Savage Beast (Max Savage Book 1)

by Sloane Howell

  I thought it was fascinating as I stared up at the terra cotta crown and copper roof. It was like the building had grown up around itself, like a living organism, observing the world from up in the sky.

  I was jerked out of my thoughts when they pulled up to the building where I’d first met Shirley and Starsky. 600 Civic Center Drive. I needed to amend my response to the old man I’d met in my first five minutes in Tulsa who’d given me directions. Seemed maybe I was in trouble. The square building still looked just as boring. They opened the door for me and I climbed out of the car. I walked in front and they both stayed a few feet behind. We went up the steps and through the front door. I stopped in the middle of the foyer and looked at the elevator, then the stairs.

  “Well, let’s go,” one of them said behind me.

  He sounded like the rude one. I didn’t like him. The other guy wasn’t super friendly, either, but he’d told me about the building, so I liked him more.

  My chest constricted, but I walked to the elevator. The lazy cops would never agree to going up the stairs. Last thing I needed was to be on a camera in a government building resisting police. I pushed the button for them and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to come pick us up.

  The bell dinged. The up arrow turned a faded pink that was supposed to be red. I stepped in. They followed.

  “Don’t try anything in here.”

  “You’d be napping on the sidewalk back there if I wanted to try something.” I looked at the reflection in the stainless-steel doors.

  They both glared.

  “You’ve got a big mouth. You know that?”

  I kept quiet.

  “We could kick your ass in this elevator if we wanted. So maybe you should choose your words more carefully.”

  Still quiet.

  He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Nothing to say to that? We could bust up that pretty face of yours. Make it nice and ugly.”

  “Then arrest me for impersonating an officer? No thanks.”

  His face glowed beet red in the reflection of the door.

  The door dinged on floor three. They shoved me out and followed behind. We walked past the receptionist desk. It was empty. At least they gave someone the weekend off.

  The two cops guided me back past the bullpen and to a corner office this time. They both grinned like they’d captured Bigfoot. We walked into the entryway. Shirley, Starsky, and an older guy in a pinstripe three-piece stared at me.

  Shirley had her hands on her hips and her face was angry pink, like she’d been letting them have it. All three pairs of eyebrows rose when I stepped through the door.

  I feigned innocence. “What?”

  The older man looked past me at the two cops. He seemed to fumble for his words for a moment. “Umm, good work, guys.”

  I didn’t get it. I had nothing to hide. Why wouldn’t I come in there as opposed to being chased by the cops?

  The two officers looked at each other like they’d just become frontrunners for a raise or promotion. I figured they were two guys trying to make detective and jumped at the opportunity to do the boss a favor. The older man had to have known it. He had to be the boss, judging by the location of his office and his suit. It was in the corner near a window. The view wasn’t bad. He was probably the Deputy Inspector or some equivalent rank in Tulsa. He had round glasses and a receding hairline, with silvery hair around the back—early-sixties, a few years from retirement.

  I stared him up and down. “I came voluntarily.” I turned to the cops. “Thanks for the ride. Saved me the walk.”

  Their jaws clenched. The guy shouldn’t have run his mouth in the elevator, and I would’ve let him have all the glory.

  The man in the suit turned to them. “You’re dismissed.”

  They both walked out the same way they’d came. There was silence in the room. I waited for someone to speak. Starsky leaned against the wall in what he seemed to think was some sort of menacing pose and glowered at me. The guy had a toothpick seesawing up and down between his lips. Everyone had to know the mustache was coming next.

  Shirley gritted her teeth but kept quiet.

  The old man looked right at me, eye to eye. He finally broke the ice. “You should head back home, Mr. Savage.”

  “Just Savage.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “My best friend was killed.”

  “Killed himself.”

  “Says you.”

  “Says the evidence.”

  “Is this the way you treat the family and friends of all victims?”

  “You should go back home.”

  “I don’t have a home.”

  Starsky snickered in the corner.

  I turned to him. “Something funny?”

  He snapped up to attention and his lips mashed into a thin line. The toothpick finally stopped moving. He grabbed it and made a show of flicking it to the ground. “I don’t like you.”

  I stared down at the toothpick and looked back to him. “You have to be joking. Do yourself a favor and grow the mustache already, Jesus. And the feeling’s mutual.”

  Starsky got in my face, damn near close enough to chest bump me. “Maybe I will, asshole.”

  I almost laughed at how ridiculous he was, but I didn’t say anything.

  I glanced over at the glass on the door. It said Richard Provost, Deputy Inspector. I looked back at him, ignoring the clown in front of me. “Are you holding me?”

  “We could. Is that what you want?”

  “What for?”

  “Trespassing.”

  “I got lost. Was asking for directions.”

  “On the other side of Claremore?”

  “Is there an easier place to get lost? And is Claremore your jurisdiction?”

  “I don’t appreciate being called away from my family on the weekend to come deal with a friend of the deceased who decided to play detective for the weekend.”

  “Do your job then.” I stared right at Starsky. “Or get better support staff.”

