Sax (Savage Kings MC Book 9)

by Lane Hart

  Sighing heavily, he says, “Guess I’ll have to take my chances. Besides, you’re too pretty to have to drug men. You had every guy in the bar eating out of your hand.”

  “You must be the bravest of them all,” I tell him with a shake of my head as I dig around in my purse to find my car keys.

  “I’m Sax, by the way, in case you like to keep records of your victims.”

  “Sax?” I repeat as I start for my white Lexus. “Like sex but with an ‘A’?”

  “Yeah, short for Saxon.”

  “Okay, that’s unique,” I say, popping the trunk for him to place my guitar case inside. “I’m Izzy.”

  “Is Izzy short for Isabella or Isobel?”

  “Isobel,” I reply.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Isobel,” Sax says, then slams the trunk down. “Now, how about you go buy me that drink and then tell me what the hell that scene with the old guy was all about?”

  “You sure you want to hear about my family drama?” I ask as we start back around to the front of the bar.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he questions me.

  “You just look like the type who only wants to talk about motorcycles and whatever else gets women out of their panties.”

  His chuckle is rumbly and hot, quaking all the way through my lower belly.

  “We can postpone the motorcycle and panty-dropping conversations until later,” Sax replies, holding open the door for me to go inside the noisy bar first. “What was that dude saying about your dad when he was trying to drag you away?”

  “That’s par for the course when it comes to my father, wanting me to go where he wants, when he wants it,” I explain, eager to see his face in full light when he joins me in the bar. And holy shit! It is him! My dark knight is the blond biker. I felt a pull to him on stage; and after talking to him, that connection is definitely growing stronger.

  Oh crap.

  What were we talking about? My mind completely blanks as I stare at Sax. Up close, I can see the dark blond scruff along his square jaw that ups his hotness factor even higher. His eyes are light, but I can’t tell if they’re blue or green. He’s even more attractive face to face, that’s for sure.

  Realizing I’ve been gawking at him for too long, I shake my head and finally remember where I left off on our conversation. He was asking about what Stu wanted. And for whatever reason, I find myself opening up to him like he’s a longtime friend and not a knife-toting stranger. “For over twenty years, I let my father control every aspect of my life. All he cares about is orchestrating perfect appearances. So now, I only do what I want to do, which drives him crazy.”

  “And what is it that you want to do?” Sax asks when we find two empty stools at the bar and climb up on them next to each other.

  “Right now, tonight? No clue.” Reaching down into my purse that’s still hanging across the front of my body, I pull out my tiny spiral notebook that’s covered with cherry blossoms and has an equally tiny pink pen attached to the spine. Handing it to Sax, I say, “Here. You tell me. Spontaneity is my new best friend.”

  “What’s this?” he asks as he thumbs through the pages.

  “My bucket list.”

  “Aren’t you a little young to have one of these?” he questions, holding up the notebook with one blond eyebrow arched. And for the first time, I’m able to finally see the color of his eyes. They’re a beautiful, sparkling sky blue, reminding me of the ocean in the morning when the sun shines down, making the surface of the water glisten. It even takes me several seconds to remember his question yet again. Oh, right, why does someone my age have a bucket list. I’m not usually so absentminded but gazing at Sax for too long could probably make me forget my name.

  Instead of giving him the depressing truth behind my bucket list, I tell him, “It’s never too early to start living like you might die tomorrow. Why have a shitload of regrets on your deathbed when you could have done everything you dreamed of before you die?”

  “Very true,” he agrees with a crooked grin while staring at my face. Eventually, he clears his throat and drops his gaze back to the notebook.

  “Tonight you can help me cross something off,” I say as he reads over the entries. “I mean, if you want to…”

  “Fuck yes,” Sax agrees. “I am all for helping you…” He flips a few pages before picking. “Participate in an orgy.”

  “Try again buddy,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes.

