Savage Lies: Savage Angels MC #7

by Kathleen Kelly

  Cassia

  My ear is pressed up against the door listening for Zeke to leave but at the same time hoping he won’t. When I hear his Harley start up, I turn off the light and slide down to the floor.

  Zeke was right. My father has never liked him, right from the first moment he met him at his clothing store. Zeke had come in to replace all of his belongings when the Savage Angels clubhouse had burned down. I felt an instant attraction to him, but I have to admit, in the beginning, I went out with Zeke just to annoy my father. As the months wore on, it became more. He’s one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever dated, especially in the bedroom.

  I still can’t believe he hit my dad. Zeke has never had a temper, but my father does. It makes me wonder what my dad said to provoke him. But that’s not the point, Zeke should never have hit him.

  Pulling my knees up to my chest, I rest my chin on them and cry some more. The whole situation is a mess. Even if what Zeke says is true, and he didn’t hit my dad the first time, he did do it and in front of me, no less.

  Forcing myself to stand, I walk into the bathroom. Memories of Zeke come flooding back, and they usually make me smile, but tonight, fresh tears fall. I turn on the shower, determined not to let my emotions get the best of me, but as I step in and the hot water bites at my skin, all I can think about is Zeke.

  When the water runs cold, I get out, dry off, and climb into my bed. The smell of him lingers here. I sigh and roll over, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the swirl of emotions within me.

  Logically, I know my dad had to have done something for Zeke to hit him. But does that excuse Zeke for actually doing it? As all this keeps running around in my head like a bad movie, I fall asleep.

  When I wake, I smell Zeke on my sheets and look for him, only to remember what happened last night. Today, I’m going to confront my dad and find out what happened. If I choose Zeke over him, my family and most of the town will probably disown me.

  I’m not sure I’m strong enough for that, but I love Zeke. If nothing else, my night of heartbreak made me realize that. Can I forgive him for what he’s done? I don’t know. But first, I need to have some time apart from him and confront my dad and then decide what’s best for me.

  Zeke

  I ride back to the home I share with Dirt. It’s just the two of us. The house belongs to Dirt, and although he complains about me being here, I secretly think he enjoys the company. He seemed almost sad when Kade and Destiny moved out into a place of their own. I open the front door, and Dirt is sitting in his favorite chair watching television.

  “Hey, man,” I mutter as I head for my room.

  “Hey,” replies Dirt as he takes another sip of beer.

  I keep going, enter my room, and shut my door. I’m not in the mood for company. Sitting on my bed, I look around. Everything I own is in this room. It’s not much, but it is mine. Before Kade, JJ, and I moved to Tourmaline, we were nomads traveling the road, going where we were needed. When JJ got killed, it became important to me to put down roots. Truthfully, if Kade had wanted to leave, I would have followed him. He’s the closest thing I have to family.

  Family. Fuck.

  I look up at the ceiling. What was it that Gerald Lee said? That my father is in trouble. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. I keep in touch with my sisters, but they don’t understand how awful that man was to me. The girls he adored, me he abhorred. I’ve never understood it.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out. It’s Kade. I’m not in the mood to rehash the events of tonight, so I place the phone on my side table letting it ring out. There’s a knock on my door, and before I can say ‘come in,’ the door opens. Kade is standing there, phone in hand, eyebrow raised, looking at me questioningly.

  “What, you ignoring my calls now?”

  “Nah, man, just didn’t feel like talking.”

  “So, you are ignoring my calls.”

  “Whatever.” I flick a hand at him. I don’t have the energy or inclination to fight with him.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me, anyway.”

  “No,” I say flatly.

  “If you don’t, I’m going to call Destiny and tell her you’re upset, and she’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Destiny would do anything for me. She knows I’m important to Kade, and what’s important to Kade is important to her.

  Kade grins at me and sits down on the bed next to me. “Yeah, I do. So, tell me.”

