Savage Page 2

“Hey, I can handle the influx,” I tell him, reaching down to squeeze my crotch. “My old man here’s like the Energizer Bunny— just keeps on going.”

  Dean shakes his head, placing the mail down. “Well, I was hungry before you started going on about your dick.”

  Our cells chirp simultaneously with an incoming message.

  I’m first to respond. “Jesus, you seeing this?”

  Dean squints at the screen of his cell. “Edie in a tank top at… where the hell is that?”

  I read the incoming text. “Peru. Machu Picchu, to be specific. You think they’re going to have hot, honeymoon sex up there?”

  Dean places his cell down. “Again with the morning gag session.”

  I rock forward, hands on the desk, my cell sliding away. “We both know Deric is only trying to make us jealous, and I have to say, Edie is looking fucking fine.”

  “I’d keep that thought to yourself when Deric gets back unless you want that Energizer Bunny of yours buried up your ass.”

  I laugh it off. “Like the pine cone jammed up yours? Come on. We both know I could take Deric in a fight.”

  Dean leans against the back wall. “Last fight I recall he had you pretty good.”

  “He had fucking nothing.”

  We pause for a moment. It doesn’t feel the same without Deric here, but he’s entitled to his honeymoon.

  I breathe out. “I still can’t believe you guys have settled down.”

  “Wild, isn’t it?” replies Dean. “Devils no more.”

  “Fuck that,” I stammer, standing. “We’re still the Devils.”

  “You are the Devil,” says Dean, walking over, “singular. My days of steaming up this place are far behind me. I’m a family man now.”

  “Are you just?”

  “You should try it some time.”

  I shake my head. “Settling down isn’t for me. It’s as simple as that. I’m a lone wolf, baby.”

  “A lone-ly wolf, sure. But don’t sweat it. It happens to the best of us.”

  “Good thing no one’s ever accused me of being the best of anything, so I guess I’ve got nothing to worry about,” I joke.

  “Is that so?” smiles Dean knowingly.

  I know I’m being self-deprecating, but there’s an edge to it I can’t seem to wear down, because I know there’s truth in what Dean’s saying, in what he has with Ava. That lingering vulnerability suddenly rises to the surface. All I want to do it stamp it the fuck down.

  Conversation eventually turns to who’s going to take the tour permits to the Rangers station and, specifically, Lexi.

  Lexi—now there’s an interesting specimen. I’ve never been able to get a good lock on her, or her intentions. I know she’s into me, seriously into me, but then again, who isn’t?

  Dean’s always giving me shit about her, about my aversion to the station.

  He doesn’t seem to share my views. “You fucking serious?

  “Please,” I tell him, pleading my case, “who the hell shows up here out of the blue with no connections, moves to the middle of nowhere for no good reason? You don’t think that’s suspicious?”

  Dean only laughs. “The only thing suspicious about her is the fact she wants your ugly ass to nail her to the wall. Clearly, it’s her poor judgement that’s got your Spidey senses tingling.”

  Contrary to my opinions, my cock gives a small twitch of approval. Still, I’m not convinced. I pride myself on my gut, my ability to read situations and spot danger. It’s what keeps me alive out there on the water. I can’t pinpoint it, but there’s something about Lexi Shane that simply doesn’t add up.

  That said, if I was observing this from a purely physical angle, Lexi does tick all the boxes. She’s got a great ass, ample rack and an hourglass figure to match. Even the cutesy smile she puts on gets my heart pumping just that little bit harder, the blood rushing down to my dick, but it always seems like an act.

  Maybe she’s nervous?

  Could be. I’d be nervous too if I came face to face with myself and all my built fucking glory.

  I continue running through the emails, anything to distract my attention away from Lexi and the erection that’s set up shop in my pants at the mere mention of her.

  Another email pops up from the lawyer for West Group. They’ve been onto us for weeks now about investing in and expanding the business, but like everything, I come at it with a big dollop of skepticism. Nothing in this life is handed to you for free, or without big, dangly strings attached, and that goes double for slippery lawyers in suits.

  Deric’s been pushing Dean and me to at least consider the offer owing largely to the ongoing financial stability it would provide. He’s crunched the numbers and done the research, but I’m far from convinced.

  The cursor hovers over ‘Delete.’

  Fuck.

  I draw it away, deciding to tell Dean about it later.

  In a way, I’m kind of pissed off Deric keeps harping on about it. I’ve tried to remain as adamant as I can I don’t want investors coming in. This is our business we built with actual blood and sweat. It belongs to the Devils. I don’t like the idea of Tamanass changing or letting some random, white-collar cutthroats have their say on how we should run our operation. My life is just the way I want it, and it took a hell of a lot of effort to get it that way. It ain’t perfect, but it’s pretty damn close—comfortable and finally drama-free now that Mom has passed.

  Another email arrives, this time from the realtor about my late grandparents’ house. I’ve been dreading going back there to rummage through their belongings… Too many bad memories I’m sure as hell not looking to revisit anytime soon.

  I read through the email and note the change in tone. The realtor’s clearly been speaking to the lawyer involved, practically insisting it’s listed as soon as possible to take advantage of any potential spring home-buyers.

