Savages Series Boxed Set

by Jessica Gadziala

  He was also one of the best hackers on the east coast. Better than me and Glenn certainly. A fact that he rubbed my face in constantly. At first I thought it was just because he was trying to push me to learn more. But, in the end, he was just a jackass.

  It really shouldn't have come as much of a shock that he got himself involved with the likes of Lex.

  And then he fucking ratted me out. Which was just... so against everything hackers believed in. It was us against them. Always. We watched each other's backs. Without fail.

  The rat bastard.

  I purged my rage at him, enjoying the fear overtaking his features as he realized how jolly well fucked he was. For no reason. Just his own vanity, thinking he could roll with the big boys. But, in the end, they would just remind him of the bumbling, stuttering nobody he had always been.

  Then there was fighting.

  And then the room cleared.

  Save for me. And Lex. Breaker. And Greg.

  Then I was at the receiving end of Lex's anger. Like my mother had been for so many years. Feeling his fists slam into my face, making my vision into little white explosions, making the punch Breaker had given me feel like it had been a love tap.

  I was tasting and spitting my own blood when he got me down on all fours. And there was no time. No time to get to my boot. To get the heroin. To get it in my system and start to OD before he put his hands on me.

  It was over.

  I lost.

  And I was going to pay.

  I looked up at Breaker for a second, my heart in my eyes, before I shut that down and lowered my head, feeling Lex's hands reach for my pants, his fingertips grazing over my ass in a way that made my skin crawl. The sick crept up my throat as I heard his zipper move down.

  It was one thing to have willing but awful sex. I had submitted to that with two different men.

  It was a whole other to have the right to deny sex taken away from you... yeah, there were no words for that kind of awful.

  But then Breaker's voice was cutting in.

  Saying shit he had no business saying.

  Though, in the end, it saved me.

  I was seconds away from feeling Lex's body slamming into mine. And I knew enough of the police reports to know how terrible he would make that for me.

  Then Lex was away from me. And the world went BOOM.

  Breaker flew at Greg.

  And I reached into my boot and I flew at Lex.

  For my mom. And Glenn. And every woman whose battered, broken body I had seen. And also, for me. For what he had already taken from me. For what he was just about to take from me before he was stopped.

  I never really thought much about if I was a violent person or not. In general, I was safe behind my computer screen. I had never been in fights. I had never hurt anyone.

  But my arm flew out, and the tip of the knife plunged, with a force that made my stomach drop, into Lex's eye socket.

  The howl he let out sent a shockwave through my system and I pulled the knife back out, freezing, unable to do anything but fight down the bile that was rising in my throat.

  Before my eyes, I watched a screaming, bleeding Lex take a right hook to the side of his face and fall unconscious to the ground.

  Then there was Breaker, yelling at me, dragging me toward the staircase.

  We had barely made it into the finished side of the basement when a battered Greg came barreling through with Lex hanging off him only half conscious, going to the side of the bar and opening a door into a small white panic room.

  I almost laughed as Breaker dragged me up the stairs and into the kitchen.

  I had half-expected some kind of war to be going on. But all there was was confused chaos. Anyone we encountered looked through us like we weren't even there. So we just kept moving, Breaker pushing the door to the outside open, and we knocked over a still living, breathing, laughing Shooter.

  I felt a wave of relief that made all my air whoosh out of my system at the sight of him. I barely knew him. Had literally shared only a handful of words with the man. But he was good. He was willing to sacrifice himself for me. He offered me his pinkie for support. And he and Breaker loved one another like brothers. That was enough for me.

  I was so happy to see him alive, I felt tears stinging my eyes.

  But then we were running again, watching Lex's property start to break into wild fires from whatever the hell kind of explosives were planted all around.

  We had just gotten to the truck when I saw Jstorm.

  One look was all I needed.

  I knew.

  It could have been anyone in a hood.

  But I knew.

  You could have knocked me over with a feather when a hand reached up, pulled off a hood, and revealed a woman who had to have been younger than me. Or at least, she had one of those faces, eternally young. Sweet. Delicate. Except she wore her eye makeup heavy and her lips red and her tattoos were bright and colorful against her pale skin.

