Savage Saints MC Series (Complete Box Set)

by Hazel Parker

  “Goodnight, squid,” Flip taunted. It was a weak and uncreative insult, one that they often used to describe new club members who were still shaky and afraid but not something that he’d ever call a more senior member of the group, but even though he knew it was a joke, it irked him all the same.

  “Come on, Flip,” he argued, “it’s fuckin’ late. Don’t do this to me.” Once more, Flip jeered, miming crude things until finally, Vance caved.

  “Alright, fine,” Vance huffed, flashing his middle finger at his friend. “She’s gonna kick us out,” he muttered under his breath, but Flip didn’t seem to care. He was already far too invested in how poorly this was going to go.

  “No, she ain’t,” Flip argued. “Just turn on some of that pretty-boy charm you got going for you. She’ll throw her panties at you; I swear.” Vance didn’t look back as he walked toward the office, already knowing that this was going to end badly but feeling a little too drunk to care. He knocked on the door to the office and waited for Nina to open it, an unamused expression on her face.

  “Can I help you with something?” she asked in a tone that implied that she really didn’t want to help him with anything.

  “I just wanted to say sorry for the noise,” he said, trying his best to look sincere. Her expression softened a little.

  “I don’t want people to think this motel has no rules,” she scolded. “A reputation is for life. People in a small town like this talk. If everybody says that you can’t get any sleep here, then people will stop staying, and I’ve got nothing to fall back on.” Vance nodded as she spoke, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem a little young to own a motel,” he pointed out. Surprisingly, she laughed slightly, the tired lines on her face becoming more pronounced as she smiled.

  “I get that a lot,” she admitted. “It was my dad’s. He passed away last year, and I’ve been keeping the place running ever since.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Vance said. “My old man went when I was 21, so I get it. It’s rough.” Nina nodded, her eyebrows furrowing empathetically. She looked sweet and kind, much more patient than she’d seemed when she’d given them the keys or when she’d come out to yell at them about the noise. He could imagine that she had to put on a much tougher face than she probably wanted to, working all the way out here by herself.

  “Do you want to come in?” she asked, gesturing to the chair in the lobby. He watched her sit down heavily in the chair, rubbing a hand over her face tiredly. She bounced back quickly to look at him, almost as if she hadn’t wanted to show that small amount of weakness that had slipped, and he decided that it would bode well for him to ignore it.

  “So, you’re from around here,” he assumed cautiously. He hadn’t quite figured out what she wanted from him yet and was still fairly certain that this was a trap of some sort, so small talk would be the safest bet. She nodded.

  “And you’re not,” she said. Apparently that was obvious, whether because of the difference in dialect or just the fact that she probably knew almost everyone in this town.

  “I’m hoping to call it home, at least for a while,” he said. “I never really stay in one place too long, but now that it looks like I’ll be running the bar, I’m guessing I’ll be around for a bit.”

  “It’s a nice town,” she said. “The kind of place where everybody knows everybody and you can walk around at night without being scared. A good place to grow up or raise kids.”

  Something in her voice betrayed a hint of dissatisfaction that he was only able to pick up on because he’d spoken about his own former life in the same tone all his life. It was a fine place to live; good people and safe neighborhoods. Always nice, always predictable, always boring. Part of him wanted to call her out on the wistful expression in her eyes even though he knew she’d deny it. There was something about her, something wild. She had a flame inside her that was snuffing out in a place like this. He’d seen it happen to a lot of people and they’d all gone on to live comfortable, safe lives. Right now, if he offered her anything different than that, he knew that he’d be finding a new place to sleep tonight. He fished for the right words to convince her that he’d bought what she was selling.

  “I’m sure I’ll like it here, then.” he settled upon. Nina nodded.

  “Everyone seems to,” she said. She was confusing, he thought, trying to sell people on longer stays in a town that she clearly didn’t want to be in and living a life that was clearly far too lonely. Why else would she have invited him inside?

  “Would you want to come back to my room?” he offered. A wrong move, he knew immediately, as her eyes practically shot lasers in indignance.

