Epilogue
J axon “Grimm” Mason, leaned back in his creaky, worn-out leather chair and watched.
That’s what he did, he watched. He observed. As the Enforcer for the Savage Raiders MC, being alert, aware, perceptive, and suspicious were all a part of the job description. As the man in charge of club security, it was on him to make sure no one snuck in, nothing snuck through, and they were always prepared—no matter what their enemies threw at them.
And, fuck…the club was gaining too many enemies lately.
The Colombians, the Italians, and the goddamn Russians, not to mention the street rat Mexicans that were trying to move in and make a name for themselves with cheap ass street drugs on corners owned and controlled by the Savage Raiders. They were ballsy little shits, but they were nothing compared to the shit being stirred up between the Italians and Mendozas—and the Raiders could get mixed up in all that shit.
“Alright, motherfuckers,” Odin bellowed, “let’s get this shit started so I can get home to my woman and boy.” There was a chorus of chuckles, groans, and crude gestures. Brothers congratulating or mourning for another brother, because some were happy for the bastard and some—like Grimm—feared the man had lost his balls to the badass Valkyrie.
Grimm smirked at the man, his prez, a goddamn warrior, a ruthless bastard…brought low by pussy. Domesticated. Wifed up. Fathered a little boy who looked so much like him, Grimm could swear Skathi manufactured a tiny twin in her belly.
Odin leaned back in his chair and cast his gaze to Fang, who was sitting on his left. Fang, the Road Captain and newly minted old man to the badass Tessa, was the half-brother to one of the club’s loosest allies, Jorge Calderone, the Jefe of the Calderone Cartel.
“Fang, brother, let’s do this,” Odin commanded. Fang sat forward and punched eleven numbers into the conference phone in the middle of the table. It wasn’t unusual to see that set-up, they used it often for conference calls with clients of Savage Protection the image of a gorgeous young woman, smiling in a glossy 5x8, ran wild in his mind.
“I’ll do it.” Not a sound in the room.
What the hell just came out of his mouth?
Again, exclamations of disbelief sounded, this time directed at Grimm.
All eyes were on him. All expressions wide with shock.
Hawk slammed a fist into the table. “What the hell, Grimm? The girl is barely legal, and you’re old enough to be her dad!”
Grimm knew that. He felt that. But in that moment, he couldn’t make himself care. It wasn’t like it would be a real marriage anyway. It was business. It was him taking care of the club.
There was a commotion on the line behind Jorge, and the man growled, cursing.
“I have some shit to handle. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one of you will marry my Preciosa. You have two days. Remember…our… relationship is tenuous. I have given much to the Savage Raiders. I think it only fair you give much, too.”
The call ended with a click and then silence. Oppressive silence.
Grimm grunted, hating every fucking thing about what he was doing…but he couldn’t make the words stop. “You,”—he pointed to Hawk, who was scowling—“Fang, Trouble, and Odin are already locked down, AFK wouldn’t know what to do with a woman—”
“Hey!” AFK barked, a glower on his face. “Fuck you.”
“Dragon and Ringmaster are busy with other duties, and Hell Hound….”
The man in question growled, his copper eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, giving him the appearance of the beast from which he earned his road name.
“So, it has to be me. She can’t be trusted with any of the other brothers, not with something this important. So…I’ll do it. Besides that, you need to consider that she’s a plant, someone that fucker sends here to spy on us.” What the fuck was he saying? They should just tell Calderone to fuck off and deal with the Medevs, Mendozas, and Italians without the Cartel, but he knew Odin wouldn’t go for that. The club was growing—in rep and numbers—and more and more of the brothers were settling down, bringing women and children—the innocent and vulnerable—into the fold.
Strengthening the alliance with the Calderone Cartel made sense, even though it was crazy as hell. The Colombians had money, fire power, the numbers, and the connections to take on the additional problem of the Mendozas and the Italians. The Savage Raiders MC needed them—and fuck if that didn’t chafe to say. He couldn’t image how Fang was feeling about being tied up with his brother again.
“The fuck?” Hawk grunted, his eyebrows hitting his hairline in shock. “You serious, man? You really wanna take this chick on? Yeah, I get that Calderone is sending a Trojan horse, but he’s been trustworthy so far. What would he have to gain with sending a twenty-year-old spy? He couldn’t possibly think she’d have access to any information—none of the old ladies do.”
“She wouldn’t be my ol’ lady,” he barked, spit landing on the table in front of him. “That’s a position of honor. I’ll marry her, but the fuck I’ll honor her.”
Hawk’s expression turned sour, his lips pressing together like he just sucked a lemon. “You really want to be that man?”
No, he fucking did not, but he was in the shit now, he would not back out. She was a woman. Small. Weak. Spoiled as hell. She’d be easy to handle. All he had to do to keep her in line was threaten to cut off her money—no pretty clothes, fancy spa days, or expensive bling. She’d spit and bitch, but she’d do whatever the fuck he wanted.
Thirsty bitches always did.
“No, I really don’t want to take this bitch on, but I will, because it needs to be done. She’s a liability, a possible security issue, and so I’ll be the one keeping tabs on her.”
Odin was silent as he contemplated Grimm’s face, his icy as fuck eyes penetrating, missing nothing.
“But marriage, brother?” AFK asked, leaning forward, and sliding his laptop to the side as if to get a better look at Grimm. “You don’t have to marry her to lock her down…for security reasons.”
Fang sighed loudly, shaking his head. “Nah, brother, that’s a condition of the deal. One of us marries her, the club provides protection, and Calderone helps keep the Families in check. Not to mention, the Mendozas are gonna come sniffin’ around, looking for her. If they get her, marry her to an Italian fuck…hell will rain down on Vegas.” Again, silence filled the room. Heavy. Hideous.
“Shit,” Hawk swore before rubbing his chin.
Swallowing down the bile, Grimm pinched his lips together, knowing that his next words were going to twist his world all the way up.
“I’ll marry the bitch…but only on my terms.”
Thank you for reading Savage Heart , Trouble and Liz’s story.