Saint: Dead Souls MC: Prospects #3

by Rylan, Savannah

  You know, shit a father should’ve taught his son.

  “Wine or whiskey?” Rodney asked.

  “Got any beer?” Bear asked.

  “Actually, I do,” Rodney said.

  My eyebrows rose. “That’s a first.”

  “I blame you for the taste of it. Had you not started me drinking it all those years ago, I probably would have never acquired the taste for it,” Rodney said.

  “Well, you gave me a lot. Least I could do was leave you with a bit of my culture,” I said, grinning.

  “Ah, the culture of a man fallen from grace,” Rodney said.

  I felt Bear’s eyes on me as I drew in a deep breath. It was a comment Rodney didn’t need to make, but I knew what he was doing. He always told me that if I wanted to find my second family, I needed to open up about my first. Trust them, so they could trust me. But, on the streets? I’d learned to trust no one. Never trust someone’s generosity, and never leave while still owing debt to someone.

  I leaned against the kitchen island as Rodney popped off the tops of the glass-bottled beers. He handed them out, then limped around and stood in front of Bear and me. He took a good look at us. Really raked his eyes over us, trying to get a handle on why we were there before he started asking questions.

  And while Rodney was a very successful and prominent “businessman,” I knew he’d never be able to peg this.

  “How can this guy help us again?” Bear murmured.

  I leaned into him, whispering as Rodney stared at us.

  “On the outside, he looks like a button-up citizen. But don’t let it fool you. He’s got his hands in lots of things. He might have information for us.”

  “Uh huh. And what does he want in exchange for this information?” Bear asked.

  “I don't know. Why don’t you ask him?” I asked.

  Rodney grinned at our antics as we straightened up, each of us taking a sip of our beers.

  “So, you’ve come for information about something. You know that requires an exchange, right?” Rodney asked.

  He looked at me a little too long, and I suddenly started getting uneasy.

  “Money? Or goods? Or actions?” Bear asked.

  “Depends on what the flavor of the month is,” Rodney asked.

  “Money or goods. We can do either,” I said.

  “No… actions?” Rodney asked.

  “Saint, we didn’t clear it with Diesel to do either,” Bear murmured.

  “Ah, Diesel. I haven’t seen him around for a while. How’s he doing?” Rodney asked.

  Bear paused. “You know Diesel?”

  “Of course, I do. Him and I went to grade school together. From time to time, we ride our bikes with one another. A few less high-speed trips after an accident left me with this fun little limp of mine. But I’d say twice a year we pack up our stuff, take a long weekend, and go north,” Rodney said.

  Bear slowly looked down at me as I continued to nurse my beer.

  “That how you got in with the crew? Rodney introduced you to Diesel?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes and down the rest of my beer, because I refused to answer questions like that. My past was my past, and how I wanted to deal with it was my business alone. No one else’s. I set my glass bottle down before swallowing hard one last time. I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself and center my mind. I got angry easily. And while I had tactics to cope with it—like getting tattooed and going on bike rides—sometimes it simply wasn’t enough.

  Then, once I had myself under control, I turned to face Rodney.

  “We need to know everything you might have heard about a mafia group in town. And we need it as quickly as you can get it to us. Because the life of one of our women is at stake,” I said.

  4

  Amberly

  I dabbed the warm washcloth against her cuts, cleaning the caked blood off her face. I ran the cool washcloths over the bruises and swelling she had against her skin, too. I tried my best to soothe her as we sat on the floor. The only light source we had was a flickering, faded, shadeless lamp sitting on the bedside table between the two double beds in the room. It was barely useful for casting shadows. But once my eyes adjusted, I saw better in the dark than I did in the light. That painful understanding reminded me of just how long I’d been with these guys. Just how long I’d been under their spell. Working as their slave while they held my son hostage.

  If my son was even still alive.

  Keep it together, Amberly. You have to stay strong for the new girl.

  “So, what’s your name?” I asked.

  “Sutton,” she said softly.

  I nodded my head slowly as I got up, needing to soak the washcloths again. I ran them under the necessary temperatures, thankful that this place at least had running hot water. The other two places I’d been in didn’t. Which made showers before my customers absolutely excruciating.

  Especially if those customers left marks of any sort. Because seizing muscles and trembling bodies didn’t make for a soothing environment for wounds.

  “Who are you?” Sutton asked.

  I shrugged as I wrung out the washcloths softly.

  “No one important,” I murmured.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asked.

  “A rundown motel somewhere in California, I believe.”

  “A motel? Who owns it? What’s its name?”

  I shrugged. “I guess whoever’s doing this to us. And I don't know the name. I just know this is both home and work.”

  “Work? What… what work?”

  “You really should rest that lip. The more talking you do, the more swollen it’ll become.”

  And the more unattractive it’ll be to your paying customers.

  I took the washcloths back and sat down in front of her. I gripped her chin softly, continuing to dab at her lip that wouldn't stop fucking bleeding. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I was doing here. Or what I meant by “work.” Because part of me was petrified that once I told her—once she figured out what she might be in for—she’d scream and claw her way out and they’d shoot her dead.