  We got into the car, driving away, me watching Jstorm in the rearview mirror.

  "Fuck," Breaker growled as we all did the weird 'there was a loud noise, you instinctively duck' thing despite being in an enclosed car. The ground underneath the truck seemed to shake for a long time even as we kept driving away.

  Jstorm turned her head toward our retreating car and though we were too far away to see, I was sure she was grinning.

  I found myself smiling back as we drove out of sight.

  My mission in life was to take down Lex Keith.

  There was a poetic sort of justice for it to be a woman to be the one to finally do that deed.

  Maybe it didn't turn out the way I had planned- selling off his information to someone who would do him in for their own personal reasons.

  It turned out better.

  Two women who didn't know each other from Eve conspiring to, in the end, blow his world to pieces.

  I fought the laugh and lost, putting a hand over my eyes and letting the weird hysterical sound roll through me.

  "Doll," Breaker's voice called, firm, making me turn my head and look at him.

  "Yeah?"

  "How the fuck do you know Janie?"

  "Janie?" I asked, my brows drawing together. It was just a... plain name for someone as badass as she obviously was.

  "Janie. From Hailstorm."

  "Hailstorm?" I asked, my face dropping. Hailstorm. The survivalist camp full of ex-military who did all kinds of odd jobs- hits, jumpers, corporate espionage. You name it, they dipped their toes in it. And they were good. Like... really good. They were also, like the Henchmen MC and the Mallick family, not in Lex's pockets.

  "Yeah, doll. That was Janie... Lo's like... favorite pet," he said, making an image of Lo pop into my head. A fake image, because like... nobody knew what Lo actually looked like. I pictured him big and mean with a scar down his eyebrow. Don't ask why. That's how I viewed him.

  I swallowed. "That was Jstorm, Breaker," I told him, and her SN finally clicked. Jstorm. Janie from Hailstorm. Holy shit. Was Hailstorm in on my mission to take down Lex? That kind of made sense. They did stuff like that sometimes. Just for the greater good. And they were known for using bombs. I guess it was all the ex military in their ranks that made them like the big booms.

  "Speaking of Hailstorm," Shooter's voice broke in as he moved to lean up between mine and Breaker's seats, holding an arm out, pointing out the windshield and up the hill.

  Where Hailstorm was smoking.

  "The fuck?" Breaker said, jaw getting tight.

  "Shit," Shooter said, but an accent slipped into the word, dragging it out, making it sound like "sheeee-it". Making it sound southern. I turned my head slightly, looking at the side of his face, wondering about him, wanting to know his story. "What did we get ourselves into here?" he asked, shaking his head.

  "Fuck if I know," Breaker said, shaking his head. "But we ain't hanging around to find out. We'll drop by my place, get some cash and supplies and get the fuck out of he
re," he said, sounding all bossy and I felt a familiar tug of desire in my core. Bossy Breaker. There was nothing better.

  "Drop by my place too," Shooter said, shrugging when Breaker sent him a disbelieving look. "Been in these clothes for a week, man. Need to grab some shit if we are bugging out."

  "Fine," Breaker said through gritted teeth.

  "Oh, can we stop at the motel I was staying at?" I asked, looking between the two of them who were both looking at me like I was crazy. "What? You can get cash and 'supplies', whatever those are. And he can go get clothes? I can't stop and pick up my laptop? It cost me four thousand dollars, Breaker. Four thousand. Plus, I'd like you to scare the hell out of the creep who runs the place," I added with a nod of my head.

  Breaker's eyes slanted to mine, the light blue looking angry. "The creep?"

  "Creepy Bob," I said with a nod. "I was pretty sure if Lex's guys didn't bust in and steal me that he would have used his spare key to come in and roofie me. He was disgusting."

  "Well, now we got ourselves a party," Shooter said, winking at me with a huge white-tooth grin that made my belly do a weird little flip-flop. I could see him being dangerous if I wasn't already a little too enamored by his best friend.