  “Excuse me?”

  Vance shook his head. With all the times that Flip had him giving his number to bartenders and waitresses, he knew how to bounce back from this kind of thing.

  “Just an offer,” he said. “My buddy saw how I looked at you and put me up to this.”

  “I have a boyfriend,” Nina reminded him. “And one who could kick your ass, at that.” Vance laughed out loud.

  “Well, we’d have to see about that,” he said, “but I really didn’t mean any harm by it. If you want me to go, just say the word.”

  Nina looked sternly at him with bright red cheeks and a scowl on her face. “I want you to go,” she said, but she didn’t move to take his keys, so he figured that he’d lucked into her good grace just enough to not be kicked out of her motel entirely. Perhaps that was the money talking, but if it was, he was relieved that she was listening.

  “Goodnight, Nina,” he said politely. He didn’t apologize, but he also wasn’t going to push it. She was flushed bright red, blatantly flustered, and really, that was more interesting a reaction than he’d even hoped for. He’d expected her to turn him away at the door, but instead, she’d not only let him in: she’d even talked to him a bit, opened up about herself a little. It was almost enough to make him feel a little guilty for teasing her, but watching Flip laughing at him as he walked out of the office and back toward their bikes made him forget about that entirely.

  “So, was I right?” Flip asked through laughter, and Vance shoved him once more playfully on his way into his room without saying a word. He could hear Flip cackling outside for another moment, demanding that Vance come back out and tell him about what had happened, but he thankfully gave up quickly. It had been a long day, after all, for both of them, and Flip was probably just as tired as he was. He opened the small sack of necessities that he’d brought with him for the night and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed and falling asleep.

  The next week passed quickly for Vance. Monday morning, the day after they’d checked into the Oasis Motel, they’d ridden down to the bar together and Flip had shown him the ropes there. He’d have to learn to make some drinks to take on Tank’s role as owner and primary bartender. It was a small place with nothing but a stocked liquor shelf and a tap. There was nothing fancy about it, no frills like pool tables or food, but because of its location in the small truck stop town with nothing around but a motel and some diners, it did manage to stay busy much of the time. It seemed as though there was always a crowd from the moment they opened till the moment they closed, and since there were only two other employees at the bar, that meant that he was going to be here quite a bit.

  Flip spent much less time on the ins and outs of the actual bar Vance could learn that on the internet and as he worked, he’d said—and had, as quickly as he could, moved on in his explanation to the real purpose of the bar: to launder the money that the Rebel Kings obtained from their illicit marijuana grow op. Down in the desert, some of the guys ran a hydroponic greenhouse that they used to grow pot, the biggest one for hundreds of miles. There was some competition, of course, but the area around the desert was predominantly the Rebel Kings’ turf, and they sold to distributors. Vance wasn’t involved in that part, either—peddling product wasn’t exactly his forte. I
nstead, Vance’s main job would be to ride down to the plant once every two weeks and pick up the cash that they’d made and adjust the bar sales records accordingly to accommodate their real source of income. Vance was the only member of the club who had a “job” in the 9-5 sense, running the bar, but it barely made enough on its own to support itself and the owner, much less a whole group of bikers who liked to live large.

  Now, with Flip planning on leaving that night, the two were sitting in the now-closed bar, having a drink and relaxing. It had been a busy few days, and Vance was sure that 80% of what Flip had taught him had been explained so fast that he was going to need to figure most of it out on his own, anyway. Flip took another sip of his drink and pulled a face.

  “This is the worst old fashioned I’ve ever had,” he commented, and Vance chuckled.

  “Give me a break; I’ve only been a bartender for a few days. Besides, it’s not so bad.”

  He ate those words when he took a long drink of his own and nearly gagged at the excessive amount of bitters—it tasted of almost nothing but orange rind.

  “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, filling two glasses with beer from the tap instead and letting Flip laugh at him. He deserved it a little.

