Savage Protector: Outlaw Justice

by Gayle, E. M.

  It didn’t take long for her to finish and she shuffled into the bathroom next. She returned with a makeup case full of high quality products and all of my toiletries.

  “You need to get dressed. There isn’t much time.” She held a small white dress and a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals in her hands.

  I sat up straight at the sound of her voice, hardly believing she could actually speak. “Did you just talk to me?”

  In true nun fashion, she simply glared at me without saying another word. I tried to ignore her, but the weight of disgust evident in her eyes got to me as usual. I could disregard her latest request and face whatever punishment might be delivered or I could suck it up and change my clothes. I chose the latter.

  I removed the nightie I was already wearing and dropped it to the floor. Taking the dress from the nun, I stepped into the simple sheath and allowed her to zip me up. Under different circumstances and in a different time I might have taken the time to admire the luxurious silk and even appreciate how much a dress like this probably cost.

  Now I didn’t care.

  I longed for the shield and comfort of a sweatshirt and jeans.

  It stung a little how inconsequential my life had been to this point. Groomed to become a whore for a man who only cared whether I lived or died depending on how much money I was worth.

  “Sit,” the nun ordered, pointing at the single chair in the middle of the room.

  My stomach churned as I moved to obey. Minutes from now Marco would enter this room and finally take what I have to freely offer. As much as I wanted to wipe that knowledge from my brain, it would burn there for eternity. No matter what happened, I would never forget my willing part in this.

  After I settled into the seat, the woman grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. It was a strange look she gave me, one I’d never seen from her before, but I was too tired to figure it out. If she was dressing me up to go out, it probably meant another opportunity for me to open my mouth or spread my legs.

  “They are coming for you soon. Be ready to run.”

  My eyes widened, stunned.

  When her words sank in I almost laughed. There were five-inch heels strapped to my feet at the moment. I would not be running anywhere.

  Except that strange look in her eyes I couldn’t interpret made my stomach jolt. “Who is coming?” I asked, my words slightly slurred.

  She shook her head on a heavy sigh. “Just be ready. And try to be smart this time. You won’t get another chance.”

  Without waiting for a response, the woman slipped from the room. Frowning, I stared at the closed door wondering what the hell had just happened. Did everyone forget how to speak plain English? Either way, I was tired of the drama. Fight, sit, bend over, lay still, and soon, spread your legs.

  I was already sick and tired of being pulled every which way. My eyes grew heavy the more I stared at the door. The drug she gave me was weaving its magic and smoothing out the worst of my fears and jagged nerves. As my arms and legs turned to lead, I twisted in my seat and looked at the bed. My dreams were waiting for me…

  If someone managed to come through that door wanting me to do something else tonight they could damn well wake me up to get it.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Houston

  Houston grabbed the tequila bottle from the table next to him and unscrewed the cap. Fuck a glass. Glasses were for pussies. He upended the bottle and poured the liquor down his throat, waiting for the burn of alcohol to wipe away his incessant thoughts.

  More than three weeks had passed since his time with Izzy and he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. If he sat still for more than a few minutes, the scent of her sweet skin would invade his senses, or he’d see her standing on the pier in that ridiculous wedding gown.

  Or when his head was particularly fucked up, he’d see her being shoved into the white van by a couple of ruthless thugs, stark fear etched across her face.

  He threw the bottle across the room and watched it shatter against a wall. Nothing worked. He grabbed his cigarettes from his vest pocket and fished one out.

  “You aren’t going to be worth shit to the club if you keep this up.”

  Houston slowly turned to face Axel, sick of his supposed childhood best friend and now current rider of his ass. “Maybe you need to come down off your high horse and tell me what’s really eating your ass.”

  “Fuck you. I'm not the one sitting around every night drowning in liquor instead of making himself useful. What the hell happened to you that you let pussy fuck up your head like this? Is this what the Marines did for you?”

  Houston dropped his cigarettes and jumped off the couch. He grabbed Axel by the collar of his leather cut and shoved him against the wall with his forearm across his throat, cutting off his air. “I’m sick of you trying to break my balls over this shit every single day. You don’t like what you got with me, that’s too fucking bad. The deal is made.”

  “You should have stayed away,” Axel seethed, his face turning red.

  “I wish I could have,” he snapped.

  “Enough.” JD’s voice exploded through the room. “Houston, let him go and get your ass in my office. Now.”

  He growled against the order, pressing harder against Axel’s windpipe.

  “I don't know what your fucking deal is, but this shit ends now. Get in my face again and you’ll learn first hand why my skills are so important to this club.”

  “Fuck you.” Axel spat in his face.

  “Goddammit, Houston, I said now.” JD got into his face and shoved him with his fist.

  He took a deep breath and released his former friend. It was obvious whatever they were to each other before was now over. He’d broken ties a decade ago and after everything that had happened, they simply couldn’t go back. Apparently their friendship did not withstand the test of time.

  He grabbed another bottle of tequila from behind the bar and headed toward JD's office. Once there he settled into the cracked leather chair across from his club president’s desk and took a final swig of the bitter alcohol.

