SAVAGE POET: A Dark, New Adult and College Romance

by Jax Hart

  I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the bulging veins pop in my neck. My eye twitches.

  Twice.

  “I-I have to go,” she stammers. I can hear the person on the other end shouting for her not to hang up.

  “How much time do we have before the rescue calvary comes?”

  She shrugs.

  Rog lights up my damn phone again. “What?” I bark.

  “I need you. Now. Sassy’s. We’ve been ambushed. I’m under siege. Creed is in Canada. I don’t have enough men.”

  “I’ll be there. I’m in the mood to kill tonight, anyway.”

  “Johnny! Please! It’s not what you think. I-I couldn’t sleep. It’s not right to let my brother think I’m dead… that’s he’s been tormented all this time.”

  “And you couldn’t wait until morning to call? For me to check it was safe?”

  “We are safe. I won’t let anyone lock you up.”

  “Yeah right,” I snort. “I don’t have time to deal with this right now. Someone who always has my back actually needs me. I don’t have time to deal with you. You betraying bitch!”

  “No! It wasn’t like that. Please listen—"

  I wave my hand. “Fooled me twice…. never again.” I rip the phone from her hand, pulling out the sim card smashing both with my fist. I yank her forward, finding something to tie her up with until I can come back. I riffle through a few draws. Lips twisting as I find a pair of handcuffs. “This will do.”

  “Please, Johnny. I love you. You have me—all of me… I swear it.”

  I close my eyes for a split second. “It’s too late. My humpty-dumpty heart’s too broken for those words to put back together again. Instead of my love, you’re gonna get nothing but all my hate. Buckle up Christine, this trip to lover’s paradise is over.”

  Yanking her out of the room, and with little time to spare as Rog sends another SOS text, I click her wrist in one cuff, fastening the other around a pole in the utility room. I stuff my feet into boots. Then open a locker taking out a long gun and two semis. Picking up a reusable grocery bag off a hook I dump three boxes of ammo in. I don’t even bother with a coat.

  “Johnny! Where are you going. You can’t just leave me like this.”

  “The hell, I can’t.”

  “Rog is under an ambush. If I don’t come back… well then I guess you’ll be rescued after all… probably by Roque and when he learns you betrayed me twice, nothing will save you from a watery grave in the Hudson. The one he originally had planned for you.”

  I slam the door to the garage, grabbing the fob key to the Suburban. There’s a fleet of fucking cars in here. If anyone looked closely it’d be easy to tell this place is much more than just an Inn and Spa. It’s a safehouse where we launder cash and keep supplies.

  I push the gas, letting the rage of her latest betrayal fuel me. Fuck love. Fuck heartbreak. Fuck how good she feels in my arms, it’s not worth it. I can’t kill the girl. But I never want to see her face again. Her kiss is sugar laced with venom and the hit to my system a second time is fatal. I’ll never love again. Fuck it. I’d rather live in isolation surrounded by cats.

  I navigate the streets through the dark. I need to focus. Somehow breathe. If I don’t, I’ll get myself and Rog killed tonight. I’ll deal with Christine later. I’m gonna make her watch me bed dozens of women. Make her wish it were her. That’ll burn. I slow the SUV and cut down a dirt road that’s parallel to the restaurant and tavern Roger owns. “Fuck,” I mutter. Whoever ambushed Rog knew about this dirt lane. They’re vans and bikes are here, and the stupid fools didn’t leave anyone to watch their backs. I pull a gym shirt off the floor of the SUV roll it between my hands and open the gas tank to one of the vans. I stuff it down then take it out. I flick my lighter to the end, stuffing it back inside then run through the woods.

  The explosion rings in my eyes. With any luck, the boom will be enough of a distraction to buy Rog some time.

  Branches covered in frozen frost swipe my bare torso as I maneuver through the trees while trying to assess the situation. From my vantage point, hidden in the trees the flash of gunfire is visible inside the bar. It’s surrounded. I’ll have to use the tunnel. Moving left, I lift a dead tree stump attached to a trapdoor. Moving as fast as I can I descend the steps, sprinting through the tunnel that leads to the cellar where Christine lived for so long. The smell of her still lingers in the damp air. Floral shampoo and just… her. Rog is trying to prevent them from descending the basement stairs as he fires in rapid succession.

