“She looked the other way, fortunately.” Sterling admits. He lights a cigarette, taking a deep drag off it, while Judson watches him with a thoughtful stare. Jorie being here has calmed some of the rage in Judson.
Tanner resents that a human woman makes his asshole brother soft.
“Where’d you get the coin?” Merle doesn’t even have a coin like that. Malcom—the owner of this place—doesn’t hand them out easily. Only when he owes someone for his life and even then he’s not always keen to part with one of his treasures.
Sterling hesitates. Merle stares him down, and no matter how old a man is they cave when Merle uses his dad stare of disappointment.
“Adeline gave it to me.”
That’s a bitch who doesn’t need an introduction. Adeline had been an issue a few years ago when that moron Beau decided he needed a girlfriend in the same psychotic business. Only—Beau never planned on her being a little whore who tried to ride every taken cock she could find.
Lovely fucking woman.
“What’d’ya have to do for a favor from a bitch like that?” Tanner asks with a sneer curling his mouth.
“Not as much as anticipated.” Sterling sits back in his seat. Glaring through the curling smoke that rises from the tip of his cigarette as he says,“And I damn sure didn’t want to.”
“Sure.” Tanner taunts, leaning over the table to spit at Sterling. “I’m sure it was such a chore to fuck a bitch in heat, Sterling. How can we ever repay you for your sacrifice?”
“I didn’t fuck her,” Sterling bites out.
“No, but you would’ve,” Tanner yells back.
“To find a safe place for my son? Yes, I would’ve,” he’s also raising his voice.
“Oh so you want to play daddy now?” Tanner mocks with a cold laugh. “You’re about fourteen years too fuckin’ late, son. Merle, Jud and I have that covered. So why don’t you do us all a goddamned favor. Get in your shitty car and go back to whatever Hell you crawled out of. Leave this to the people who didn’t leave when shit got rough.” Tanner will never forgive Sterling for leaving Tallulah a cracked shell of herself.
A bitter woman remained in the wake of the storm called Sterling, and it took years to get back a fraction of who she had been before Sterling came to ruin her.
Sterling shakes his head, a tense smile on his mouth. “I left so it wouldn’t get rough, Tanner.”
He snorts. “Sure. You left so it wouldn’t get rough? For who, Sterling? You? Or my sister? Because I’ll bet my left nut that it wasn’t for her. And it damn sure wasn’t for the baby you told her to take care of.”
“She didn’t tell me about him!” Sterling explodes. Throwing himself out of one of the dining room chairs. “Don’t you dare put words I didn’t say on my tongue or I’ll cut the fuckin’ thing out of your head.” Sterling has never before threatened him.
Tanner’s shoulders stiffen at that bold statement.
“Try it and you’ll be dead before you touch me,” Tanner challenges. Merle rubs his eyes with an unamused huff while Judson sits, unusually silent, at Tanner’s side. Neither of them disagrees with Tanner—they’ve all had an issue with Sterling Savage since the first time Judson chased the bastard out of Lula’s bed. But they both seem to be more tolerant because Sterling came here with Lyric.
Not Tanner.
He’s not subdued by Sterling’s minimal efforts. There’s nothing that will ever make him forgive Sterling Savage. Bastard could put his own daddy’s head on a silver platter and that wouldn’t be enough for Tanner.
“Why?” Sterling asks him, and Tanner realizes he must’ve spoken those words aloud.
Because I remember that boy looking me in the eye at five, crying, wondering why I couldn’t be his daddy.
Fuck you, Sterling.
26
Merle
He allows the boys to have their fight. The faster Tanner unloads his rage the quicker they can get to the matter at hand—bringing Tallulah home in one piece.
When both boys, in grown men’s bodies, are red faced from yelling but silent, Merle asks them. “You finished?”
“Yessir.” They reply in unison, and glare at each other for their manners.
Jud roles his eyes at their antics causing Merle to shoot his eldest a weary smile.
“Good,” Merle says at length. “Because I need both of you to be clear-minded while we discuss bringin’ my baby girl home.”
