Chapter 9
9
SAVAGE
B y the time we reached our destination, I managed to steer all of my concentration on the job. We parked our bikes four blocks up, behind an abandoned warehouse with rusted scaffolding and shattered windows. The place reeked of mold and piss, but it offered cover, and that was all we needed. Our boots hit the pavement with quiet purpose, the weight of our cuts and weapons like a second skin.
Racer was already in position, the van idling in a narrow alley behind the storage facility. The windows were blacked out, and the plates were pulled. The back doors were cracked just enough to start loading fast if it came to that.
Deviant was patched into the facility’s outdated camera system, feeding us real-time visuals. His voice came through our comms. “You’re clear. No movement on cameras. Motion sensors are cheap models, blind to anything under six feet. Move now. Stay fucking low.”
The building sat low and square—plain concrete and no signage. Just one flickering exterior light above the back door. It cast a dull yellow tint across everything, making it look as sick as the bastards who owned the place.
The back door had an electronic keypad—more secure than most storage joints in a town like this. Someone wanted to keep people out. That was reason enough to burn the place down.
I checked my phone for the code Midnight had texted, then keyed it in. “Showtime,” I muttered.
The door gave way with a soft click, but it seemed louder than a gunshot in the silence. My instincts were on high alert, and my hand itched to reach for my gun as I pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was stale and…just fucking wrong. Almost sterile, like someone tried too hard to erase what’d been done here. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed to life one by one, flickering like we were on the set of a horror movie. Rows of steel shelving stretched into the distance, each one stacked with neatly labeled boxes, plastic bins, and reinforced storage crates.
My lips curled in disgust. It smelled like bleach and paper. Secrets and rot.
We split up automatically, each of us clear on our mission. Midnight and I veered toward the far end where the computers were. It was the only room with an actual desk and climate control. Whiskey and Hawk peeled off to work the physical files.
Every few seconds, Racer would appear to grab whatever he could carry from the boxes they were stacking to be taken from the warehouse. Patient records. Sample kits sealed in biohazard bags. Ledger books full of handwritten entries with dates, dosages, and initials. Bribes.
I dropped to one knee in front of the main desktop unit and powered it up. The computer blinked awake, slow as molasses, so my patience was wearing thin by the time I tapped in the code Deviant had hacked to get me into their system. The files weren’t encrypted. Sloppy. Too confident. But since that worked in my favor, I felt an evil satisfaction at showing them just how vulnerable they really were. I plugged in a portable drive and started ripping everything—internal emails, spreadsheets tracking “compliance failures,” payrolls with suspicious gaps, and records of “postmortem processing.”
Midnight set up a surveillance tap while we were at it, just in case they got cocky and came back.
One email caught my eye. It was sent from a burner account to the head of operations. “Mother made contact. Subjects to be relocated within seventy-two hours. No loose ends.”
I took a screenshot of it, then pulled up the surveillance log and looped the camera feeds before installing a remote tap. If they came back, we’d see it.
Eventually, Hawk came in and started digging through a filing cabinet behind me. After a few minutes, he cursed, his voice tight with rage. “These are consent forms, but they’re forged.” He handed a stack to Whiskey, who’d stomped in a few seconds before, and he started shuffling through them. “Look, signatures are damn near identical across multiple files.”
Whiskey let out a sharp breath. “What the actual fuck? There’s an invoice here marked ‘recovery payout.’ Looks like a fucking death benefit.”
Fury filtered into my blood, burning me from the inside. Who would have received that payout if they’d managed to silence Tamara? I had to shake the thought before defying orders and destroying the place in a rage.
Racer returned, sweat slicking his brow despite the chill. “We’re gonna need another van at this rate. They have an entire aisle of sealed evidence kits.”
“Then load fast,” I snapped, not looking away from the monitor. “Don’t have time to pick and choose anymore. We take it all.”
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The silence thicker with each tick of the clock, knowing we were pushing our luck the longer we were there.
Deviant’s voice cracked in again. “Motion sensor tripped on the east side. You’ve got five minutes, tops.”
“Wrap it up,” I ordered. “Now.”
After yanking the drive free, I double-checked the tap. The green light was blinking, indicating that it was still live.
I slipped the evidence into my inside vest pocket and stood, glancing back once at the space with a dark scowl. Sometime soon, I was gonna blow this motherfucking building apart. Preferably with some of these assholes inside.
We loaded the last of it in silence.
Outside, the November air was colder, with a bite to it. But I didn’t really feel it, I was still warm from the adrenaline. Racer had the doors open, and the van sagged under the weight of what we’d taken.
Finally finished, he slammed the doors to the back of the vehicle shut. We stood there for a beat, feeling the heavy weight of what all this proved.
