was no poor girl needing a dysfunctional family’s protection. Who was she working for? Only the CIA or a private group would send an assassin to infiltrate an operation like the Savage Souls.
“So they killed Rage, huh? How’d they pull that off? Drive him to an abandoned warehouse out in the desert and shoot him in the face? Maybe run over his skull on their way out of the parking lot?”
Abigail’s confident expression waxed cold—almost deadpan. She mumbled something but then her mouth dropped open to suck in air. “How?”
“You want to tell me the truth about those two?”
“You gonna rat me out after all we been through?” She never blinked.
“You’re up to something, I just don’t know what it is yet. Some shit ain’t kosher—you’re either a spy or a regular citizen hell bent on revenge.”
She splashed water from the sink onto her face. “I just can’t say, that’s all there is to it. Maybe in another life, but not in this cursed one.”
“Your call, Abigail, but once Vengeance gets involved and Justice realizes you were handed off to Rage, then Tony and Chomps won’t look so guilty. Have you seen what they’re doing to them? Can you even hear their screams?” St. John couldn’t believe her calloused disposition toward the two innocent men.
She patted wash water from her face with a cotton towel then used it to dab away a fresh floods of tears. “My blood is on your hands if anything leaves this room.” She opened each of his hands and touched the tip of her middle finger into each palm.
She uncrossed her legs and let out a sigh, “Those two tried raping me last night once I got back. Viper was shooting pool with them and warned them to back off. He told them about my being attacked but he didn’t have the balls to say who did it.” Her shoulders defiantly straightened. A thousand-yard stare dulled her eyes. “Instead they thought it’d be more considerate just to shove their nasty dicks down my throat. Justice hasn’t declared me his old lady, so officially I’m club property.”
St. John shook his head in disgust. He made a face hearing her words and the calm acceptance with which she delivered them. Outwardly, she was a naturally beautiful young woman, but inside he saw a torn, tortured soul. His spirit ached for her, the depths of pain she obviously felt that remained unknown to him.
“But where did Rage’s cut come from?” He wanted her to confess. He’d push her until she cracked.
“You have your secrets too, St. John. Funny thing about where I grew up—sports were king. Even if you didn’t play or watch them, the sport of betting money was king.” She stared hard into his face.
“What’s that mean?” He felt his face redden.
“I watched a lot of football. SEC football.”
Chapter 2
J ustice stood beneath an outdoor shower. The former bed and breakfast had an empty swimming pool that now held garbage and motorcycle parts, and a series of outdoor showers for sunbathers and trail hikers. The old war veteran who’d donated the estate to the Savage Nation would flip in his coffin had he known the state of disrepair. Although Justice’s military center demanded an orderly interior, he knew when to pick his battles.
Another brilliant Colorado sun shone against his closed eyes. Warm water, heated within the rubber hose, drizzled across his forehead and ran down the length of his colossal frame. Sun kissed his tattooed skin, but he soon felt tears rise, mixed into a confluence of cleansing and grief. The wrath he’d exacted against two brothers wouldn’t fill the void of losing his blood brother, Rage.
Justice spit liquid from his nose and mouth. The weight of the world seemed to press against the back of his skull as he dropped his head. Long hair draped forward and clung to his cheeks. He watched the tide of red run from his skin and across the hard dirt. A recent drought left the soil impermeable—the blood pooled red at his feet.
What had he done
“So they killed Rage, huh? How’d they pull that off? Drive him to an abandoned warehouse out in the desert and shoot him in the face? Maybe run over his skull on their way out of the parking lot?”
Abigail’s confident expression waxed cold—almost deadpan. She mumbled something but then her mouth dropped open to suck in air. “How?”
“You want to tell me the truth about those two?”
“You gonna rat me out after all we been through?” She never blinked.
“You’re up to something, I just don’t know what it is yet. Some shit ain’t kosher—you’re either a spy or a regular citizen hell bent on revenge.”
She splashed water from the sink onto her face. “I just can’t say, that’s all there is to it. Maybe in another life, but not in this cursed one.”
“Your call, Abigail, but once Vengeance gets involved and Justice realizes you were handed off to Rage, then Tony and Chomps won’t look so guilty. Have you seen what they’re doing to them? Can you even hear their screams?” St. John couldn’t believe her calloused disposition toward the two innocent men.
She patted wash water from her face with a cotton towel then used it to dab away a fresh floods of tears. “My blood is on your hands if anything leaves this room.” She opened each of his hands and touched the tip of her middle finger into each palm.
She uncrossed her legs and let out a sigh, “Those two tried raping me last night once I got back. Viper was shooting pool with them and warned them to back off. He told them about my being attacked but he didn’t have the balls to say who did it.” Her shoulders defiantly straightened. A thousand-yard stare dulled her eyes. “Instead they thought it’d be more considerate just to shove their nasty dicks down my throat. Justice hasn’t declared me his old lady, so officially I’m club property.”
St. John shook his head in disgust. He made a face hearing her words and the calm acceptance with which she delivered them. Outwardly, she was a naturally beautiful young woman, but inside he saw a torn, tortured soul. His spirit ached for her, the depths of pain she obviously felt that remained unknown to him.
“But where did Rage’s cut come from?” He wanted her to confess. He’d push her until she cracked.
“You have your secrets too, St. John. Funny thing about where I grew up—sports were king. Even if you didn’t play or watch them, the sport of betting money was king.” She stared hard into his face.
“What’s that mean?” He felt his face redden.
“I watched a lot of football. SEC football.”
Chapter 2
J ustice stood beneath an outdoor shower. The former bed and breakfast had an empty swimming pool that now held garbage and motorcycle parts, and a series of outdoor showers for sunbathers and trail hikers. The old war veteran who’d donated the estate to the Savage Nation would flip in his coffin had he known the state of disrepair. Although Justice’s military center demanded an orderly interior, he knew when to pick his battles.
Another brilliant Colorado sun shone against his closed eyes. Warm water, heated within the rubber hose, drizzled across his forehead and ran down the length of his colossal frame. Sun kissed his tattooed skin, but he soon felt tears rise, mixed into a confluence of cleansing and grief. The wrath he’d exacted against two brothers wouldn’t fill the void of losing his blood brother, Rage.
Justice spit liquid from his nose and mouth. The weight of the world seemed to press against the back of his skull as he dropped his head. Long hair draped forward and clung to his cheeks. He watched the tide of red run from his skin and across the hard dirt. A recent drought left the soil impermeable—the blood pooled red at his feet.
What had he done
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