  “How about I lock your ass up with a couple of gang bangers that’d find you cute.” Starsky’s chest heaved up and down. His whole face went red.

  What was his deal? Surely, he realized he was acting like a cartoon character.

  “So you could perform a solo on the other side of the one-way mirror?”

  His hands balled up into fists at his sides. A vein popped out on his forehead.

  I turned back to Provost. “Trespassing is a fine anyway. I’d just pay it. Unless you have something else?”

  “You don’t have any money. How do you figure you’d pay it?” Provost arched an eyebrow at me when he asked the question.

  “I have plenty of money. And didn’t you hear? I just inherited some too.” It was funny they didn’t try to push the assault charge on Wyatt. It’d be my word against five other guys. But then they’d admit to knowing about them following me, and that they’d known about McCurdy’s clowns he had working for him. Their hands were tied. I knew it and they knew it.

  Starsky and Provost both narrowed their eyes. Good. Someone needed to be a pain in their ass. Shirley just stood there. I could tell she was trying not to rock the boat. I needed to know what she’d told them.

  “You need to stop poking around. The case is closed. It was a suicide.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  He glared at me and then his face softened a bit, like he was admitting defeat. “No. You’re free to go. But stay away from this, Savage, or I will have you locked up. You’re grasping, and I can’t have you harassing civilians. You’re emotional.”

  “I don’t get emotional. I get the truth.”

  “Be gone by tomorrow or this escalates.”

  I kept quiet, just turned and walked out before they could say anything.

  20

  I COUNTED IT DOWN, FIGURING it would be about thirty minutes since the time I’d arrived. I stared out the window at downtown Tulsa from the second floor of the
Best Western. I’d booked the room for an extra night, even though I probably wouldn’t be there or do much sleeping. The sun was settling behind the horizon to the west. It cast a bright orange and pink filter over the buildings of downtown and made them glow. Their shadows were large black stripes that stretched out to the east like dark prison bars.

  I walked over to the door and opened it.

  Shirley’s fist was in the air, about to knock. “How’d you—?”

  “Heard you in the hallway.”

  “There’s no way—” She shook her head and stopped her sentence, like she’d just given up on trying to understand how I could’ve heard her. “Can I come in?”

  “Were you followed?”

  “No, made sure of it.”

  I turned and walked away. She followed behind me.

  “Sorry you got benched.”

  She took a seat on the edge of the bed. I watched her in the reflection of the large window. Her sandy-blonde ponytail rocked back and forth when she landed on the mattress. She stared off at the corner where the floor met the wall and placed both hands on her thighs.

  “It’s fine. I’m not surprised. If it weren’t this, they’d find another reason.”

  “Why?” I turned to face her.

  She shrugged. “They don’t like women outperforming them. It’s typical.”

  “They don’t want anyone around asking more questions than they want to answer.”

  Shirley nodded. “You probably want to know what I told them. It’s why I came.”

  “It’s part of why you came.”

  She turned her gaze toward me. “What’s the other reason?”

  I canted my head slightly and regarded her with skepticism.

  She looked away, exhaling a frustrated sigh. “Get over yourself, Savage.”

  I took a step toward her. “Denial.” I took another step. “Curiosity.” I took another step. “And you never got closure on your sister. You know what it feels like to not have answers.”

  She shook her head and her jaw flexed. “Don’t.”

  “And I’m dangerous. Unpredictable.” Another step toward her. “Everything you’re not.” I took another step.

  She didn’t move. “How do you know?”

  I closed the space between us. Her eyes were dilated, palms clammy, dry throat. Her voice went down an octave and I could practically hear her heart redlining.

  Three feet away.

  Two feet away.

  I leaned down next to her ear. “You’ve had the look ever since I walked into your office.”

  She cleared her throat ever so subtly. Her words still came out raspy and heavy. “Maybe I came to kick your ass. For getting me benched.”

  A devilish smile spread across my face. I exhaled warm breath into her ear and whispered, “You could try. Maybe I’d even let you.”

  She gulped. I could see her heartbeat in her neck and she wiped her palms down her jeans. She didn’t realize it, but she leaned in toward me, just a fraction of an inch. I could smell her hair and her shampoo.

  Detective Shirley did something to me when she was around. She could be so strong and fierce, and yet so feminine at the same time.

  I snaked a hand up to her ponytail and her eyes fluttered closed. My hand balled into a fist, tightening around her sandy locks, and I crushed my lips into hers. The tension left her body all at once, like she might slip off into a puddle on the floor.

  She opened her mouth, and I took everything I could and then some. Our tongues danced. She didn’t have on makeup. No lip gloss or lipstick. She was 100% all-natural woman. I pressed into her, and she went flat on her back.

  I slammed my chest down onto hers, and we kissed harder and faster. Needy hands flew everywhere in a wild, tangled frenzy, both of us trying to explore every inch of each other’s bodies.

  My lips collided with her neck and sucked down to her collarbone. She gasped and clawed at my shoulders. Her breaths came fast and labored. I shoved her Foo Fighters tee shirt over her breasts, revealing a white, lacy bra.

