Savage Seduction (Savage Reign #6)

Chapter 1

CIPHER

The Savage cells smell like cold concrete, old blood, and the faint metallic tang of fear that never quite leaves a room built for breaking men.

It clings to the back of my throat as I walk down the narrow corridor.

My boots echo off cement walls that are stained darker in places where someone bled.

No matter the amount of cleanup, the stain stayed.

The overhead lights flicker, casting a sickly yellow glow that makes everyone look half-dead.

Come to think about it, it’s fitting. We are three days out from Christmas and everyone looks like they’ve lived through a night of revisiting their ghosts from Christmases long gone.

I know I have. It’s why I’m here. I usually stick to my keyboard and let my brothers handle the bloody work of getting really shitty men to spill their darkest secrets.

It’s safer that way. The last time I stepped out from behind my mask, people died.

They deserved it, but I don’t like releasing my monster from its cage. It’s hard getting the fucker back in.

But tonight is different. This whole situation with Euphoria has us all on edge and it’s going to take all of us, our demons and monsters included, to get the designer drug off our streets.

And we are almost there. We just need Grudge, the Vultures’ president, to give up the goods on where to find Veles. That Russian fucker is slippery. He is the one with the money and connections here, not the Vultures’ president. If we can get Veles, the entire house of cards will fall.

I roll my shoulders as I move, the familiar pull of old scars tightening along my right cheek and down my jaw, reminders of choices that never stop collecting interest. At six-foot-four, most men make room for me without thinking about it.

The ones who rarely learn fast. Tonight, the Vultures’ president doesn’t move when I stop in front of his chair.

He sits there with his wrists cuffed, chin lifted in defiance, but the stiffness in his posture gives him away.

One side of his face is mottled with yellowed bruises, his breath comes shallow like each pull of air costs him something.

Tender ribs will do that to a man. His eyes dart around for some magical portal to bounce his ass outta here, but Christmas magic doesn’t extend to murdering assholes.

He’s still wearing the wife beater he came in with. It has a few more blood stains than yesterday and after tonight, it will have even more. The man isn’t smart enough to know he’s beat. His last few hours on this planet would be easier on him if he’d just talk.

Some people like the hard way.

I don’t rush as I drag a table from the corner and push it in front of him, the metal grating against the cement.

I lower myself into a folding chair and let the silence stretch out between us until it presses against his ears and he nervously shifts in his chair.

“Fuck, man—whatcha want? You gonna stare at me all night, or you got somethin’ to say? Get a fuckin’ life.”

Grudge leans forward and scrapes the craggy ends of his dirty nails over the bristle on his face.

He’s been in our cells for days now. Maybe weeks.

Fuck. I don’t know. I've lost count. But I haven’t lost count of how many people have lost their lives juicing themselves on the Euphoria he and his men are poisoning people with.

“Hey, gimme a smoke or somethin’ if you’re gonna just sit there and eye-fuck me all night. Or you plannin’ to talk?”

His Southern drawl stretches the ends of his words, vowels pulled long and lazy, like he’s trying to sound relaxed. But the way his voice catches tells me the nerves are starting to creep in.

I reach into my jacket and pull out the book that nearly cost my brother, Phantom and his girl, their lives to secure.

The second grudge sees it, recognition hits him like a punch to the gut.

I know because I recognize the shock blowing his tired eyes wide.

The lines carved into the corners of his eyes cut deeper as his face tightens, too.

For a split second, the room goes dead quiet.

Then his pulse gives him away. The vein in his neck starts to jump, hard and fast, thudding against his skin like it’s trying to tell me he’s about to have a heart attack.

I hold up the thick, leather-bound book, a smile of pure evil on my face. To anyone else this thing looks harmless, but the information these pages hold are the kind of secrets men kill to erase. And men like Grudge like to think it also makes them untouchable.

What a dumbass.

I toss it onto the metal table between us, the impact loud in the quiet room.

The sound makes him flinch.

“Looks like your VP gave up all the dirty secrets,” I say, my voice calm, almost bored.

I rest my palms on the table and lean in just enough that he can see the green of my eyes under the harsh lights.