Sterling takes a seat first, though it seems to wound his pride to do so.
“Who took her?” They all know it was a Savage, and they all know Sterling wants a specific name.
“Birdie.” Judson answers with a raw tone.
Merle is grateful. The name sticks in his own throat. Held back by emotions he won’t allow himself to feel until Tallulah Rose is home safe.
“Fuck,” Sterling sighs, his broad shoulders sagging with the weight of that knowledge. He picks up the cigarette he dropped during his confrontation with Tanner and puts the bent thing back to his lips to relight it. There’s a slight tremble in his hand—one none of them misses and one none of them mentions.
After he’s sucked his cigarette to the filter, Sterling speaks. Breaking the heavy silence in the tense room.
“Beau or Violet would’ve been better. Birdie is my dad with a vagina, and she’s not gonna give up her spoils without a fight.”
“So I rip out her throat,” Tanner hisses. All too eager to bury a Savage for their recent transgressions.
Sterling doesn’t seem bothered by that threat. Merle is more disgruntled about Tanner’s bloodthirsty desire than Birdie’s own brother.
Merle shoots his youngest son a look, telling him, “Killin’ Birdie Savage would bring more attention and more rage than it’s worth. Else Sterling would’ve suggested killin’ her.”
“She’s breakin’ code as is,” Sterling informs them.
Merle knows a little about that damnable code. He’d had a good friend once who was a sworn man to the Covenant of Michael. A man that has been long dead in Merle’s eyes.
“You guys live peacefully and don’t kill humans or hunters. There’s no reason for this hunt to have taken place.” Sterling seems to be biting down an awful truth about his family—one Merle already knows. Beaufort rarely lived by the code. That man enjoys killing anything he considers an abomination—regardless of whether they’ve done harm or not.
“Except for the fact that your son would be considered one of the highest sins by the members of the Covenant,” Judson says as he finally pops the lid off of his beer. “By law they are supposed to undo the sin and the ones who’ve committed it.”
“Know that do you?” Sterling asks with a tone that is heavy with his regrets.
Merle isn’t about to give him a lecture about why he’d been warning Tallulah against sleeping with a hunter. Ancient history doesn’t need rehashing when the worst has already come to pass.
“We’ve got a similar code,” Judson says, but he doesn’t elaborate. It’s not Sterling’s place to know their secrets after all.
No matter who he’s been sleeping with in their family.
“Well, then you should know the Covenant requires proof to justify the kill. Not that the corruption of bureaucracy isn’t in the Covenant. Because it’s there, alright, and they’ll overlook Birdie’s indiscretions.” He rubs his fingers across his tired eyes. Merle can smell how weary Sterling is—he can also smell the cheap speed and Red Bulls. A scent Merle hopes to Hell Tanner doesn’t catch.
“Why?” Tanner, much as Merle loves him, can be a damned idiot.
“Because she’s a member of the Coven of The Red Hood.” Sterling says and it’s the first time Merle’s heard confirmation of a current member. He’d learned about Old Carolina long after she’d left that order. “She’s an elite. And what do you do when one of your best ball players fucks up? You ignore it because they’re winnin’ trophies and rings. That’s what the Coven of The Red Hood is—it’s pro-ball on a mega dose of roi
ds.”
“Is Tallulah even alive at this point?” Judson asks the question none of them are brave enough to speak, but the one they need a plausible answer to.
“That’s the thing about my sister—she’s a sadistic bitch. She’s gonna draw it out for weeks if she can.” Sterling’s voice cracks, and in his expression Merle can see the fear.
“What’s the longest she’s ever held someone?” Tanner snarls the question. His rage masks his worry, but Merle can taste the disquiet on the air between them. It’s a rotten flavor on the tongue.
“Three months.”
Merle closes his eyes, “At that point a shifter would still have to be put down…that kind of torture changes a person. Makes them more animal than human.” Terrible memories grip Merle as he relays that truth.
