Filthy Savage (Satan's Saints MC Book 3)

by Bella Love-Wins

  Casually looking on as the blonde continues to use her phone, I rub the back of my neck to forcefully push the thoughts down. Nothing I’ve tried before works to keep a lid on this shit. It eventually reaches up from the back of my mind, making my temples pound. On bad days, all the effort in the world won’t help me keep my shit together. Like right now, which is fucked up timing. I press my eyes closed and my jaw clenches. That fucking night is like chalk being dragged across the blackboard of my sub-conscience—annoying, uncomfortable and unrelenting.

  “What can I get you, sir?” asks the teenager wearing a ball cap and a Desert Java uniform.

  “Coffee, black,” I say. “Two pumps of vanilla and three extra shots of espresso.”

  “And your name for the order?”

  “Axe.”

  “For here or to go, Mr. Axe?” the kid asks.

  “To go.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “Thanks.”

  My usual caffeinated drink of choice has more than enough kick to get my brain function in gear. It’ll help just in case Silas and Sabrina are still waiting to corner me at the clubhouse again. I run my thumb and index finger down my goatee and shift my weight from one foot to the other as I wait for the barista kid to quit it with the pleasantries and take my money. I have a blonde to make a move on before she gets her morning drink and walks out, for fuck’s sake. This fucking kid. Can he choose another time to be social? No wonder the line is a mile long behind me, and it’s the same at the pickup counter too.

  Bubbly barista boy finally rings up the sale and prattles out the price. Nodding, I slap my cash down in front of the cash register and tune out the kid’s overly friendly rant about how hot the weather is. Of course, it’s hot. It’s summer in northwest Arizona, in the middle of the fucking desert. The kid picks up on my irritable mood, because he doesn’t add more irrelevant drivel when he hands over the change.

  Returning the change to my wallet, I shove the dark leather in my back pocket and maneuver my big, broad frame through the crowd to find an open area and wait for my brew. Not too difficult to do, given that I tower over everyone in here, and am even more menacing looking in my faded jeans, white t-shirt, black leather cut and all this ink on my exposed skin. Like most crowds they’re quick to part for a tattooed badass like me.

  “Order up for number two-sixty-four!” shouts an even younger female barista. She finishes steaming some milk on an industrial espresso machine, closes the lever and slowly pours the milk into the awaiting cup of brew.

  Slow as fuck.

  I’m growing more impatient by the second. When my phone buzzes in the inner pocket of my cut, I groan out my frustration. It’s probably a text from Silas. Figuring I might as well use some of this waiting time semi-productively, I dig into my pocket and snag my cell.

  Si’s message reads, “Your little tantrum worked. Sabrina’s talking to Vex Vincent ATM.”

  I reply with, “He’s Vex Vincent now? Really?”

  Si: Have you seen his face? The fucker never smiles.

  Me: Don’t smack-talk him. He’s my people. What are you, five? BTW it’s about fucking time you got your old lady in line.

  Si: Go fuck yourself. Oh, I added one condition to taking on Vex V.

  Christ, I can already guess what it is.

  Me: “No way in hell. Fuck the security clearances.”

  I’m not interested in arguing by text like a high school princess, so I turn off my phone screen, return the damn phone to my cut, and let the next few message alerts buzz in my pocket.

  “Order up for number two-sixty-seven. Coffee, black, two shots of vanilla, and three extra shots of espresso!” The server hollers to the waiting patrons. “Come and get it!”

  I shuffle through the crowd again, this time to pick up my order. I’m not sure how they prepared my brew so quickly when so many customers are still waiting, but to be honest, I’m not fucking complaining.

  Except, what the fuck?

  The sleek, well-manicured fingers of a woman’s hand wraps around my cup at the same time that I reach to pick up my brew.

  2

  Axe

  I’m offended and ready to raise hell. Taking someone’s coffee is a shotgun offense, and I doubt any woman is sexy enough to warrant the outrageous transgression. I open my mouth to less than politely put the wrongdoer in her place. My head snaps in her direction to make sure she can look me in the eye when I unleash the slew of not so nice words ready to fly from my lips.

