Savages Series Boxed Set

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Why do you have to question everything?" he countered, his hands simultaneously rubbing and pulling me closer, closing the gap between our bodies until there was just a breath of air separating us, giving his hands more free reign of my back. I genuinely had to concentrate to prevent myself from leaning against him. Like... it was a problem. "After I left here last night, I went to see a friend of mine."

  "You... left me!" I exploded, wrenching away from him, eyes bulging, as the heat spread across my body. He left me. Trapped in a train car. That was locked from the outside. Leaving me completely defenseless. Anyone could have wandered into the obviously abandoned building. Anyone could have found me and done... whatever the hell they wanted to do with me. While he was off gallivanting with his freaking buddies.

  "Oh Jesus Christ," he grumbled, looking upward, half-rolling his eyes. "Here we go..."

  "Yeah... here we go. What is wrong with you? Anyone could have come in here, seen me all defenseless and raped and killed me!"

  "Five seconds of listening to that mouth and they'd lose interest in the task, trust me."

  The... task?

  Meaning... raping me or killing me?

  Either way, it was kind of insulting.

  "I hate you," I said. Childish, I know. But he brought that out of me. What fun was it to argue with someone when all they did was answer in a perfectly normal, unaffected tone? It did nothing but further enrage me.

  "That's unfortunate because you're about to be working with me."

  My mouth had opened to say something, then clamped shut as soon as his sentence ended, hanging in the air.

  "I think I misheard you," I said after a minute.

  "Heard me just fine. You and me... we are going to find a way out of this mess."

  This... mess?

  Meaning... me being killed (or killing myself) because of Lex Keith?

  "Why?"

  Breaker let out a long breath, leveling his eyes with mine. "Lex took someone who means somethin' to me. He did this because he wanted me to get you and he damn well knew I don't extend my... services to women."

  "Really?" I found myself asking, surprised.

  "Yeah, doll, really. If your name didn't sound like a man, we wouldn't be standing here right now."

  I believed him.

  "Who does he have?" I found myself asking.

  Without even a hesitation, "My brother."

  "Your brother?" I asked, my voice a small whisper.

  I knew nothing of siblings. Hell, I knew nothing of friends. But I could imagine. I could imagine that bond. I could imagine the kind of gut-twisting horror you would have inside when you realized someone you loved was at the hands of Lex Keith.

  No wonder he was willing to go through with the deal even though he didn't deal in women.

  I looked back up, knowing there was a small piece of my heart in my eyes. "What do you need from me?"

  "I need to know what you have on him," he answered immediately.

  I nodded, reaching up toward the collar of the sweatshirt and reaching in, grabbing the chain I had worn around my neck for so long that I barely even realized it was there anymore. I slipped it over my head, holding it out and watching as Breaker's big, scarred hand took it.

  "A key?" he asked.

  "Locker key," I answered, nodding. "To that gym on Willow."

  At this, his brow went up. "The gym on Willow?" he repeated, a smile starting to tug at his lips. "The gym owned by the Mallick's?"

  "Yes," I said, nodding.

  There weren't many organizations that refused to kowtow to Lex's demands. So far, from what I could tell, the only ones who didn't line his pockets were the Henchmen MC, Lyon the cocaine king, the people of the survivalist camp called Hailstorm, and the Mallick family- a group of notorious loan sharks who didn't seem to have any alliance whatsoever to any of the other crime organizations.

  I could have hid my information with the Henchmen. But, to be honest, they scared the hell out of me. And I knew Richard Lyon would have forced me into some kind of trade. And I didn't want to owe anyone.

  And Hailstorm, well, survivalists were weird. I half worried I'd walk in there to make a deal and never walk out because they like... brainwashed me or something.

  So, in the end, the Mallicks were the safest bet. I went to the gym, asked for Shane, and asked if he could give me access to a private locker. After about ten minutes of his shameless brand of suggestive flirting, he finally agreed to let me use a locker in the staff room in back for fifty bucks a month.