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” Flip reassured, taking on a surprisingly serious tone. “You know, Tank was a shit bartender when he started, too. Dumb bastard couldn’t even pour a beer.” He tipped his glass so that some of the old fashioned spilled out over the table and Vance did the same, pouring one out for the dead.

  “Sheila seems like she knows her way around a cocktail,” he pointed out. Sheila was the other bartender. She’d worked under Tank for almost as long as the Nightcap had been operational, but she wasn’t involved in the Rebel Kings and knew nothing about the secondary source of income. She was an older woman about Tank’s age, blonde and always wearing too much makeup, but kind.

  “You can’t ask her too many questions,” Flip warned. “Otherwise she’ll wonder why Tank chose some shit-for-brains kid to take over the bar, and when she sees your bike, she’ll put two and two together.” Sheila had seemed like a competent and perceptive woman, and she’d told him that she grew up near here, so there was no way that she didn’t know the reality of motorcycle clubs. Though the Rebel Kings were fairly elusive in terms of not getting caught, smaller, newer clubs were in the news a fair amount; they’d even been called an epidemic in the papers. He couldn’t risk giving her a thread to unravel and giving away their whole operation.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Vance shrugged him off, “I’ve got it. I learn quick. I’ll get it.”

  Flip nodded. “I know you will,” he said. He shot gunned his beer both to escape the sentimental moment he’d created and to drown out the vile taste of Vance’s old fashioned from his mouth. After he finished his drink, he set the glass on the counter with a clatter and stood.

  “You’re gonna be back to the plant next Friday, right?” he asked. Vance nodded, downing his own beer. It was a few hours’ drive to where he met the other guys to pick up the money, so the whole trip took most of the day. He would have to do it on his only day off for the week, which he might be more upset about if riding his bike down the empty highway wasn’t how he’d spend his day off, anyway. All the job gave him was a destination.

  “I’ve gotta get back on the road,” he said. “You’ve got my number. Anything comes up, you call.” Vance stood and shook his hand, allowing himself to be pulled into a rough, one-shoulder hug.

  “I’ll be fine here,” he reassured, but Flip didn’t look totally convinced. No one was really talking about it, but Tank’s death had rattled them all. Most of the time, the worst case scenario for the Rebel Kings was jail time, if they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had been so long since anyone had been killed in an altercation that it had been shocking when it had happened.

  “Another thing,” Flip added before he left. “You see anybody around here from the Devil’s Disciples, or any other group, for that matter, you let somebody know. Blood’s in the water, now, and we’re not playing around with our turf. Even if you don’t think they’re a threat, you tell somebody. Otherwise, something happens to somebody—well, that’s on you.”

  Vance set his jaw at the mention of the Devil’s Disciples and nodded. The guy who’d shot Tank had been a member of that club, one which thought itself a rival of the Rebel Kings even though Vance had never known any of his brothers to pay them any mind. There were a lot of little groups cropping up all the time and all of them got into the business thinking that they were going to make it to the top on all bark and no bite, but usually a good scare would send them scampering to a lower traffic area outside of El Paso, which was where the Kings who sold the product were active. All it had ever taken in the past was a visit from a few of the guys on their bikes and a little “talk,” one which Vance had never seen but had heard a lot about. The Devil’s Disciples had heeded that warning, or so they’d thought. From what Vance had heard, it had just been one rogue guy, one who had been killed in the same altercation. His name was Frank Morgan, and he’d waited in the parking lot of the bar after it had closed for Tank to come out before shooting him. Thankfully, there’d already been a few guys smoking pot in the back of the bar by the dumpsters, who had heard the gunshots and tackled him. He’d gotten hurt in the fight, hit his head or something, Vance had gathered, and had died in the hospital. Now, it was rumored that the Devil’s Disciples blamed the Rebel Kings for the whole incident and were looking for revenge.

  “I gotta get going,” Flip said again, this time tiredly, reluctantly. “If I stay another night, John will have my ass for not helping out in the plant. He already thinks I’m being lazy taking a week to come up here and show you the ropes.”