  My grandfather passed away last summer, my grandmother ten years prior. The last thing I want to do is head out there and dredge up the painful shit-show of the past, but sooner or later this needs to be taken care of.

  Enough procrastination. I make up my mind. I’ll drive there after work and get it the hell over with, once and for all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LEXI

  Gracie’s is as quiet as it gets tonight, which suits my mood just fine. I needed a night off from tracking Dex’s inevitable sexual exploits. It’s nothing a good Manhattan won’t fix, a nod to the life I left behind.

  “The usual?” asks Geena, polishing a glass and looking somewhat drained from her filling in at the café. I swear she gets blonder and more bouffant every time I see her. She’s basically a Barbie doll.

  “Yes. Please,” I add. “It’s been a long day.”

  She stops what she’s doing. “Those Ranger boys aren’t giving you a hard time, are they? Because I can call in, whip them into shape,” she winks. Something suggests to me Geena’s idea of ‘whipping them into shape’ would involve a distinct lack of clothing. She’s also got a reputation as the local slot machine.

  “It’s fine.” I smile. “I’m a big girl.”

  “They get cabin fever in there,” says Geena, “a couple of boys masquerading as men all horny as hell and looking for the nearest thing to stick their dick into. You haven’t… have you?”

  I push back from the bar like it’s electrified. “No. No.”

  Geena shrugs. “Yeah, they ain’t exactly a Calvin Klein ad, are they—Jasper excluded. Those arms. Mmm-mm.”

  She saunters away to get my drink.

  She’s right. Most of the Rangers are nothing to look at, and it is difficult being the only female there. Most days they think they’re living out Super Troopers or something. Or maybe I’m simply so infatuated with Dex I’m blinded to everyone else.

  I thought my initial attraction to him would fade when I took the job at the Ranger’s office, but it’s only gotten stronger and harder to ignore, a magnetic pull that wants to drag me kicking and screaming to
completion. But has he shown even the slightest interest in me? No. Zero. Nada. Zip. All while banging anything with boobs. He should really give up the tour thing and simply start renting himself out for the night.

  And you’d be first in line, wouldn’t you?

  Pfft, no.

  But it’s a lie. Every time I let my mind wander there, to thoughts about his hard body and steely eyes, I fall into a deep, sexual trance I can’t snap out of no matter how hard I try. It’s unnatural, his hold over me.

  I mean, can he seriously be that ignorant to my advances? What am I? Chopped liver? Cougar kibble?

  Not that any of it matters, because I cannot sleep with him.

  No. Way.

  “…puking my guts out…” Geena’s talking about her morning sickness, passing across my Manhattan in all its ambery goodness. Geena’s forgotten the all-important cherry, but I’m not about to argue with a pregnant woman.

  “…all day and night, but my sex drive…” she whistles through her teeth. “I’m so horny these days. I’m talking pornstar levels of kinkiness. Not the positions, because, hello,” she grabs her belly, “kid on board, but I’m wet, like the Pacific Ocean down there, you know?”

  “Not exactly,” I reply, having never been pregnant, or indeed laid, in quite a while.

  Geena pulls closer, lowering her voice. “It’s not all rosy, though. Last night I was on top, fucking his brains out when, blah,” she gestures forward with her hands, “I puked up all over him, just brought it all up over his face, in his mouth, the bed, the pillows… I’m talking full Linda Blair Exorcist moment.”

  My Manhattan is looking a lot less appealing. “Um, okay. Wow.”

  Geena stands back. “But he’s a champ. He didn’t make a big fuss of it—cleaned up, took a shower, then took me from behind.”

  “So, quite the night then?”

  If I’m being completely honest, Geena’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve really ever had. I suddenly realize how much I’m going to miss her when it’s time to move on, even if she doesn’t know the ‘real’ me.

  “Howdy, folks.” I turn to find my boss, Jasper, walking in. He removes his Ranger hat and makes his way over to a table in the corner.

  Geena’s licking her lips. “Mmm, mmm, come to Momma.”

  I laugh. “Wow, you are desperate.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me Jasper isn’t a hot as fuck. I’ve got a boyfriend and baby on the way, but I don’t know why you haven’t tapped his ass already and given me the juicy details.”

  I’ve given it a thought or two. Jasper’s a great guy, with noble intentions, the closest thing to a gentleman out here, but I’m not interested. “I’ve got a strict policy of not mixing business with pleasure,” I tell Geena.

  “Balls you do,” she replies. “That’s the best kind of mix there is, getting hot and sweaty on an office desk, your skirt pulled up around your waist and his hand fisted up in your hair. That’s primal, baby.”

  I’m pretty sure she’s speaking from experience, quietly hoping she’s not recalling my desk at the Ranger’s office. “It’s not going to happen.”

  She sighs. “You’re such a party pooper, you know. But that’s okay, because I have a pretty good fix who you’re really sweet on.”

  Oh, crap. Here we go. “I’m not sweet on anyone.”

  “Ehhh,” she makes a buzzer sound. “Wrong answer.”

  “You want his big, Devil dick, don’t you?”

