Savages Series Boxed Set

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Alright," I said, un-clenching my fists and releasing a breath that I had been holding so long that the fresh air I pulled in burned my lungs.

  "There's a gas station with an outside entrance to the bathroom down the block. Go and clean up. I'll grab you a shirt and meet you there."

  So that was what we did.

  Then we made our way back to my girl.

  The walk wasn't long, but it was long enough to give a man time to think.

  Like think about the fact that Elsie was just held at gunpoint by her sister who had somehow managed to overthrow Enzo and get hold of the Third Street loyalty. And, well, the bitch was cooking meth. Meth. Christ. On top of that, she had a busted face, raw arms and hands, and damage to her torso: busted ribs or maybe just some nasty bruising. It also didn't escape me that Enzo had been the one to diffuse things, saving Elsie, trying to get her off the ground. That meant something. Then him telling the Third Street guys that they were dead to him, yeah, that meant something too. And that 'something' needed some clarification as soon as fucking possible.

  But first, Elsie.

  I had barely come to a stop in front of her before her forehead landed in my chest and a wrecked-sounding sob tore from her, making a stabbing feeling sear through my gut. I let all the other shit fall away and held her until she worked through the first round of grief. First. I had watched my mom, sisters, and aunts enough in my life to know that, with women, their sadness came on them in waves. Days, weeks, months, years. Another wave could always come crashing. I had no doubt that Elsie was going to have more to go through in her near future.

  When I finally got her into the car and turned it over, the other thoughts came flooding back. I knew I needed to stay in the moment and give Elsie whatever she needed, but I couldn't fight the other things from crowding out everything else.

  I got her shuffled into a room and sat in the chair beside the bed, waiting for the doctor. She went for an x-ray of her ribs which weren't broken, just a little bruised. Her face would heal in its own time and I made a mental note to pick up more of the tattoo cover-up cream. Her hands and arms took the longest, a nurse painstakingly pulling clumps of dirt and gravel out of the dozens of blood-crusted cuts. Then she had medicine smeared on and her hands and arms wrapped up in gauze up to her elbows. She got a script for pain meds and instructions on treating her wounds at home. All said and done, she had gotten off relatively easy. But if you tried to tell that to the seemingly bottomless pit of rage inside me, nah. All I could see was her gorgeous face with a nasty bruise, a cut on her perfect lips, gauze all up and down her arms. All I could see was that some mother fucker put his hands on what was mine.

  It didn't matter that D would likely be eating through a tube for the next year. It didn't matter that his face would never look the same again.

  It wasn't enough.

  But then again, even if he had paid with his life, it never would have felt like enough.

  Because who I was really pissed at was myself. That shouldn't have been able to happen on my watch. My people did not get busted up. It didn't matter that I was out of the gang and had been for a long time, you didn't fuck with what was mine and that was how it was. But I had been too fucking wrapped up in spending time with her, getting to know her mind and her body that I hadn't done the most basic things to keep her safe. Like give her my God damn cell phone number. Instead of calling or texting me, she'd needed to drop a fucking pin and hope to hell that Barrett was paying attention. I hadn't given her mace or a self-defense key chain or taser like I had given my mom and sisters. I hadn't done shit.

  She was sitting on a hospital bed all bruised and battered with tear-stained cheeks and sad eyes because I dropped the ball. I had to live with that. And when she got some sleep, some food, some time to think things through, she would start to see that I didn't protect her. Then she would look at me differently. And I would have to learn to live with that too.

  The door opened and a middle-aged, graying, detective with a hangover of a waistline walked in, pen and pad already in his hands. I didn't have to ask for identification to know who he was.

  "Collings," I said, giving him a jerk of my head as his younger partner walked in behind him.

  "Paine," he said back, giving me a nod. "We have a couple questions for you, Miss Bay," he said, addressing Elsie, his face softening.

  "Sure," she said, giving him a small smile and avoiding looking at me.

  "Can you describe the man who attacked you today?" he asked.