  Fuck.

  It’s the sexy blonde.

  My face freezes as the curvy vixen tightens her grip on the coffee cup, opens the flip-top drinking section of the lid, and presses her blood red lipstick-covered lips against my cup. Swallowing hard, I take a step forward, my mind now stuck on an image of this gorgeous creature’s lipstick smeared all over my cock. Fuck, I need to get a grip. I shake my head and try to wipe the visual, but no such luck.

  “You took my coffee,” I blurt out, too busy mentally skull-fucking her full lips to be courteous.

  “Um, no I didn’t,” she answers, eyeing me up and down. “I’m pretty sure this is mine, buddy. Unless your name is Angel too?” She twists the cardboard cup and shows me the side with the name ‘Angel’ scrawled on it with a Sharpie.

  “Oh,” I say. That’s all I can come up with. The woman has me tongue-tied for reasons I still can’t fucking understand.

  Angel’s lips stretch in a wide, sassy smile, her light blue eyes dancing with all kinds of sauciness I can get behind in a big way. “You kinda look more like a ‘Candy’ to me, personally, but what do I know? Maybe next time, you can shelve your biker gear for something a little less caveman, and you might just be able to pull it off as an ‘Angel’.”

  “But—” I start.

  She lifts a hand, gesturing for me to let her speak. “Wait your turn like a good boy, okay?”

  If she dares to pat me on the head, I’ll lift her sweet ass over my shoulder and cart her off to somewhere more private so I can show her what a caveman I really am.

  “How the hell… you couldn’t have ordered the same thing I did,” I mutter, then regret coming up with such a dumb line. “I mean, I’ve never noticed anyone else ordering their coffee exactly like mine.”

  “Real smooth,” she says, her head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed with skepticism. “You think I don’t have better things to do than hijack your caffeine fix? You saw my name, honey. I can assure you this is mine, so take a step back and wait your turn, all right?”

  Angel lowers her free hand to her hip, posing in a one-sided stance with a pelvic tilt action that only confident, flirtatious women can pull off. That move has my cock straining against my zipper in no time. She doesn’t break her gaze up at me as she takes a long, slow sip of the coffee but after she swallows it, she winks up at me. “I’m sure you’ll get yours soon.”

  This saucy little vixen has me speechless. I clear my throat as my eyes dart around the still bustling coffee shop. Is this really happening? When was the last time a woman got in my head this way?

  I know the answer to that.

  Never.

  Without thinking twice about where we are, I take two steps forward until I’m mere inches from her, towering over her as she raises her brows in challenge. “You might want to wipe that look off your face before I take you over my knee, little lady.”

  Her laughter tinkles across the crowded, claustrophobic space, but I can tell that sound is all for show when her breath catches and she swallows hard when the giggling stops.

  “I’d like to see you try,” she answers. “But you’d have to catch me first, and trust me, I don’t make it easy.”

  I’m liking her more already. “Sign me up, sweet thing,” I say with a playful smile. I like a good chase. Makes it all the more worthwhile. But just know this. Be careful, because when I finally snatch you up, I’ll devour you whole.”

  Her silly hair flips to one side as she cocks her head to one side again, exa
mining me up close as she takes in this new information. Her eyes linger a little too long on my zipper, and hell if her inspection doesn’t make my cock twitch under her gaze. It fucking wants her too.

  Angel turns away just then, glancing at the pickup counter, and I’m quickly reminded of where we are.

  “Looks like you’re forgetting your coffee,” she says, gesturing in the barista’s direction.

  “What?” I ask.

  Her red lips purse and she makes a raspy purring noise in the back of her throat. “They just called out the same order.”

  “You’re trouble, aren’t you Angel?” I ask, not giving two fucks about my coffee order, now that I’ve got my eyes on something hotter.

  She nods and takes another sip of her drink. “You better believe it, sugar.” Batting her long eyelashes one more time, she pivots on her high heels and sashays her luscious ass as she heads toward the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” she says over her shoulder.

