Savage (Spartan Watchmen MC #4)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

SAVAGE

T he Spartan Watchmen clubhouse buzzed with activity as Savage leaned against the bar, scanning the room as he always did. Part of his role in the club was to keep order and enforce the rules. There were very few incidents where things started to get out of control at the clubhouse, and zero incidents where it had reached chaos. He took his job seriously, if someone looked like they’ve had a few too many, he’d cut them off quickly. If two members started having words, he’d make them take it outside.

After getting out of the military, he traveled around doing security jobs. He ended up working for Spartan Elite with his good friend Hunter for a while before he met Rider on a job. Rider, noticing Savage’s motorcycle, told him about Valhalla and the town of Grand Ridge and introduced him to Mad Dog. It took one ride to know this was where he belonged. He’d saved up enough money investing during his military career. Between the large savings accounts, investments, his veteran’s disability and his military retirement pay, he wasn’t hurting for money.

The Watchmen gave him a new purpose. Occasionally, Hunter would call, and he’d take a security job, but for the most part, he’d made his life the club and protecting Grand Ridge, serving as a reserve police officer for the town.

He took a drink of his coffee and put down the mug. “Hey, Irish,” Savage called out, approaching where his good friend sat. “You remember the new girl at the playdate last night? Savannah?”

Irish raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, I remember her. Why do you ask?”

Savage shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just curious.”

Emilee, who was chatting with Makenzie next to him, perked up at the mention of Savannah's name. “Oh, that poor, sweet thing,” she said, her voice tinged with concern.

Savage's interest piqued, his muscles tensing involuntarily. “What do you mean by that?”

Makenzie leaned in; her voice lowered. “She lost her mom recently. And she's been staying at that run-down motel on the edge of town. She’s trying to start over fresh somewhere without the pain of memories, from what I gathered last night. She was quiet but we got her to open up a little bit.”

Emilee nodded; her eyes wide with worry. “The motel she’s staying at is not a good place for anyone to be alone in. Especially someone as sweet as Savannah. I was going to offer to let her stay with us last night, but as soon as I started to, she cut me off. I understood why she might not be comfortable staying with a stranger she met at a BDSM club. She’d only met me once after all.”

Savage's jaw clenched, his protective instincts flaring. He imagined Savannah, vulnerable and alone in that seedy motel, and something inside him twisted painfully. Even though it wasn’t inside of Grand Ridge, the location was too close for comfort for not only The Watchmen but also his close friends on Valhalla.

He knew what kind of illegal and depraved behaviors occurred there. The club had dealt with more than one lowlife trying to sneak their crimes into Grand Ridge using the motel for an operation center. Phantom and Lucky were working together to get it closed down, they’d even offered to purchase it, offering way more than the value. Although they didn't know who owned it, the owner of the shell corporation refused their offer flat out. They’d tried having the health department close it down, but that hadn’t worked either. Because it was outside of town limits, Grand Ridge PD didn’t have a dog in the fight.

“She is starting a new job and she’s definitely not happy about it,” Emilee continued.

“How do you know all this?” Savage asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Emilee fiddled with the zipper of her sleeper, a habit she often fell into when discussing serious matters. She looked adorable in her adult sized pajamas and Savage softened his tone. “Sorry, sweet girl. How do you know this?” He asked again, gentler.

She smiled widely at him. “She told us when we were playing last night, Uncle Sav.”

“‘Savvy seemed super guarded, but Emilee and I have been texting with her today,” Mackenzie said. “We will get her to open up!”

Savage's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information from the girls. Savannah’s mother died, she was starting over in Grand Ridge, living in a crime filled motel and beginning a job she already didn’t like. Grand Ridge was a great place to start over, but not in the way she was going about it. He couldn't shake the image of her bright smile at the playdate last night, a stark contrast to the picture Emilee and Makenzie were painting of her now.

“What has she been talking about today?” Savage asked. “Anything important I should know?”

Arrow, who had been silently observing the conversation, spoke up. “From what I understand, even texting she's not exactly forthcoming. Seems like she's got some walls up. She answers mostly yes and no. Although she seems sweet enough.”

Savage nodded, understanding all too well the need for self-protection. But something about Savannah's situation nagged at him, refusing to let go.

“Maybe I should pay her a visit,” Savage mused, more to himself than the others. “She shouldn’t be alone in town. What kind of impression would that make?”

Irish chuckled. “Since when did you become the welcoming committee, Savage?”

Savage shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. “Just looking out.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Savage knew it was more than that. The memory of Savannah's laughter, the sparkle in her eyes during the playdate, had left an indelible mark on him. And now, knowing she was alone and struggling, awakened a fierce desire to protect her.