  Chuckling aloud, he keeps reading as he asks, “So tonight, when you were on stage, was that something you were crossing off your list, or is it what you do for a living?”

  “You saw that, huh?” I ask, even though I caught him staring.

  “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about waking up in my bed while you were singing that last song,” he says when he looks back up at me with a knowing look in his eyes, calling my bluff. “Every man in here was picturing you in their bed. In fact, I may have to break out that fake knife of mine again to ward off a few admirers who are still gawking at you.”

  “No way,” I tell him. “Watch this.” I swivel around, putting my back to Sax and smiling at the burly, bearded man next to me when he glances over.

  “Hello darlin’. You have got an incredible set of lungs. How about you let me buy you a drink?” he asks. “Bartender!”

  “Absolutely!” I agree. When the bartender turns his attention to us, I tell him, “I’ll have a vodka tonic, and my boyfriend would like…” Turning to Sax, I ask, “Hey, babe. What do you want to drink?”

  Chuckling while trying to hide it as a cough, he says, “Miller Lite would be great.”

  “A vodka tonic and a Miller Lite,” I inform the bartender. “Thank you so much for treating us,” I say to the burly biker, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  With a grunt, he tosses down a twenty-dollar bill and then stomps off toward the pool table.

  “That was cruel,” Sax says through his laughter. “But I have to say, it is the first time a bear has bought me a drink. I’m kind of flattered.”

  “Just one of the perks of being my fake boyfriend,” I reply with a grin.

  “Fake boyfriend, huh?” he says with his sexy, crooked smile. “Wouldn’t you love to see the look on your father’s face if you brought home a man like me?”

  “Oh my god,” I mutter as I imagine it. “You have to meet my father!” I tell him. “He would flip out if I brought home someone like you tomorrow night.”

  Sax’s smile turns upside down in the blink of an eye at the same time my notebook falls from his hands onto the bar, making me nearly fall off my chair from cackling. “Jeez! You should see your face! Hilarious!”

  “You were joking, right?” he asks as the bartender places our drinks in front of us.

  “No, I was totally serious,” I say while picking up my tumbler and taking a sip from the straw.

  “You want me to meet your father? After we just met, like, ten minutes ago?” he says in a rush, then guzzles half of his beer.

  “Yes, I do. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Lately, I live to piss off my father in as many creative ways as I can. I wasn’t planning to go to his birthday dinner or whatever tomorrow, but now…I’m sort of looking forward to it.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Sax asks.

  “Because he has done nothing but manipulate me from the day I was born,” I admit. “My life wasn’t ever my own. But he’s such an expert at manipulation that I didn’t even realize what he was doing until I finally caught him in one enormous lie!”

  “Damn. It sounds like you hate his guts.”

  “I do,” I agree.

  “Then why would you want to see him on his birthday?” he questions.

  “Because…I don’t know,” I say, sipping my drink and biding my time while I try to figure out how to explain it to a stranger. “Because he’s the only family I have left. So, while I can’t stand to see his face or hear his annoying nagging about my life choices, I would love to bring y
ou along just to piss him off.”

  Sax is silent for so long, I glance back over to make sure he’s still sitting next to me.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you to see your dad,” he says.

  “You will? You can be on your worst behavior. In fact, nothing would make me happier than seeing the look on his face when he meets you.”

  “Sounds…fun,” he replies, the biggest lie I’ve ever heard.

  “If you’re serious about doing this for me, maybe I’ll do something nice for you,” I tell him, leaning over to bump his shoulder with mine.

  “Oh really? Like what?” he asks.

  Tapping a fingernail on the top of my bucket list notebook, I say, “Like let you pick anything on my bucket list to cross off, even the orgy.”

  “Deal,” Sax quickly agrees. “You’re a kickass negotiator, by the way.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “I get that from my father, unfortunately.”

  Before I can dwell on that, he asks, “So, what about tonight? Have you decided what you want to do yet?”

