Savage (Spartan Watchmen MC #4)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

SAVANNAH

T his morning was rough. It was getting harder and harder to avoid Savage's direct line of questions. When he’d knocked on her door, she’d been happy to see him. After getting dressed, she’d hurried downstairs for a cup of coffee before leaving for work. Surprised to see a spread of food on the side buffet table that early, Savage explained many of the guys got up early for work. After filling a mug with coffee and a plate with a bagel and a couple of pieces of bacon, she’d sat across the table and avoided, to the best of her abilities, the questions being shot at her.

He'd been concerned about her ex coming to track her down and possibly putting her or the others at risk. But there was no violent ex-boyfriend. No, the people after her were far, far worse. He definitely wouldn't let her hang out with them if he knew. Shaking off the thoughts of Savage and the littles she'd become friends with, she smoothed her hands over her new housekeeping uniform and took a deep breath. Anxiety swirled in her stomach as she approached the doors of the side entrance of Mountain View Ski Resort.

The crisp mountain air felt good against the flush of her cheeks. She really liked this part of Colorado and if it wasn't for the reason she was here, she might have considered relocating. Grand Ridge was a quaint little town with nice people. Within twenty minutes there were three different ski resorts and an abundance of high-end hotels, surely, she could get a job in housekeeping at any of them. Although, maybe, when this was all over, she would set her goals higher. Her life had been split neatly in two halves. The before diagnosis and the after. Before her mom's cancer diagnosis, Savannah had finished her second year of college. She hadn't declared a major yet, focusing on her general education credits and getting a feel for college life. Now, if she were to go back, she'd go to nursing school. The doctors were important, yes, but it was the nurses that she and her mother had developed the closest relationships with. At the end of her mother's life, Gloria, the hospice nurse, had been nothing short of an angel on earth.

Putting her hand on the door, she gave herself a bit of a pep talk. "You've got this. It's just a job. A normal, everyday job." But it wasn't. Even as the words left her lips, Savannah knew they were far from true. Nothing about her situation was normal. The weight of her debt pressed heavily on her shoulders, becoming hard to carry.

As she started to push the door open, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

Savannah froze and slowly turned to face him.

Tim stood before her, dressed in jeans and a black hoodie. He looked like a disheveled college student, not at all like a professional. Definitely out of place among the cheerful ski resort guests and hurried employees.

"T-Tim," Savannah stammered. "What are you doing here?" She knew the answer to the question, in fact, she’d expected to see him at some point today, but not this early.

He glared at her. "Zeb told you to expect me. Come on, we need to talk."

Tim's hand clamped painfully down on Savannah's arm, steering her away from the entrance. As she stumbled alongside him, her heart pounding so quickly, she wondered if she was having a heart attack.

"Please," she begged. "I can't be late for my first day." She knew he appeared nonthreatening with his youthful appearance and informal clothes; it was part of his cover. The baby brother of a ruthless motorcycle club leader with cartel connections was anything but harmless.

"Oh, don't worry about being late," Tim replied, his grip tightening. "Your new boss is one of ours. We own this entire fucking resort. She won't mind if you're a few minutes late."

Savannah's mind raced, knowing Tim was going to want information. She thought about Savage, of Makenzie, of the friendships she'd started to form. How could she betray them? But, she remembered, she didn’t exactly have a choice.

"I haven't found out anything yet," she blurted, desperation coloring her voice. "It's only been a few days. I need more time."

Tim's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Time isn't a luxury you have, sweetheart. Zeb's getting impatient, and you know what happens when he loses his temper."

A chill ran down Savannah's spine that had nothing to do with the winter air. She blinked back tears, struggling to maintain her composure as Tim pulled her around the corner of the building, away from prying eyes.

Tim shoved Savannah against the cold brick wall, his face inches from hers. "Start talking," he demanded, leaning in close enough that his breath was hot on her cheek.

Savannah's heart pounded in her chest. She swallowed hard, her mind racing. She thought back to dinner, hoping to recall every bit of information she'd gathered. She’d already told this all to Zeb, why was it so important to tell it to Tim, too?

“I told Zeb last night–”

“I don’t give a fuck what you told Zeb last night. You might have forgotten a detail we could use. Tell me.”

"They... are going on a memorial ride out of town soon," she stammered. "Something about SEALs who died recently in combat."

Tim's eyes glinted. "Where? When?"

"I don't know exactly," Savannah lied, flinching as Tim's fist slammed into the wall beside her head. "But I can find out. They are all going, all the officers, at once."

She watched Tim's face, searching for any sign that this was enough. But his expression remained hard, unyielding.

"Are they taking their women with them?" he demanded.

Makenzie and Emilee's faces appeared in her mind, and she knew she couldn't put them in danger. What if Zeb knew they’d be there alone, with little protection? He could use that information to kidnap the girls or worse. So, she lied, again. "Yes. They are taking them all with them. Said they'd be good company for the family of the deceased SEALs."

Savannah's thoughts whirled. What else could she say without completely betraying the trust she'd begun to build? "There's... a barbecue and ride coming up, a social event. Most., if not all of the club will be there."

Tim nodded slowly. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "It's not enough, Savannah. We need more. Much more."

