Chapter 5
SAVAGE
I spend the day doing the shit I least like doing, but which is a critical part of my role in the club. I have to update our security system.
The compound is massive as far as compounds go, and we have the place reinforced for all kinds of emergencies.
We have storm protection systems in place, generators, and an entire garage full of vintage cars.
We have cash, guns, and even some other substances that would excite federal law enforcement if they had a clue what goes on behind our closed doors.
A club like ours can only fly under the radar if we’re careful, and my entire job is being careful.
Careful to stay ten steps ahead of the law, our enemies, and our rivals.
I’m no techie, but we have a few guys we trust and pay well for that trust, so after hours of thinking about upgrades and the cost, I meet with our guy off-site.
That’s another layer of protection I put between the club and the outside world.
Our tech guy Ricardo thinks my name is Sam Sloane.
Sam owns a boat repair business on the coast, and he’s been screwed over before—by both the Coast Guard and the mafia.
Ricardo isn’t exactly friendly with guys with badges either, so we meet in public places, and we talk about logistics and what I need to buy.
Ricardo has never seen my fictional boatyard.
He’s never tested me on my knowledge about boats—of which I have none—and that’s why he keeps me as a paying customer.
After Ricardo and I finish our tacos at a hole-in-the-wall joint an hour outside of town, I load up brand-new, unboxed equipment in my truck.
As I’m leaving, a thought occurs to me. “You got any laptops, tablets, or shit like that?” I ask.
Ricardo nods. “What you thinking of running on it?”
I shake my head. “This is for personal use. Basic email and internet. I’m due for an upgrade.”
He heads over to his truck and brings back a laptop, new in the box. “This doesn’t have a ton of memory on it. You won’t be able to game or anything that requires a lot of processing power, but email and basic online shit, this’ll do you fine.”
“Add it to my total,” I tell him.
He waves a hand. “Consider it a gift.”
I shake his hand and clap him on the back, then head back to the compound.
On the drive, my mind bounces around like a tennis ball.
I think about Claire and how she’s doing today.
Stella has sent me a couple of pictures and texts, updating me on the clothes and shit they are buying, but I don’t care about what they buy.
I care about how Claire’s doing. Is she quiet and withdrawn?
Is she starting to talk more? Share more?
I ask a few questions, and Stella is quick to answer.
Stella: No, not really. But she’s smiling a lot, and that’s something.
Stella sends me a selfie of herself with a giant, goofy grin and Tank looking incredibly bored as they wait outside a dressing room.
Stella: She also won’t let her baby out of her sight, which doesn’t surprise me. Even trying on clothes and shoes, Claire takes Aurora in with her, as if she is worried someone is going to take her.
That also doesn’t surprise me. I thumbs-up the post but don’t say more. I head back to the compound and get to work setting up the equipment. Shadow is there to help, climbing ladders to pull down the old cameras and attaching new, state-of-the-art, wireless equipment, when a thought occurs to me.
“Could we set these up in Claire’s room?” I ask.
Shadow gives me a glare so hot it could fry an egg. “You thinking about monitoring her room?” he asks. “That’s fucked, man.”
I shake my head. “Fuck no. My God. I’m thinking she can watch the baby on the security cams. That way, you know, she wants to come out and eat dinner or cook something, she can leave the baby sleeping or whatever.”
Shadow rubs his jaw with two fingers and laughs. “You clearly didn’t spend much time on Phantom and Poppy’s baby registry.”
I lift my hands at him as if to ask what the fuck that means. “No, I kicked cash into the kitty with everybody else.”
Shadow laughs. “Violet and I spent hours on that damn site. Consider yourself lucky. I don’t know if my old lady’s getting baby fever again or what. Anyway, point being, there’s such a thing as a baby monitor. You don’t need high-tech surveillance to check on a sleeping kid.”
I feel somewhat stupid for not knowing that, but how the hell would I?
It’s not like I know shit about babies or how to monitor them.
But the more I think about Claire being here, the more I want to do to make sure she’s safe.
Comfortable. And that whatever she needs to spread her wings a little, leave her room if and when she wants to, she has it.
I nod at Shadow, and we head into Phantom’s office to test the equipment. That’s when I get a text.
Tank: We’re stopping for lunch at the diner. You want me to bring you something back? Also, that waitress got our table today, and she thinks I’m you. You want me to say something? So she doesn’t think I’m Savage?