  I felt myself tense. If she described him too well and he showed up in the hospital later and Collings clocked the cuts on my knuckles, yeah, things wouldn't go too well for me. But that was a problem for later. I sure as fuck wasn't going to ask her to lie to the police.

  Elsie shrugged a little. "Tall, but not super tall. A couple inches taller than me. I'm five-nine," she clarified as Collings nodded and wrote in his notepad. "Really built. Like... he had to have been using steroids to get muscles like that. He had on basketball shorts and a wifebeater. Nothing really distinctive about his features. Sorry..."

  She was being evasive. She wasn't outright lying, but she wasn't giving the full truth either.

  "Ethnicity?" Collings asked.

  "African American," she supplied.

  "Can you give us a plate number or partial plate number? Make or model of the car?"

  "I didn't get a plate number. My back was to the car and then I was... unconscious. And I'm great with new cars, but I don't know anything about older cars. It was older. Very squared, tan or gold... old enough that there was no release hatch in the trunk."

  "Okay," Collings said and I could see him mentally writing off the case. There wasn't enough to go on and we all knew it. True, Shane's security footage might eventually surface and then maybe D would be caught and sent away. But it was a long shot. It was something I needed to discuss with Elsie when she had a chance to process things; what did she want to do with the information? Did she want D in jail? Did she just want to let things stand? He wasn't a threat to her anymore, but if she needed him behind bars to feel safe, I would make that happen for her.

  "Put your hand on me one more time!" I heard a loud, booming, commanding voice outside the door demand.

  Don't tell me how I knew for sure who it was. Maybe it was the way Elsie stiffened, looking at once relieved, worried, and angry. Maybe it was the authoritative way he spoke, as if he wasn't used to anyone telling him what to do. Maybe it was just the most obvious explanation.

  Edward Bay had somehow gotten wind of his daughter being in the hospital.

  Not more than a couple seconds later, the door burst open, making the rookie cop stiffen and put his hand over his weapon. Collings simply slowly put away his notebook and pen and nodded at Elsie. "We'll be in contact, Miss Bay, if we hear anything." He nodded his head at Edward Bay as he passed. As he turned out the door, he caught my eye and gave me a look that I swear to fuck said he understood the situation and was leaving it up to me. Such was the way Collings, a twenty-something year member of the NBPD, handled business: let the streets handle their own shit until he absolutely needed to step in. He was clean. He didn't take bribes, but he understood the power balance in our town and he had no intentions of fucking with it.

  "How the fuck did this happen?" Edward Bay asked as he closed the door. There wasn't an ounce of softness in his form, not literally or figuratively. Meaning he kept himself in shape underneath his five-thousand dollar gray suit and had a personality that would make a fucking ice cube shiver.

  "Nice to see you too, Dad," Elsie said, her voice sounding suddenly exhausted, like the night's events had drained every last drop of energy from her. "This is Paine," she said, waving a bandaged hand in my direction. My head tilted at the guardedness of her tone, wondering where it came from, if she was reconsidering us as a couple because of all the shit that went down. Even if that was the case, it wasn't something we could talk about in front of her father so I let it drop, bu
t it stayed as a clawing feeling in my stomach.

  "Paine?" he repeated, turning to look at me.

  "Mr. Bay," I greeted him, tucking my hands behind my back, making it clear I had no intention of shaking his hand. I knew it was a slight and if the fire in his eyes was anything to go by, he took it as such.

  "Seriously, Elsie? Is this what this is all about? Why you've been so irrational lately? Blowing up at Sunday's dinner? Because of some itch you're getting scratched by some..." he trailed off, waving a hand dismissively.

  I expected her to shrink away, to let it drop. From all I could tell about their relationship, she always backed down, always cowered. That was what he raised her to do. But she didn't. She sat up straight which I knew sent a stab of pain through her body, but she was trying to stand her ground. "Some what, Dad? Where were you going with that?"

  "Drop it, Elsie," he commanded, voice frigid.