  “You tell me. I’m down for a little PG-13 fun.”

  “Gotta keep it PG-13 tonight, huh?” he asks as his eyes lower to the zipper on the front of my leather dress. I just know a million dirty thoughts are likely running through his filthy mind. He may very well get lucky tonight, but I don’t plan to make it too easy for him.

  “Well, yeah. I just met you in a bar. What kind of girl do you take me for?” I ask, feigning indignation.

  “The beautiful, sexy, mysterious kind who somehow talked me into meeting her father on our first date,” Sax answers with a devious grin.

  “And what kind of guy are you?”

  Glancing around the bar before his eyes lock with mine, he says, “The outlaw biker kind with so many skeletons hiding in my closet you would run in the opposite direction of me if you were smart.”

  Shaking my head, I tell him, “I tried being the smart, good girl, but it didn’t really work out. Wasn’t much fun either.” Leaning forward, I plant one of my palms on his upper thigh. Then, digging my nails into the denim, I whisper against his ear, “Now I prefer to be a little bad.”

  ***

  Sax

  I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck Isobel. It’s not right to enjoy myself while in the process of fucking her over for her father to save the guys.

  But that was before I met her and had her lips brush over my ear, sending a jolt of lust right down to my cock.

  Now, about the only thing I can think about is getting her naked and sinking inside of her.

  Screw it. I’m already going to hell. What does one more blemish on my record really matter in the big scheme of things?

  Sleeping with Isobel isn’t worse than participating in a mass murder with the other Kings just a few weeks ago.

  And it’s not even close to being as shitty as betraying my brothers from day one.

  Still, even after twelve years I’m not sure if I really think of the Savage Kings as my brothers. I’m a fraud who somehow ended up not only getting patched in, but also got elected as an officer by them. As the mother charter’s secretary, I’m in charge of notifying members of shitstorms, planning how to take cover during said storms, and making sure the other charters stay in one piece. That’s a helluva lot of responsibility for a man who once had a goal to send every last member wearing the bearded skull king to prison.

  At the time, I was young, stupid and angry. I was also hurting and wanted someone to pay for ending April’s life before it had really started.

  “You okay?” Isobel asks, her beautiful face frowning at me when my eyes refocus on her.

  “Yeah,” I reply and have to clear my throat to get any other words out of it. “I was just thinking of a few PG-13 activities we could get into tonight.”

  “And? What’s the verdict?” she asks, biting on her lip as she waits for my decision.

  “Have you ever ridden a Harley?”

  “No, I have not, but it is on my list,” she tells me, flipping to the item in her little book.

  “Good. What do you say we check that one off, and I take you out on my boat?”

  “You have a boat?” she asks with both of her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor.”

  “Good, because I don’t sail,” I respond. “And on my boat, I prefer to be called ‘Captain’.”

  “Right,” Isobel drawls with a roll of her iridescent hazel eyes when she tosses her bucket list back into her purse. “I just need to do one little thing before we take off on your Harley and hit the seas on your boat.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Holding out her hand, palm up, she says, “Could I please see your driver’s license?”

  “What? Why?” I ask, going on the defensive even though there’s nothing on my ID that will give away my big fat lie to her.

  “If I’m going to be alone with a man I just met in a bar, I have to have some sort of collateral on him,” she explains. “The easiest way to do that is to snap a photo of your license and send it to my friend, Daniel. We’ve known each other since high school, and his father is the Chief of Police in Cary. Then, if he doesn’t hear from me again after twelve hours, an APB goes out.”

  “Oh, damn. Aren’t you resourceful and shit?”

  “Single women have to be careful nowadays,” she responds with a shrug of her shoulders while I dig my leather wallet out of my back pocket. I pull out my ID from inside without removing the wallet from the chain attached to my belt loop. “There you go,” I tell Isobel when I slap the plastic down on the bar in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she says before her phone is over top of it taking a picture. Her fingers fly over the keys and then I hear the whooshing sound of a text being sent. “There. Now Daniel will know who to look for if I go missing or turn up dead!”

