Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3)

by Natasha Thomas

  My favourite brother has to be Noah though. Noah has a gentle nature in general, but he has a fierce, determined, if not dogged side hiding not far beneath the surface. At thirty, Noah owns ‘Voyages’ an adventure sports business that he built it from the ground up, improving it in leaps and bounds over last nine years. He accessed his trust fund when he could at twenty-one deciding to use his passion for the great outdoors and turn it into something profitable. Most people don’t know this, but I’ve been doing his books for the last two years and I can attest that Noah has made far more than just his original investment back. He’s patient, considerate, and determined and exceeded his own expectations when it came to being in business for himself. We’re close, more than that we’re good friends that chat about anything and everything. Well except for the Tank thing, and that’s only because I’m scared Noah will take my side, like usual, and take that out on his brother.

  Kai’s the second youngest, and can rival Tank with his complete and utter lack of communication skills. He’s twenty-seven-years-old for God’s sake and he still can’t manage to have a conversation that’s more than two sentences in length without looking like he’s going to break out in a cold sweat. So it was fortunate for him that he excelled at a profession that’s relatively solitary.

  Kai started surfing when he was young. Being that their family holidayed to exotic tropical destinations often, Kai took to water like a fish and apparently he showed a natural talent right for the sport. Kai made a name for himself quickly, now he holds more world records and championship titles than anyone else has in the last thirty-five years. He might be the strong silent type, but that doesn’t make him any less of a sweetheart. It’s a shame he travels so much, I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like. Six times in the last three years isn’t enough for my liking.

  Last, but certainly not least is Reid. He is quite possibly the front runner for the title of hottest and most magnetic when it comes to the Adams brothers. Aside from Tank. And I’m not talking to, or about him at the moment so Reid takes the lead in my opinion. Reid’s isn’t only hot because he’s the drummer for ‘Frantic’, a hard rock band that made it big about four years ago. No. Reid is a younger version of you know who, and that unfortunately catapults him to the top of my hot or not list.

  If I wanted to know what you know who looked like at twenty-six I would only have to open any search engine, type in Reid Adams, and voila there you have it. Not quite as tall as his brother’s six foot seven, only an inch or two shorter mind you, Reid has the same ice blue eyes with flecks of grey through them. His shaggy sexy hair is longer on top, shorter on the sides, it suits him and the persona he’s trying to create. It always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, or gotten laid. Either could be true depending on the day, he is after all the epitome of all things rock star. I’ve been to a few of Frantic’s concerts, the last one I even took Tilly to, and I have to admit the man is gifted when he’s behind his kit, shirtless, banging on his custom set of Pearl drums.

  Since Tank’s departure from my life Reid stepped up into the role of my best friend. It’s not the same as it was with his older brother, but our friendship is easy and fun. And at the moment I don’t know where I’d be without it. Reid hasn’t got any great insights on how to handle Tilly when she has her rare occasional mood swings, or whether I should let her go off to college more than two hours away. He doesn’t try and convince me to cut back the hours work so I can spend more time at home. He doesn’t fight with me or go weeks without talking to me. Reid calls every day, texts me so many times a day I think I’m going to have to carry a portable phone charger with me. He offers to visit as often as he can while he’s on tour too, but I haven’t taken him up on that yet. I honestly don’t know how his brother would feel about that, and the last thing I want to do is come between brothers. I can only imagine how I’d feel if someone tried to come in between Tilly and I, and it wouldn’t be good.

  The only issue Reid and I have, and I can assure you it isn’t an issue for him, is lately Reid’s been dropping what he thinks are subtle hints about becoming more than friends. To be honest if the circumstances of our friendship and how it came about was different, for example if I hadn’t friends with his brother first I might have considered it, because it isn’t my lack of attraction toward him that’s the issue.

  Reid is fucking ridiculously handsome. He is a rock star after all, and the Adams good-looking genes are potent, so he got the best of both worlds. The problem is that I’m not attracted to him like ‘that’. Stupid I know. Here’s this super sexy man paying me attention. A guy who cares about me. One who genuinely wants a shot at a real relationship with me, and I keep telling him no. But I can’t help how I feel, and with Reid I’m just not feeling it.

  My problem stems from having had my sights set on his brother for nearly as long as I’ve known him, which would be almost six years now. However hard I’ve tried, and believe me I’ve tried, my focus on the second oldest Adams brother hasn’t able to be diverted once. After hooking your star to someone for such a long time, someone you can never have, it leaves you romanticising a relationship with that person. You use them as the yard-stick in order to measure all other possible romantic entanglements against regardless that you have no idea what that reality actually looks like.