  And, selfishly enough, I hadn’t had a roommate like this before. Not in the—two, three, four—uh, six years I’d been working for these guys.

  The company was nice.

  Sutton kept staring at me. Analyzing me. Raking her eyes over me as I tried cleaning her up. I took her hands and led her to the bathroom, then told her to strip down as much as she was comfortable. A girl I had been thrown into a bedroom with did this exact same thing to me. She washed me down. Cleaned my wounds. Took care of my bruises. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

  Killed, sold, or owned. Or whatever it was that was bound to happen with me once my vagina wore out too much from my line of work.

  I was shocked when she obeyed. She put up very little fight about it, actually. Which had me worried as to what she’d already been through to get to this point. To get tossed into Satan’s lair with me. I ran a bath of hot water, treating her to a steaming, relaxing bath. Especially since I didn’t know where we’d be tomorrow.

  Or if we’d have running water at our new place.

  “Get in, and I’ll give you a few minutes to soak. Think. Generally, take everything in. Then, I’ll come in and wash your hair. Sound good?” I asked.

  Sutton sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Consider it common courtesy around here. It was done to me by the first person I met. She had it done to her by the first person she met. Just take it all in and appreciate it. Because things don’t always get this good around here.”

  I knew I was being harsh with her, but it was the only way I knew to be now. Harsh was what kept me alive. Harsh was what kept me emotionally removed. Harsh was what kept me from fearing the worst about my son. In the hands of Vlad. For three fucking years while I rotted away, unable to see anything but pictures and videos of my kiddo. My little man.

  My sweet, sweet boy.

  The locks on
the door were thrown and I rushed out. I closed the bathroom door, afraid that a customer was being thrown my way while Sutton was in the bath. I catapulted myself onto my assigned bed, fixing my hair and positioning myself on my knees. The way Vlad enjoyed it the most from the women he employed in his disgusting sex trade.

  “Got food for you,” the man grunted.

  I sighed with relief as I scrambled off the bed, rushing to catch the bags of food.

  He dropped them from his hands before shoving two large drinks against my chest. I tried steadying everything at once, but eventually dropped the food bags in favor of the drinks. Something other than the dirty tap water coming out of the sink faucet sounded like heaven. And apparently, the man liked watching me struggle. He chuckled as he closed the door, then the locks were thrown again.

  I waited until they were all locked before I made a move.

  “Everything okay?” Sutton asked.

  “Yep. Just got dinner. But don’t worry. We’ve got a microwave to heat it up in that works, I think,” I said.

  “What’s for dinner?”

  I squinted to read the name on the bag before I set the drinks down, too.

  “The place is called, ‘Del Mario’s,’” I said.

  “Wait, really?” Sutton asked.

  I sat down on the covered toilet, reaching for the cheap dollar store shampoo and conditioner I was afforded by these guys.

  “Mhm. Why?” I asked.

  “We’re still in Redding,” she whispered.

  “What was that?”

  “Redding. Redding, California. That’s where we are. But why didn’t he take me out of the city?”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  And before I knew it, the locks were thrown again as the door ripped open.

  “Hey! Sutton!” the man exclaimed.

  “What!?” Sutton snapped back.

  “Your father’ll be with you soon. So, I suggest you clean yourself up. You know how he hates dirty things,” the man said, chuckling.

  She shivered underneath my hands as I furrowed my brow. The hotel room door slammed shut, and I counted every single lock thrown. And once it came to five, I quirked an eyebrow at the girl underneath my soapy hands in the tub.

  “Who’s your father?” I asked softly.

  She sighed. “Lars Norden.”

  It felt like the rug had been ripped out from underneath my feet.

  “Wait. Wait, you—the—Bossman, Lars Norden?” I asked.

  She nodded slowly, and all hope drained from my system. I felt myself wobbling as my hands fell away from her hair, leaning against the back of the toilet. Holy shit, if the man who controlled this entire operation was doing this shit to his own daughter, then what the hell had that man done to my son?

  What was he currently doing to my son if Mason was even still alive?

  “Oh, my gosh,” I whispered.

  “Please, don’t hate me. I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I do know. But I don’t at the same time. All I know is that my father—”

  Her voice faded away as tears rushed my eyes. My mind pulled me back into my memories again, and I saw Mason lying in my arms as we swung on a porch swing. Vlad had many of them on the wraparound porch of his massive home back in Louisiana. At the time, I was in love with that man. He found me on the street. Took pity on me and showered me with affection. When we found out I was pregnant, he told me he’d stand by my side. Take care of me. Give me the entire world, so long as I listened to what he said. And I was more than willing to do it. I went from scrounging around on the streets to making love with a handsome Russian musclehead as a nightly sport. He fed me all the best foods. Treated me to all the nicest gala events. And the more my body grew and changed with my pregnancy, the more he worshipped me. The more he touched me. The more he cherished me.

