Savage Saviors: The Complete Boxset (Savage Saviors MC)

by J. C. Allen

  “Ready?”

  “No,” I said. “But I know you’ll be coming.”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “You have my word as a man. Count on it.”

  “I am,” I said.

  He led me to his bike, cracking a few jokes along the way. I always worried if that engine roared too loudly this time of night, but then again, it wasn’t Derek if he cared about other people worrying about his engine.

  He dropped me at that usual corner, giving me a kiss as I hopped off. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Until tomorrow, Eve.”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  BOOK 2

  * * *

  RECKLESS CARNAGE

  Prologue

  Four Years Earlier

  The day had finally come.

  I’d known her since our high school days, when I had nervously made a trail of flower petals from the front door of our high school to her car, leading to me holding a bouquet of roses. I’d loved her since our first prom night, when, despite me being so sick that I couldn’t even put on a tie, let alone go to the dance, she spent the entire night with me. I’d promised my life to her nine months ago with a diamond that I swore almost cost more than my Honda Civic—and what better representation of my willingness to leave the family life for her than by trading in the chopper my father had given me for the stereotypical suburban dad four-wheeler.

  And now, today, I would fulfill that promise and marry Maggie Peterson, pledging my life to her, my unwavering support, and all of my resources, connections, and promises.

  I looked out from our private room in the church with just two other people in the room—my brother, Dustin, and my father. No one else came close to the level of these men, and thus no one else deserved to be in the room. Dustin, my best man, looked almost as nervous as I was, while my father maintained his usual stoic and calm demeanor—though I swore more than once he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

  “You ready, bro?” Dustin asked, his voice shaky as he saw his own woman walking into the church, dressed in a beautiful red dress and high heels.

  I started to speak but just found myself laughing. What could I say? What words could properly describe the love I had for the woman I’d been with for the last half-decade? Not even Shakespeare, not even the poets of later centuries, not even the French romanticists could describe this gal just like mine. There was no one like her.

  Then, at that moment, I saw one of our family’s right-hand men, Matty “Rooster” Rose, walk in, and I laughed. If anyone could describe this—with more colorful language than a church would allow without a condemnation to hell—it was Roost.

  “I suppose so,” was all I could muster, but it seemed most appropriate. Sometimes, the less that was said, the better.

  I heard my father stand, and though he still looked the part of a tough motherfucker, age had gotten to him a bit. Bad knees, creaky back, wounds that never fully healed—they all conspired to make a man in his early 50’s have the body of someone in their mid-70’s. Not that Dad ever complained about it—“you should see the asshole who tried to kill me. He’s got a wound that has never healed cuz he’s dead!”

  He came over and put a firm hand on my shoulder, and for several seconds, he didn’t say anything. It seemed like he wanted to find the right words to say something but just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “Dad?”

  He didn’t respond. I turned my gaze back to the church as more people came in. I wondered how Maggie’s family would feel about all of the biker gangsters with beards and tattoos littering the area, but then again, Maggie knew our life well enough that she likely had told her family. If anything, this quite possibly was the safest wedding any of them had ever been to.

  “Proud of you, son,” my father finally said, but I knew that wasn’t all. He hadn’t spent several moments in silence just to say this. “But you need to know something, Derek. You will vow to each other to take care of each other in sickness and in health, in poorness and in wealth, and till death do us part and so on. That is great and I pray that you lead a life in which only the good comes.”

  He took a sigh. I already could see where this was going, even if—

  “But you need to understand that even as you prepare to leave the Savage Saviors to lead your own life, you can never fully leave it behind. Your last name is a blessing in that everyone in this hall would die for you. But it is a curse in that those who would oppose us would kill everyone in this hall to get to you. Including Maggie.”

  I didn’t want to think about such a possibility on this day. This day represented the birth of our union. I didn’t need to think about the end of it so soon.

  “I will only say this here so that during the wedding itself, it is nothing but good cheer and joy,” he said. “But understand this. The greatest pain you can inflict on a man is not to kill him. It is to kill everyone and everything that he loves. A dead man rests in peace. A living man with no one to love struggles in madness. Our enemies have become more and more aggressive as the days go by, and I sense a storm brewing soon.”

  “I know, Dad, I—”

  “Derek, please,” he said. “I will only tell you this once. I know that you have no intentions of ever coming back to this life. In some ways, I am proud that I have raised a family in which one is comfortable to do that. But others would gladly draw you back in. And should you begin to see that happen—should you become aware that your enemies are rising up with the intention and viciousness to murder your loved ones—you must be willing to take up the gun once more. You must be willing to ride with your brothers. And you must be willing to deliver that preemptive strike to kill your foes before they kill your spirit. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. I saw Maggie’s grandparents walk in at that moment, and the contrast could not have seemed more pronounced. Maggie came from a wealthy, well-to-do family in the Connecticut area. I came from a rough-and-tumble family that had founded a successful biker gang, fronting as a repair shop, but a gang all the same still.