  I grab my coffee, quickly checking to double check, and find my name on this order.

  “Not so fast,” I call out. I navigate through the crowd after her. I’m not fucking letting this one slip through my fingers so easily. Not when a simple wink, head turn, or slight smile from her has done what no other woman has been able to do to me.

  She stops at the front door and whips around. “What’s up, slugger?”

  “One second. After you,” I say, opening the door so the pretty little thing can slip outside onto the sidewalk.

  “Thanks. I see now that someone at least tried to raise you right,” she says with a grin.

  I nod. “Damn straight.”

  “Except they didn’t quite succeed at getting you to talk without all that cursing.”

  “Maybe so.” I drag out my phone and quickly key in my unlock password to bring up my contact list on the screen. “Let’s make sure I have the chance… to see you around.” Smiling broadly, I hold up the phone. “Name and number, doll. Unless your bark is bigger than your bite.”

  “Real smooth. What’s your name anyway?”

  “Axe.”

  Angel raises her eyebrows and bites down on her bottom lip. “Of course it is,” she drawls, rolling her eyes as she takes the phone into her free hand and passes me her coffee cup to hold. “What makes you so sure I won’t just put in some fake number so you’ll go away?”

  I lean forward and lower my chin until my lips are close to her ear. “Because, you already know what you’ll miss out on if I don’t see you again,” I groan out on a breath.

  I don’t have to wonder about how Angel will respond. I have her right where I want her. She moans out a hot, sultry breath at my suggestion. Sure, I’ll have to wait a little longer, but I’m going to make this woman scream my name soon. She’s more than worth the wait, and hell, she herself will probably regret every second she missed before she feels my hands run over every one of her curves. My very own Angel has just dropped from heaven right into my sinful arms. I plan to show her what hell is all about, one scorching hot lick at a time.

  Without another word, she keys in her contact details. Since my hands are busy with the two coffee cups when she’s done, the feisty little thing grasps my left jeans pocket and slowly slides the phone down into the opening. Her touch is dangerously close to my junk. So close it makes my cock jump.

  “My kind of girl,” I groan, returning her coffee cup. “How about you and I meet up for a drink tonight?”

  I hear Angel’s phone start to ring from somewhere inside her purse, which distracts her from giving me an answer right away.

  “Hang on a second,” she says, biting down on one side of her bottom lip as she fishes around through her things. Her hand emerges with the phone, and the second she catches sight of the phone screen, her disposition changes. Her face transforms from flirty and sexy to full-on panic mode. The color drains from her already pale skin, her shoulders slouch forward, and her confident posture vanishes.

  “Hey, you okay?” I ask her, gently resting a hand on her upper arm.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to run.” She lets out a nervous giggle. “Work stuff, and all that. Maybe a rain check?”

  I’m not buying her attempt at laughing off whatever has just got her all worked up, but I don’t know her at all. I can’t, and don’t push the issue.

  “Sure. Rain check it is.”

  “Thanks. See you around, Axe.” Angel spins around and bolts off, and I vaguely notice something flutter from her purse onto the ground. My eyes can’t look away long enough to check it out while Angel gives a cursory glance in each direction of the street and darts across the road between slow moving traffic. It takes everything in me not to follow her, but that type of creepy, stalker-type behavior isn’t me. Looking on the other hand, I can do. I continue to watch until she climbs the steps of the public library and disappears inside.

  If Angel’s a librarian, then fuck, maybe I should pick up reading as a side hobby.

  Taking a few long gulps of my coffee, I refocus on what’s around me and remember that something fell out of her purse. I check the ground. Damned if I’ll let that go without a proper investigation. It’s a tiny pink square of paper from a sticky note, still stuck to the concrete pavement a few feet away. The non-stick end waves slightly, threatening to get picked up by a light breeze. I snatch it up and flip it right side up to read and hopefully have some insight into this little Angel.

  Fuck.