  JD strode through the door and dropped into the chair. “You and Axel need to work your shit out. I’m getting tired of breaking you up like a couple of twelve-year-olds.”

  “I don’t know what his problem is. He’s been on my ass since I got back. I didn’t ask for this shit. You wanted me. Remember?”

  JD sat forward, placing his fists on the table in front of him. “I wanted a warrior who could get the job done, not a shell of one drowning in tequila.”

  “That’s rich coming from you or anyone else around here. This place is a nonstop rush of booze and pussy. You got a problem with that you might want to start first with cleaning your own house instead of trying to break my balls.”

  “Grow the fuck up. And for God’s sake act like the Marine I know you are.”

  Houston reared back. That was a low blow even for him. “Ain’t a Marine anymore. Kicked me out, remember?”

  JD leaned back in his chair. “Drunk or not, your shitty little pity party is gonna have to wait. Got a line on your girl. A solid one this time.”

  His head shot up. “What?”

  “Finally found the right intel on her location, but we gotta move tonight. Word is things are coming to a head between Mazzeo and the former fiancé.”

  “Then what the fuck are we doing wasting time here? Let’s go.”

  JD slammed his fist, rising from his chair to lean across the desk. “Starting to wonder if I can trust you after all, son. I hate to say it, but Axel might be right about you.”

  “That’s bullshit. We had a deal.”

  “If I don’t think I can trust you, then I don’t give a shit about our deal. I’m not risking this club for some snatch.”

  Houston grabbed onto the arms of the chair so tight his fingers ached. As much as he wanted to plow his fist into this bastard’s face, if he didn’t control his temper he was risking Izzy’s life. For that reason and that re
ason alone, he dug deep and found a modicum of control.

  “We don’t get Izzy, you don’t get your undercover man. Just because I’ve been forced into a holding pattern doesn’t mean I can’t get the job done. Nothing has changed.” And if anything happened to Izzy in the meantime, he’d take down this fucking club one piece at a time. Realizing how precarious the situation was at the moment, he kept that information to himself.

  “I don’t know whether to patch you in or take you out back and shoot your ass.” The older man leaned forward and rubbed his hands across his face. “Like it or not this club is your blood—your family. Most of the brothers have known you your whole life and if need be they will lay down their life for you. Can you say the same?”

  Houston unclenched his jaw but kept his mouth wisely shut. Most of the men had welcomed him. The ones who didn’t know him however, seemed wary. They were looking to JD and Axel for the truth. So far JD had been somewhat supportive, but Axel looked like he wanted to put him in the ground before he’d ever trust him.

  JD shook his head. "Before this is all over I guarantee you’re going to have to put your trust in your brothers. I’d stake my life on it. Until then, the welfare of the whole club is far more important to me than one man. You get me?”

  “Yeah, I got you."

  "Good. Now go get some fucking coffee and sober the hell up. You and Axel are taking point on this operation."

  He started to object.

  “Don't wanna hear it. You will show some respect for your brother and this club right fucking now or this is over. I'll find another way to find those girls before they get dead.”

  Shit. Houston scrubbed his hand over his face. JD was right. He was coming apart at the seams and it was turning ugly. Nobody deserved this, especially not Izzy. This club was her only hope.

  JD leaned forward. "You ready to suck it up and get this job done, son?"

  He nodded. "Yes, sir."

  And he was.

  She was out there and he was coming for her.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Houston

  Houston boosted himself over the privacy fence surrounding the property where the club believed Izzy was being held. Both JD and Axel assured him the intel they received was solid and despite the words exchanged earlier, he trusted them in this. These men were now his team whether he happened to like it or not.

  Staying in the shadows, he crept to the rear window identified as one of the holding rooms and most likely spot for a woman as important as Izzy. He pressed his back against the siding behind one of the shrubs, disappearing into the shadows.

  JD didn’t get into details on where the information came from, but he’d been involved in enough of these kinds of operations to know when specific information came from someone inside.

  Reaching his destination, he dropped down underneath the windowsill and waited for the signal from the others. The plan was they would storm the house together and take out as many threats as possible before leaving the property with Izzy.

  Further, the information they’d received indicated they had to move tonight as the other women had already been relocated elsewhere and Isabella was expected to be taken soon as well.

  He hoped this meant that the assholes who took her would be on site tonight. He was itching to make sure those mother fuckers couldn’t touch her again.

  He would have preferred more stealth with a smaller team, but JD didn’t want anyone getting a chance to follow them or identify them later. They had an undercover operation to protect. With the cuts and colors left behind, they only had to worry about anyone being captured.

  A sliver of rage slipped into his mind. He tried to lock it back out, but it was persistent. Izzy was locked somewhere inside this house with a madman. One of her father’s known associates appeared to be in charge of this operation, the man she’d ran from on her wedding day.

  He pictured the image he’d studied for weeks. The barely constrained hatred visible in the man’s eyes. It was easy enough to dress someone up in a twenty-thousand dollar suit, but it never quite hid the evil lurking inside.