  It was safe even if it was a little steep... so I agreed.

  "You're smarter than I was giving you credit for," he said, slipping the chain into his pocket.

  "Gee thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You'll have to bring me."

  "Why?"

  "Because Shane and I have an arrangement."

  "You," he said, his head ducking, making it clear he wasn't quite buying it, "have a deal with Shane fuckin' Mallick?"

  I felt my shoulders push backward. Was this another 'because I have tits' thing? Just because I was a chick meant I couldn't have strong connections with some of the local bad guys?

  "Does this deal involve you fuckin' him?"

  I jerked back like he had slapped me. Surprised, sure. Offended? Definitely.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You met him. You know what he's like."

  "So the only way he would help me would be by extorting sex from me?" I asked, my voice getting snippy. "Just because you're a pig doesn't mean everyone else is." There was that weird crinkling by his eyes again and I felt myself suck in a deep, steadying breath, before just... exploding, "Don't you dare eye-smile at me!"

  At this, I got a surprised chuckle. "Eye-smile?"

  "Yes, eye-smile. Like when your eyes go all crinkly but your lips don't turn up."

  "Been paying a lot of attention to me, huh, doll?"

  Oh my God.

  Seriously.

  He was the most obnoxious person I had ever met.

  And arrogant.

  Even more than Shane Mallick.

  Which was really saying something.

  "I have nothing else to stare at but your ugly mug," I spat, hoping it sounded convincing, knowing damn well it was as far from the truth as you could get.

  "Ugly mug," he mused, his lips pressing together. "Got a problem with how I look, Alex?" he asked and I felt a shiver run through my body at the sound of my name on his lips. All I could hope was the shiver was an internal one and he couldn't see.

  That hope lasted about one-tenth of a second when a satisfied smirk toyed at his lips and I knew it had been a body shiver.

  Damn it.

  But I didn't have to suffer long in my humiliation.

  Because one second, I was just standing there, arms crossed over my chest, trying to focus on not blushing.

  The next I was slammed up against the wall where he had just been standing. His body crushed against mine, both his hands cradling my jaw. And before I could draw in breath to object, his lips crashed down hard on mine.

  My entire body jolted in surprise, a stab of desire meeting at the contact and shooting in a straight line down my stomach to between my thighs.

  I had the barest of seconds to realize that his beard tickled before my brain registered his lips on mine. Hard. Demanding a response. And mine were all too happy to acquiesce.

  The second they started responding, his hands tightened on the sides of my face as his teeth dug into my lower lip. A whimper escaped me, my hands moving out to grab at the shirt covering his sides, digging into the muscles of his obliques. Because I needed to hold on. If I didn't hold on, I was pretty sure I was going to fall. My legs (and everywhere else for that matter) went liquid.

  Breaker tilted my head slightly, his tongue pressing into the crease of my mouth and snaking inside. Not teasing mine. Not toying with it. Claiming it.

  That was how I felt.

  Claimed.

  One of his hands slipped from
my jaw, moved back into the hair at the base of my neck, curling into it, and yanking hard enough for me to yelp as his lips slipped around my tongue and sucked hard.

  And that's when my legs gave out.

  His other hand shot down my body, grabbing me around the hips and hauling me against him.

  But not for long. His lips released my tongue. His teeth dug into my lower lip. And then he was pulling away from me. Releasing my hair. Pressing me back against the wall. And stepping away.

  I took a deep breath, my eyes fluttering open.

  To find him standing there.

  Fucking eye-smiling at me again.

  "Dunno, doll," he said, and the smile spread to his lips, "might not like how I look... but seems you like how I feel."

  Oh, my God.

  Okay.

  I needed to not rise to the bait.

  I needed to, for once, have control over my temper.

  "Oh, get over yourself," I said, affecting a bored tone. "You don't feel all that great either."

  The smile didn't falter. He closed the space between us slightly, his eyes glued to mine and it took everything in me to not look away. To not chicken out.

