Chapter 3
“I bought some new laundry detergent,” Agnes said. “And some dryer sheets.”
The middle-aged woman who owned the motel handed me the key to the laundry room.
“Thanks.”
When I’d shown up at the motel in the middle of the night scared and alone, Agnes hadn’t asked questions, and more importantly she hadn’t demanded to see my ID. She’d just looked me over, paused for a moment to take me in, and then given me a key to a room.
She was the closest thing I had to a friend.
“Are you sleeping okay?” she asked as her prematurely wrinkled brow furrowed. “You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
I hadn’t been sleeping well. Every sound jarred me awake. And in those hazy moments where I was neither asleep nor awake, my mind drifted to Savage.
It had been three days since the taco truck incident, and I’d spent more time than I wanted thinking about him.
“How’s the fighting ring working out for you?” she asked.
“It’s working out well,” I admitted. “Thanks for vouching for me.”
Agnes had been my contact for getting me a job at the fighting ring. Because fighters stayed at her motel, she had a direct line of communication to the owner.
“I think I need something else, part time and during the day,” I stated. “There are only a few fights a week. I have way too much time on my hands not to have a second job.”
Way too much time on my hands to think.
“You’ll have to commute into the city,” she said. “I’d hire you here, but I’m not busy enough to warrant another employee.”
“I get it.” I lifted the laundry basket off the floor. “You’ve done more than enough for me already and I appreciate it.”
“I’ll keep my ears to the ground and let you know if I hear about any jobs you might want.”
“Thanks.”
Agnes surveyed me. “I didn’t say anything . . . but I saw you that night. You came home from the fight a lot earlier than I expected.”
“Oh, yeah, they let me go early.”
Her brow furrowed. “You sure that’s all there is to the story?”
I chewed on my lip. I was dying to talk to someone about Savage. “One of the fighters, the one who won . . . he wanted me to go home with him.”
“I see,” Agnes murmured.
“So I skipped out of there as fast as I could before the night was over, only . . .”
“Go on.”
“I ran into him a few days ago at the taco truck you suggested.”
“That seems . . . I don’t know what that seems. Was he mad that you ditched him?”
I shook my head. “No. He wanted to take me out. I said no.”
“Smart. You don’t want to get involved with someone who fights in an illegal fighting ring.”
“Or who’s in a motorcycle club,” I blurted out.
Her eyes widened. “Definitely not. Steer clear of bikers like the plague.”
“I plan to.”
The crowd was unusually rowdy. The first fight of the night started late, giving people more time to drink. Beer and annoyance flowed in equal measure.
I’d already made three trips back to the bar with an empty tray. Unfortunately, I had to wait because Roxy and Daisy were four people deep.
Frustration poured through me.
I’d been part time job hunting all day before I’d even shown up. Baristas and boutique associates were paid next to nothing and then managers had the audacity to sneer at me when I told them I didn’t have any experience. Not to mention, they wanted to see my ID. Working under the table afforded me anonymity. No one asked questions.
“Sorry, sugar,” Daisy said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Let me pour you some pints.”
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.
She quickly filled the plastic cups and set them on my tray. I swept away from the bar and dove into the swarm of people.
Sweaty bodies brushed against me; there was no hope of dodging them. My tray of beers went quickly. I had one drink left when someone bumped into me, careening me into a tall, meaty man. The last pint of beer on the tray tipped over awkwardly, dousing both of us in ice cold liquid.
“What the fuck!” He spun toward me, his cheeks flushed with anger and booze. “You stupid bitch!”
“I’m sorry,” I babbled. “It’s tight in here and someone?—”
“I don’t fucking care!” He reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing it in his strong grip.
A cry of pain spilled from my lips.
“I know how you can make it up to me.” He tugged me closer. “Fuck the fight. I’d rather party with you. Let’s get out of here.”
Bile swirled in my stomach, and I was in danger of throwing up. I covered my mouth just as I saw a fist collide with the man’s jaw.
He instantly released me and put up his hands to defend himself.