Then Hawk said what we were all thinking. “This isn’t just paper and files. This is ammunition.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because I’m done watching. I’m ready to light the whole damn place up.”
During the ride back to Old Bridge, I was coming undone thinking about Tamara. How she’d clung to me, wrapped tight around my cock, breathy and begging. Her skin, her scent, the way she looked after I filled her… it was burned into my skull, and I needed her like oxygen.
The vest in the back of my closet was like a beacon showing me the way home. But I didn’t want all this shit hanging over us when I gave her the cut and my ring. The one I’d ordered the first night I slept in the room beside her and was just waiting to be delivered since it was custom.
Until then, I’d focus on giving her something else. A part of me. Something amazing that we created together. And one more tie that would bind her to me forever.
My speed increased as if I were being chased. Driven by the need to be with my woman and knock her the fuck up.
When we arrived, I handed everything off to Fox and Stone without a word, then headed straight for Tamara. They’d take care of the media drop and coordinate the legal strike. Rip the corporation to shreds in such a public forum that they’d be blackballed from the industry. As well as tied up in arrests and lawsuits until the devil came for what was left of their souls.
But it wasn’t enough for me.
Because all I could think about was the men who’d built this. Who’d hurt people. Who’d scared my woman and put her in danger.
They were going to pay. In blood.
A few minutes later, I slipped into our room, quiet as the space between heartbeats. She was in bed, soft and warm, her curls splayed across my pillow.
I stripped down and climbed in beside her. She was half asleep, body pliant and warm when I pulled her into me.
She stirred, murmured my name, and turned to face me.
When my hand skimmed under the shirt she wore—mine—and found bare skin, she gasped softly, eyes fluttering open.
Her voice was a whisper, but it roared in my ears, filling me with desperate hunger. “Talon.”
I kissed her like a dying man. As though she was oxygen and water. She was the last thing keeping me from tearing the world apart. The only thing keeping me sane.
There was no slow buildup. No teasing. Just a collision of mouths and a melding of our mutual desperation.
My hands were everywhere—removing her shirt, gliding over her slender curves, cupping her incredible tits. Her tight little nipples scraped my palms, and my rock-hard cock turned to pure steel.
She moaned, arching into me, her leg sliding up and over my hip.
“Tell me you’re okay,” I growled, voice scraping the edge of control.
“I’m better than okay,” she whispered, nails digging into my shoulders. “I’ve never felt safer.”
That broke the last thread.
I rolled her under me, settling between her thighs like it was where I was meant to be. Her skin was hot, her eyes glassy with sleep and want. She reached for me, and I caught both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head against the pillow.
“You belong here, baby,” I rasped. “In this bed. Under me. Full of me.”
Her thighs widened, hips tilting, silently begging me in the dark.
I thrust into her in one long stroke, burying myself to the hilt with a guttural moan. Her head tipped back, eyes closed and her lips parting in a cry that went straight to my dick.
Tight, warm, already dripping for me. So damn perfect .
I ground my hips down, locking her in place while I fucked her slow and deep, each roll of my hips a promise. My name spilled from her lips between ragged breaths, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted her to scream it. To have it echoing off the walls, torn from her soul. Telling the world that she was mine.
She tried to move, to take a little control, but I tightened my grip on her wrists and held her down with my hips.
“No,” I growled. “I’m not letting you pretend this is anything but what it is.”
She blinked up at me, breathless. “And what is that?”
“A fucking claiming.”
I shifted one hand to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding her while I fucked deeper. Her pupils blew wide, nearly eclipsing the soft blue irises. Her legs trembled as her climax neared.
“This isn’t just sex, Tamara,” I rasped. “This is me inside you, putting a future in you, tying you to me in every fucking way.”
Her breath hitched, but a spark in her eyes and the pretty flush on her cheeks told me she liked the idea.
“You want that? Does my good girl want me to put a baby in her belly?” I nearly blew just from saying it out loud while her walls clenched around me.
“Yes! Talon!”
“That’s right, baby.” I thrust again, harder this time, and her back bowed off the bed. “Say it. Tell me who’s inside you. Who owns you.”
“You do,” she gasped. “You. Only you.”
“Good girl,” I praised before I dropped my mouth to hers again, kissing her with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t get past my grunting and erratic breathing as I fucked her with a primal instinct. She’d called me a caveman, and at that moment, I couldn’t disagree because I was focused on two things—bringing my woman ultimate pleasure and breeding her.
When I felt her tighten around me, just seconds from unraveling, I let go. Coming with a growl against her mouth, holding her so tightly she couldn’t forget it even if she tried.
There was a moment of silence as though the world was holding still. Then she threw back her head and screamed my name as she broke apart beneath me.
When the aftershocks faded, I gathered her into my arms, and we drifted to sleep.
I stayed buried deep.
Because I wasn’t done.
I’d never be fucking done.