“Names. Routes. Payoffs. Judges. Cops. Politicians. Even a few people I bet will swear they’re clean when we catch up with them. ”

Beady black eyes meet mine. His jaw tightens. “You think that book means sump’n to me?”

I glance down at the cover, then back at him. “It means you’re sloppy.”

A laugh scrapes out of his throat, brittle and forced. “Burn it. I’ll have every name in there replaced by mornin’.”

Behind me, I hear the faint shift of movement. Phantom slips into the room, quiet as a shadow. A few other crew members join us, too. Phantom put it all on the line last night to get this book and I know he wants to end Grudge’s life right now and move on.

But not yet.

Reaper’s close enough that I can feel his presence without turning around. The Savage Reign crew do not crowd a room unless we want someone to understand exactly how alone they are.

“You could,” I say. “But you won’t because you’re not the one calling the shots here. Does Veles know about your VP’s black book?”

Judging by the way the blood drains from his face, I’m going with a solid no.

I nod. “Didn’t think so.”

The Vulture president leans back in the chair, metal chains clinking softly as he shifts his weight.

He raises his arms and spreads his hands as far as the cuffs let him like he’s got all the time in the world, but the movement is stiff, measured.

His shoulders lock instead of relaxing. His jaw works once before he speaks, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

When he finally looks at me, it’s from under his brow, eyes sharp and searching, like he’s bracing for the inevitable which is his body in an unmarked grave by the end of this shit show.

“What d’you want from me, Savage? And don’t ask me ’bout Veles. I ain’t sayin’ a damn thing.”

His voice roughens, and his words drag. But it’s the hard swallow that tells me he fears the Russian.

As he should be. That fucker is the brother of Ares, the president of the Bratva Savages MC.

He’s our friend and the man who fed us every filthy detail about how Veles operates.

He will kill without hesitation and do anything it takes to take over his father’s criminal legacy.

Then he’ll move on to eliminating Ares and then what?

Naturally he’ll come after us. Ruthless, soulless greedy men are never satisfied.

Grudge knows it too. I see it in the way his shoulders tighten, in the way his eyes flick away like he’s expecting death to step out of the shadows. He’s not afraid of me.

He’s afraid of what Veles would do to him if he talks.

I tilt my head and silently study him like a puzzle that already bores me. “You’re wrong. You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know, eventually. You want to stay alive, start making it worth our while to keep you alive. Where do we find Veles? Tell us. Or we give you a proper Bayou burial.”

He smirks, confidence bleeding back into his expression. “You think I’m scared’a you?”

I lift a single shoulder. “Nah,” I say honestly.

“But I think you fear what happens when you stop being useful to us and we let Veles know where to pick you up. Think Veles will believe you didn’t tell us every dirty detail we wanted to know?

” I tap the book between us. “You tell us, or we go fishing and we use you as bait. Sounds fun and I’m bored. ”

His eyes flick down to the book again, then back up.

Damn, I love the way fear crawls over his ragged expression.

“You got some names. Congratulations.” He gives a short, humorless huff, shifts in the chair like the chains are suddenly too tight. “But if you think you’ve won, you’re already behind.”

His jaw works before he goes on, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Veles got the same book. Carbon copy.”

A long pause carries on between us as he considers me from across the table.

“Whered’you think my VP lifted all that dirt from? Blackmail is king. You got leverage, you got all you need. I ain’t stupid.”

Grudge shrugs, but it’s stiff and comes off as forced.

“One little sleight of hand, that’s all. Tilted the scale back my way.” His eyes flick to Phantom standing silently behind me and then back to me. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna have the upper hand on me.”

Then his voice drops. “’Sides… that man ain’t sentimental.

” His voice is raw and gritty. His throat works another hard swallow.

“He’ll off every last name in there ‘fore you can squeeze another damn secret outta ’em.

Mark my words. Your detective friend’ll be draggin’ bodies outta the Bayou for Christmas. ”

I lean back in my chair and prop a foot on my knee.

“Nobody gets an upper hand on you, huh?” I let the smirk on my lips stay in place as I continue.

“And yet here you sit, Grudge. Your crew is being run by their new president and Veles is just waiting for you to pop back up so he can end you.

You're nothing but a loose end to him now.”

Silence is all I get back.