  Over the last few weeks Reid’s turned his game of seduction up a notch. This is what convinced me I’ll never be able to give him a fair shot at a relationship. It isn’t the seduction per se that’s the issue, it’s the fact that it makes me feel uncomfortable when he’s doing it. I don’t get butterflies in the pit of my stomach when his voice washes over me. I don’t feel like I’m about to combust when I look at him falling into a puddle of goo at his feet. I don’t find myself dreaming about him night after night. And I don’t know how to tell him nicely a relationship isn’t going to happen between us while still remaining friends, because the last thing I want is to lose him too. The thought alone has me swallowing back bile rising in the back of my throat. There’s only one man that’s ever made me feel any of those things. I’d like to deny it because he’s been an epic douchebag over the last year and a bit, but I can’t. I just wish I could work out a way to get over my feelings for him. I’ve wasted too much time on him already and clearly he’s never going to reciprocate my feelings, so it’s time to move on.

  I feel the tell-tale vibration of my phone signalling a text message. Pulling the offending device out from under my leg where I’m lying on it and the couch I swipe my finger across the screen to open it.

  *Reid* Hey sexy. Lks like I’ll b seeing u sooner than I said.

  Sighing deeply I hope that doesn’t mean he’s put off the next leg of the tour Frantic is currently on. I would be more than pissed at him if he has. Rolling over so my back is to the backrest of the couch I prop myself up on an arm texting him back.

  *Priss* Hi. What?

  The reply is short, probably coming across curt, but in reality I don’t want Reid here in person until I have the chance to explain how I feel over the phone. I’m a coward like that I know, but that’s the way I’ve decided to handle it. More buzzing I roll my eyes at his response.

  *Reid* Fam reunion in Blackwater. Evry1 is coming xcpt mom & dad.

  Great. The last thing I need right now is not only one Adams brother up in my business about why Mr No Name and I are no longer on speaking terms, but all four of them. I can’t imagine a fate worse, except maybe death, and that would be bad because Tilly still needs me.

  *Priss* Why? Is something wrong?

  *Reid* Nah. Big man askd us 2 come. Jas & Kai b there this arvo.

  No & Bro b there 2mrow am. I’ll b there nxt day.

  Jesus Christ! It’s like a tornado is about to hit town having the five Adams men in one town the size of Blackwater. The town may not be able to handle the awesome panty stealing power they possess when seen in the same place all at once.

  *Priss* Have you all got somewhere to stay?
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br />   Unfortunately the manners my mom instilled in me from the time I could talk haven’t taken a hike. I shouldn’t have asked because I don’t want him to make anything out of the offer. I can only sit back and hope they already have something set up.

  *Reid* Yeah babe. Stying @ Hunts.

  Thank fuck. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. Well at least until the testosterone overload over there hits epic proportions, and Mr No Name kicks all of them out on their asses. Don’t kid yourself thinking that it’s an unlikely scenario either because it’s happened before.

  Once when they all came to town for Thanksgiving the boys all got outrageously drunk, and started to argue over whether tits or ass was better. The argument escalated into a drunken wrestling match before all hell broke loose. Apparently Brody couldn’t chose when it came to me because in my case they were both equally as good as each other. He was borrowing trouble stirring Tank up and everyone including me knew it. But Tank took particular offence to his comments knocked him out cold, dragged his ass out on to the front porch, and threw all his stuff out with him.

  Needless to say I ended up having a house guest for the rest of his visit. Poor Brody. He apologised profusely for what he said, but the whole thing made me laugh. I honestly didn’t care that he said I have a nice rack or ass, I wasn’t offended in the slightest. I let him off the hook within five minutes and spent the rest of his time with me catching up, eating too much, and laughing our asses off. Deciding to get it over with I reply to Reid in a way that I hope ends this most recent text session.

  *Priss* Good. You need to catch up. See you soon. Talk when you get here.

  I send Tilly a text to warn her about the impending avalanche of Adams brothers, and also ask her to keep her schedule free for the next few days in case they want to catch up. I read the last text from Reid rolling my eyes again, and decide to shower before I have to make a start on the books for the MC owned strip club, Kitty Kat’s. Original right?

  *Reid* Cnt w8 babe. C u soon.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Priscilla

  Priscilla’s Rules to live by 101

  “Going to McDonalds for a salad is like

  going to a prostitute for a hug.”

  I started doing the MC businesses books a little over eighteen-months ago, initially I was only doing it as favour to Phil, the MC’s Secretary. He was close to my dad and in turn me, so helping him was the least I could do after the years of love and support he’d given me. However it turned into a full-time gig when Phil politely informed Priest that he would prefer to douse himself in gasoline, strike a match, and set himself on fire than go back to doing that shit. I can’t disagree with his assessment, the books were a fucking mess when I started with them.

  It took me three and a half months to put them in order. That included two visits to each of the three businesses, which is usually isn’t necessary in my line of work. Actually if I think about it, its four businesses if you include Skin Fusion which Reaper asked me to cover on top of the others. Normally I don’t mind going in to pick up the receipts, invoices, and ledgers at three of the four. Well its three businesses, but if I’m fighting with Tank it’s two because he part owns Chasers and there’s no way I’d go in there if we’re on the outs. What I do mind immensely is having to go to Kitty Kat’s. Ever. Hence the two or three, not four.