  “Most of all, you will need the wisdom and judgment to know when to strike,” he said. “Go back to that life too soon, and you will become intricately involved to the point that you will become the man Maggie never agreed to marry. Strike too late, and you won’t have Maggie to defend.”

  “Dad!”

  Dustin, to my surprise, was the one who had spoken at that moment.

  “It’s OK,” I said. The old man picked up social cues very well and knew that this was as far as he could go. I turned and returned the pat on my father’s shoulder. “I understand, Dad. I will not make that mistake.”

  My father looked like he had so much more to say. But, perhaps sensing the end of my leash, he just brought me in for a hug—something that had not happened since perhaps before I became a teenager.

  I smiled, my eyes moistening, as I looked out on the church and prepared for my bright future—no matter how many black clouds were ready to creep in from beyond the horizon.

  One Year Earlier

  * * *

  “I assume we are here to talk about Chuck?”

  I nodded with some hesitation. The topic of my brother always left me a bit uneasy. All of my friends, upon hearing of his drug use, illegal escapades, and general debauchery would say something to the effect of, “cut him out, Eve.”

  But I could never bring myself to do so. He was family, and to cut out family just seemed… it seemed like a non-starter.

  No matter how much Chuck had hurt me.

  No matter how selfish an asshole he could be.

  No matter how much my friends warned that he would use me for his own reasons someday.

  “Aren’t we always?” I said with a sigh.

  “This is true,” my college therapist said. “It’s always good to make sure, though. Sometimes you may have something happier to talk about.”

  I wish. Life is good otherwise. I get to learn, the guys here are nice—albeit a little commitment-pho
bic—and I’m preparing to spend next summer at a finance firm.

  I wouldn’t be here if one part of my life didn’t give me a gaping hole in my heart.

  “I appreciate it, but no,” I said, taking a deep sigh. “So it turns out that Chuck recently opened credit cards under my name to try and procure God knows what. I only found out about it because I suddenly had all these bills show up to my apartment. I got it resolved relatively quickly, but…”

  I knew how this song and dance went. The therapist would provide suggestions that I would listen to, swear I’d implement, and then decide against it.

  The sickening part was, if this were an ex-boyfriend or a spiteful former friend, I would have no problems calling the police, following the therapist’s advice, or otherwise generally taking care of things. But because it was Chuck Kellerman, my brother, the only sibling I had, I just found myself accepting his behavior and trying to excuse it.

  The therapist normally at this point would speak up and say something about how I needed to speak firmly with him and not use conditional language. He might say something about how I needed to find my center or put Chuck “in the no-contact zone for a bit.”

  But today, he sighed, taking his glasses off and fiddling with them as he went deep into thought, staring at his notepad.

  “Understand that what I say is only to provide you a suggestion for the best outcome of your life,” he said. “Eve, if your brother showed up here, I would diagnose him as a psychopath. He is a person who has literally no regard or no feelings for anyone other than himself. Empathy is, quite literally, impossible for him. I understand that you love him as family, but you need to realize he does not have the same love for you.”

  I hated what the therapist was saying.

  Because it’s true…

  “He sees you not as a sister he loves and defends, but as a pawn in the game of life that he will use to get ahead however possible,” he continued. “You are nothing more than either an asset to be taken advantage of or a liability to be rid of. I speak harshly, I know, but only with the hope of getting the point across. To keep Chuck in your life is to invite your own demise.”

  I tried not to let the emotion in my eyes show, but at least this was in front of a therapist and not a friend I was starting to cry in front of.

  “I know the draw of family is strong to you, Eve. But blind love will blindly lead you to darkness. I fully recommend you disconnect entirely from your brother. Delete his number. Block him on any social media accounts. Avoid him at all costs. He is a man who will bring destruction and madness to anyone around him, and unless you want your life to fall apart someday, you would do well to cut him out.”

  I let the tears fall. I didn’t care anymore if the therapist saw this as weakness or not.

  I just couldn’t…

  Yes, I knew…

  But it was…

  “Damnit!” I shouted, pounding my fists on the couch.

  The therapist just let me go. In a similar fashion, I just let the tears fall.

  “He’s going to end up dead if someone isn’t there,” I said through tears. “His gambling and drug problems are out of control. What am I supposed to do?”

  I knew the therapist spoke to me, something about how he could only recommend action, he could never compel someone, but I had asked the question more to myself. I could understand leaving Chuck if he was a “functioning” sociopath. But he wasn’t. He was a drug-addicted, free-fall gambling, prostitute-loving… brother.

  And that was the word that I kept coming back to. No matter how many times I thought of leaving him, no matter how many times my therapist said he was a terrible person… he was family.

  I could moderate my visiting to him. But I could not leave him.

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Good,” the therapist said, even as his eyes suggested he did not believe me. “Because if you do not, Eve, he will ruin your life. And even when you think he cannot do worse, he will do worse. Please remember that for your own protection.”