I tried to step back to get away from the violence, but there was nowhere to turn. A throng of on-lookers were watching the makeshift fight while they waited for the real one to commence.
“You don’t treat women like they’re whores, and you never fucking touch them!”
I froze in my spot; I recognized that voice.
Savage punched the man again, knocking several teeth out this time, but that didn’t stop Savage. In fact, it seemed to invigorate him. He pummeled the man until he fell to the ground, and when he put his hands in front of his face to block Savage’s blows, Savage just punched right through his hands, battering him until he went limp.
The scent of blood filled the air, which only made my nausea worse.
Savage put a heavy leather boot to the man’s throat and pressed.
“Savage!” I yelled.
It seemed to take all of Savage’s force to turn and look at me, but he finally did. His blue eyes were bright, almost maniacal.
“Savage,” I said again, this time a little softer.
The man on the ground gurgled as Savage refused to move his boot. I was sure Savage was about to crush his windpipe, but suddenly he lifted his foot.
“Get the fuck out of here, and don’t ever come back. If I see you again, you’ll be begging for treatment like this. This wasn’t even a goddamned warm-up for me.”
The man’s friends helped him off the ground.
“What the fuck is going on?” Stu, the floor manager for the evening, elbowed his way through the crowd until he was at the center of the commotion.
“The bitch spilled beer on him and then that guy beat his ass,” the meaty man’s friend said, flinging his hand in the direction of Savage. “We were just trying to have a good time. What the fuck?”
Stu looked at Savage and then at me. “You’re fired, Evie.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” I cried.
“We save the drama for the ring,” Stu said. He looked at Savage. “If you didn’t bring such a crowd with you, I’d make sure you never came back either. Evie, get out.”
“Come on,” Savage said, reaching his hand out for me.
“Leave me alone,” I snapped, whirling and darting through the crowd. It was thick and soupy, and Savage’s impromptu fight agitated the already excited throng. They were hungry for more blood.
“Evie, wait!” Savage called out.
I got to the back exit and flung the door open, stepping into the dark night.
His heavy boots clomped behind me. “Let me take you home.”
I turned to face him. “You got me fired! You’re not even supposed to be here tonight!”
“I came to watch the fights.” His expression darkened. “I saw him grab you. I saw the fear in your eyes. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Not protect you?”
“I’m not yours to protect! And I was handling it.”
“Handling it?” He took a step closer to me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
I instinctively stepped back.
My movement penetrated his anger, and he immediately halted. His fists slowly uncurled. “You weren’t handling it. That guy was manhandling you. Not to mention he’s over a hundred pounds heavier than you. He was drunk, and he didn’t look like the type to take no for an answer.”
Everything he said was true—but still. He’d cost me my job. A cash job that paid well.
“Where else am I going to get a job that pays under the table?” I asked brokenly.
“I can get you another job,” he said, taking a tentative step toward me again. “At one of the bars my club owns. You’d be under our protection. No one would think to touch you, or they’d answer to me.”
When I didn’t move, he took a step toward me, and then another, until he was close enough to put his hands on my shoulders.
“I can’t work at a bar,” I stated. “I’m only twenty years old, Savage. Don’t you get it? This was—this was my chance!”
His expression was steady at the mention of my age.
“Your chance for what?” he asked finally.
“My chance to make some cash so I could leave town.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a destination in mind, I just?—”
He squeezed my shoulders gently and then pulled me toward him. I was pressed against his warm chest, and I shivered in the winter night.
My jacket was still inside, but I wasn’t going to go back for it.
“You’re cold,” he murmured against my hair. He dropped his arms from around me and stepped back.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he took off his leather cut and handed it to me.
He didn’t reply as he unbuttoned his flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He shrugged out of it and handed it to me. Savage was wearing a black tee underneath—a black tee that showed off his defined chest.
I returned his leather cut and put on his shirt, buttoning it up all the way. I fixed the collar, and turned my head, my nose grazing the fabric. It smelled of him. Warm. Earthy.
“Where’s your car?”
“Don’t have one,” I mumbled. “I took the bus.”