  "Were you going to say something about him having tattoos? About him not wearing a suit at all hours of the day? Or were you going to go deeper than that? Comment on the fact that he's not the right shade for me? Is that it?"

  I felt my brows go up. She was on a tear. Her entire body looked like it was vibrating with rage. And while a part of me was pleased that she wanted to stand up for me, the other part was wondering why she would be so livid over a little nothing comment.

  "I'm not a fucking racist, Elsie Ann," he barked and I honestly believed him.

  "Then what, Dad?"

  "You can do better," he answered simply.

  Maybe I should have bristled at that, but a part of me might have agreed with him a little. She did deserve someone who didn't keep company with people who could shoot people from a distance an eagle couldn't see from, who didn't have a brother who just got beat out of a street gang, who didn't lose his shit and nearly beat a man to death.

  "You don't even know him. You can't say that."

  "Fine," Edward conceded, turning slightly to me. "I will get to know you over Sunday dinner at my house then."

  "We can't. We have plans at Paine's mother's house this Sunday."

  "Sundays are mine."

  "Until you refused to talk about Elana being missing."

  "For the last God-damn time, Elsie, Elana is not missing."

  Elsie's head jerked back at the same time I felt myself stiffen. There was something in his tone, something off. Elsie's head tilted a little, her air rushing out on what was almost a sigh. "You knew, didn't you? You knew she was still in town."

  "Of course I knew," Edward said in a tone that suggested he was offended she might think he was in the dark about anything.

  "Did you know what she was up to? Did you know she stole from Rhett and Roman? Did you know she was taking over a street gang and cooking meth?"

  "This is family business," Edward said, giving Elsie a look that was meant to make her drop it.

  "You knew. You knew all of that. Oh my God," Elsie groaned, looking down to her lap and shaking her head. "And you just let me worry myself sick over it."

  "I told you to drop it."

  "And I thought you were being an unfeeling asshole!" she shrieked, making my brows raise and her father actually falter back a step in surprise. "God what a shitty family it turns out I have, huh?" she asked, looking over at me, but all I saw was pain there.

  "Baby, I don't think this is the time or place for this. You've had a rough night. You're tired. Let's just let this go for right now."

  "Tuesday night," Edward said to her, but also to me as well, then turned and left the room. No hug for his daughter. No hoping she felt better soon. No offer to be a call away should she need anything.

  I wondered how Elsie came out of his house as she did. She was warm and sweet and affectionate. Even when she was riled, she didn't pull that holier-than-thou attitude her father wore like a shield. Was it her sister that pulled her through? Those two had definitely seemed like they'd had a strong bond if the way she had spoken about her was anything to go by. If that was the case, she must be especially hurting to have had that bond ripped from her a couple hours ago.

  She still had Roman though.

  As much as I wasn't exactly thrilled about her best friend being a guy who was admittedly in love with her, I understood the situation. I trusted her. I didn't need to trust him. And he was good for her. They had history. He was like family to her. Now, with her sister gone and her and her dad on the outs, she needed that more than ever.

  Granted, I planned on sharing my crazy family with her: my mom, sisters, aunts, grandmother, as well as Breaker, Alex, Shooter, and Amelia. But I knew that wasn't the same, at least not at first. Maybe down the road she could see them that way.

  Christ.

  Was I really thinking things like 'down the road'? With regard to a woman?

  Seemed like I was.

  A couple minutes later, the door slowly opened and into the doorway stepped Roman, as if my musings about him had somehow summoned him. He had on slate gray slacks and a deep blue dress shirt, his hair mussed like he had been raking his hands through it. And, judging by the tightness of concern around his eyes, I imagined that was exactly what had happened.

  "Else..." he exhaled her name as he looked at her.

  Elsie looked up, a strange, humorless smile on her lips. "Let me guess... Dad called you."

  "Else, why didn't you call me?" he asked, looking like he wanted to cross to her, but either my presence or her uncharacteristic coolness was keeping him just inside the door.