  I should’ve known someone like that sweet-looking, mouthy minx had to come with its share of complications. I stuff the paper in my pocket and throw a look over my shoulder at the coffee shop patrons. The note has simple handwriting with the words, ‘Meet Dean Roman for Sonya, Hell Valley Saloon, 215 Ponderosa Drive, Beaver Dam, Tuesday at 7:30p.m.’

  What kind of dealings does Angel have with him?

  Dean Roman is President of the Mongols MC, a club that has gone from being our allies, to neutrals, to possible rivals, at a time when the allegiances are constantly shifting.

  I’ve got to be out of my fucking mind, fraternizing with the enemy.

  I nearly spill my coffee all over my boots as I rush inside the front door of the clubhouse. Fuck. Silas and Sabrina are still around. They’ll definitely rip me a new one for not coming back right away, but meeting Little Miss Curvy makes it all the more worthwhile, even if she’s on the wrong side of things. I’ve already made up my mind about what I’ll do tonight. Some reconnaissance is at the top of my agenda, starting with the address that fell out of Angel’s purse. Sure, tracking her down is a real no-no, considering I’ve only just met her. And yes, I’m thinking with my dick. Still, her meeting with Dean Roman and her reaction to that phone call also have me curious to find out more.

  “Axe, are you coming or what?” Tate asks from his seat closest to the meeting room door. Everyone but Cole and Dean is inside. “The Prez has been pacing around like a caged predator.”

  “You look just as impatient as Si is,” I answer.

  “I’ve got shit to do, fucker.” The proud papa has been wound tight since his old lady, Molly, had their baby a few months ago.

  I roll my eyes and step into the meeting room. “I’m here, ain’t I? Got held up in traffic. Why are we all meeting again, and who else are we waiting for? Cole?”

  Sabrina shakes her head and explains that she has clients to deal with. She quickly rises from her chair and leaves the room in a huff.

  Grunting, Silas straightens up in his chair at the head of the table. “We were waiting for you. Cole’s busy taking care of something for Jenny’s mother in Vegas. All right, let’s get this shit done. First things first. Your assignments for the next two weeks are on the roster. There’s a copy for you here on the side table. Grab a sheet to get moving. Axe, get Dean’s copy over to him at the warehouse.”

  “No problem, Prez.”

  “Tate, we have you doing double time this week, because you fucking begged for it like a little bitch—”

  “Get back to m
e when you have to afford diapers by the crate, brother,” Tate says with a broad smile on his face. “I need the goddamned money.”

  Silas runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve got some serious shit to go over with Axe, but let’s settle what we’ll do for Dean’s post-initiation ceremony. We need that shit tied up with a bow. Is everyone ready? Do we all know what we’re doing?”

  I lean back in my chair. “Fuck yeah. It’s all set.”

  That’s about the point where I tune out. Frankly, I’m more interested in how exactly Silas will try to get me to agree to applying for a security clearance.

  Tate gets to his feet after the run-through that I’ve mostly ignored. “Get your shit together and play your role, motherfucker,” he says to me before leaving.

  Silas turns to me. “The buck stops here, my friend. I’m not going to sit here wasting your time or candy-coating anything. We need this contract, so you’re going to have to take one for the team.” He points at a stack of paper about an inch thick. “Fill out this background check.”

  My eyes narrow at him. “It sounds to me like the discussion is over, because what I’m hearing is an order from my Prez.”

  “That’s fucking right. It’s how it has to be,” Silas confirms, leaning forward as he taps the documents.

  “Fine,” I answer, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll fall in line, but don’t expect me to like it. And definitely don’t freak the fuck out if it turns out that I’m the deal breaker because I can’t get cleared for whatever reason.”

  “I won’t. And thanks. Before you storm off, you should know that Sabrina worked it out with Vincent. It turns out that he’s only looking for extra perimeter security for his home. Nothing too complicated. We’re taking him on as a client.”

  I smile, pleased that at least there’s one piece of good news to help me swallow this security clearance shit show. “That’s what I’m talking about.”