The room around them goes silent, and stays that way until Sterling finally dares to ask. “How long until she’s broken beyond repair?”
“Two weeks, three at absolute best.” His children weren’t trained to be a soldier the way Merle was—Judson and Tanner could last longer because he’d trained them some.
They’ve also known the feel of a kill—a human kill.
Tallulah, however, is as soft as a wolf can be. She could fight a man in a bar, she could drink a big man under the table, but she isn’t built to withstand torture. She’ll crack like a soft-shelled egg, and Merle, for the first time, regrets being soft with her.
“Excuse me.” Sterling leaves the table and the room. Though Sterling must know that they can hear him, he waits until he’s out of their sight to release a sob.
“Tallulah Rose,” he whispers to nothing. “I’ll get you back if it kills me.”
A promise Merle hopes to Hell Sterling can keep.
27
Sterling
Sterling calls Jake Wayne—finally responding to all those messages Jake’s been leaving him for the past week. He’s not ready to bother with the other members of his band. Sterling can only handle one pissed off dude at a time.
Jake answers on the third ring and he’s spitting mad—like a cat someone dropped in a full tub.
“Goddamnit, Sterling, do you know how long I’ve been trying to get you on the fucking phone?”
“Five days.”
“Not funny, asshole.” Jake screeches from the other end of the line and Sterling finds enough amusement from imagining Jake hollering that he laughs. “I am going to fucking curse you.”
“Don’t joke, Jake. Shit’s dangerous, you’re liable to lose a ball or two makin’ deals with witches.” Which isn’t a lie.
“Har har.” Jake deadpans. “Now, when are you coming back? I need you here so we can do damage control. With your audience as well as the band. Derek is pissed beyond belief.” Typical Jake, always doing damage control in Sterling’s life.
Sterling swallows.
Jake has done a lot for him—he’s the one who found Sterling at that bar in Austin. Jake’s the one who told Sterling there was a future spilling his guts into a microphone while he strummed out a rhythm for his pain. He’s the one who found Sterling a decent band to back him up. Jake’s also the one who patched him up when he got too out of hand with the drugs.
He’s the only person from Sterling’s new life who seems to truly care.
However, that feels like a lifetime ago now. In this moment, Sterling doesn’t need music, or Jake, the way he needs Tallulah to be safe.
“I might not come back,” Sterling admits. “I can’t explain it, but there’s some trouble at home. Trouble not related to that kid…he ain’t mine, by the way. He’s some girl I used to know’s kid. She got him a daddy—one of those loud louts who dropped in at a local bar to drink while passin’ through town.” He needs his name as far from Tallulah’s and Lyric’s as he can get it if Sterling is going to die. Sterling doesn’t want his legacy hanging over them like a black cloud when all is said and done.
“What’s the trouble? Do I need to get you a lawyer?” Jake is there, as always, ready with the cavalry.
“Nah, it’s family shit. And I got a few of ‘em with tempers. So, um, if I don’t make it outta this alive I want you to take my earnings.”
“Quit joking,” Jake tells him with an unamused tone.
“Wish I were.” Sterling says with a sigh. “My family is as backwoods as they come and we don’t resolve shit in therapy.”
Beaufort has a saying about therapy and how it castrates the worth out of a man. Something Sterling doesn’t agree with, but was never stupid enough to say to his father.
“Sterling, we can call the cops.” Jake’s a good guy. He doesn’t know a thing about the life Sterling has led, but he’s not about to let Jake in on the deeper spiral of his secrets.
Sterling has known men killed for less.
“Don’t do it, Jake. I don’t want them fuckin’ with you.” Sterling leans against the wall of the narrow entry hall. “I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done, in case I don’t come back.” His throat is tight because this feels like an ending.
“It was my honor, Sterling.” This moment feels fragile—one he doesn’t want to end—but Sterling has to break it.
“And it was mine, Jake.” With that said Sterling disconnects their call. Placing his phone on Do Not Disturb, to keep any other distractions at bay.
He can’t let anything stop him now.