  "It's late," she went with, though we all knew what a bullshit excuse that was.

  "Hey, babygirl," I called and she looked over at me and, if I wasn't mistaken, it was almost reluctantly. What the fuck was that about? "I'm gonna go to the hospital pharmacy and fill your scripts. You guys talk. I'll be back in twenty."

  Walking past, I clamped a hand down on Roman's shoulder. His head turned to me and I could see he understood the meaning: figure out what is wrong with our girl.

  With that, I took the scripts and headed toward the pharmacy.

  When I got back the promised twenty minutes later, Rome was on the bed beside Elsie, his hand on her knee. She was curled slightly into herself, but had rested her head on his arm. When she looked up, she seemed almost shocked to see me. Feeling unsure, and not liking it one bit, I held up the bag, shaking it slightly so the pills jiggled in their containers.

  "They discharged her," Roman provided, releasing her knee and moving to stand. "Talk to you for a minute?" he asked, but it was a demand seeing as he moved past me and out the door.

  "Here, baby," I said, handing her the bag before following Roman out.

  "What's up?" I asked as the door clicked closed.

  He moved a couple steps down the hall so, presumably, Elsie wouldn't hear us. "She thinks you're going to dump her."

  "What?" I said, a little too loudly seeing as two nurses across from us at the desk jumped. I gave them an apologetic smile then turned back to Roman. "Say that again."

  "She said you're being weird and she thinks this was too much, too soon for your relationship and she was pretty sure that when you left to go get her meds that you were just saying that and weren't going to come back."

  "Fuck," I sighed, running a hand down my face. That explained it. She was being distant and quiet because she didn't want to lean on someone she thought was going to try to shrug her off. "Did she tell you everything that happened tonight?"

  "Pretty much word-for-word. Can't believe Elana stole from me."

  "Elana stole from you?" I asked, brows drawing together.

  Roman snorted a little. "Guess she hasn't filled you in on all the juicy details yet. I had a shipment of cold medicine go missing a little while..."

  "Got it," I said, nodding. Didn't need more than that. Any idiot could see they were cooking meth in that warehouse. And everyone knew the main ingredient in meth was pseudoephedrine which was what you found in cold medicine. "Christ..."

  "Yeah. So you need to ge
t your ass back in there and make it clear you aren't leaving her. If I get so much as a whiff of you not doing what you should be doing to get her through this, I have no problem stepping back in. She deserves someone who will treat her right."

  "I feel you," I said, nodding. Maybe a lesser man would have been pissed. He had outright just declared that if I slipped up, he planned on stealing my woman out from under me. But, that being said, no woman could be stolen if she was being treated right. So if I ever lost Elsie to Roman or any other man for that matter, it was my own fault. I had no right to be angry that someone else picked up what I had put down.

  "Good. Now go get her home. She won't say it, but she's hurting and she needs sleep."

  "You're a good man, Rome. I'm glad she has you in her life," I said. And I was. I hoped to fuck there were more men like him out there, men my sisters could come across and settle down with, men who would do the right thing even when there was nothing in it for them.

  Rome nodded and turned away and I felt a small stab of regret for being a dick to him that night he admitted he loved Elsie.

  But I didn't have time for that.

  I had to get my woman home and show her that I had no intentions of going anywhere anytime soon.

  NINETEEN

  Elsie

  "Really, I can undress myself," I said, wiggling out of his hands.

  Okay.

  I didn't know if it was something Roman said to him or what, but the second he stepped back into my hospital room, whatever tension and distance I had sensed in him was gone. Evaporated. I almost started to question if it had ever been there at all, if it was just a figment of my over-fried brain.

  He'd sat down on the bed beside me, slipping an arm around my lower back, then one under my legs, pulling them gently until they went over his thighs and the good side of my face rested against his chest. His lips pressed down on the top of my head and his arms wrapped me up.

  "They probably want this room emptied," I said a couple of minutes later of us doing nothing but sitting there cuddling in silence.