Page 6 of Savage Devotion (Savage Reign #1)

REAPER

C risp air. Orange and red leaves on the trees. Misty rain mixed with fog. Fucking pumpkin spice everything.

It’s a regular late-September night and I should be harassing my club members about all the fucking pumpkins we need to pick up for the hay ride down at the orphanage back home.

Instead, I’m trying to talk a man out of killing the only witness he’s found who might know where his missing wife is.

“Riot. Think, man. What the fuck’re you doin’?” I raise my voice to be heard over the revving bike motors as my brothers ride in behind me. They kill their engines and, in the silence, the only thing that can be heard is my friend loading the chamber.

Petrified eyes swing my way from the man on his knees in front of Riot.

“Riot, man. Look at me.”

He does. His crew is behind him, but they don’t look as concerned as I feel about brain matter spilling all over the road.

Cops or not, that shit needs to be done in a more private setting.

Murder isn’t my bag in this version of my life but I’m not against cleaning filth off the streets.

I have a few of my own demons I’d like to put down permanently.

But I’m done with bloodshed and bullets. I left that a while back. I don’t pick up a gun unless it is necessary. And in this case, I’m not the one looking to put bodies in the ground, like my brother Riot.

“Reaper, brother. Just the man I needed to see.”

I spent a few years on the road as a nomad after leaving the Marines with an honorable discharge.

Shrapnel and the death of my closest buddies made it clear I needed a new line of work sooner rather than later.

But like most dumbass men, it took me a while to realize burying my grief with more death wasn’t the answer.

Not until a night in New Orleans and my time with Arabelle did I see how far down the dark rabbit hole of grief I’d fallen. Her touch, her kisses, and her fire brought me back to life. And then I woke to find my bed empty for all but a red kiss left on my pillow.

And a missing ring.

I rub at the pain stabbing through my heart. I have no business thinking of a one-night stand from months back right now but the memory of Arabelle chases me through the streets every damn day for more than one reason.

“Can you believe this asshole thinks he can blackmail me?”

Riot clocking a poor bastard on the back of the head pulls me out of my thoughts.

I might not want to be here leading my family’s biker motorcycle gang, but here the fuck I am doing just that. With a slightly different rule book than what my father and grandfather used in their day.

“I can believe a lot of shit,” I answer. “But that’s a hard one to swallow, brother.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I’ve met a lot of people in my travels. The Bratva Savages sit at the top of that list and all its brothers.

I’ve bled for them and they’ve done the same.

We exchange business and watch each other’s backs.

That boils down to one thing. If they call, I ride because they would do the same for me and my crew of the Savage Reign any day of the week.

“He looks like a fucking man possessed, Prez. You sure this dude deserves that slug?”

Silas “Ash” Draven, my best friend and VP of the Savage Reign crew, throws the edge of his chin toward Riot.

“He’s going through some shit, but he’s ’bout as stable as you or me.” Which isn’t saying much considering we run guns, own underground gambling joints, and fight clubs along with a few other enterprises only the inner circle of the crew knows about.

“Huh, that’s not really comforting.”

I throw a hand out and clap Ash on the chest, my hand striking the leather of our club’s cut with a thump.

“I know, man, but I can’t leave the SOB in the middle of the road with his gun pulled. One of our asses might get shot. Besides, the Savages have our backs here.”

Across the road, five men with grim faces stand beside their bikes. I catch the eye of Ares, their president and we exchange a knowing look. He doesn’t like this any more than I do, but stopping Riot from getting his answers won’t be done without shooting him between the eyes first.

I like the man so I would rather it not come to that. It’s safer for all of us to let him get what he needs.

“Looks to me like it’s the other way around. We’re here to give them back up. But why?”

Good question.

“You could be right. But they didn’t ask us to ride hours in the pouring fucking rain for nothing. Let’s see what this shit is about so we can get back home.”

“Copy that, Prez.”

I cringe at being called Prez. It’s not a position I stepped into willingly. But I’m trying.

I swing my leg over the seat of my bike and pound cement to the middle of the abandoned two-lane road in an isolated area I’m unfamiliar with.

Ten sets of bike lights illuminate the otherwise pitch-black night.

This far out of the city there isn’t any other set of headlights to be seen in either direction. At least that’s one good thing.