  I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. “The party was fucking horrible. Gerald was parading me around to all his friends, the look of disdain on all of their faces.” I stand and begin to pace. “Then he invites me into his office, offers me a drink, oh and a check for five hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me!”

  “Nope. It was a, ‘your family is in trouble, this will bail them out and keep away from my daughter’ kind of thing.”

  “So, you hit him?”

  “I hit him later. It was fucking stupid.”

  “Yeah. You think he’s telling the truth about your family?”

  “He said my father owed people. I don’t know if it’s the truth or not, but I need to get out of here and find out.”

  “I’ll come with.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Zeke. Of course, I’m coming.”

  “No,” I repeat forcefully. “You have Destiny to think of. She’ll worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “This isn’t how we work. We stick together.”

  “Not this time. I’ll call if I need you. It’s time I faced my father.”

  “He’s a vicious psychopath, and he may have helped create you, but he’s no fucking father.”

  Kade and I found each other on the streets. His upbringing was very different from mine. He grew up in luxury but with a family who couldn’t have cared less about him. I might have the scars on my back from repeated whippings, but he has them on the inside from neglect. The only person in his family he was remotely close to was his mother, and she’s been dead a long time.

  “I need to do this on my own. I’m not a scared little kid anymore looking for approval.”

  “No, you’re a fucking member of the Savage Angels MC. Remember what JJ used to say? ‘Don’t fuck with the archangels, they’re God’s hitmen.’ The same rule applies to us… you fuck with one, you fuck with all of us.”

  I chuckle. “You know if JJ hadn’t liked the whole archangel thing, we could have ended up anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t. We found a home here.”

  I stop pacing and look Kade in the eye. “I’ll be fine, brother. I will call if I need you.”

  Kade stands. “Call me if you don’t. I want you checking in every day, okay?”

  “Yeah,” I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen the girls. Never thought I’d see the old man again.”

  “Every day, yeah?” repeats Kade. I look into his eyes and see only concern.

  “What? Are you my mother?”

  Kade punches me in the arm. “No, I’m fucking family, and I’m worried about you. When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Cassia doesn’t want me around so…”

  “She’ll come around. Deep down, she knows what type of man her daddy is. We all know what our parents are. Good or bad, it comes to the surface.”

  “You believe that?”

  Kade frowns. “Yeah, Zeke, I do. Give her time. Gerald will fuck up, you’ll see.”

  I nod, not wanting to say that I think we’re finished. Gerald has his hooks deep into his daughter. She has no reason to believe me, except for the fact that I’ve never lied to her.

  “Ride safe. Take your time getting there. Be careful.” Kade holds out his hand, and I grip it with my own. “You need anything, you reach out.”

  “I will.”


  Cassia

  It’s a slow day at the store, and I look for Mavis, our oldest serving employee. I catch her eye, and she walks toward me.

  “Everything okay, sweetie?”

  “I need to talk to Dad. Could you watch the counter?”

  “Yes, sweetie, off you go. Old Mavis has got this.”

  I giggle at her, smile big, and walk toward the back of the store. Each step and my stomach twists into knots. Jeremiah comes out of Dad’s office, and his face hardens as he spies me walking toward him

  “You’ve got great fucking taste in men. I expected better from you, Cassia.”

  Jeremiah is my older brother. His body is his temple, and he works out regularly, but his brain is no bigger than that of a pet chicken. Jeremiah has always done everything Daddy ever asked without thinking. I’m not that stupid.

  “Leave me alone, Jeremiah.”

  I walk past him, but he grabs my arm, squeezing it hard. I often wonder if he gets off on domineering over women. Mavis is the only one he doesn’t try it on—that woman would hit him over the head and tell the entire populace of Tourmaline what he did.

  “You will stay away from that vermin.”

  Although he’s hurting me, I try not to show it.

  “Get your hands off me!” I hiss. “And whomever I date is my business, not yours, brother!”

