Filthy Savage (Satan's Saints MC Book 3)

by Bella Love-Wins

  I’m stand there, like a statue in front of my bike in the dark, telling myself to get on my ride and leave. Except something stops me. A twig snaps in the distance. I scan the empty parking lot, relying on the only two functioning overhead lights and all my other senses. One lightbulb flickers, flashing across my vision as I concentrate on my surroundings. I take in the cool evening breeze, forehead crinkling.

  As I launch one leg over the side of my bike, I hear Angel screaming from the far end of the parking lot behind the library. Every part of me reacts on a deep-seated, primal level, as though her screams are hardwired to my brain. As though protecting her is just as crucial as saving my own right arm. As though she’s a part of me. I have no idea how I know it’s Angel. I just do—and I need to protect her right this instant. This bone-deep urge fucking refuses to relent. My jaw tenses, a groan I hardly recognize leaks past my lips, and all my muscles go taut as I search the area with laser focus. I have to find her.

  9

  Axe

  “Help, someone! Help!”

  That’s Angel, all right.

  Fuck. She’s being hauled off by four Los Diablos members. Great. Them again. Why are Los Diablos after Angel anyway? They push her into the back of a van in the shadowy far corner of the parking lot. I pivot and sprint toward them. Their backs are to me, so my approach from the diagonal doesn’t get their attention. Not right away. I notice that none of them are visibly armed, but I drag the handgun tucked into my lower back at the waistband of my pants, ready to use it if I have to. I close in on the first and second fuckers, presumably hanging back to give their friends up ahead coverage from behind. When I’m close enough, I smash the weapon into the back of his head with everything I’ve got.

  Everything seems to happen in slow motion after that. He lets out a painful shout as he begins to collapse from the blow, his arms coming up to shield that side of his body, but it’s too late. The motherfucker stumbles forward and crumples to the ground, taking the guy nearest him down to the asphalt with him. It’s just too bad that they’re so fucking loud, because the two guys up ahead who are holding on to Angel react at the same time. One reaches for his gun while the other tightens his grip on Angel, and he picks up the pace to a slow run across the parking lot toward what I assume is their van.

  It’s the worst possible time to have my attention divided, but the patches at the back of the truck force their way into my mind, pulling my attention to the fact that I’m breaking ranks right now. The Satan’s Saints, Mongols MC, and Los Diablos clubs in and around this area are supposed to be in a temporary truce. We’re supposed to be hands-off. I’m not supposed to mess with these motherfuckers, but at the moment, I don’t fucking care. No way am I going to stand around and let them mess with this woman. Not my Angel. I don’t care if Silas, Dean Roman, and Antonio Vasquez made a truce. I’m protecting what’s mine.

  Somehow, Angel manage to wrench herself free from the guy up ahead, just as the other douchebag pulls his gun from the holster over his shoulder. I don’t fucking hesitate. While Angel is fighting like a hell-broad, sinking her nails and shoe heel into her kidnapper’s limbs, I take my shot. I aim a couple of feet lower and a few inches to the right than I would during target practice. Then I shoot. He’s fucking lucky I respect my Prez. I won’t completely screw the pooch by killing these Los Diablos assholes, even though I have more than enough reason to, with this stunt they’re pulling with Angel right now. But fuck. I won’t break the truce outright. Not today.

  I smile with satisfaction as the bullet hits the guy somewhere above his knee. Three down. When I turn my focus to Angel again, I see that she’s taken care of business. The prick that tried to haul her off is now on the pavement, struggling as my sweet girl kicks the shit out of him. Getting his ass kicked by a lady should be lesson enough, but I make it to her side and finish the job.

  “You picked the wrong fucking woman to mess with, fucker,” I tell him, my gun now at his temple to make sure he hears the message loud and clear. My gaze meets Angel’s face and I nod. “Did they hurt you?” I ask.

  “I’m fine.” She wraps her arms around her body protectively, still hyped up from the attack.