  Turns out, we were pretty bad at the whole 'bug out' thing. It was supposed to happen in a matter of like twenty minutes. That was the whole point. But we drove into town, pulling off in front of Shooter's place. He disappeared inside and came back twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, with two huge duffel bags and a backpack. He threw the two duffels onto the flat, pulling a cover over the top so nothing would fly off, and bringing the backpack into the backseat with him.

  He saw me eyeing it curiously and unzipped the side, showing me an amount of money I paled to even consider. Then he grinned. "Just to get us started. Got some more stashed in some other places we can hit along the way to wherever we are going." He paused, then patted Breaker on the shoulder. "We should say goodbye to Paine."

  This got a grunt from a very impatient Breaker. But he pulled the truck down the corner from the abandoned warehouse he had originally kept me and all three of us rushed inside a tattoo shop, and were met by a huge (meaning even slightly larger than Breaker) absolutely gorgeous light-skinned black guy covered in black and gray tattoos. I wondered, fleetingly, if all hot guys just like... ran together. Because, really, between the three of them... holy hell.

  "So this is her," Paine said after grabbing the back of Shooter's neck and hauling him into his body, the relief evident on his face. "You worth all this trouble?" he asked, but his tone was teasing.

  "Not at all," I said, giving him a smile, "but they're stuck with me now."

  He gave me a spine-tingling grin. "You guys involved with all the bombings?"

  "All?" the three of us echoed at the same time, making Paine's brows go up.

  "Yeah. Lex's, Hailstorm, the Henchmen compound, even Chaz's," he said, naming off the Mallick family's bar.

  Shooter and Breaker shared a look. "Don't know what the fuck is going on around here," Breaker said honestly. Because while we did know about Janie's part in Lex's house going up in smoke... the rest... yeah that made no sense. "But we have to get out before people start asking questions."

  Paine nodded. "Keep in touch?"

  "Yeah. We'll want to know the lowdown as info starts trickling onto the streets," Breaker said. "Don't go asking for shit and make yourself suspicious, but keep your ears open for us. I'll call you on a new burner soon as we get somewhere."

  "Sounds good," Pain nodded, clamping a hand on Breaker's shoulder in a show of badass masculine affection. "Take care of yourselves."

  Forty minutes later, we were parked outside of Breaker's. And then we all were heading in. I wanted a change of clothes, Breaker wanted to gather supplies, and Shooter wanted to get a drink.

  So, all packed up we drove to the motel. I got my stuff out of my room seeing as I still had the key on me. And I walked out to see both Breaker and Shooter scaring the piss out of Creepy Bob. And I mean that literally. He peed himself. Which might have been funny, but the fact of the matter was, just witnessing them being all badass and scary... well... I was close to wetting myself too.

  No joke.

  They were terrifying.

  "Right," Breaker said, jerking his head at me, "let's go."

  The car was dead silent for a long time, each of us staring off out the windows, lost in our own thoughts.

  Finally, about an hour into the drive, the darkest part of night almost behind us already, I turned slightly in my seat so I was fully facing Breaker and asked him the one thing that had been nagging at me since he had said it.

  "Why did you tell Lex I was his daughter?"

  I felt Shooter's face snap to me, but ignored him.

  "Doll..." Breaker said, his tone implying that I was asking something stupid.

  "No. Seriously. I want to know."

  "First, you told me yourself what your mom went through at Lex's hands. How she finally got away to raise you. How terrified she was of someone getting their hands on you. How she killed herself when she saw Lex again so she could protect you both. And, I mean... you look alike. And..."

  "And?" I prompted, feeling my heart skip around wildly.

  "And your names, doll. His name is Lex. Your name is Alex."

  Holy. Shit.

  I never... Jesus Christ... I never even thought of that before. That was weird. But still...

  "He's not my father, Breaker," I said quietly.

  To this, his head turned fully to me, his light eyes boring into me, sending shivers down my spine. But, well, the good kind. The kind that kinda made me want to tell him to turn back around so we could pay by the hour at the sleep-and-fuck motel.

  "What?"

  "He's not my father."