  With a shove, he releases me. “He hit Dad!” thunders Jeremiah.

  “Keep your voice down!” I glance around the store, and everyone in it is looking at our exchange. Smiling, I lock eyes with my loathsome brother and lower my voice. “And what did Dad do to deserve it?”

  Jeremiah’s eyes widen, but I don’t wait for an answer I stride toward my father’s office and open the door without knocking and shut it quickly behind me. I’m breathing hard and rubbing my upper arm, glancing at my dad behind his desk, on the phone looking at me over the rim of his glasses.

  “Hey, Ronnie? Yeah, something’s come up, I need to call you back.” He pauses. “No, no, everything’s fine. I’ll call you back in ten.”

  Dad hangs up and stands. He goes to walk toward me, and I hold up a hand.

  “What?” Dad asks.

  “What happened with Zeke?” I whisper as tears rim my eyes.

  “You mean apart from the fact he hit me?” asks Dad, pointing at his face.

  “He didn’t have blood on his hands when he came out, only after he hit you outside.”

  “Are we really going to talk about this? Cassia, come on! He’s filth. That boy is nothing but bad, and you could do so much better!”

  “You don’t even know him. You’ve never given him a chance.”

  “What’s to know? He hangs out all day with those bikers, and everyone knows they’re into drugs, guns, and Lord knows what else. Do you honestly see yourself with someone like that?”

  “They’ve been raided, and the sheriff has never found anything!”

  “And that right there should tell you something! Have we ever been raided? No!” Dad bellows back.

  My mouth is hanging open. I have no reply. He’s right, but he’s also wrong. I can see he’s not going to understand.

  “Why did he hit you?” I demand forcefully.

  Dad looks at me with disgust and shakes his head. “Because he’s a thug, a lowlife, a—”

  “Enough! You don’t know him. Zeke has never so much as raised his voice to me! I know you, Dad, I know how you can twist things and make people mad or worse! Zeke isn’t like you. He’s a good man!”

  My father’s face twists into something cold and hard, almost unrecognizable. “Get out,” he growls at me.

  “I’m going!’

  I turn and open the door, but he’s quicker than I thought and reaches me before I can escape.

  “You mark my words, Cassia, that boy is no good, and you’re not going to see him again.”

  Tears run down my face. I try to tug out of his grip, but he holds on tighter.

  “Let me g-go,” I choke out.

  “Not until you see some sense, girl!”

  Someone clears their throat, and we both look up to see Mavis staring at my father with a scowl on her face.

  “Gerald, line two is for you. It’s Bobby Clarke from Boot Scootin’ Bootwear and Belts wanting to verify your order.”

  Dad relaxes his hold on me and gives her a big smile. “Thank you, Mavis.”

  Mavis reaches out for my hand and pulls me toward her, forcing my father to either hold on or let go. He immediately releases me and shuts his office door.

  Without looking at me, Mavis keeps her attention on his door. She says, “Your brother is working the front counter, you go out the side door. Go home or go to my house. The key is where I’ve always left it. You take the rest of the day off.”

  “I’m supposed to close.”

  Mavis flicks her eyes to me. “Not today, you aren’t. Now get.”

  I do as she says and avoid all the looks from customers and staff as I leave via the side door and to my car.

  Once home, I make myself a hot bath, pour a large glass of red wine, and soak my worries away. My confrontation with Dad didn’t alleviate any of my misgivings but only threw petrol on them and turned them into a blazing fire. The more I think about it, the more I know that Zeke probably didn’t do anything to my father except for date his only daughter.

  It’s true, though, we do come from different worlds. Money has always been important to my father and Jeremiah. Jeremiah has only ever dated women who have it or those who come from the ‘right’ type of families. I see things a little differently, always have. Money isn’t the be-all and end-all, but it does help to have some. Even my home was bought for me by my father. Everything in it, I’ve paid for, but I work for him. If I choose Zeke, I’m going to lose my home, my family, and probably most of my friends.