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Savage found himself lost in thought, strategizing his next move. He couldn't explain the pull he felt towards Savannah, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't about to walk away without at least knowing if she felt the same chemistry between them. Mind made up, he said goodbye to his friends and left the clubhouse.

His fingers drummed against the worn leather of his motorcycle seat as he pulled into the Sundown Motel's cracked parking lot. The neon sign flickered weakly, half its letters burnt out, casting an eerie glow across the dilapidated building. Whoever the owner was, he didn’t care about the upkeep of the building. There had to be another reason for him to keep the place open. Something, he knew, that was likely illegal. A tax write off? A place to launder money? Whatever it was, it wasn’t safe for Savannah.

“Damn,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he surveyed the scene. It’d gotten even worse than he’d remembered. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that had driven him here. The conversation at the clubhouse replayed in his mind, Emilee's worried voice echoing, she's been through so much, Savage. And now she's all alone.

Savage swung his leg over his bike, boots crunching on broken asphalt. His eyes darted around, cataloging potential threats – a habit ingrained from years of military service and life in the MC. A rusty pickup with no plates, shadowy figures lurking near the ice machine, the unmistakable scent of pot wafting from an open window. Although legal in Colorado, the smell indicated that it was the cheap stuff.

“What the hell am I doing here?” he growled to himself, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. This wasn't like him, acting on impulse, letting his guard down for a woman he barely knew.

But as he approached the dingy stairs leading to the second floor, Savage couldn't deny the urgency coursing through him. Something about Savannah had wormed its way past his defenses, awakening his protective instinct.

He paused at the foot of the stairs. Should he do this? Would she be upset when he just showed up without calling?

“You're getting soft, old man,” he chided himself. But even as the words formed, he knew he couldn't turn back now. Whatever Savannah was running from, whatever secrets she held, Savage was determined to uncover the truth—and keep her safe in the process.

Savage's knuckles rapped against the peeling paint of room 217. He saw Savannah's car parked outside and observed that the room below was empty; its open curtains provided him with a view inside. He’d knock on every damn door in the place to find her but hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He sighed a breath of relief when the door opened, and Savannah stood there, wide-eyed and vulnerable, clad in black leggings and an oversized Care Bear shirt.

Her hair was draped over her shoulder in a single side braid, wisps escaping to frame her face. Relief quickly washed over her face, replacing the initial look of terror. What was that about? Who did she think was at her door, and why did the thought terrify her?

The sight of her standing there, looking incredibly vulnerable and little, stirred something primal in Savage. This was his woman. He knew it to his core.

“Savage?” Savannah's voice wavered, a mix of surprise and apprehension. “W-w-what are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how imposing he must look. “Just checking in. Mind if I come in?”

Savannah hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the door. “I... I guess so,” she finally murmured, stepping aside.

As Savage entered, he couldn't help but notice how small she looked in the dim motel room. His gaze swept over her, cataloging the details – the dark circles under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands. Worry pricked at him. She wasn’t sleeping. He wanted to pick her up and take her back to his house, feed her a good meal, and put her down for a nap. But he couldn’t Daddy her. She wasn’t his. Not yet anyway.

“Nice shirt,” he commented, trying to ease the tension.

Savannah glanced down at her chest and then the beginning of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Thanks. It's my armor against the monsters under the bed. You know there’s nothing the Care Bear Stare can’t scare away,” she said with a giggle.

Savage's eyebrow quirked. “Monsters, huh? Slaying monsters just so happens to be my job description.”

“Oh?” Savannah's voice held a hint of challenge. “And what makes you qualified for monster-slaying?”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Years of practice. But I'm more interested in what kind of monster is chasing after you, Savannah.”

Her smile faltered, eyes darting away. “Who says someone's chasing me?”

“Sweetheart,” Savage said softly, “I've seen that look before.” After retiring from the SEALs, he’d worked for Spartan Elite. He hadn’t taken any jobs since being shot in the spleen. The surgeon repaired the damage, but he’d taken it slow since. He’d rescued too many women with the same terrified look that Savannah wore when she’d hesitantly opened the door.

Her gaze snapped back to his, a flicker of recognition passing between them. For a moment, Savage glimpsed the little girl beneath her steel exterior, and it only intrigued him more.

“Maybe, I’m not running from anything. Maybe, I just like the ambiance,” she quipped, gesturing to the shabby room. “Maybe I’m on a much-needed vacation.”

Savage couldn't help but chuckle. “Yeah, nothing says vacation like questionable stains and paper-thin walls.”

