Savage Cravings (Tiernan Crime Syndicate #1)

1. Mila

1

MILA

I took in the room filled with debauchery.

This was nothing new.

Of course, it wasn’t fucking new.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the room was filled with mean men, scantily clad women, smoke from both cigarettes and weed, some white shit that looked suspiciously like crack on the tacky glass coffee table, and alcohol bottles everywhere.

I had long ago given up trying to maintain a clean house.

It wasn’t like I could remove the stain and scent of awful BO, weed, and sin from the thirty-year-old, brown L-shaped couch.

I clung to my black leather purse and tried to make my way through the living room. The crowd wouldn’t disperse with time. This was the tamer part of the day.

The hard-core partying was saved for later that night.

It would be one more sleepless night, trying to make sure no one came into my room. What else was new?

I clenched my fist around the plastic bag that held my dinner. I wasn’t feeling so hungry anymore, even though I had nothing to eat all day, save for some bland toast and black coffee.

A hand wrapped around my ankle.

I held in a scream.

Making any noise would only draw attention to myself, and that was the last thing I needed.

I looked down to find a pair of blue eyes—dilated, probably from drugs—and a sleazy smile.

“If only you were wearing a skirt, girl,” Lenny, my father’s sergeant-at-arms, said.

I yanked on my leg until he let go, not bothering with a reply.

Talking to the nasty fucker would only encourage him, and right now, I just needed to get to the room upstairs, even when everything in me said to get back in my car and drive away.

It didn’t matter if I didn’t have money. Begging on the streets for money sounded like a much better, safer alternative to staying at this clubhouse for even one more night.

Only, I knew my dad would come after me. The consequences, and the punishments, would be worse than it was the first—and last—time I tried to run away.

I fucking hated the way I lived, but unless someone shot my father dead, this was my reality.

I let out a sigh when my foot touched the first step.

I quickly climbed the staircase and didn’t stop until I got to my room.

I grabbed the keys and unlocked the door.

Leaning my back against the wall, I glanced around the large bedroom, my eyes stinging as the reality of my situation sank in.

For some reason, it seemed to hit harder today than most days.

I was usually good at ignoring the fact that my dad was the president of the notorious Heartless Saints Motorcycle Club. Good at ignoring the fact that I was merely a pig preparing for slaughter—under the guise of marriage, to the groom of my father’s choosing.

Not today.

Today… something felt off.

And I couldn’t put my finger on it, even if my bleak reality wasn’t anything new.

I couldn’t even remember a time when I thought of the world as a good place. Maybe before my mom abandoned me ten years ago because club life just got too hard for her, or maybe long before that.

We kept in contact on and off. The last time we spoke, she had just set foot in New Orleans, excited about this new chapter in her life, while I was stuck here.

I was always here.

Some days, it felt like I was only here to wait for the day I finally push Dad past the point of no return, and he’d make good on his threat to kill me.

I took the container from the bag and opened it. The aroma of cheese and tomato sauce hit my nose, and it should have made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.

Instead, I suddenly felt like puking.

Ignoring the food, I stood and headed to the window, looking out over the vast land surrounding the clubhouse.

The “clubhouse” was really an old mansion that Dad forcibly took from the former owners. Sometimes, I wondered if he had killed them here in the master bedroom, and that was why he let me have this room.

I shuddered and blinked, letting my gaze roam over what was once an extravagant garden. Now it was a dirt road not capable of sustaining life, ruined by all the motorcycle tracks. We were isolated enough that we didn’t have neighbors to complain about the noise from the constant partying, and far enough away from the city that we could usually identify any cops or FBI agents who showed up. Yet not too far, which allowed the club members to conduct their business in Chicago.

This house had been my hell since the day I was born.

The only thing my dad did right was give me the master bedroom.

There was more than enough space for me. It also had an en suite bathroom, which meant I didn’t have to leave this room for any reason.

Dad had been the president of the Heartless Saints MC for as long as I could remember. It was close to twenty years ago when he’d slaughtered the Irish mob and took over Chicago. That was when the club really gained its reputation. I had been a baby then, so this version of the club was all I’d ever really known.