  Turning back to look at the Los Diablos member, I press the gun a little harder to his temple. “Collect your boys and get the fuck out of here,” I bark.

  “Fuck, all right,” he answers.

  I slide his weapon from his gun belt and toss it across the parking lot. “Don’t fucking try this again. Next time, I won’t be this lenient.”

  “You know I can’t guarantee that,” he tells me from his spot on the ground. “This ain’t fucking over. Orders are orders.”

  “Then you should tell your Prez that he’d better make sure he takes me down before he tries this again. If he’s stupid enough to ignore my advice, no one’s walking away.”

  As he stands and limps away, Angel’s eyes are on him and the other members as she catches her breath, her body still tense and ready to keep fighting for her life. It’s strange that she’s not in a panic. Most people would be frantic out of their skulls after something like this. I mean, the guys were hauling her off, and she saw me shoot someone. I have to wonder what kind of hell she’s been through before this. The fact that she doesn’t seem the least bit scared after going through such an ordeal makes me see her in a whole new light.

  She’s not the sheltered girl I thought she was.

  For a man like me, I can appreciate that fact.

  After the Los Diablos men help their injured comrades to the van and leave, I lead Angel back to her car. She leans on the side of her vehicle, catching her breath for a minute. I’m finding that she’s way too levelheaded as she drops to her knees and picks up everything that was thrown from her purse. When she straightens up, the woman casually begins to fix her lipstick in a tiny compact mirror. This makes no sense at all. She must’ve been through worse than this before. Maybe Angel has spent a lot more time around Dean Roman and his club members than I thought.

  “Excuse me, um, Mr. Alpha Dude …sir?” Angel says from behind me, giving me a startle. “I’m not really sure how you took them all down so fast, but thanks for the help. I still need to close up the library, if you were planning to wait around,” she says, pointing back toward the half-lit building. “Not that you have to. I’m, fine now.”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Be back soon.”

  “I’ll bring my ride around while you take care of that.”

  I keep my gaze on her as she walks to the back entrance of the library, her body regaining her usual composure. I smile a little at the fact that the sway of her hips makes my dick hard as fuck, even now. As I head back to my ride, I notice a folded sheet of paper near the spot where the last guy was duking it out with Angel. It’s too dark in this spot, so I scoop it up and head back to my bike.

  I’m still baffled. Only one question drills at my mind while I push the bike key into the ignition and turn on the headlight. The same question lingers as I smooth out the crumpled sheet of paper. Is the Los Diablos MC President involved in this attack? Why would Antonio Vasquez let this happen at a time like this? Coming to a truce is not easy for any of us. For him to risk that it all goes to shit for this, for me, it makes no sense at all.

  I squint down at the note as I hold it out in front of the bike’s headlights. Fuck. I fucking want to turn back time ten minutes and blow every one of those motherfuckers off the face of the earth. Someone printed out and gave them all of Angel’s information. The library address, her home address, her phone number, and even the route she takes to go home after work. At the bottom of the sheet, there’s a handwritten note that someone wrote on the printed sheet. The fucker scrawled in my name, the words ‘Retrieve and hold girl for leverage’ beside it, along with today’s date.

  Why the fuck are the Los Diablos looking to gain leverage on me? Is he trying this same shit with Silas and Sabrina? And why now? If these fuckers have a spec
ific beef with me, the timing couldn’t be worse. The Satan’s Saints and Los Diablos are closer to allies now than they’ve been in years. Relations have been pretty decent since Vasquez was shot. It went a long way, having Tate’s old lady, Molly nurse him back to health. Nothing about today’s attack makes sense. The only possible explanation is that these members decided to go rogue. Or maybe they’re not from this Los Diablos club chapter at all.

  Whoever it is, I can’t take the chance leaving Angel on her own. More of them could be after her. Confused about what to believe, I head back to Angel’s car to wait for her.

  She beat me to it, though, and I find her leaning against the driver side door of her car, completely put together, as though nothing happened earlier.

  “Well, well, look who it is,” Angel choruses. “I’m glad to see that my suspicions about you were true.”