As they bantered, Savage felt the tension in the room shift. Savannah's shoulders relaxed incrementally. As he watched her, a multitude of thoughts went through his head.

What are you hiding, little girl? And why do I feel this overwhelming need to shield you from whatever it is?

“Listen, I’m starving. How about we grab some lunch at The Rusty Crab? It's a decent place, great food. We could talk more... get to know each other better.”

Savannah's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and wariness crossing her face. She bit her lower lip, clearly conflicted. “I... I don't know if that's a good idea,” she murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her oversized shirt.

Savage sensed her hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and reassuring. “No pressure, sweetheart. Just lunch. I promise I won't bite... unless you ask nicely.” He winked, trying to lighten the mood.

A small laugh escaped Savannah's lips, but her eyes still held uncertainty. “You're persistent, aren't you? Not used to being told no.” It was a statement, not a question. She was definitely observant.

“There are many things I am good at, little girl. Being told no isn’t one of them,” Savage replied with a half-smile. He watched as she wrestled with her decision, noting the way her eyes darted to the dingy motel room behind her.

After a minute, Savannah nodded slowly. “Okay... just lunch.”

Relief washed over Savage, though he kept his expression neutral. “Great. I'll wait here while you get ready.”

Twenty minutes later, they were seated in a cozy booth at The Rusty Crab. Savage greeted his good friend Corky and waved at Delilah.

“Do you know everyone?” Savannah asked.

Savage watched as her eyes darted around the room, taking in every exit and potential threat. It was a behavior he recognized all too well from his own experiences.

What was she afraid of? Or rather, who?

“Corky is a veteran like I am. Delilah is my good buddy, Tank’s woman. She’s one of the kindest people you will meet.”

“I think I saw her come in at the playdate. I remember her pretty blue and white checkered dress. She reminded me of Dorothy from Wizard of Oz,” Savannah said. “Is she a- a- uh…”

Interesting.

Savannah wasn’t comfortable saying the word, little, out loud.

“The monthly playdate event at The Citadel is only open for those who identify as a little or middle on their membership forms. The littles invite caretakers and friends. Only those with an invitation are allowed in.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her lap.

Savage wondered at her reaction. She should have known that. All members were required to attend the club’s orientation program. Perhaps she spaced out during parts of it. It wouldn’t be the first time. They threw a lot of information at new members, quickly.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “what are you hungry for? I'm thinking I’ll probably get the Philly cheesesteak and onion rings. It’s one of my favorite items on the menu.”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Are they still serving breakfast?”

Delilah, who’d just approached and placed glasses of ice water in front of them, smiled warmly at her. “We serve breakfast all day and the chocolate chip pancakes are the best!”

Savage leaned forward. “You can have the chocolate chip pancakes, baby girl, but only if you get a side of fruit and some protein to go along with them.”

She adorably fidgeted with the hem of her oversized Care Bear shirt, as she glanced around the restaurant.

“No one heard me, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You, uh, didn’t.”

“Then how about it? Does that sound good to you?” When she nodded, he ordered for both of them, adding a large glass of milk and a side of crispy bacon to her pancakes and fruit. Once Delilah walked away, he leaned back and smiled warmly at her.

“Em and Mak really enjoyed getting to know you last night. But they hogged your attention, and I didn’t get to spend nearly as much time with you as they did. What brought you to Grand Ridge? We’re a small town off the beaten path. We don’t get a lot of newcomers unless they know someone here.”

She tensed visibly, her fingers tightening around her glass of water. “Oh, you know... just needed a change of scenery,” she replied, her voice airy, but her eyes guarded.

Savage nodded, choosing to not push further, yet. Her mom had just passed, the grief was likely very fresh for her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she couldn’t talk about it yet. “I get that. Sometimes a fresh start is exactly what we all need. I came here for a fresh start too.”

Their food arrived, and Savage took the opportunity to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Ever hear of the Spartan Watchmen?” he asked casually, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Savannah shook her head. “Not really, I mean, the girls mentioned their Daddies were officers in the motorcycle club but outside of that, I don’t know much. Mostly what I know about motorcycle clubs come from television shows.”

“We are a motorcycle club,” Savage explained, watching her reaction carefully. “But not your typical MC, not like what you've seen. Hollywood has a way of spinning things completely out of the realm of reality. Spartan Watchmen is made up of former-special forces operators, dedicated to protecting and to giving back to the community. We host a lot of charity rides, raising money for other veterans and their families.”

“That sounds... noble,” Savannah said. “How did you get involved in it?”