Dad had risen to power the same way he did everything else.

Violently and mercilessly.

He thrust me into this world without considering how it might impact me or whether I wanted this life.

I didn’t.

Club life was rough.

Although Dad used to run this club with an iron fist, the old man was getting sloppy.

I hoped that one of these days, his sloppiness would take him out of my life for good.

And I wasn’t just saying that to say it.

I really wished someone would just kill him so I could leave this place.

I wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always this cold. But somewhere along the way, Dad had destroyed any love or affection I felt for him, and with it, any compassion. It was hard to feel any of those things when I was just trying to survive.

I just didn’t care about him anymore.

I exhaled and watched as the glass in front of me fogged up.

The sun was just setting, but there was still enough light out to make out the property line.

I wondered how many times I’d dreamed about crossing that line and never looking back.

I stilled, blinking, when I thought I saw something move within the shadows.

My eyes narrowed on where I thought I saw movement across the open space.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

I tried to adjust my eyes to the dark.

I didn’t know what I saw, but I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, a hollow feeling taking residence deep in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

I swallowed, my eyes roaming over the place.

Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

Perhaps I was just seeing things?

Just as I was about to turn my back on the window, something else caught my eye on the opposite end of where I had first seen the movement.

My heart thudded frantically in my chest.

I wasn’t seeing things.

There were men coming onto the property, hidden in the shadows.

Lots and lots of men, from the looks of it.

Holy fuck.

Was this what I thought it was?

I swallowed and turned to my room, my eyes landing on the huge walk-in closet where I’d stashed my emergency go bag.

There was no time to hesitate or question myself.

I moved without thinking.

Grabbing my keys, I left the room and locked the door behind me.

My surroundings felt fuzzy, and I worked hard not to give in to the panic I could feel bubbling to the surface.

I prayed I still had some time before the attack. I quickly made my way to Dad’s office and opened the door, only to find it empty. Not surprising. He was probably dick-deep in his latest conquest.

I shuddered in disgust at the mental image, then walked over to the safe he had hidden under his desk.

I knew the combination.

It was like I said—Dad was getting sloppy. He’d written down the safe’s combination when he’d installed it, but he forgot to put it away before calling me into his office to reprimand me about something. I had already forgotten what. But those three numbers had seared into my memory the moment I saw them.

My hands shook as I put in the combination. The first try didn’t unlock the safe like I’d anticipated.

I always knew the clubhouse could fall under attack one day.

Hoped, at least. But now that it was happening, I wasn’t feeling the way I thought I would.

I was feeling?—

Scared.

A small cry escaped my lips, and I covered it with my hand.

I couldn’t lose control.

Not right now.

I took a deep breath and shook out my hands, hoping it would get rid of the shakes, then tried the combination again.

I almost cried out in relief when it finally clicked open.

I grabbed the stack of cash from the back and the small pistol in front of it.

Despite growing up in the club, I had never held a gun before.

It was heavier than I thought it would be.

I tried to shrug off my anxiety as I quickly shoved everything in the big pocket of my hoodie and got out of there.

In my hurry, I didn’t watch my surroundings.

So I was startled when a large arm came out of nowhere and pushed me up against the wall in the hallway.

I let out a small grunt when my back hit the hard surface with a thud, and I looked up into gleaming green eyes.

“What were you doing in your father’s office? You know he wouldn’t like that,” Sebastian chided.

He was the VP of my dad’s club, and also his stepbrother.

I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe he saw me as just his niece.

“Let go of me,” I gritted out between my teeth, trying to push him away.

He slammed both hands against the wall beside my head, trapping me in.

I looked up. Sebastian was tall. Well over six foot, he towered over my five-foot-four frame easily, and outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds.

With short blond hair shaved near the scalp, and long dark eyelashes surrounding moss-green eyes, he was considered handsome in his own right.

A lot of the hang-arounds had been trying to tie him down.

He gave me the creeps most of the time.

“Come on, Mila. I think we should talk about this. You know how your dad can get. I can protect you.”

My lips pulled back in a sneer. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can protect myself.”