  “What suspicions? And explain one thing to me while you’re at it. How the fuck are you so calm about what happened? You should be terrified as fuck.”

  Angel is practically glowing as she babbles on about the self-defense classes she’s been taking for years, classes she’s never gotten to put to use in real life.

  “Whoa, hey, slow down, doll,” I say, scrubbing a dirty palm over my face. “You know how to defend yourself. That’s a good thing.”

  “I always wondered how I’d manage in a real fight,” she beams. “And you know what? I was awesome.”

  “You realize you could’ve gotten some hands-on practice with Dean Roman or his guys, right?”

  “Sorry, what? No, it wouldn’t be the same. They’d just go easy on me. His cousin, Sonya can hold her own. We used to spar before she got that job in Europe, but we’re not a good weight match. I guess I could’ve pushed a bit harder, you know, put my back into it. I guess that explains why—”

  “All that talking is making my head spin,” I say, cutting her off.

  “Well, you asked,” she reminds me.

  “True. My bad. Listen, save the deets for later. At the moment, we need to get the hell out of here, in case these Los Diablos yahoos weren’t alone, or get orders to show up and finish what they started.”

  She blinks at me, arching a brow as she processes the possibility that the threat isn’t over. “Why do you believe that?”

  My stomach twists into knots. It’s all my fault. She was attacked because of me. But I can’t bring myself to tell her that they were after her because they know she has ties to me.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I lie. “But we’re better off away from here. I need some time to figure this out. And by the way, we can’t go to your place.”

  Angel cocks her head to one side and takes a step away from me. “Uh, excuse me?”

  “They might know where you live,” I admit, but don’t add more information.

  “Do you know why those guys were after me?”

  “No. I’m not sure. Speaking of which, can I take a look at your phone?”

  “Okay.” She opens her purse and lifts it out, unlocking the screen before passing it over to me. “What are you hoping to find in there?”

  I flip open the back cover of the phone and slip out the sim card. “Just this part,” I explain.

  “What do you need with—” she starts, but her mouth drops open and her eyes widens when she sees me drop it to the ground and grind it under my boot.

  Her face is awash with shock as she stares down at my boot. “Why did you do that? I’ve got all my contacts stored in there! All my photos!”

  “Yeah. Contacts, pictures, and your location, thanks to the GPS coordinates anyone with a bit of skill can hack to find out. Look, I’ll get you a new one as soon as I can, okay? Don’t freak out.”

  “But… why?” she cries out.

  “If they know where you are, they can find you again,” I inform her. “Take whatever you can fit in your bag out of the car. We’re leaving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Her mouth stays wide open for a second, but the idea that she’s in danger clicks eventually. Pivoting on her heels, she returns to the passenger side of her car, pulls something out of the glove compartment, then goes to her trunk and takes out a backpack. “I keep this old laptop with me just in case I stay over at my parents’ place.”

  “Good.”

  “I need to use your phone,” she says to me.

  “Why?”

  “Someone has to fill in for me at work while I’m gone. Wait, how long will we be gone, anyway?”

  “No idea. As long as we have to. Trust me, your boss will figure things out. No one’s after them, all right?” I grip her forearm and slam her car door shut. “Let’s go,” I bark, dragging her over to my bike.

  “Can we please stop at my place for a change of clothes? Plus I need to at least get a message to Mom or my neighbor so that someone stops in on my dogs. Please?”

  “We’ll see. I can’t promise anything.”

  “You’re not being very nice right now,” she whines.

  “I never said I was a nice guy, doll. And can pretty much promise I won’t ever be that, especially not while I’m saving your life.”

  “Great. I can look forward to you being an asshole.”

  I nod and straddle the bike, stretching out my hand to help her on behind me. “I’m so glad we understand each other.”

