved in your face. You got me?”

  Houston’s face turned red, but he managed at great visible strain to keep his mouth shut.

  “JD and the rest of the crew have already left for Seattle.”

  “What?”

  “He got a quick meeting with an associate of Frank Mazzeo who happens to owe us big time for some shit that went down a couple of months back. Don’t know what’s going to happen but if anyone can strike a deal with him, JD can. Him and this guy go way back.”

  “I remember,” Houston muttered. “We should be there too.”

  “No. You and I are hanging back with Tel. That brother can work some fucking magic on a computer and he has a better than good shot at tracing the van that grabbed your girl. But he needs your help to get it started.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  Axel held up his hand. “Hang on. We aren’t finished talking yet. You haven’t heard the rest of the deal. This club is taking your back in this in a big way. Probably going to get bloody before it's over. We'll need something specific from you in return.”

  “I already told you whatever you want it's done.”

  He pulled a folder out of his cut and handed it to Houston. “Then you’ve got some homework to do.”

  “What’s this?”

  “A case we’ve been working on that's hit a wall.” He lit the cigarette he'd been holding in his hand.

  “A case? I don’t understand what you mean?” Houston started flipping through the papers.

  “Like I said. Club’s changed. No more drugs running through here other than the legal kind, and the only guns we deal are our own. We kept the gambling cause it makes a fuck ton of money and every politician in this state comes here to play so we ain’t gonna get busted. We also branched out into some other legitimate businesses.

  Got us a real deal distillery going in next to the compound for our Reaper Shine, and one of the old ladies convinced us to invest in a chain of topless coffee huts across the state.” Axel shook his head. "Turns out they’re real popular near the Navy
bases." That had been one hell of a meeting when that shit came up. Everyone started fighting. “The club was struggling though. The old members missed the money from the more profitable illegal shit and tempers were flaring daily. Then one of the townies came out here asking us to help him. Said he’d pay a shitload of cash if we found out who broke into his house and murdered his wife.”

  Houston closed the file and met his gaze. “You’re mercenaries now.”

  “You can call it that if you want. We fill a lucrative gap when it comes to justice, which happens to go really well with the original charter plans.”

  Houston nodded. “You reap what you sow.”

  “You're God damned right.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?”

  “Like I said, our case has hit a wall. In order to fix this we need to go deeper. That’s where you come in. We need you to go undercover in the Mazzeo organization.”

  “Which is why you and I stayed behind.”

  He nodded. “We couldn’t take a chance anyone would recognize you. We need this operation to be as clean as possible from the start.”

  “What’s the end game here?”

  “Tel will go over the case details with you. In a nutshell. Someone’s been kidnapping women from the colleges. They disappear without a trace and we’re left holding our dicks and looking like assholes when we can’t find them.”

  “This sounds like a case for the police or maybe the FBI. Someone with a lot more resources.”

  Axel snorted. “If we’re left standing around looking like assholes, what do you think law enforcement tied up with red tape look like? Fuck them. Inefficient motherfuckers can’t do shit without approval and a mountain of paperwork to wipe their asses with. Why do you think our services have become so popular?”

  “Bottom line it, Axel.”

  He narrowed his eyes, still feeling dangerously close to punching his supposed best friend in the face. “Bottom line is, we’re going to get your girl free of this shit and then you’re going in. Immediately in. We've got some pretty worrisome deadlines on finding these girls too. What happens after that is going to be completely on you. We can’t provide much back up without blowing your cover or starting a war.”