Sterling steps outside, just to feel the air against his skin. To forget for a moment this world of bullshit to which he was born. He envies the people walking through the Quarter, especially the tourists who whisper with delight as the guide talks to them about voodoo queens.
Some self-righteous elderly man—a few feet down from where Sterling stands—makes a bum swear on God that he won’t use the five he’s being given for booze. Despite the jaundiced yellow-orange that fills the whites of this old bum’s eyes.
Sterling approaches, loudly calling, “Hey, c’mere, man.” Sterling pulls out his billfold, grabbing a hundred out. He hands the note to the bum. “You don’t gotta swear to God for me, friend. Go enjoy that whiskey and get you somethin’ to eat too.”
He glares at the old man who was demanding an oath from a person with nothing, all to see if that person was worthy of a scrap.
“I’ll tell you now you ain’t savin’ anyone by buyin’ their faith. So save your bullshit for the idiots in your church, son. You don’t make a starvin’ man swear loyalty when you’re feedin’ him.”
The old man has the decency to appear ashamed and embarrassed before he hurries up the sidewalk. Away from the staggering bum and Sterling.
“Thank you,” the man he gave his hundred to says. His voice is harsh, gravelly from hard living. Sterling waves off his gratitude.
In truth, he didn’t do that for this nameless man. He spoke up because he’s never done so before. Sterling’s whole life has been spent listening to the sermons of a bully. He’s bit his words down so often there must be a scar in the shape of his teeth on his tongue.
Sterling is tried of swallowing his own rage.
“Go eat somethin’ warm, ya hear?” He pats the man’s shoulder. Clapping his palm against a thick coat, one this man has to wear despite the heat.
Sterling knows a little something about living with all of his belongings in his pocket and on his back.
He watches as the nameless bum ambles away. Gone with a happy whistle that makes Sterling grin despite himself.
Sterling turns his eyes upon the safe house he vacated. Ready to face the last of his own demons.
When Sterling goes inside Tanner glares at him, but Tanner remains silent due to Judson being on what seems to be an important phone call.
“How soon will you and your brother be here?” He’s asking someone Sterling cannot hear. There’s a little bit of a pause before he finally says, “I appreciate it. Don’t kill yourself gettin’ here, you ain’t any good to us dead.” After that Judson hangs up the phone and takes a seat beside Tanner at the table once again.
“What did Colt say?” Tanner asks, completely ignoring Sterling when he takes a seat with them.
Judson’s thumbs drum out a rhythm on the tabletop for a moment before he replies. “Should be here by noon tomorrow.”
“That’s not fast enough,” Tanner groans. Sterling doesn’t know who Colt is, but he agrees. If it’s someone meant to come and help them get Tallulah back then noon tomorrow isn’t fast enough.
“It’s the fastest they can manage, even driving straight through.” Judson looks across the table at Sterling. “You should rest.”
Should but won’t, he thinks. “Where’s Lyric?”
Tanner growls, “Why do you care?”
Judson tells him to knock it off, but Sterling holds up a hand. Answering even though Sterling knows he doesn’t have to fuck with Tanner and his rage.
“I care because there’s a good chance I’ll never get to see him again. Might as well have the worst talk of my life before I go die by my sister’s hand.”
A somber silence descends around them while Sterling gets up from the table without a word.
He can hear Judson hissing some sort of reprimand at Tanner as he walks away, but Sterling doesn’t hear what’s said. His focus is on each heavy step he takes. The thud of his boots on the wood is a funeral march, carrying him closer to the son he never got the chance to know. The one who is going to hate him and forget him when this bad business is done.
Merle is sitting on the bed, of a spare room, holding Lyric in a gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry, son. Your mama is the strongest woman in the world, she will survive this.”
Sterling can see in Merle’s expression that the man isn’t certain about the promises he speaks to his grandson.
“I should’ve never sent that Tweet, Pawpaw.” Lyric sounds smaller than his body when he says those words. “Mama would still be here if I hadn’t dug up old graves.”
The Grace of a Savage Page 11
