Savage Saviors: The Complete Boxset (Savage Saviors MC)

by J. C. Allen

  “What you’re keeping in there?” she cried out in hysterics, “You got room for everything in there! There ain’t anything down there!”

  “Should’ve turned you inside-out when I had the chance,” Larry, seething, said as he drew near enough for me to smell him. “But I’m not gonna waste another chance, you stupid slag of a who—”

  I never even saw Matty’s arm move.

  Somewhere between the end of the word “a” and the beginning of the word “whore,” a sound that was very far from a word echoed past Larry’s parted lips. I imagined that Matty had been aiming for the would-be attacker’s jaw, but, given the size of his fist, it seemed ridiculous to think that aiming should ever be a factor.

  Though I was far from able—or willing—to commit to any actual measurements to verify this prediction, I figured that if the bottom of Matty’s fist had met with the bottom of Larry’s jawline, then the top of his fist would come to rest somewhere above the start of his hairline.

  Simply put, Matty’s punch caught Larry in nearly the entire side of his beet-red face. And Tara and I heard everything as the impact of that punch started rearranging the layout of that face.

  The crunches of teeth all but jumping from Larry’s skull that sounded like a baby’s rattle as they clattered against the teeth that managed to stay in place.

  A snap, like someone breaking a dry tree branch across their knee, was accompanied by a wet, slurping sound.

  A meaty thud, like somebody taking a baseball bat to the side of a slab of beef.

  A small series of popcorn kernel-like pops from a few of the knuckles in Matty’s hand, accompanied by Matty offering a contemplative hum—as though cracking his knuckles was more satisfying than the act itself.

  And, carrying all of these sounds along, was the rising, shifting groan of agony. The word “whore” shifted to something that spanned a full range of vowel sounds—“who-aaeeiiooouuuuuuu”—until it sounded as though Larry was howling and crying.

  This, I imagined, wasn’t too far from the reality of his situation.

  Larry’s body toppled to the side, Matty’s punch sending his body into a half-turn that had him falling to the floor away from us. He was still howling, though the sound was hollow and edging closer and closer to a sound that typically served as a precursor to a child’s sobs. It was a strange thing to hear from a grown man, especially one that looked like a comic book supervillain, but… well, there it was.

  Larry’s muscled arms strained as he worked to push himself up. The shoulder he’d landed on bulged irregularly, and he cried out as he tried to put weight on it.

  “Dislocated…” I heard Tara whisper, her voice still awed by the spectacle of what we’d just witnessed.

  Larry, abandoning the effort to use his bad shoulder, pushed himself up with the arm that still worked. He turned to face us, still staggering as he did.

  Tara and I both sneered. It was like seeing a wounded snake try and look tough, and even that was a compliment—at least snakes still had their bite. Larry had nothing.

  Matty shook his hand and flexed its fingers, murmuring something about how the boxing bags he faced were tougher.

  “Y-yhe fuhging fhehggot!” Larry garbled around his broken jaw, half of which hung from the side of his face—looking as though the bottom-end of his skull had decided to seek better company and attempt to flee from the rest of his head—and gave him a lopsided and nearly cartoonish grin.

  “Funny thing ‘bout bein’ a fag,” Matty said, taking a long step towards Larry, both of his hands now fisted and raised. “Ya learn to deal with annoyin’ pieces of shit! Ladies, please avert yer eyes.”

  “Why?” Tara asked, but I was already doing so.

  I heard a couple of loud crunches, thuds, and slams, followed by one loud kick—to which Tara said “Ohhh, to the nuts!”—before it all finished.

  I turned around, saw that Larry wasn’t breathing, and saw a smiling Matty.

  “And that, gals,” he said, taking a bow. “Is why ya don’t leave without me in tow.”

  “Well, goddamn, Roost,” Tara said, shaking her head in amazement. “Who knew the big, gay teddy bear had it in him, huh?”

  I stared at her for a moment. Had she not paid any attention to Roost and what he was capable of? This didn’t surprise me in the least!