  "You can't know that," he insisted, barely giving the road a glance as he watched me.

  "I do. I know that," I insisted. "Remember when I said my mom went to the hospital that night and she found a detective who helped her get away?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, I mean... I never got confirmation because it was a touchy subject for my mom," I said, thinking about the time I was seven and asked about my daddy because everyone else talked about theirs and I didn't have one and I was curious. She cried all night asking why she wasn't enough for me. I felt so guilty, I never asked again. But as I got older, I started to see things. "He never stopped coming around. As I was growing up, he always stopped by. Sometimes dropping off groceries because he knew Mom was going through a bad spell. Sometimes he just came by for dinner. Once, he dropped by on Christmas morning. He brought me a pink stuffed piggy. Then he left. Weird things like that. Things that didn't mean anything to me when I was little, but as I got older... it started to make sense. I looked like him, Breaker. Not Lex. I have his same hair. His long legs. His earlobes. And, I mean... his investigative drive," I said on a small, private smile.

  I didn't think about him often. He was a fuzzy childhood memory that made me sad if I really mulled it over.

  "Why didn't you ever ask him, honey?" Shooter asked, his voice soft, sounding like he genuinely wanted to know.

  I felt myself shrug. "He always looked at me like it hurt him to do so," I said, cringing at the memory. "And then when I was ten... he was gone."

  "Gone?" Shoot prompted.

  "Mom wouldn't tell me. She just said he was gone. When I was a little older, I looked him up in computer class. He died. Heart attack. His obituary said he was survived by his wife and two sons."

  "Aw, sweetheart," Shoot said, resting his hand over mine.

  "It's no big deal," I said, shaking my head. "But you... you really thought Lex was my dad? Why didn't you say something about it earlier?"

  "Didn't seem like a subject you'd want to talk about," Breaker shrugged. "How do you explain the name thing though, doll?" he persisted.

  "Honestly? I don't know. Mom was weird like that. Maybe she thought it would be... emp
owering? To use something ugly and make it something..."

  "Beautiful," Breaker supplied and I felt the word settle with a fluttering in my belly.

  "I guess," I said, ducking my head to cover the heat I felt in my cheeks.

  "Hey why don't we... call it a night?" Shooter cut in, sitting back. "It's late. We've all had a shit week. We're far enough out of town now that we won't be suspicious. So long as no one gets a look at her face," he said, wincing slightly as he looked at me.

  "It's that bad?"

  "You're still gorgeous," he said, smiling at me.

  "It's that bad," I said with a wry smile, shaking my head. I was still too wired to really feel it yet. Things had been so crazy for such a long time. I wasn't convinced I would come down until I got some sleep.

  Twenty or so minutes later, Breaker pulled the truck up to a small motel that looked reasonably less skeezy that Creepy Bob's motel. Breaker hopped out of the truck, going into the office with a wad of cash he had taken out of a safe in his house.

  I tried my best not to gawk at the sheer mass of money the two of them seemed to possess. In cash. I knew that the underground jobs paid well. And that Shooter and Breaker were apparently well known in their circles. But still.

  That was crazy.

  But then again, most days I barely had two nickels to rub together.

  "Alright," Breaker said, opening my door. "They only had one room with two queens," he said, looking regretful.

  I shrugged, hopping out to help him haul bags out of the bed of the truck. Shooter joined us and followed as we let ourselves into the room.

  And the inside was leaps and bounds better that Creepy Bob's. In fact, it looked recently redone. Fresh pale blue-gray paint on the walls, dark blue still plush looking comforters on the beds, a flatscreen, white curtains, new tile in the bathroom, unstained carpets.

  I took a deep breath, smiling a little. "I won't have to sleep sitting up here," I said out loud.

  "What?" Breaker asked, watching as I went into the bathroom.

  I flicked on the light, grimacing at my reflection. I had the start of a black eye, dried blood around my nostrils and in the cracks of my broken lip. I ran the water warm, dipping a washcloth, and gently wiping away the blood. "You saw Bob's place. No way was I lying down on one of those beds," I said to my reflection.