I reply back fast.
Me: Nah, I’m good. And just let it go. She doesn’t need to know anything. You got cash to tip her?
Tank: Yup.
We go back to walking Phantom through setting up the new cameras. As soon as we’re done, I check the registry for Poppy and Phantom on my phone. I didn’t even bother reading it when Stella sent it a couple months ago, but now, I get in my truck and head to the store where they registered.
By the time I get back to the compound, it’s almost dinnertime.
I’ve got a couple more bags of shit in the back, but on a whim, I head back to the diner.
It’s not likely she’ll still be there, but it’s not far out of the way.
I park my truck in the lot and squint into the glare of the setting sun through the plate-glass windows.
I see her then, her thick white hair moving as she nods at a couple. She’s taking their order, and from this distance, that’s really all I can see.
I’m doing this for you, I think. For us.
I throw the truck in drive and head back to the compound, not letting myself think or feel anything. That’s how it has to be. That’s how I can put the past behind me and focus on moving forward.
Right here and now.
Not then.
Not who I was.
Not who I couldn’t be.
I head into the compound and find Stella sitting on Tank’s lap, eating a plate of hot wings.
I shake my head. She’s a shameless flirt.
Stella’s probably fifteen years older than Tank, and the kid seems a lot more interested in playing video games than balancing Stella’s long legs on his lap, but it’s good to see they didn’t kill each other after a day of shopping.
When Stella sees me, she points toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “She’s feeding the baby,” she calls. “I told her to come eat wings with us, but she said she was full from lunch.”
I nod and head down the hallway, a weird excitement in my gut.
It’s stupid, for sure, to think anything.
To feel anything for this woman. She’s a widow of sorts.
A single mother. A woman who’s got a long road ahead of her before she can even think about dealing with whatever she left behind, but I feel my fist tighten around the plastic bag I’m carrying. Why the hell are my hands sweating?
I lightly knock on the door. “Claire, it’s—” But I don’t have time to get the words out before the door opens, and my jaw nearly drops to my chest.
Claire is dressed in her new clothes. She’s wearing a long yellow sundress and gold-colored flip-flops on her feet.
Her hair is long and loose, and now that it’s dry and down—not in a messy, matted bun—I can see it’s a gorgeous chestnut-brown color.
She’s not wearing makeup, but her cheeks are flushed pink and there is the slightest hint of peach gloss on her lips.
Her black eye is still swollen and angry-looking, but the rest of her is breathtakingly beautiful.
I stare at her, my mouth open, and I don’t say a thing.
“Savage?” She looks at me, her lips parted. “Are you okay?”
I hear Aurora babbling behind her, and the sound of the baby breaks me out of my trance. “Baby,” I blurt out, holding up the bag like I’m some kind of trick-or-treater expecting candy. “Here.”
She widens her eyes a bit and looks down at the bag. “What did you do now?” She shakes her head, and the long, long hair swishes over her bare shoulders. “Savage…” She motions down at her dress. “Look at this.”
“I am.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Claire, you’re…stunning.”
She looks shocked and takes a step back. “I’m not,” she murmurs.
“Jesus, stop.” I look her over and can’t let this woman deny what she is. She’s beautiful. How the fuck could anybody have this woman and treat her like anything but a goddess? I don’t say it, though. Instead, I blurt out, “You’re…incredible.”
“Uh, thank you.” She looks uncomfortable at the compliment and motions down at herself with a hand. “Some nice clothes and a shower, and not one, but two incredible meals at the diner apparently change a person. The clothes, the shoes… I don’t know how to thank you for all of this, Savage.”
She flicks a look at me, and something passes between us. Something that I never would have imagined when I first saw her sweating and cowering in Mad Dog’s shit truck. My heart rate picks up, and sweat breaks out along my hairline. I shove aside every instinct that tells me to move closer to her.
She’s in no position for me to make any moves—I can’t even think about it. I promised her she’d be safe here, and I’m not going to do anything to threaten that. And what the fuck is wrong with me anyway? She’s somebody’s mama and some dead guy’s widow. The last thing she’s thinking about is me.
I shake my head and will any thoughts I have about Claire—her beautiful hair, her gorgeous skin—far from my mind. I shake the bag I’m holding like it’s weighed down by feral cats. “For you,” I tell her.