  "If I took my hand," he said, the offending appendage slipping down my side slowly, "and slipped it inside your panties... how much you wanna bet that sweet little pussy would be nice and wet for me?"

  "You wouldn't..." I started, then his thumb pressed into my hipbone hollow, making my air rush out of my lips.

  "Wouldn't I?" he asked, the tips of his middle and ring fingers dangerously close to toying with the material of my panties over my yoga pants. "I wouldn't have to, though," he said, lips twitching, "if you admitted it to me."

  I swallowed hard, both turned on and terrified of him... seeing for himself. But also absolutely horrified at the prospect of admitting I was turned on. "Admit what?" I asked.

  "Admit that your pussy is wet from me just kissing you."

  Just. Just ?

  That wasn't just anything.

  I was pretty sure the world bent off its axis for the duration of that kiss.

  "I'm equally happy with the other option," he offered, his hand sliding to the waistband of my pants.

  Holy hell.

  Okay.

  I needed to shut this down.

  Because if his hands got down my pants...

  No.

  Wasn't letting my mind go there.

  Because if my mind went there, I was pretty sure I'd want his hand to go, well, there.

  I felt my cheeks getting hot, knowing they were getting beet red. My eyes fell from his. I could say it. I had the mouth of a sailor. I could push out the words. I just couldn't look at him while I did so. I felt myself leaning forward, my forehead bumping into his chest slightly.

  "I'm wet from you kissing me." It came out as a strangled croak, but I got it out.

  His hand slid away from my waistband and to my utter relief, he didn't laugh. He didn't rub my nose in it.

  His hand traveled up my spine until it landed at the back of my neck, settling there for a second, squeezing, then releasing me.

  "Alright. Let's go see Mallick."

  And then his body was gone and he was moving toward the door, not even bothering to see if I was following behind. But, with very little choice, I did.

  "Um, Breaker," I tried as I made it to the top of the landing.

  "Yeah?" he asked, moving to look out the front windows.

  "I don't have any shoes."

  His head snapped back to me, dropping to my feet where his (I was assuming they were his) huge socks were swallowing up my feet. "Right," he said, making his way toward the door. "I'll be right back."

  "Ah... you're just going to leave me here? Not locked up?"

  He turned back, giving me a small smile. "You didn't seem too keen on being locked up when I wasn't around."

  "So you're just going to... trust me to stay here?"

  "Where else you gonna go that Lex can't get to you?"

  He had a point.

  He nodded at me, then walked out the door.

  Alone, I considered running. I wasn't an altogether unforgettable girl. I was average in most ways. I could slip into a crowd and disappear. I could take off somewhere. Lay low. Stop hacking so I didn't have a trail. Adopt a new identity.

  But, honestly, what were the chances that I could give up the only thing that mattered in my life?

  If I got away, I'd still try to take him down. And he would find me. And that time I wouldn't have someone else (a big, hulking, bad guy) who obviously wanted to help me. Or get me heroin to off myself with.

  I wouldn't even know where to get heroin.

  Well, that's not true.

  I knew where to get it.

  The problem was that all the places to get it were people who Lex, in one way or another, owned.

  I took a deep breath, pulling my hood back up, putting my face into its depths, and moved over toward a window to look out. There were none of Lex's cars on the street. He had four different ones his surveillance guys used. A early model Ford that resembled an old cop car, a slick silver late model Mercedes, a teenager's typical orange hatchback, and a beat up blue pick-up truck. A car for every kind of neighborhood.

  But all I could see on the street were people milling about. Teenagers mostly, obviously skipping school. The cars that were around had nobody inside them.

  Lex wasn't keeping tabs on Breaker?

  That didn't sit right.

  Something was off...

  "I didn't have a size," Breaker said, coming in, a shoebox in his hands. "But these should fit regardless. Unless you have feet like a man," he said, popping off the lid of the box and producing a pair of faded brown combat boots. New, but they looked distressed.

  I might have maybe loved them a little bit.