  “Do I look like a serial killer?” I ask her.

  “You’re charming and handsome, so yes, you would be the perfect psychopath.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned,” I say with a shake of my head while putting my license away.

  “You should be showing me to your bike, Saxon Cole,” Isobel tells me as she stands and grabs my hand to pull me off my stool. “Do you have an extra helmet for me?”

  “Ah, yeah, I do,” I respond while following her out the door.

  With another roll of her eyes, she says, “Why am I not surprised?”

  Chapter Five

  Isobel

  Riding on the back of Sax’s bike is both terrifying and exhilarating. I hold on to him, this man I don’t know, for dear life, praying that he won’t let me fall off the back.

  Once we make it safely to the marina where he slows down and eventually comes to a complete stop in front of a row of large boats, I’m a little sad that the ride is over.

  “Wow,” I gasp aloud after he kills the engine and puts down the kickstand.

  “Is that a good wow or a holy-shit-I’m-never-doing-that-again wow?” Sax asks over his shoulder.

  “Mostly a good wow,” I tell him as my fists unclench from his leather vest. “I just wasn’t prepared for the amount of trust involved. At first I may have second-guessed whether or not you knew what the hell you were doing on this thing and thought I may possibly die much earlier than I expected.”

  Giving a grunt that sounds like he’s offended, he says, “I’ve been riding a motorcycle for over twelve years with no fatalities so far. I don’t plan to break that record anytime soon.”

  “Yeah, I know that now that we arrived safely,” I tell him as I throw my trembling leg over to get off the dangerous machine and remove the helmet to shake out my hair. “The next time won’t be nearly as scary.”

  “Oh really?” Sax asks. “There’s gonna be a next time, huh?”

  “You have to take me back to my car eventually,” I point out. “And the bike is more fun than an Uber. Maybe you could even teach me how to drive one?”

  “Maybe,
but I’m sure as hell not teaching you on my baby. We’ll have to find you a piece of shit bike to learn on,” he says with a chuckle when he climbs off and removes his helmet. “Mind holding this for me while I get the bike on the boat?”

  “Sure,” I agree, taking it from him. “Which one of these boats is yours?”

  “Guess.”

  “It’s hard to see them clearly this late at night,” I reply while glancing around. But then I spot the rugged fishing boat sitting in between two beautiful, pristine yachts. “That one?” I ask, pointing in its direction.

  “That would be it,” Sax says with a grin as he starts pushing the bike in that direction. He pauses before we get there and asks, “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

  “Cats?” I repeat since that’s the last question I expected from him.

  “Well, it’s just one cat, singular. I fed a stray a few months ago, and now he doesn’t seem inclined to leave my boat.”

  “I’m fine with cats,” I assure him, thinking it’s sort of adorable that a tough biker like him would have taken in a stray.

  It takes Sax a few minutes to get his ramp down to push his bike on board, and then strap it onto some sort of device intended to keep it upright when the boat is moving. Once he maneuvers a cover down over it, he pulls up the anchor and I follow him inside a little room where he cranks up the engine, and then we’re heading out to sea.

  While we’re making waves, I step out and prop my forearms on the rail to watch the lights from the marina disappear as we ride into the dark horizon that seems to go on forever. The light mist of the water hits my face like a gentle rain.

  Something eventually tickles my bare ankles; and when I glance down, there’s a scruffy, calico cat rubbing against me.

  “Well, hello, kitty,” I say, leaning down to pet its head. When he or she tips its head up at me, the moonlight glistens over one eye, while in the spot where the other eye should be is nothing but a rough patch of fur.

  “Poor thing. What happened to you?”

  “Not sure, but I’m guessing a cat fight,” Sax says when he steps out of the room with all the buttons, gadgets and wheel.