  “About time you got here. I’m almost out.” I drop the shopping bag I had at my wrist. Rog doesn’t waste any time reloading.

  “Who are they?”

  “Chinese mob from Cali. I guess they figured it was Creed and Roque moving in on their business not the Cartel from Tijuana.”

  “How many?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Fuck. Anyone else here?”

  “No. I was just locking up. I had sent my bouncer home.”

  “We can use the tunnel.”

  “Get back!” Rog yells as our eyes watch in disbelief as a tossed grenade teeters down the stairs. Everything seems to move in slow motion as Rog and I try to get inside the tunnel.

  But there’s no time. Boom! We’re both blasted back as they throw a damn grenade down the stairs.

  Dust fills the dark, chokes my lungs. I can’t breathe. My ears are ringing. I have no fucking clue where Rog is. It’s over. In seconds, the enemy’s boots will descend down the stairs. It’ll either be a beating or a bullet. My only regret is that I’m outta time to make Christine pay for breaking me twice.

  32

  Christine

  I need to make him believe me. If the thick-headed stubborn sexy fool would just listen for a second, I could’ve explained that I told my brother I had run off with Johnny and that we were in love. I told him to stop looking and he had admitted he suspected he thought that our parents were in over their heads at the time when they were killed. Johnny was so right while we were so totally wrong and now my stupid man went off in the middle of the night half-naked, loaded up with guns to save the man who held me and yet also gave me hope.

  “I need to save them both,” I mutter to a fat, tabby cat who just appeared for the first time. The cat stares at me with wise eyes as if saying, “Go get your man.”

  “I will.” I move to scratch her head and get a hiss in return. “That’s fair. I guess, I deserved that. Don’t worry. This fucked-up fairytale will have a reverse happy ending… as the once captured damsel is off to rescue her big man. But first I need to get free of these handcuffs.” I suck in a deep breath. I’ll have to dislocate my wrist there’s no other way. I’ve lost weight but I never had fat wrists. During one of my “field trips” in the FBI a Navy Seal once taught me this trick. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” he had said but if it’s a matter of survival you’ll do it.

  “Fuck, here goes nothing…,” I blow out a breath, then pull forward using all my weight against the metal link then I quickly twist my wrist to the side and using all my weight to drop. There’s a sickening crunch. I broke my damn wrist, but I’m free. Tears burn but I can’t stop. I need to save Johnny so I can lay my heart at his feet right before I crack his skull for doubting me after what we shared tonight. No one could fake what happened in the bed upstairs. I quickly find a scarf, making a quick sling then grab the cache of weapons he left behind with ammo, shoving it all into a bag. I find a silencer, attaching it to the barrel. Then I push my feet into boots, grab his coat, and open the door to the garage. I grab the first fob off the rack, clicking it to see what car matches. A big ass Ford truck, perfect for snow. I know where we are now. When I broke into the office computer I just wanted to know where we are because it’s so beautiful. Oregon. Who knew? But I need him to share it with—all the perfect starry nights and morning smelling of fresh dew. I especially need him during the night, to hold me tight through the darkness. Fuck. I love him so much. Need him e
ven more. No man can compare to him in my book. Not even Romeo Roque.

  From our conversations over the past few days, I’ve been able to gather that Rog or Roger runs with an MC and kept me hidden in rooms under his bar. When Johnny and I fled, I remember reading a sign that read “Sassy’s.” I turn the car on and open the GPS, typing it in. Bingo. I’m 3.2 miles away. I hit the gas as the garage door opens, flying down the drive past the car I tried to escape in only a few days ago. The gate was left open and I waste no time racing through. I have no idea what I’m racing toward besides him. All I know is I’m finally running to the one man who’s always run to me. It’s my turn to do the rescuing. After that, I’ll keep him captive if I must. Tie his ass up until he believes me when I tell him it’s us. The two of us now and forever.