I don’t stop until the tips of my shit-kickers hit the knees of the scum Riot has pinned to the ground with a loaded gun pointed at his temple.

I keep my hands at my side demonstrating I have no intentions of pulling my weapons.

My Desert Eagle 44 magnums tucked under my cut are mere inches from my hands, but this calls for a little more finesse.

“You sure you wanna do this? This can go two ways and only one of them is about to get ugly if you pull the trigger. You know I’m right. ”

I hold Riot’s gaze with mine.

Riot harshly taps the man’s temple. “He broke the contract, Reaper. Get ready to collect another soul. This one goes straight to hell. You hear me?”

Ares straightens from where he’s leaning on his bike. “Listen to our friend, Riot.” My Russian friend is the size of a bear. When he moves you feel hunted by a predator.

The stinging scent of piss in the air says the dude on the ground thinks so too.

Ares’ crew mimics his position and all stop at the edge of the road all looking on as their brother roars into the night sky.

“Fucking asshole, why don’t you just tell me?

She dies because of you and I swear to the fucking Heavens above I’ll hunt down every brother you have, every sister.

Every fucking kin that shares your blood and make them pay for your sins. ”

I’ve known Riot for years. He doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He is former law enforcement for God’s sake. Killing is our last resort, but I think we are all about to meet this man’s limit. And for as long as I’ve known him, he’s never broken a promise.

I can feel my crew coming up behind me. I peer over my shoulder and sure enough, my vice president, road captain, and a couple of my own Savage enforcers mirror the Bratva Savages. We’ve formed the circle of death. No one in. The intended dead only leave after they’ve given up their soul.

I nod at Ares, and he returns the respect. He’s ready for anything that is about to go down.

I turn my attention back to Riot. Red, bloodshot eyes drift to mine.

We stand about the same height and have the same build.

Going toe to toe with him won’t be fun, but if I have to save him from himself, I’ll take the beating.

“I hear you, Riot,” I say calmly. “But you know as well as I do dead men don’t talk, brother. ”

“You’re right about that.”

Riot’s head moves up and down so I know he’s hearing his own words and mine but he still drives the butt of his gun grip into the skull of his prisoner.

“All I want to know is where I can find my wife and this asshole wants to squeeze me for another half a mil. I’m done.

It’s not the money. It is the principle of the matter.

I already gave him seven per our contract.

Now I want what is mine. The information I paid for.

And then we will talk about the soul he owes us. ”

Fuck. That’s not good.

I kick at Riot’s prisoner. “Stop pissing yourself and answer the fucking man. He might let you live. If you talk fast.”

Quivering lips pull back from bloody teeth. I see Riot had a little warm-up time before we rode up.

The dickhead’s hands are in the air as if pleading and showing a little weakness will get him anywhere. “I’m sorry, man. I am. I didn’t know. I just thought you were another client. Genesis’ undertaker didn’t mention shit about you being a Savage brother. The stupid bitch.”

“Now you know, asshole.” I come to a knee in front of him and look the man dead in the eye. “I’ve seen death as it moves over a soul ready to collect. There’s a reason I’m called the Reaper. I suggest you spill your secrets before the devil is the one asking.”

I rise to my feet as Ares walks to the middle of the road and stands opposite Riot and me. Between us, the bastard on his knees quivers in fear as he should.

“We called you in, moy brat , because this man claims to be Savage Reign blood. We thought you would like to look the man in the eye and hear the lie for yourself. When he found out that didn’t save him, he claimed to be Vulture blood.”

I grunt.

“Thought that would leave a bad taste in your mouth.” Ares’ Russian accent is heavy.

“There’s bad blood there for sure,” I answer.

“This one is a nomad. Probably crossed paths with the Vulture crew and decided to throw some names around to see what could get him out of a jam.” At least that is the only thing I can come up with to explain how he knows about my crew and the one my family has feuded with since my father stood in my position, but that story and his betrayal is for another time.

Ares brushes his knuckles against his scruffed-up chin, looking like there’s somewhere else he would rather be right about now. But we both know that’s not how club life works. “Agreed,” he says flatly.

I lock eyes with my vice president, and he’s thinking the same damn thing. We share boundary lines with the other motorcycle gang. The Vultures are rotten to the core and a stain on society.