  “I’d imagine anyone who stopped to look at him would know that he had it in him, Tara. Have you ever stopped to lookat him? He looks like he could carry a truck like it was a toy!”

  “Yeah, well, whatever,” she said with a shrug. “All I know is that if that man wasn’t gay, I’d let him to play Wiffleball with me.”

  “I heard that,” Matty said as he walked by us with a laugh.

  I noticed with no small amount of shock that he was using a grease rag that he normally kept in his back pocket to wipe blood off his hands. I tried not to contemplate what it meant that Matty just carried around such a thing.

  “An’ I still ain’t interested, ya skanky whore!”

  “Only cuz you can’t afford me, fatty fag!” Tara screamed after him.

  I could only stare after the two, astonished at how, only a few moments after such an insane display of aggression and violence had ensued following words like “whore” and “faggot,” these two could casually throw them around as playfully as they were.

  This, however, I was forced to chalk up as the nature of the company I kept.

  And they call Derek crazy, I thought with a smirk. He’s running the asylum, not in it, compared to these two.

  “Alright, enough flirtin’,” Matty said. “Keep yer guns out. That was just a test. He ain’t gonna be the only one here.”

  “You sound so sure,” Tara said.

  “Falcons are arrogant, but they ain’t fools,” Matty said. “Probably saw you two, thought Larry could rape ya, and didn’t expect me to show up. Yer welcome.”

  “Uh huh,” Tara said, but I really was thankful—I would have been literally and metaphorically fucked without him showing up.

  Still, as we continued through the factory, the place seemed bizarrely empty, as if Larry really had been the only person around. Maybe the rest of the Falcons had departed after sending him after us, thinking that one horny, desperate, steroid-juiced man could handle two former… girls of the club. I wondered if Larry was the only person we were going to be dealing with.

  It was a pleasant, almost peaceful thought, and one that was quickly laid to rest.

  Almost like you know what you’re doing, Matty.

  As if on cue, right before I was about to suggest to the others that we stay alert, the room burst into a bright light as a series of fluorescents screamed to life above us. Squinting against the glare, I looked around and saw the silhouettes of six more men circling the factory around us. Along with the half-dozen surrounding us, I spotted another man occupying the balcony above us, seeming to recreate the dominant role that the one called Larry had taken.

  Doubt this one will be so quick to come down, though, I thought. Probably not so keen to get punched in the face by Matty.

  “I kinda liked that guy,” the man said, glancing down at Larry’s body. “Even with all the steroids, he was a fiery one. And you just killed him.”

  “Well, he ain’t too far gone, y’know,” Roost said, mockingly sounding genuine and compassionate. “So why don’t’cha come on down? If ya let me handle ya right quick, I’m sure ya can catch up to ‘im in no time!”

  Even as he said this, he started sliding his revolver out of the holster. The man sneered in disgust. Tara and I held our weapons aloft, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you sound like you got a mouthful of dicks when you talk?”

  “Only when I got their dick in my mouth, actually,” Matty called back, still managing to sound friendly, right before lining up his gun. “And right now, the only cocksucker here ain’t me. Yer lookin’ pretty up there, like ya just sucked all these dudes.”

&nb
sp; And with that, Matty fired the first shot.

  “Mother—” the man ducked at the last second, narrowly managing to keep his head. “Shoot those motherfuckers! Now!”

  “Hide! Quick!” Matty shouted as we took cover.

  Tara and I started a panicked half-run towards the first sign of cover—some sort of old, seemingly junked machine from years ago—as the bullets started whizzing through the air. Even while running away, I marveled back at Matty, who, in the short span since we’d started running, had managed to kill two of the six men and severely injure a third. Though I hadn’t seen what had put the still-living man on the ground, the noises he was making and the large puddle of blood he was producing told me that he wasn’t soon going to be rejoining his fellow Saviors brethren in trying to take us out.

  For all of Derek’s talk about having Marines by his side, I felt mighty comfortable stating that I had the best support of all—to say nothing of the funniest and most smartass.