  My destination is just ahead on the left. My hand is screaming… but I can push down the pain. I rely on my training and the grit that saw me through the last couple of years. My hands gently pull the wheel to the left, then shut off the car. I check my guns and get out.

  I’m light on my feet as I dodge behind the trees, zig zagging forward until I’m at the edge of a parking lot. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Vans and motorcycles are parked out front. The lights are off, but the front door hangs on its hinges, clearly being blasted open. But there’s no police. The establishment is by itself down a thickly forested road and behind it is nothing but trees. It’s literally popped down in the woods. There’s no one to hear gunfire or screams. It’s no wonder they kept me here.

  I won’t lie. Part of me wants to cut and run. I just escaped this place and now I’m running headfirst back.

  Ducking low, I sprint to the corner of the building, lifting a head to peak through a window where bullets broke all the glass. I hear the shout of voices but see no one. They must be in the basement. A place I know well. I know every crack in the foundation, every corner and dark shadow. I quickly round and enter through the door, raising my gun to take down threats. But no one’s here. They don’t expect back up. Well, I’m about to surprise the fuck out of all of them.

  Carefully, I make my way over broken glass and turned over tables. The smell of gunfire burns my nostrils. But I don’t turn back. My man needs me.

  Shouting followed by the hard hits from fists come from the dark pit I lived in. Beads of sweat dot my brow. My wrist is on fire. But I hold the gun steady in my hand as I descend.

  No one sees or hears me. I become one with the shadows. The smell and cracks are familiar. Like a blind woman running a hand over a beloved’s face, my hand travels over the wall. I know exactly where I am and where I’m going. The power’s been cut. A few men have cell phones out, using it for light. I creep closer.

  My man is on his knees with his hands tied in front of him. Blood trickles from his nose. One eye is swollen shut. His bottom lip will need stitches. The man who refused me his name, kneels next to Johnny, Roger. His hair hangs over his forehead, shielding his face, hiding whatever damage they’ve done to him.

  “Where are they?”

  Johnny refuses to talk, smirking instead. A thug lifts the tip of his boot, kicking my man in the ribs. Oh, hell no.

  I refuse to have a conscience. I refuse the notion of right and wrong, because in this moment I’m living in the gray. Power comes over me. I get to choose. I get to choose who is right and wrong. There’s no thought of justice my only thought is saving my man. I only have a clip with sixteen rounds. There’s 12 men. I can’t miss. I need to take them all out while trying to avoid return fire. The silencer will buy me the precious seconds I need. Crouching low, I raise my right hand, while my left is still cradled in my makeshift sling. It takes every ounce of willpower not to give into the pain as I hold the gun steady with my good hand.

  “Fine. You fucks won’t tell us where you stashed our merc, then this will send a message.” A gun is raised to my man’s temple. I don’t think. Just act.

  Blood sprays across the floor, just as the other thugs are processing that he’s been hit, I fire in rapid succession taking them out one by one in seconds.

  Slowly, I stand, stepping over their bodies until I’m kneeling right in front of the captor of my heart. I wipe the blood and sweat from his eyes.

  “Put one through my heart and end my misery.”

  “Shut-up you thick-headed, ass.” My fingers gingerly inspect his temple.

  It’s then he notices my wrist. “What did you do?” He hisses.

  “What I had to.”

  I move over to Rog. “Hey, there sugar.”

  “I’m not your sugar and I’m pissed as fuck at you.” My fingers probe the cut on his forehead a bit rougher than I intended.

  “Cut me loose and I’ll help you finish him off,” he gestures over to Johnny. “There’s a knife in my boot.”

  “What in the hell happened here?” I take the knife from his boot but don’t cut him loose. Instead I take his cell from his pocket.

  “A difference of opinion.” Johnny, spits blood from his mouth as he speaks.

  “What’s the passcode?” I ask Rog. He shrugs.

  “It’s going be like this then?”

