Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance by Alice May Ball

was getting tired of having them around. The girls were all showing bruises or worse, and they were all saying that they had doctor’s appointments or they needed to visit distant relatives.
    Bogart tried to persuade Angelica and Inez to entertain the Scandinavians but his heart wasn’t in it. Angelica said, “You kidding me American.” She looked in his eye. “Jurgen, Bent, I don’t mind them.” But she knew that neither of them was part of the problem that Bogart was trying to solve.
    She was firm as she said, “One of those other two comes near me, they going to find out what testicles taste like when they been pre-chewed.”
    Bogart, Cox and Hacker took it to the table. Closed session.
    Nobody liked it, but nobody had a better idea. The Norwegians needed their money, Savage needed the Norwegians paid and gone and Savage MC ’s credibility was at stake.
    Harsh enforcement was the only quick route that anybody could think of. Relations with the Placid PD wouldn’t take much more strain right now and, even with Alderman Greaves in their pocket, Savage MC needed better public relations not worse. A gang war between Savage and Los Muertos wouldn’t be any help at all.
    The vote was taken, Bogart and Hacker went to find Butcher.

Machine Head  

    When I first met Cox he rode up out of nowhere, a knight on a black Harley, come to rescue me.
    Daddy’s good little girl was what I was always supposed to be, and that’s exactly what I was. Up until I discovered all the fun that Daddy’s bad little girl could have. That’s when I began to figure out that the bad boys had the keys to the funhouse.
    Have you any idea what you can get away with in a small town like Placid, CA, when your Daddy is the police chief and he won’t ever believe one bad word about you? Daddy the police chief, his baby girl the cheerleader, voted Most Popular and Miss Congeniality . I don’t know how many popularity contests I won in high school and it took me years to work out that it wasn’t because everyone liked me. Almost no one liked me. They were all afraid of me. They were afraid of what I could get away with. They were afraid also of what might happen if I turned my Daddy on them, and that was something that I could do with the crook of my finger.
    Dwayne was a lazy punk car mechanic. Jacked cars, held up a liquor store, my kind of a man. And he sold some crack. Gave me crack. I hated it. I like the feeling of getting messed up on bourbon, it leaves me feeling loose and in control at the same time. I love the mellow hit from a fresh Californian or Oregon weed. I love that almost in the way that Daddy and his stupid friends get all wanky over the wines from the other side of those same western hills.  
    But smoking crack? Get out of my face. I can get fucked up, wired and stupid all in one hit? Like John Fogerty said, it ain’t me. I did it to try it but I told Dwayne, Thanks, but no thanks .
    For Dwayne that’s a red rag. That was the first time he hit me. Like, really hit me, I mean. Left a mark. I wanted to kill him. I swore I would never breathe the same stinking air as him again. Somewhere deep inside me, the shock and the pain lit a powerful fuse, but I knew that wasn’t something to share with Dwayne. His pathetic little wooden room shook when I yanked the door open.
    He just sneered at me with that look on his face that said, You’ll be back, Baby Doll . I stamped out of there with that angry red splash across my cheek and when I slammed the door behind me I heard a small, satisfying sound of breaking glass.
    When Daddy saw the red mark, it made him so angry I thought he’d explode. He told me his house, his rules, I told him, I’m nineteen, Daddy, my LIFE, my rules. Then I realized that I wanted Dwayne again.  

We were out by the edge of town, looking down over the miserable little Friday night light show, not much different from any other night, just with a few more flashing blue lights. I thought, There’s