  1

  Derek

  “Fuck!”

  As my eyes awoke to a new day—as my body awoke to the pleasant feelings of the night before, one quickly ended by the fact that I, at best, had cracked ribs and at worst had broken ones—I glanced over at the clock and uttered that curse much more loudly that I would have under normal circumstances.

  I had slept in, and in my defense, if I hadn’t needed to do anything else today, it would have been for a damn good reason.

  Eve.

  Just thinking about her… even if I had slept in… I just couldn’t believe it

  I honestly couldn’t believe it!

  Eve, the girl from the corner, the one who had a job as an enslaved prostitute but was the furthest thing from your typical street whore… Eve, the girl who had saved my life while I was undercover at Rock’s party… Eve, the girl who agreed to meet me for a second date.

  A date?

  Me? On a date?

  It seemed so surreal. It seemed so impossible. It seemed so…

  It seemed so right?

  Yeah, it had to, didn’t it? I mean, last night had happened, I was quite sure of it. I was quite sure that I had rescued her, sorry, she had rescued me—not that I would ever admit that to Roost and the rest of the Savage Saviors, at least not at this time. I was quite sure that I had taken her back here and we’d been intimate.

  I didn’t even want to call it sex—that made it sound like I had paid her for physical pleasure, paid her to do her job. But no, it was more like… making love…

  Jesus, Derek, the fuck has gotten into you? Sound like a middle school boy who is fantasizing about marrying his first crush.

  Chill out, Derek. Just chill.

  The night before had been different—I’d felt right, felt good, and everything had just seemed to fit. Eve wasn’t like any girl, like any person, I’d ever known—and I needed that back. But, then again, that was what had me so flustered. Part of me was even terrified to go through with this because it had seemed so right and so different.

  And also because, in my promise to see her again today, I had overslept so much that I would not get to see her before she went out for her shift.

  “Fuck!” I shouted again.

  Had I owned a dog in this place, he probably would have run in here, thinking someone had robbed me. My early “morning” shouting was so out of character that even I had trouble understanding where this came from—well, I knew where, from Eve, but that she had given me so much energy surprised me.

  “Fucking failure,” I said to myself.

  I looked again at my clock. To be exact, it was 4:32 p.m. If I got on my bike now and grabbed Eve…

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to work. The best case scenario was snagging her for some ice cream we’d have to eat on my chopper, and I’m sure if one of Rock’s goons saw me dropping her off they wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a pistol to kill me, not giving two shits if Eve got caught in the crossfire.

  I’m sorry, Eve. I’ll get you later tonight, when it’s dark. When the Falcons won’t see me so easily. When it makes more sense to pull you away.

  When I can be with you.

  With a girl I had seen only three times so far, only two of which actually qualified as dates…

  I knew I was desperate for connection, even if I continuously passed myself off to Roost and the rest of the Saviors as too damaged to be worth hooking up.

  But was this wrong? Was it wrong to go so fast at someone I’d known for such short a period of time?

  What would Maggie…

  Maggie’s gone, Derek. You can’t worry about her.

  But she is… was… she has the title of your wife, damnit! You can’t just say because she’s been dead for a couple of years now that she’s not your wife. You still have all these photos of her! You think that when Eve comes over in the day, she’s going to be cool with all these dead wife photos?!?

  It’s a part of my past.
<
br />   A part that you can’t let go off, you fucking idiot.

  I ran my hand through my hair multiple times and took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. This back-and-forth in my head was not going to go away anytime soon, but perhaps I could at least quell it and deal with it at a later time.

  It didn’t help at all.

  My wife is dead. She’s not coming back. She’s not Jesus. Miracles don’t exist. I need to move on. I need to see if I can be with Eve.

  I’m sure your father and brother would be so proud of you. Just barely any time passes with your wife and daughter’s death, and now you’re back out hooking up with whores. Classy man, Derek. Classy man.

  She’s not a whore.

  What does she do for a living?

  “Stop!”

  That seemed to temporarily shut up the thought process in my head, although I had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long before those thoughts came roaring back.

  Deciding not to make a total waste of the day, I got out of bed onto shaky, sex-affected knees, took a piss, threw on my jeans, a gray t-shirt, and my leathers. I headed into the living room and stood by my stereo, trying to get it to play some Aerosmith.

  Damn thing didn’t turn on.

  Oh, right, it’s broken.

  Just like you are. Just like you became when you beat your wife’s murderer to death…

  “ROCK SENDS HIS CONDOLENCES, KNIGHT!”

  Condolences?

  “FUCK!”

  I slammed my fists down in blind rage and immediately regretted it.

  In my pain, I had broken my stereo.

  Well, if there was any hope about fixing her, it was gone. The stereo was truly dead, with no hope of coming back to life.

  I knew Roost would say it was time to get me a new one, a better one.

  But did I deserve a new one, a better one? Did I deserve a second chance for how much I let my emotions control me?