  I turn to Johnny. “Beg.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Beg me to forgive you for being pigheaded and refusing to listen to me.”

  “Never.”

  He’s beautiful. Bloodied. Bruised and broken. But his eyes are all defiant fire as he refuses me.

  “Fine.” I move past him over to the part of the basement where coils of rope lay. Roger never tied me up with them because their presence was threat enough. I grab one, attaching it to the ties at my love’s wrist. “Get up. You’re my captive now.” I tug my end of the rope, but he refuses to budge. My eyes flit over to Roger. “Help me get him home and I won’t tell your wife how you kept me prisoner right under her nose.” His nostrils flair.

  “Don’t you fucking dare, Rog.” Johnny warns.

  “Fine. I figure I owe ya’. I do what I do. Chose the life I live but keeping you down here never did sit right with me.”

  I cut Roger loose. He forces John on his feet, back up the stairs and into the truck I parked down the road. “I’ll handle everything here. Don’t ever come back.” Rog stares at me intently, I nod, swallowing hard, still in denial at just how far I went tonight.

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  “You can’t go back to the Inn. It’ll be crawling with Feds if your brother got a lock on the call. Yeah, Johnny told me how you ratted on him again. I want no part of this mess. I’m out. But I will give you a safe place to hole out since you saved my ass back there.”

  He opens the passenger door, taking paper and pen out of the glove box to scribble something down before handing it to me. “Go there. It’s a small cabin in the middle of the woods. Off the-grid.”

  I nod, feeling numb. “Thanks.”

  He grunts a response.

  “Get in the back.” I order Johnny.

  “No fucking way.”

  “If you don’t. You’ll get caught.”

  “Because of you.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m cold, tired. My wrist hurts like a bitch and I just killed for you. Can we call it even?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Help me turn him around.”

  “Hands off,” Johnny growls, turning to get into the back of the truck himself.

  33

  Johnny

  She’s sexy as fuck. Killed for me. I can’t believe she broke her wrist to chase me down. A growl erupts from my chest as she hisses in pain. We drive further into the woods, away from all eyes. It’s just gonna be her and me and as soon as she cuts me free. Then it’s fair game how I decide to punish the little minx.

  “Whoa,” she breathes, taking in the A-frame cabin nestled under the pines. A creek winds through the woods behind the house.

  She opens my door and I let her think she has the upper hand. Let her think she’s in control even though I’m the one bound and roped. Despite a few broken ri
bs and probably a mild concussion, I could easily overpower her.

  If things weren’t so fucked up between us, maybe this would actually be kind of hot. Who knew I’d think so? Usually I’m the one collaring girls and leading them around on strings.

  The front door is unlocked. The inside is cozy as fuck. Romantic even, in a rustic lodge kind of way. She shivers as I kick the door shut behind us with my boot. “Cut me free. It’s cold as fuck. I’ll build a fire.”

  She ignores me, tugging me forward to the couch. “Sit.”

  “I’m not a dog.” Her good hand shoves against my chest. I plop on the couch, curious to see what kind of game she’s running now.

  “I’ll go look for a medical kit.” She comes back a few minutes later cradling a kit with supplies. She opens it up, generously applying antiseptic to some cotton. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

  “Nothing could hurt more than you.” My words hang in the silence between us. Her eyes cloud over but she doesn’t hesitate to press the gauze to my temple. I don’t move. Not even flinch as I hold her captive with my eyes. I might be tied up but she’s still the one caught and we both know it. My eyes smolder with all the love laced with hate. All the bitterness of her betrayal burns just as much as her touch.

  Her hands shake but she doesn’t stop inspecting all my wounds. “I’ll need to wrap your ribs. You also have a concussion.”

  I don’t respond. She whimpers, biting her lip in pain as her broken wrist bumps against my chest. I suck in a breath. “You need to have that looked at.”

  “Suddenly, you care?” Her eyebrow lifts.

  “I never stopped. You did.”

  She throws the supplies back into the case. “I’m sick of going round and round with you.”