His eyes hardened, and I tried not to let the fear show. I didn’t have time for this. We could be under attack at any moment, and I didn’t want to be here when it happened.

And Sebastian was mean enough that he would not let me go. Not now, when he finally had me cornered.

“You know, your dad finally agreed to let me marry you.”

I couldn’t hide the disgust on my face.

I heard him talking to Dad about this in the office. If I had thought an idea as archaic as an arranged marriage wouldn’t exist in the realm of the club, I’d be wrong.

Anything was possible in this small kingdom my father ruled over, and I was merely a pawn. I shouldn’t have been surprised by this little information, but I was.

I had hoped— prayed —it wouldn’t be true.

Though, there was always a niggling feeling in the back of my mind that Dad would make me do it. He could, too. If he threatened my life, I doubted I would be brave enough to defy him.

I swallowed and shook my head in denial.

Sebastian obviously didn’t like that. He leaned down closer to me, getting into my space.

The smell of alcohol and bad breath fanned across my face.

I resisted the urge to gag and tilted my head to the side, my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He ran the tip of his nose up and down my cheek.

“Let go of me,” I pleaded. I hated the tone of my voice.

It was vital to always put on a brave front in the club. Any sign of weakness and the sharks would come out.

But his pressing me up against the wall, combined with the impending attack coming, I was?—

I was fucking scared.

“Please.”

I closed my eyes when he kissed my cheek, trying to swallow the revulsion that wanted to escape my throat.

Finally, he leaned back.

“It’s okay. You’re already mine. I can be patient and wait for you.”

His arms fell away, and I didn’t hesitate. I ran out of there and didn’t look back. His dark chuckle echoed in the hall and followed me all the way to my room.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

I didn’t think as I rushed to the emergency go bag and opened it, then shoved everything I had gotten from Dad’s office inside. My hands shook as I tried to zip it shut. It took a few attempts before I steadied my hands enough to do it.

Where would I go, though?

Where could I start my life again?

My last conversation with my mom came to me.

To New Orleans?

I didn’t know anyone in New Orleans, save for her.

I didn’t know anyone anywhere, though.

I took a deep breath as I slipped out through the back way, headed toward the kitchen. There was a small patio door that led to the backyard. No one should notice me leaving that way.

I hoped the attack wouldn’t happen until later that night, when everyone’s guard was down.

I also had a feeling my dad was the target.

Briefly, I felt a small pinch of guilt. I’d wished so many times for someone to just get him, wished that he would be out of my life for good, and now there was a possibility that would happen.

I could have warned him.

But he made it clear, time and time again, that his daughter had no place in his club. He wouldn’t have listened to me, anyway.

And just because I wished for something, it didn’t mean I was responsible.

Whatever happened tonight, whatever happened to my abusive monster of a father, was not on me. It was the consequence of his own actions.

The guilt lifted as I made it to the kitchen.

I paused when I found a group getting drinks, but they were either too drunk, too high, or too both to notice me.

I was able to sneak out without anyone glancing my way.

I held my breath when Ramsy, one of the top-ranked officers of the club, let out a boisterous laugh from the middle of the group. He was the road captain who helped my dad control the city. A mean motherfucker on a good day. He probably scared me more than any of the other members of the club, so I always tried to keep my distance.

I closed the back door gently behind me and slipped out into the night. I had parked my car off to the side of the road to avoid being blocked in by all the bikes and trucks, and I had never been more grateful for that than right now.

My eyes scanned the open space, but it was dark out. The men watching the house were good. I didn’t even see a shadow.

The only reason I had spotted them earlier was because the sun was still out, and I was on the top floor.

I was hoping that since I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me. Or if they saw me, I would look like nothing more than a hang-around leaving the party.

I swallowed and climbed into the car, locking it.

Then I started the car and peeled out of there.

I peered in the rearview mirror at the house. The lights were still on, and the party was going strong.

I heard the first sound of a gunshot explode as I took the first turn away from the property.

I jumped but didn’t do anything more. The sound could have just been my imagination. But if it wasn’t, it was no longer my business or concern.

And that was all there was to it.

It was going to be a long-ass drive.