“Then let me take you home.”
He held out his hand to me. I bit my lip in a moment of indecision, and then reluctantly took it.
Savage laced his fingers through mine, as if he was worried I’d bolt.
“Where’s home?” he asked.
“The Sunset Motel. Just off the highway.”
He clenched his jaw. “You’re living in a motel?”
“Yes.” I straightened my spine, ready to defend my life choices, but he didn’t reply.
We walked around the warehouse to the front. His bike was parked on the street. He reached for the helmet resting on the seat. I thought he was going to hand it to me, but instead he gently placed it on my head and clipped the buckle. He adjusted the strap to tighten it.
“That okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
He straddled the bike and inched forward, gesturing with his chin to the spot behind him. “Get on.”
I placed my hand on his leather-clad shoulder and awkwardly settled myself behind him.
“Move closer,” he commanded. “Wrap your arms around me. When I lean, you lean. There’s no seat back. Just hang on to me and don’t let go.”
I wiggled closer to him, the V of my thighs pressing against him. I blushed at the intimate position.
“You good?” he asked.
“I’m good.”
“Okay. Hang on.”
He started the engine. The motorcycle rumbled beneath us, and then we were off. I gripped him tight, my nails digging into his stomach as fear engulfed me. I quickly closed my eyes.
Savage’s hand came around to touch my thigh, giving it a little squeeze.
I loosened my death grip on him and slowly opened my eyes. Though my hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, strands at my temples escaped, blowing across my cheeks as we rode.
With a deep breath, I forced myself to look around. The roar of the bike and the air rushing over me had my heart pounding the entire ride.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, and even after Savage pulled into a parking lot and cut the engine, I still felt the tremors of fear and adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
“You can let me go now,” Savage said. When I didn’t move, he pressed, “Evie?”
I came out of my trance and hastily released him. “Sorry.” I scrambled off the bike, nearly falling onto the asphalt.
“Hey, easy,” he said, catching my elbow and steadying me.
My hands shook as I unlatched the helmet. “Thanks.” I handed it back to him.
“You hated it,” he guessed.
“No,” I said. “I just . . . I was scared. But it was?—”
He raised his brows.
I sighed. “Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
He climbed off his bike and set the helmet down on the seat.
“I’m this way,” I said, gesturing to the side of the motel. I was covered in sweat and beer and all I wanted was a hot shower. Exhaustion pulled at my limbs.
When we arrived at my door, I turned. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You can’t stay here,” he stated.
I raised my brows. “I can’t?”
“This is the kind of place that you rent by the hour. No one actually lives here.”
I frowned, not understanding what he was saying. “Savage, this is my home for the time being. It’s fine. I know the owner. She’s my friend.”
“And as your friend, I bet she would tell you this isn’t a long-term living situation.”
“I don’t need a long-term living situation.”
“Oh, right, because you’re leaving town.” He cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have enough money for a bus ticket?”
When I didn’t reply, he grinned. His busted lip was healing, and it didn’t split this time. “Gotcha.”
“Fine, you got me. I’ve made enough to leave, but if I do, I’ll just wind up in the same situation somewhere else. So, I’ll take you up on the job offer. I’ll let you find me one. It’s the least you can do for getting me fired.”
I showed him my back as I went to unlock the door.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Suddenly, I was pushed against the door, Savage’s hard muscular body covering mine.
The squeal of tires in the parking lot had me shivering in distress.
“Was that—” I panted, “—what I think it was?”
Savage’s mouth was close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin when he said, “Yeah, babe. Those were gun shots.”
He’d covered me with his body. He’d protected me. Just like he’d protected me at the warehouse.
His hand settled on my hip and I closed my eyes when I felt the heat of his fingers searing through my jeans.
“What were you saying about staying here?” he rasped.
At least he didn’t sound smug.
“Okay, maybe staying here isn’t a good idea,” I admitted.
He lifted himself off me and stepped back. I instantly missed his warmth.
I turned to face him. “Where am I going to stay?”
His head dipped down. “Tonight, you’re staying with me.”