  I leaned back and flashed her a wicked grin, then moved my gaze down to her chest. “Police issue?”

  She shook her head and chewed on her lip. “Asshole.”

  “Didn’t know you were into that. But we can give it a try.”

  She smacked my chest with both hands like she was trying to push me away, but her fingers clawed into my shirt and pushed it up. “Take this off before I change my mind.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Liked what you saw earlier?”

  She nodded. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

  I leaned down into her ear. “Likewise. You’re beautiful.” I kissed around the shell of her ear. “And smart.”

  I had my face buried in her neck, but I could practically feel her smiling at my words.

  “Tell me more about me.”

  I traced her jawline with my tongue. “An exceptional detective.”

  “You’re a smooth talker, Savage.”

  I jolted away from her and my face paled.

  Shirley’s fingers clawed at my ribs like she was trying to pull me back but stopped when she saw my reaction. “What?”

  I glared at the window, then at the door.

  “Savage, what is it?”

  I blocked out her words and listened. I wasn’t purposely ignoring her. It was instinct. I listened as hard as I could. “Grab your stuff.”

  I pulled her shirt back down over her breasts and ran to the safe.

  “Sorry. If I was too forward—”

  “Shh!” I held a finger to my lips and punched in the combination on the safe with my other hand. “This will be continued later.”

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?” She jumped to her feet and straightened up her clothes.

  “I didn’t give your boss enough credit. The game just changed.”

  21

  I HAD THE LAPTOP UNDER one arm and Sean’s Beretta tucked in the back of my pants. We took off toward the stairs.

  “Where are we going?” Shirley stared all around the hallway.

  I opened the door to the stairwell and nudged her inside, then stepped behind her and closed the door just enough so it was barely cracked. We waited. I watched.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she whisper-screamed.

  I kept quiet and held up a hand to tell her to do the same.

  We waited approximately four minutes that seemed like four hours. Sure enough, the elevator dinged, and five cops spilled out, guns drawn. They worked down the hallway in cover formation. I eased the door closed as soon as I saw them, and we took off down the steps. I followed Shirley around the dog leg of the stairs with the laptop tucked under my arm like a football.

  I pressed the door to the first floor halfway open, poked my head out, and glanced around. We didn’t head out the front. We took off down the hallway where the employee up front wouldn’t see us. It’d probably taken the guy at the front desk all of three seconds to give up the room number. I knew he didn’t like me, even though I’d told him to keep the change. We exited through the parking garage on the first floor and came out on 7th Street.

  How had they found me? It couldn’t have been Shirley. If she was going to tell them where I was, she wouldn’t have come to the room. I was about to round second base with her and she didn’t seem like the type to sleep with a potential perp to keep them occupied. And she’d helped me trespass. And I just knew, something in her eyes. She couldn’t be bought. It was why she was a thorn in the side of her department.

  She could’ve been followed. I’d followed her the other day. It was probably one of McCurdy’s guys—Bear. He had a look about him. A quiet calm. He looked like he had tracking skills and was more than just size. He had a brain. I could tell by his demeanor and the way he reacted to things. He’d nearly found me in the corn. I’d felt sorry for the stalks when he’d blasted them with his forearm earlier. Maybe he’d followed her to my hotel and then called it in to Starsky and Provost.

/>   The police hadn’t used lights or sirens. They thought they were sneaking up on us. I’d heard the tires squeal into the parking lot. A normal person wouldn’t hear something like that, unless they’d been in a combat zone where your senses were what kept you alive. The cops had made a mistake though. They all rushed upstairs for the glory and hadn’t checked to see if there was another way out. Dumb.

  “My car?”

  I shook my head. “What time is it?”

  “About eight-fifteen.”

  “We should eat.” I said it like it was a normal request when the police were chasing you.

  Shirley blinked twice. “What?”

  “We won’t be on the news until ten. Five, six, and ten. Main news times, right?”

  “Why would we be on the news?”

  “I’ll explain later. Is that the time it comes on here?”

  I stared east at the heart of downtown Tulsa. The sun had nearly faded out and the buildings were lit up. There was some kind of huge walkway that went over the street, a long rectangular tube that bridged over the road. Beyond that were skyscrapers and smaller buildings. It’d be easier to navigate and stay hidden with it dark. There were lots of alleys downtown. They’d expect us to flee anyway, get out of the central business district. We could keep an eye on them easier by staying close.

  Always do what they don’t expect.

  I’d read The Art of War and The Prince several times. They may have been several centuries old, but the lessons still rang true. Misdirection worked wonders at keeping someone off your trail.

  We crossed the street and took off north on Houston.

  “Sure, I guess. Those are the times. But there’s social media. They could break in with coverage on TV.”

  I shook my head. “Regardless, most people who care will be older. They still watch the news. We’re going to be on the run. Need to eat. Need to think.”

  “On the run from what? What the hell is going on?”

  “We’re murder suspects now.”

  22