  "I'm an eight," I said, watching him move toward me, placing the boots next to my feet.

  "These are a nine. They should be fine."

  With that, I slipped into the boots and watched, in maybe a little bit of amazement, as he laced them up for me.

  I don't ever remember anyone tying my laces.

  In fact, I remembered my shoes until I was almost a teenager having velcro straps. I'd never even seen my mother bent over my feet when I was growing up.

  He stood and I shimmied out of his enormous sweatpants which slid easily over the boots, only making me stumble slightly. I would take off the sweatshirt when we got there. It was too cold to think about only being in a lightweight tee any longer than necessary.

  "Alright," I said, looking up to find him watching me, his eyes guarded.

  He gave me a chin lift and made his way to the door. "Keep the hood up until I've driven around enough to make sure we don't have a tail."

  I nodded, but added, "None of his cars are here."

  Breaker looked back over his shoulder at me, brows drawn slightly in, but said nothing.

  His truck was nice. Something my chemical-induced unconsciousness hadn't allowed me to notice the night before. New, black, expensive, massive. Breaker made bank. As I climbed up, having to haul my body upward with the use of the hold bar, I absently wondered about where a man like him lived.

  Hell, for all I knew, he had some kind of apartment in that warehouse somewhere.

  That almost seemed to suit him.

  "You gonna get out or sit there all day?" he asked, making me start.

  I had been so lost in my own little world I hadn't even realized he had parked and cut the engine. I pulled my seatbelt and reached for the hem of my shirt, dragging it quickly up and off.

  "Sure you want to go in there like that?" he asked casually, but it made a shock of insecurity shoot through my system.

  In typical me-fashion, I turned that insecurity to anger. "What's wrong with what I have on? If you don't like my clothes then maybe you shouldn't have come into my apartment and..."

  The sentence trailed off when his big palm brushed over my breast, running over the
cold-hardened nipple that wasn't hidden beneath the protection of a bra.

  I felt myself gasp, my eyes finding his, expecting to see amusement or teasing. But all I could see there was heat. His gaze held mine, his thumb moving to stroke over the point that was suddenly hard for an altogether different reason.

  "Breaker..." I breathed and he exhaled his breath hard, letting his hand drop. "Just sayin', his eyes are gonna be on your tits the whole time."

  And with that, he got out and slammed the door.

  I took a shaky breath and slowly lowered myself down onto the street, going around the truck, and hurrying inside the building.

  The tall, fit, drop dead sexy blonde at the reception desk ran her eyes over me before settling on Breaker and giving him a soul-crushing smile. Which, in my opinion, was incredibly unprofessional of her. For all she knew, he belonged to me. Hell, he had just gotten a little over the shirt action in the car just seconds before.

  "What can I help you with today?" she asked, sounding like her services might include a blow job if he asked real nicely.

  "We need to see Shane," I offered and her eyes slid back to me, one of her perfect blonde brows raising.

  "Mr. Mallick doesn't..."

  "Tell him it's Alex," I cut her off. "And tell him it's important."

  She pressed her lips together like she was trying to keep her opinion to herself, picked up the phone, and started speaking into it.

  "He will be right out," she said to me, then put her focus back on Breaker, giving him a very slow, very thorough inspection. "Might I ask how you keep in shape now?"

  "He pounds skulls together," a familiar voice said, coming from beside her.

  I turned to see Shane walk up.

  Now there's one thing about Shane Mallick that everyone knows (aside from the fact that if he showed up at your door with a crowbar, you needed to look down at your kneecaps, thank them for a lifetime of service, and kiss them goodbye), and that is that he is big. As in huge. A mammoth of a man. Yes, because he was tall, but also because he owned a gym and spent a lot of time in it. He, like all of the Mallick brothers, was ridiculously good looking. All black hair and light blue eyes. And, also like all of the other Mallick brothers, he was vicious, violent, ruthless, foul-mouthed, and charming as hell.

  "Shane," Breaker said, nodding his head at the man walking up.