  “The whores!” the man from above shouted out. “Kill the fucking whores!”

  “Aww, ya got no room for me, asshole?” Matty shouted, continuing to treat the Falcons like target practice.

  “This is for nutting in my hair last Christmas, you pricks!” Tara yelled before drawing her own gun and firing on another of the Black Falcons.

  It took seven shots, but she eventually got one when, in a panicked effort to see where her shots were coming from, he stood directly into her line of sight.

  “And you thought I couldn’t handle myself,” Tara said with a smirk.

  I smiled back.

  And then nearly regretted it.

  I felt my heart seize then as I spotted a slim, weasel-like shadow creeping up behind Tara, and I was quick to draw my own gun and pull her out of the way before firing three shots straight into the man’s chest.

  “F-fuckin’… who-ores!” he managed to croak before finally dying.

  “Rousing choice in last words, dingleberry!” Tara said. “Want it carved in your tombstone?”

  Then she turned to me with a prideful smile.

  “Damn, girl, you just took a man out with way fewer bullets than me!”

  “Thanks?” I said, unsure if it was proper to take pride in my killing prowess.

  “Damn right! I could take some target practice from you!”

  “Maybe another time,” I said as I pulled Tara back down, the firing continuing to take place.

  From his vantage point, Matty continued to pick off the remaining Falcons. Tara and I laid out fire, but Matty had such an easy time, it made me wonder if the Falcons were even trained at all.

  Probably not. Not like the Falcon treats them right or gives them what they need.

  Before I knew it, only the leader remained—somewhere out of sight.

  “Damn,” Tara said, almost sounding disappointed, once the firing stopped. “That was easy!”

  “Don’t jinx it, slut,” Roost grumbled. “Ya never say shit like that until everyone gone or dead.”

  “Oh get off it, ya fab-fag! Don’t go acting like we didn’t make a great team,” she countered, giving him a slap on the back.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said with a heavy groan. “We still got one left. And sides, ya know, I’m just not lookin’ forward to tellin’ Derek ‘bout this. Ya two knowhe’s gonna kill me for lettin’ the two of ya come out here with me, right?”

  “And we will mourn you exactly how you’d want to be mourned,” Tara boasted, “by stuffing our faces with pizza and cocks.”

  “Saints be praised,” Roost grumbled. “My two loves in life reduced to the ongoing mockings of a money-grubbing gutter-slut.”

  “Relax, Matty, not like you led us here,” I said, trying to assure him. “More like… Tara had her own plans, and there was no stopping her.”

  “Damn right!”

  Wasn’t a compliment, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. I swiveled my head around as Tara and Matty continued their bickering. Tara definitely wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, celebrating a victory not yet earned, but at least Matty was also surveying the area.

  “Not to break up your rousing chemistry,” I cut in as I made a show of glancing up at the balcony and seeing that the other man had disappeared, mostly for Tara’s sake. “But did anybody see where that guy ran off to? Better catch him before we get out of here.”

  Tara nodded sternly, getting the memo. While Roost hadn’t seemed unsettled by the missing Black Falcons member, his demeanor did not change in the slightest as his disappearance was brought to light. He was either doing a fantastic job of hiding his own surprise, or he’d been staying calm for our sake and was just continuing to do so after we’d caught on.

  Though he seemed to be making an effort to conceal the act, I could see his eyes drifting about—left, right, and back again in slow, sweeping scans of the upper-area—in a subtle effort to pinpoint the man. Slowly, slow enough to elude my senses at first, he raised his revolver and began to work the cylinder open. Having caught sight of the slight motion a moment in advance, I was prepared for the sound of spent bullet casings clattering across the floor.

  I followed his gaze, taking careful notice of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Even the slightest shift—

  BANG!

  “Son of a bitch!” Tara shrieked, startled by the unexpected—to her—gunfire.

  Roost looked like he wanted to laugh but didn’t. Instead, he was still looking around, making no effort this time to conceal his efforts as he went on trying to figure out where the man had gone.