  Houston reached out for the edge of the window and tested it to see if it opened. It did not. Shit was never that easy. He dug into his front pocket and fished out his tools and a small flashlight. Working quickly, he attacked the surprisingly flimsy lock keeping him out. In under thirty seconds he slid the window open and swept aside the heavy drapes enough to see into the room.

  Shit.

  Bathroom. Not the bedroom they were hoping for. The layout of the house they had was off. What other information had they gotten wrong?

  His instinct to pull back warred with his need to save his woman. JD indicated tonight might be their last chance to get to her before she was taken out of the country.

  Fuck it.

  He was inside the house and it was just as dangerous to signal the team now as it would be to press on. He’d have to navigate the situation on his own until his motorcycle brethren caught up with him.

  He took a breath and climbed through the window. All things considered, his pulse remained calm and his hands were steady as ever on the gun he carried. After taking a few seconds to absorb the sights and sounds around him he moved to the open doorway and lifted his muzzle, complete with silencer.

  Not one to waste any more time than he had to, Houston made sure the hallway was clear and quickly moved to the next doorway. He tested the handle and found this one locked. His heart beat a little faster. With this room in the middle of the house it had to be the one that contained Izzy. It would be most secure.

  There were still no signs of movement and he knew from hundreds of similar operations he needed to wait for the rest of the team, but he couldn’t. Instinct told him it was go time.

  Placing his flashlight in his mouth, he used his tools to pop the lock with as little noise as possible. That’s when he heard it. A whimper so filled with anguish it might have been in his head.

  Izzy.

  His plan for finesse fled. White-hot rage coursed through his veins. He dropped the tools and raised his gun before kicking the door free.

  "What the fuck?"

  Houston didn't think his rage could get any worse. He was wrong. The site of the man scrambling off the bed trying to raise his pants from around his thighs and Isabella spread out on the bed with her skirt half way up her hips definitely made it worse.

  As bad as he wanted to put a bullet in this guy's brain, he had to make him pay first.

  He lowered his gun and jabbed him with a left hook, sending him sprawling to the floor. For a second he lay dazed before he once again began pulling at his pants with one hand while reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster with the other.

  He gave him no chance to do either before he planted his boot in his chest with enough force he heard bones crack. The guy sputtered and grabbed at Houston's foot to no avail.

  Houston transferred his gun to his left hand and pressed it to the asshole’s temple. “Move another inch and I'll put a bullet in your brain.”

  The guy's face contorted with rage, but he lifted his hands away from his gun and his limp fucking dick.

  Houston was so angry he couldn't see straight. He reached for the knife in his boot and pulled it out. “You think raping women is fucking sexy? I'll show you sexy." He didn’t wait for an answer and instead twisted with his knife and stabbed it into the guy's dick.

  The resulting scream and bellow of pain were beautiful music to his ears. He had no idea how satisfying it was to take out his revenge on the enemy at this range. All the pent up anger from the weeks of worry and fear rushed over him. There was only one way to fix this situation. He stabbed the guy again, this time in his thigh.

  The asshole screamed again.

  "Shut the fuck up." As much as he'd like to think he was teaching some low life son of a bitch a lesson, he wasn't. Because he didn't have enough time left to learn any goddamned lessons while screaming like a banshee.

  He cou
ld learn his lesson in hell.

  He covered his mouth with a gloved hand and stabbed him again in the gut before shoving the knife forward and into his lung. Immediately blood bubbled from the man's mouth and the look in his eyes told Houston he knew it was over.

  "Houston. Please."

  Izzy's slurred mumbles from the bed caught his attention and he turned his head. The look of pure blankness stamped across her face burned into his brain.

  He looked between the dying fucker on the floor and the beautiful, but ravaged woman on the bed. There were red marks around her neck where her assailant held her down and bruises were already forming on her arm where he obviously grabbed her.

  "He deserves worse."

  "Houston." She mumbled again, pointing at the man behind him.

  Houston moved on autopilot. He swung his arm around and shot two bullets into the man's brain before he could touch his gun.

  He returned the bloody knife to his boot and grabbed Izzy from the bed.

  “Can you put your arms around my neck and hang on?” If he hadn’t already clued in to her condition from her lack of movement, the lax state of her muscles and the red track marks on her arms made it crystal clear. They’d drugged her. “I’m getting you out of here, baby. Just hang on, okay?”

  Her body shook with her silent sobs or maybe it was the drugs. He couldn’t be sure.

  "You've got blood." Her sentences weren’t all there, but he got the gist. She’d seen what he did and now she was focused on the blood covering him.

  "It's over," he reassured her. "You're safe now."

  She buried her face in his neck and her body shook harder.

  A loud commotion came from outside the door along with muffled gunshots. Houston raised his gun again, prepared to do whatever it took to get his woman out of there.

  Axel poked his head in the door. "We’ve got to get her out of here now. Everyone inside is taken care of, but we think someone may have set off an alarm and reinforcements are moving on the property."