  Kitty Kat’s is the MC’s strip club, and if Phil could see to it that he sets himself on fire while inside it I’ll appreciate the favour greatly. We can call it even after that. Yes, I hate it that much that I’d be willing to see it burn to the ground. The fact it’s a strip club doesn’t bother me. In fact I’m currently teaching a class at the gym on pole dancing so clearly I don’t have an aversion to it. If anything, I see it as an art form if it’s done well, which more often than not it isn’t. It takes a massive amount of upper body strength along with precision movements to be able to hoist your ass up and down that pole day in day out.

  It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Lou was the one who ultimately suggested starting up these classes. She is a nut after all. We were having drinks at my place after Lou finished work one night when she catapulted off the wing chair in my living room so fast I thought her thong was on fire.

  “Bitch, I just had the best fucking idea.”

  She’s looking at me like I should be as excited as she is without actually knowing what the hell she’s talking about. Rolling my eyes I ask sarcastically,

  “And what would this great idea be Oh great one?”

  Flipping me the bird Lou throws herself back into the chair wagging her finger at me.

  “Now, now Miss I-need-to-get-laid-like-yesterday, no need to be like that.” Rolling my eyes again not because she’s crass, but because she’s right I miss the pillow Lou launches from her spot in the chair, and it hits me in the dead centre of my chest. “I was at Kitty Kat’s the other night picking up my very inebriated, horny as fuck husband and got to thinking, wouldn’t it be awesome if we had moves like those sluts at the club. I’m not saying I’d strut my ass around in public in one of those stupid fucking get ups they wear, but it would be nice to put on a show for Billy once and a while.”

  Only Lou would be okay with picking her man up from a strip club. The mind boggles at how she manages not to go all jealous she-beast when those women are rubbing up on her husband all the time. It’s hard enough for me, and I’m not even with Tank having to see half naked women rubbing their tits up and down his arms.

  “There’s no reason you can’t learn how to do it you know. It takes practice, but if you’ve got someone to teach you the basics it pretty easy. I took classes doing it when I was going to school in Boulder at one of the local gyms. It was hard fucking work, but I liked the workout it gave me.”

  Jumping up clapping her hands Lou looks about to burst with excitement to the point that I’d swear she has ADD. If I didn’t know this was just her personality I’d tell Steel to go get her tested, possibly consider medicating her.

  “Are you fucking serious? That’s awesome. I’m sure if we asked Colin would let us put in a few poles and you could run the classes. I know the chicks at work would sign up in a minute.”

  The idea does have merit. And God knows I can use the extra money running classes at the gym would bring in.

  “If you ask Colin, and he covers the installation of the poles, advertising for sign ups, plus you get enough women to make it worthwhile I’ll run the classes.”

  Lou did exactly that thus ‘Poles for fitness’ was born two and a half years ago. I still run classes twice a week for an hour and a half each, with ten women per class, and every spot filled it’s netted me a nice little nest egg for when Tilly goes off to college. Colin has been more than generous paying me fifty percent of the profits after he covered the costs of installing the poles of course.

  Back to my current dilemma… Kitty Kat’s being owned by the MC makes it is safe for me to come and go as I please no matter how late it is. The same can’t be said for other venues however. Whatever day of the week, if I’m there for an hour or five one of the brothers is always around to make sure everything runs smoothly, that there aren’t any altercations. The women that work there don’t make the brothers lives easy, if they could spell ‘altercation’ it would be their middle names. All of them.

  I’m well aware that I’m not unattractive, and when I’m at Kitty Kat’s it’s been brought to my attention, often (much to my disgust), that my looks would make me a perfect candidate for a full-service worker. That’s a nice way of saying I should look into a career as a hooker. By the way, those comments come from the other girls working there not the clientele, and it’s even sadder that the comments about me prostituting myself don’t bother me anymore. Obviously it’s like anything else though, if people say it often enough you eventually become immune to it.

  My waist length platinum blonde hair with golden highlights from spending time in the sun usually hangs lose except for when I’m worki
ng; then I have it braided loosely over my shoulder so it doesn’t get in the way. Having spent years competing in gymnastics competitions and cheerleading at high school, then graduating to yoga and teaching pole dancing classes for the last two and a half years, I’m toned and athletically built. No flappy bingo-wing arms for me. Men have commented on my blue eyes saying they look like the Mediterranean Sea, and my full C-cup breasts tend to be more of a hindrance than a blessing most days, and not just because they get heavy.

  See men are visual creatures, so when you have two prominent things on your chest sticking out into their line of vision they’re bound by obligation and DNA to ogle you. It’s almost imperative to the survival of their gender to get a good look, or cop a feel if they can. I don’t personally run into these problems while I’m at Kitty Kat’s, well not until Mr No Name did his disappearing act anyway. I’m not blaming him for what happened next because I know logically it isn’t his fault. And for the record he doesn’t even know about it. No one does.