  “That must’ve been the leader, right?” I said, slipping instinctively into a whisper. “Did you get him?”

  “Yeah. More than likely he was,” Roost said, also whispering—whether this was in response to my own whisper or if he genuinely thought it was necessary I couldn’t be sure. “I recognized him as one of the four. Don’t think I got him, though. We woulda heard somethin’ by now.”

  “So where did that little cocksucker go?” Tara asked, notjoining us in our whispering as she narrowed her eyes and scanned the rafters. “Hey! Fuckhead! Come on down and come talk to us! We’ll be real nice!”

  Jesus, Tara…

  “Well…” Roost grumbled, “That’s certainly one way to git someone’s attention.”

  The sound of metal squeaking above rang through the room, and we heard a soft curse in response. I wasn’t sure if Tara’s shouting had been what motivated the slight movement or if he’d just spent too much time crouched awkwardly out of our eyesight, but in that instant we seemed to have a location.

  “On it!” Tara called out, already starting to sprint towards the stairway.

  I was already starting after her before I was fully sure that I wantedto. Though I didn’t want anything bad to happen to my friend, I couldn’t help but think that such a brash move wasn’t exactly beneficial to our chances of survival. The fact that Matty yelled at us to stay in cover didn’t help matters.

  “Tara!” I called after her, forced to work to catch up and unable to summon more volume. “Don’t! Get in cover!”

  If she heard me, she made no sign of it.

  Goddamnit, Tara! At least Derek listens to me! Get! Under! Cover!

  I heard a faint click behind me, thought nothing of it, then thought a great deal more of it as Roost began firing his revolver up towards the length of balcony we’d heard the sound emanating from.

  More cursing, louder this time, came from the man, who rose in response. A moment later, we heard the pounding of footsteps crashing against the metal grates as our target took off across its length.

  “Shit!” Matty said. “Don’t let him get away!”

  “Too late, I’m on his tail!” Tara shouted back. “Asshole ain’t escapin’ this whore!”

  I caught myself distantly admiring how she could move so fast. But I did not so much admire the fact that the man turned with a smug grin across his face, even as he was clearly in pain and had been shot

  �
�Suck on this, you fucking skank!” the man bellowed, twisting awkwardly and pulling out his own gun as he continued to run across the rafters, putting more and more distance between us. “I’m glad you’re so willing to die!

  “Tara!” Matty roared, seeing that the man was about to start firing on her, and his revolver thundered two more times.

  This time, he did not miss.

  The man gave a sharp, pained cry, sounding almost confused and startled in that instant. With his body still twisted at the waist in an effort to run away and shoot back at us, the resulting stumble had him tumbling at a strange angle. The metal grating chimed again as the side of his head impacted, his left shoulder dragging up in a close second place while the rest of his body seemed to accordion into place behind him.

  He was left, ass-end up and waving almost humorously in the air as he buckled to his knees and began thrashing like a docked fish.

  That was when I realized that one of Roost’s shots had caught him in his right foot. Blood seeped out through the hole in his boot as his leg went on twitching, still trying in that instant to continue running—the rest of his body not seeming to register that he’d been thrown off his feet—while he began screaming and whimpering through muffled lips into the perforated surface of the platform’s grating.

  “Told y’all we’d catch him!” Tara said in triumph as she reached the same level.

  “Yer a fuckin’ idiot, Tara!” Matty bellowed.

  Couldn’t agree more, Matty. We’re gonna have to find a new home for her where she won’t get in the line of fire like this. She got lucky as hell.

  But Tara had no time for negativity, and judging by the middle finger she gave Matty—or maybe it was the man; either way, it wasn’t something that encouraged Matty’s words—I didn’t think she was going to be taking either of us seriously any time soon.

  “Well, looky what we got here!” Tara said, stepping forward and slamming the grip of her gun into the man’s upturned ass, impacting with his tailbone and earning a new cry of pain. “How’s that for takin’ it up the ass, you man-whore!”

  I got to her level just in time to see her shove him off the railing and onto the side.