"What do you want from me?" Savannah cried, tears threatening to spill over. "I'm trying my best!"

"Your best isn't cutting it," Tim snarled. "You need to get closer to the Spartan Watchmen. Closer to Savage. Do whatever it takes."

Savannah's stomach churned at the implication. "But how? What information would even satisfy Zeb? If you told me what you were looking for, maybe I could try and find it. I mean I haven't seen anything about drugs or anything. I don't think they are into anything illegal..."

Tim's laugh was cold and cruel. "Oh, sweetheart. Nothing will ever truly satisfy them. But if you want to keep breathing and keep your niece alive, you'll find a way to make yourself useful. And here's a little secret for you, sweetheart. You're not the only one keeping tabs on The Spartan Watchmen for us."

Savannah's heart plummeted. Her eyes widened in shock, darting around the secluded area as if she could spot the other informants lurking in the shadows.

"Who else?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tim's laugh was hollow. "Now, now. Can't reveal all our cards, can we? Let's just say, my brother's got eyes and ears everywhere. The question is, are you going to prove yourself more valuable than the others? Who is going to bring us the information we need first? The other person is going to have to find another way to pay off their debts."

Savannah's mind raced. How many others were there? Friends she'd made, people she'd begun to trust – any of them could be working for The Rejects. The sense of isolation crashed over her in waves, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. She could not trust anyone. It could be the waitress at The Rusty Crab, a little she'd befriended, or even one of the club members.

"I... I will get you the information you need," she stammered, hating how weak she sounded.

"Prove it," Tim growled, pulling out his phone and tapping aggressively on the screen. "Watch carefully."

“Watch what?” she asked. Tim’s only answer was to shove the screen in front of her face. The video that played made her blood run cold. A middle-aged man, bloodied and bruised, was strapped to a chair. His screams pierced through the tiny phone speakers as unseen torturers demonstrated what happened to people who disobeyed them.

"No," Savannah whimpered, trying to look away. But Tim's hand gripped her chin, forcing her to watch.

Her stomach dropped as the camera panned over to show the rest of his ordinary-looking family. A woman, about the same age as the man, with two young children, tied to chairs in a dingy room. Their faces were streaked with tears and blood. A man, his face obscured by a ski mask, loomed over them, shouting in Spanish. Savannah’s Spanish was rusty, but she caught enough to understand. He was asking about money, about betrayal.

When the man swung a baseball bat into the father’s kneecap, the scream that erupted from the video made Savannah flinch. Her stomach churned violently, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out herself as the violence in front of her escalated. The children’s cries blended with their mother’s sobs. Hot tears fell down her own cheeks. She tried unsuccessfully to separate herself from the scene in front of her, to pretend it was all theatrics and not real.

She couldn’t watch anymore, but when she tried to look away, Tim forced her face back. He squeezed her jaw so hard, she briefly wondered what excuse she would give to Savage to explain away the mark. The video playing cut through any other thoughts forming in her head. She tried again to pretend it wasn’t real. What was on the screen couldn't be real. Right? These were actors.

As she watched, she knew the truth. These weren't actors. There were real people. Like her. Who got caught up into the dark web spun by devious spiders. Tricking their prey to move closer and closer until…

“Keep watching,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

“Tim, please," she sobbed, "I can't... I can't watch this… I’m going to be sick." Her pleas fell on deaf ears. He slapped her then, hard, across the face.

Tears blurred her vision as she forced her gaze back to the screen. It was relentless, brutal, and inescapable. Her entire body shook as she watched the torture unfold, each scream and whimper a stark reminder of what awaited her if she failed. By the time the video ended, Savannah was trembling so badly she thought her body might shake apart.

"This is what happens to those who betray us," he hissed. "This is what will happen if you go to the police or tell anyone else about this."

Tears streamed down Savannah's cheeks, leaving trails through her carefully applied makeup. She tried to close her eyes, block it out. But Tim was relentless, holding the phone and her face steady until the gruesome video ended. When he finally pulled it away, Savannah collapsed against the wall, her legs barely able to support her.

“That’s what we do,” he said quietly, but there was a razor-sharp edge to his voice. “That’s how we send messages. We make it crystal clear what will happen if you betray us. And if you don’t get me what I need, that’s exactly what’s going to happen to your sister and her little girl, while you watch. Then, we will torture you but let you live. Let you walk around with the image of them dying, screaming in pain, for the rest of your pathetic life.”

Savannah’s breath hitched, and her vision swam with unshed tears. “You’re lying,” she said, though her voice cracked with the effort of denial.

Tim’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Am I? You think they’re gonna show mercy just because they’re innocent? Because they’ve got nothing to do with this?” He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. “They’ll make you watch, Savannah. Every. Single. Second. Do you think the kids in the video had anything to do with their father's betrayal? Collateral damage.”

Panic clawed at her, making it hard to breathe. “I don’t have any more information,” she said, as she struggled to catch her breath.

“You’ll get it,” Tim shot back, his tone as hard as steel. “I don’t care how. Fuck the entire damn club if you have to. Don’t waste our time, Savannah. The clock’s ticking.”

Then he was gone, and she dropped to her knees, feeling sick to her stomach. She gagged violently and the bagel she’d eaten at the clubhouse resurfaced.