  Scowling, she takes my hand and hikes her stretchy form-fitted skirt up her legs, and climbs on. She presses up against me, and I’m hard as fuck all over again at the feel of her hands around my waist. My cock twitches, and I have to readjust it in my pants at the feel of her heart pounding at my back, her thick, bare thighs clamped along my hips, and her full, soft breasts at the base of my shoulder blades.

  “Just ride,” she groans into my ear, digging her nails into my abs.

  With a smirk, I roll out of the parking lot and head off. This is sure to be a wild ride with this mouthy, blonde vixen.

  My Angel.

  Mine.

  That mouth’s no angel, but fuck, I love it already.

  10

  Axe

  “Really? Here? No way. I bet those rooms have bedbugs.”

  Angel’s sweet, sultry voice gets my attention, even if she’s complaining. I caved earlier, not wanting to leave her dogs stranded without some mind of pet care arrangements. Angel worked it out with her neighbor, and grabbed a few clothes—more than what she needed, anyway. But I still had to drag her out of her house kicking and screaming because she didn’t want to leave her dogs behind. While we were there, she scrutinized every outfit she owned before I suggested jeans, t-shirts, a couple of sweat suits, and a pair of loafers would be more ideal than leather, lace and stilettos. We went back and forth until I ended up grabbing a backpack and shoving stuff from her chest of drawers to get us on our way.

  Angel pouted for a while during our thirty-minute drive on the I-15 south, but calmed down before we made it to Glendale, Nevada. But now, she takes one look at the seedy motel and mutters her vehement disagreement to spending a single night there.

  “You can always walk back home and take your chances with the men who are after you,” I tell her, cutting off the engine. “We’re staying here,” I reiterate firmly, only slightly annoyed. For the most part, I’m horny as hell after all this time with the gorgeous, feisty woman who’s been pressed up tight to me like a second skin for the entire ride.

  “Christ.” She climbs off in a huff.

  “I’ll get us the room,” I tell her, pushing down the kickstand before getting off. “You watch the bike.”

  I’m at the motel office and back with the key in a few minutes, but Angel is still pissed. Her arms are crossed over her breasts, her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow as she glares at me. “I guess I parked in a good spot,” I tell her, ignoring the tantrum in waiting. “Follow me.”

  We step up on the pavement and only have to walk a few feet to get to our room. Angel pushes past me when I unlock the door. �
�Just as I thought. I imagine I’ll need a shower before and after sleeping in that bed,” she says, dumping her backpack on the sofa and heading to the bathroom at the back.

  “By the way,” I say from my spot at the threshold. “Only rooms with queen beds were available, so I’ll let you sleep in here. I’ll be outside.”

  “Outside?” she calls out from the open bathroom door. “Isn’t that stretching out the good guy thing a little far? You can take the couch. I won’t freak out.”

  My jaw hardens I’m not ready for an overnighter with anyone. Not now while my dreams are riddled with terror-filled nightmares. I struggle to come up with something to get myself out of this. Angel doesn’t need to know.

  “I’m fine with staying out there. Seriously. I need to keep watch.”

  “Okay, sure,” she says reluctantly. “Are you going to go mark your territory or something? I hear you MC guys like pissing in the wind for kicks.”

  I flash her a sideways glance. “Yeah. That.”

  “Well just know that the way it looks out there, you might end up marking your territory on the local pimps and crack whores.”

  I have to smile. Around this stretch of road, she’s not far off the mark. We’re hardly in the best part of town, but the Los Diablos aren’t likely to look for either of us here.

  “I’ll manage. Are you hungry? I can get us some food from that little diner we passed about a mile up the road.”

  “Can I come with? After I shower.”

  I take a seat on the sofa and check the time on my phone. “Sure, you can come along, but we need to go now. We can’t risk having them catch sight of the bike.”

  “Okay, but at least let me change,” she says, returning to the couch for her bag. Angel stares down at me for a moment. “You look beat. Maybe you should go get us takeout.”

  I get to my feet, dwarfing her as she stays in the same spot with one hand on the strap of the backpack. That vulnerable look in her eyes has me so tight in the chest, I have to get out of here. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone.”