  I take a sip of wine and notice my fingers have already gone pruney, but the water is still warm, so I’m not getting out yet. Mentally, I try and remember how much I have in my savings account, certainly enough to rent somewhere nice but not enough to buy. I’ll be okay for a while, but I’ll need a job fairly quickly. The only problem is, Tourmaline is a small town, and my father knows a lot of people, and they may not offer me a job because of him. No one crosses Gerald Lee.

  Zeke

  My hometown has a population of twelve thousand people. For some, that’s big, but for a preacher’s son, it’s small. Growing up, I felt like my dad knew the whole town. I get off my bike and walk into what used to be called the Dine Right Diner but is now called The Countryside Diner—same checkered pattern on the floor, same booths, but now they are upholstered in red instead of blue.

  It’s taken me five days to get here. I didn’t stop to sleep, only to eat, refuel, and relieve myself. I’m tired, probably look like something the cat dragged in. I sit at the counter and pull off my sunglasses. I rub a hand over my face as it feels gritty with road grime.

  “What can I getcha?” asks the waitress.

  I look at her, and although she doesn’t recognize me, I remember her—Isabella Finemore. My high-school crush.

  “Coffee, black.”

  Isabella looks at me and cocks her head to the side. “Is that all?”

  “I used to come here years ago, and they made a waffle—”

  “Waffle, bacon, sausage combo. Yeah, they still do that. What’s your name?”

  I grin at her. “It’s been a while, Izzy. I’ll have the combo, please.”

  She gives me a quizzical look, pours me a cup, then shrugs and walks away. I take a sip of the dark liquid. It tastes okay—not the best cup I’ve ever had but not the worst either. The thing I dislike about it the most is the cup—it’s too small and has one of those tiny handles that my pinky couldn’t fit through, so I’m gripping the whole cup. The bell above the door goes off, and I look up to see Doc Green walking in. He recognizes me immediately and shuffles toward me. Doc patched me up more than once after my father beat me. I always wondered why he
never did anything, why he never tried to save me.

  “Well, if it isn’t Zeke Russo!” He claps me on the back. “How are you, son?”

  I stay on my stool and smile. “Good, Doc. You?”

  “I got old, boy!” He sits down next to me. “What brings you home?”

  “Time to talk to my father,” I answer.

  Doc’s old face screws up in a sneer. “Why you want to do a fool thing like that? That man’s poison. Why do you think I never went to church?”

  I grin at the old man. “It’s time.”

  Izzy walks back with my order. “Hey, Doc, what can I getcha?”

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” replies Doc Green.

  “Nope, not going to happen. You can have a bowl of fruit or some toast, but I’m not giving you a plate full of grease and watching you have another heart attack.”

  I look down at my plate, wishing she hadn’t said that.

  “Relax, mister, you’ve got a few more years before I give you the same lecture.”

  “Izzy, this is Zeke Russo, you remember him? And I’ll have the toast and coffee.”

  “Oh, my! Zeke Russo, the preacher’s boy? Damn! Didn’t you grow up!”

  “It’s just Zeke, Izzy. Zeke.”

  “Yeah, I can tell you aren’t the preacher’s boy anymore. Okay, Doc, fruit and coffee coming up!”

  “I said toast, dammit!”

  I chuckle and so does Izzy. “I’m in need of a place to stay. Is the motel on the edge of town still open?”

  “You’re not staying with your daddy?” asks Izzy.

  “Well, of course, he isn’t! I’ve got a spare room, you can stay with me,” replies Doc.

  “That’s very kind of you Doc but no.”

  “Nonsense! Since my Millie died, I’m in that big ole house by myself. You can have the back room. It has its own entrance.”

  “It’ll be better than that fleabag motel. And you’d be good company for Doc,” interjects Izzy.

  Feeling like I can’t say no, I nod. “Thanks, Doc, that’s good of you.”