  Vance smirked. “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, yeah, but he doesn’t need to know that,” Flip laughed, punching Vance on the shoulder as he headed for the door. Vance walked with him all the way out, taking extra care to lock the doors behind him before he hopped back on his bike.

  “I’ll see you around, Flip,” Vance called, watching his friend wave and rev his engine loudly. Vance started his own bike, revving the engine twice back at him before pulling off into the street back toward the motel. He watched Flip in his side mirror until he couldn’t see him anymore as he rode off the opposite way and then focused on the road again, zoning out entirely until he arrived back in the Oasis’ parking lot. The only other vehicle in the lot was a truck at the front of the strip, which made Vance smile—it appeared as though Nina had another guest tonight, and he knew that she really needed that. He wasn’t quite ready to go inside just yet, instead deciding to reach into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips. He reached into his pocket for his stainless steel lighter and took a long drag, feeling the nicotine beginning to calm his nerves. He sat back against his bike and looked up at the sky, allowing his eyes to slip shut for a long moment. He didn’t open them back up until he heard the rough, choppy spitting of another bike pulling into the lot.

  Chapter 3: Nina

  Nina hadn’t slept much at all this week, so working on the motel’s bills had put her in an even worse mood than it normally would have. She’d already downed several cups of coffee throughout the day, but now that the caffeine was wearing off, she was left feeling tired and cranky. Adam had dropped by that morning to bring her a cup of coffee, but he hadn’t stayed very long, considering he had to work again tonight and he needed to sleep. That was becoming more and more the norm with Adam, now that he was out of the Academy and onto the streets. When he’d been training, he’d worked mostly mornings with other officers and pretty regular shifts, but now that he was a full-fledged cop and not a trainee, he was at the bottom of the totem pole and usually ended up on third shift with the other new recruits and a few of the old weirdos who just preferred nights to days because they weren’t as busy. Nina sometimes worried that he was in more danger in the dark than he would b
e if he worked mornings, but Adam tried his best to reassure her that wasn’t true.

  The day had been relatively quiet. Vance’s friend had given back his keys after just a few days, her other guest had checked out after a day. One more guest, a trucker named Lydia, had checked in that afternoon with intentions of staying half the week, and the steady amount of business was, at least, comforting. Sure, it meant more work and less time to finish the paperwork she’d still not gotten done, but it gave her some hope that her little stretch of highway wasn’t dead, after all, and that she could continue to thrive here. At the very least, it put the thoughts of having to sell the motel out of her mind for a little while longer, and that was all she could really hope for.

  She’d barely spoken a word to Vance since he’d come into her office to both half-apologize to her and to try to get her into bed with him. Because she hadn’t had any problems with him and he hadn’t seemed like he was intent on causing trouble, she’d decided not to tell Adam about their interaction. She knew that it would make him angry. Nina was young and attractive, with bright eyes and long hair and a curvy body that drove men crazy in a small town like this one, so she was fairly used to attention like what Vance had shown her. Adam had never liked that. He got embarrassed at the attention that she drew when they went out, even when it was just a man buying her a drink or a waiter flirting with her. She tried to dress accordingly, even though she knew that she should be able to wear whatever she wanted; she never wore tops that were too low-cut or shorts that were too short. It wasn’t as if that really bothered her, and if it made Adam feel better, she didn’t mind doing it.

  The jingling of the bell above the door alerted her to a new guest, and she set her books down to greet him.

  “Welcome to the Oasis Motel,” she said, then waited for him to respond. He didn’t. He was a shorter guy with a stocky build, one who was looking a little standoffish, almost nervous. Nina fought the urge to roll her eyes. She dealt with a lot of people who wandered in here not knowing what they wanted for whatever reason, be it drugs or alcohol or just general stupidity, and she had very little patience for it. The man was wearing a leather jacket and his hair was pressed down in a way that suggested that he’d taken a helmet off. He’d probably ridden in on the motorcycle that she’d heard in the lot, though she’d assumed at first that it had been Vance coming and going again.