  I leaned heavily against the toilet, remembering the last time things were good between me and Vlad. I held my three-month old Mason in my arms as I pushed off the porch with my feet, swinging us together as the summer breeze wrapped around us. I couldn't remember where we’d gone with Vlad at that point. Where we were or what state—or country—we were in. All I remember was gazing down into my sweet boy’s icy blue eyes and smiling.

  Because he had gotten his eyes from his father.

  You are my Mason. My only Mason. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, Mason, how much I love you.

  “Please don’t take my Mason away,” I whispered.

  “What was that?” Sutton asked.

  Her voice ripped me from my trance and I quickly wiped at my tears. I shoved my hands back into her hair, massaging her scalp as she bent over for me to massage her neck. I shampooed her hair. I ran conditioner through it. She had thick, gorgeous hair. Hair I once had, before I was thrown into sexual servitude for these people. My hair had fallen out over the years. Probably due to my diet, or lack thereof. And along with the weight I’d lost, I probably looked sickly. Not healthy with a tanned glow like this gorgeous girl did.

  I washed the conditioner out of her hair and finished washing her down. Then, I handed her a towel as she stood up.

  “Dinner’s ready whenever you want it,” I said softly.

  And after she wrapped herself up, I excused myself from the bathroom.

  Giving her the privacy she needed to shed those tears I’d seen in her eyes for the entire bath.

  5

  Saint

  “Are we not going to do proper introductions first?” Rodney asked.

  “You mean, when the lives of one of our girls is at stake?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Seems like the proper thing to do before I start divulging information.”

  “Just do it,” Bear murmured.

  I felt like a fish out of water in this nice beachside mansion, but Bear was right. Rodney had gone to great lengths to treat us like equals in this place. The least I could do is play this how he wanted. Even though I thought it was a gigantic waste of time. It pissed me off a bit, though. I wasn’t here for people to make friends with my past. I was here for information, and nothing else.

  Then again, Rodney had given me a lot over the years. Especially when he first found me.

  “Bear, this is Rodney Smith. I know him from way back, when I first got to California,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Bear said as he stuck out his hand.

  “Rodney, this is Bear. He’s a new guy, like me, with Diesel’s crew,” I said.

  Rodney took his hand. “I see why they call you Bear. Big, hairy, and mean-looking. But something tells me you’ve got a soft side, too. Yes?”

  Bear shook his hand, grinning. “For only one girl in my life.”

  “‘Atta, boy. That’s a good man right there. Never harden toward the woman you love,” Rodney said.

  “No, sir,” Bear said.

  I didn’t think I’d ever heard Bear be so cordial in all the time I’d fucking known him.

  “Now,” Rodney said as he released Bear’s hand, “how did one of your women get wrapped up in something dealing with the mafia?”

  “Rodney, she’s been gone for days. We really—”

  “It started when Diesel’s half-brother came stumbling up on our doorstep with his girl,” Bear said.

  Rodney’s eyebrows rose. “I need to call that man more often. Diesel’s got a brother?”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I nodded my head.

  “Yep. A half-brother named Cage. Same Dad, different Mom. His father, Patch, apparently tried starting up a crew in Nevada. The Night Outlaws. They got slaughtered by the mafia, and his father told him to find Diesel. The only issue is that the woman he brought along with him was the mafia man’s daughter,” I said.

  “Shit,” Rodney murmured.

  “Mhm. That’s what’s catapulted us into this mess. We vowed to protect them because Cage—that’s Diesel’s half-brother—is legitimate family. And Sutton—his woman—is the girl he loves. There was a shooto
ut in a diner when she was taken the first time—”

  “There was a first time?” Rodney asked.

  Bear nodded. “Mhm. He came after us personally because his daughter fled with Cage, apparently. She went willingly to spare us, and we went after her. Killed a bunch of them, or so we thought.”

  “Sutton, this girl? Her father survived. The man that’s the head of this mafia. And now, after laying low and trying to do this right, they ambushed us and she’s been taken again. This man is hellbent on killing this woman, and we aren’t having it. We need any information you can get. This man is ruthless, and for all we know—”

  “Don’t say it,” Bear warned.

  I sighed. “We just need to get to her sooner rather than later.”

  Rodney paused. “You know, there’s been some purchases around the outskirts of town that have me scratching my head. Mostly, because I was staring at them for a time. I’ve been thinking about getting into the hotel trade part-time. You know, spiffing up some of the rundown motels that sit around Redding. It’s a goldmine of money waiting to be scraped up, but no one’s taken care of them in years.”

  “Someone’s buying them up?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and fast. There are ten or eleven that surround the town, and I had my eye on three. But, so far, all three of those have been bought up. Plus two more, and all in the past six or seven weeks,” he said.

  “Saint,” Bear murmured.

  “I know. I know,” I said.

  “I take it that fits your timeline?” Rodney asked.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “Do these purchased motels have construction sites tacked onto them already?” I asked.

  Rodney narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “Rock was right,” Bear said, sighing.

  “Our recon tells us some shady organization has been purchasing up contract land. But we didn’t have the equipment or the time to pick it apart any more than that,” I said.