Savage's jaw clenched briefly, old memories surfacing. “After my last tour, when I retired out of the military, I was lost. I traveled around, trying to find the same feeling I’d had in the SEALs. The brotherhood. The adrenaline. I reached out to my good friend Hunter who owns a private security firm. I ran a few jobs for him. On one of the jobs, I met Rider. Rider lives here in Grand Ridge. He owns a branch of Spartan Elite. After dinner, we walked out to the parking lot, and he saw my bike. He knew The Watchmen were riding for a good purpose, joining up with Bikers Against Child Abuse and connected me to Mad Dog, one of the club members. I stayed with them and, like they say, the rest was history. The club has given me purpose, a family.” He paused, his eyes meeting hers. “Sometimes, family is blood, other times family is what you make it.”

Savannah's gaze dropped to her plate, and Savage caught a glimpse of longing in her expression before she quickly masked it.

“And what about you?” he prodded gently. “Any family nearby?”

Her shoulders tensed, and she shook her head quickly. “No, it's just me,” she replied, her voice tight.

Savage's instincts flared. There was more to her story, something she was desperately trying to hide. But as he opened his mouth to ask another question, Savannah suddenly brightened, her dimple appearing as she forced a smile.

“Tell me more about the charities you work with,” she said, clearly deflecting. “It must be rewarding to help others.”

Savage played along, describing their various community projects, all the while noting how Savannah relaxed as the focus shifted away from her.

He leaned back in his chair, studying Savannah's face as she finished the last bite of her meal. Her green eyes darted around the restaurant, never quite settling, like a cornered animal looking for an escape route.

“Listen, Savannah,” he said, his voice low and serious. “That motel you're staying at... it's not safe. I've got a proposition for you.”

Savannah tensed, her fingers tightening around her fork. “What kind of proposition?”

“Every officer in the club has a room at the clubhouse with an attached full bathroom. Why don't you stay in my room for a while? Just until you get back on your feet. I have my own house; I won’t be staying with you in it or anything like that. And, if I’m on duty, I can stay in one of the two we have for guests.”

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and wariness crossing her features. “I... I couldn't impose like that,” she stammered.

Savage leaned forward. “It's not an imposition. It's what we do. We look out for people who need help.”

Savannah bit her lower lip, conflict evident in her expression. “I don't know… I don’t need help. I’m fine where I am at.”

“Look, no strings attached,” Savage assured her. “You'd have your own space, and you'd be safe. That's all I'm offering. Just, think about it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “I’m full. Thanks for bringing me to lunch, but I’m going to go now.” After a quick struggle over him paying the bill, before she finally caved, she turned and left.

Savage didn’t want to let her go but also couldn’t think of a good reason to keep her there. After she left, Savage remained at the table, lost in thought. He barely noticed when Delilah approached.

“Refill?” she asked, her weathered face creased with a knowing smile.

Savage nodded, pushing his cup towards her. “Thanks, Delilah. What did you think about Savannah?”

Delilah's expression turned serious as she poured. “That girl? She reminds me of others I've seen come through here. Running from something... or someone.”

Savage's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Delilah sighed, setting down the coffee pot. “I've seen that look before, Savage. The way she carries herself, always on edge. I'd bet my last dollar she's running from a violent man.”

Savage felt his fists clench involuntarily. “You sure about that?”

“As sure as I can be without her saying it outright,” Delilah replied. “Trust me, I've seen it enough times to recognize the signs. She’s definitely running away from someone or something. An abusive father or boyfriend? More than likely. A narcissist who is abusing and threatening her. That girl's in trouble, mark my words. Maybe talk to Kayla. She’ll have some insight into what it’s like to run away from a dangerous man.” Kayla, Mad Dog’s fiancée, had some trouble with an ex herself.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I knew something was off, but I didn't want to push her.”

Delilah placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing by offering her a safe place. That's more than most would do.”

Savage nodded. “I’d feel better if she’d taken me up on the offer.” Images of Savannah's guarded expressions and nervous glances flashed through his memory. “I've seen too many good people get hurt,” he growled, more to himself than to Delilah. “I won't let that happen to her.”

“Just be careful,” Delilah warned. “Women in her situation... they're like wounded animals. One wrong move and they'll bolt. If it is domestic violence. Not to mention, in DV situations, the most dangerous time for the victim is when they get up the courage to leave their abuser. If she did leave a bad relationship…”

Savage's eyes narrowed. “I know how to handle delicate situations, Delilah. I've been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have,” she replied softly. “But this isn't a battlefield. No one is shooting at you. This war is for a woman's heart.”