  I play coy, sipping my Manhattan and doing my best to suppress Geena’s puking-during-sex story. “I have absolutely no idea what, or who, you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do, and his name starts with ‘D’ and finishes with ‘sex.’”

  “Is that all you think about?”

  She shrugs again. “How else am I supposed to pass the time around here? My suggestion? Stop waiting for that special someone to sack up and make a move yourself. This two-oh-one-eight, baby.”

  I do my best to direct the conversation elsewhere, but Geena’s intent on steering my love life. I try to finish my Manhattan, but each time I reach for it I picture Geena projectile vomiting on her better half and simply can’t stomach it.

  I check my cell, gathering it into my handbag and standing up.

  “You’re leaving already?” asks Geena, surprised. “You’ve barely touched your drink.”

  All this talk of sex and men has me flustered, but more than that, frustrated. I’m not doing myself any favors hanging around this hormone pit. “Sorry, I’m tired. That’s all.” I start to move away. “See you tomorrow.”

  “You should be tired,” Geena calls to my back, loud enough for the entire bar to hear—all five or six souls gathered, “from all the hot, sweaty sexual intercourse a young, sexy thing like you should be having.”

  I put my hand up and wave without looking. “Goodbye, Geena.”

  I wrap my coat around myself outside given it’s close to zero. If, to Geena’s delight, I did have balls, they’d be shrunken away somewhere around my stomach right about now, deep in hibernation.

  I dig out my keys and swing into my khaki Corolla. I set the heater to full blast, the windscreen defrosting slowly. I could do with a defroster for my brain, a way to clear out the fog that’s taken up residence there these last few weeks.

  I drive back to my rented apartment on auto-pilot. I’ve travelled this road countless times, always surprised by the way the area is so completely different come nightfall.

  My thoughts remain firmly fixed on Dex. I berate myself for being so obvious about my infatuation, especially given my objective here. I should know better. I do know better.

  A deer bounds out across the road.

  I seize up for a moment in shock before swerving hard to avoid it. It’s been drummed into me over and over not to avoid the animal in this situation, but I react on instinct.

  It proves to be the wrong one.

  The front left tire catches on a rut, the car skidding sideways hard and propelling itself towards the tree-line.

  My eyes dart left and I know what’s coming. My body prepares for it even if my mind cannot.

  The impact’s a lot harder than I expect, a horrific crunch of metal meeting immovable wood.

  A second later the interior is awash in a shower of glass. The airbag explodes in front of me, but my body’s already being snapped against the doorframe, everything going black the moment my forehead collides with the B-pillar.

  I come to slowly, my head resting against cool metal, fragments of glass like lost diamonds in my lap, underfoot…

  I groan.

  It feels like I’ve got a cement mixer inside my skull.

  There’s a constant, painfully loud noise I soon realize is the horn.

  My hand shakes as I reach up to my head. The tips of my fingers come away warm and inky in the darkness—blood.

  Oh, God.

  Don’t move, I tell myself.

  My ears are ringing, but I swear I can hear someone calling my name.

  “Lexi,” comes the voice. “Lexi!” it repeats, shouting to be heard over the horn.

  I slowly lift myself away from the B-pillar and I swear my head’s gained fifty pounds. It’s a wrecking ball atop my shoulders.

  “Lexi!”

  I struggle to look sideways.

  Dex is on the other side of the car, looking through the—now quite open—window.

  I’m freezing, shivering in my seat.

  Dex, I think. Of course it’s Dex.

  His eyes, beady in the blackness, are narrowed in concern. “Don’t move,” he says. “I’m coming around.”

  He appears beside me, looking in. “Are you okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” I mumble, “I’m f-fine.”

  He gets his cell out, reaching through the window to place his hand on my arm.

  I have to laugh. All this time and it only took a car crash to make him get physical with me. I can’t say I’m averse to the sensation, the reassuring grip of his hand.


  He curses in frustration. “Shit. No reception.” He looks in. “Where does it hurt?”

  “I’m… fine,” I breathe out, painfully slow, the forest swimming before my eyes.

  His eyes are fixed on my head. “Not from where I’m standing.”

  To demonstrate, I summon every ounce of energy I have, reaching up and pulling the door handle, the door whining open and swinging wide.

  Dex jumps back. “What the hell are you—”

  But I’m already stepping out of the car. “I told you. I’m f—”

  My moment I try to put my weight on my feet the world goes into a tumble. I collapse over myself. The ground comes up fast, but Dex is there, his strong hands holding me upright. “Jesus, you are so not fine.” He’s shaking his head, muttering to himself. He lets go with one hand, scooping me up under my legs like I weigh nothing at all and carrying me towards his truck.

  I want to argue, I really do, but I’m too tired to put a coherent string of words together. I just want to sleep.

  Dex is sure-footed as he carries me, the sky heavy with stars above, my head beating and thumping like a jungle drum.

  I’ve got a pretty good idea where we’re going.

  And it ain’t his bedroom.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DEX

  It’s a solid twenty-minute drive to the hospital from here. I try to keep my speed down, conscious of the animals in the area.

  I look over. Lexi’s head is lolling about, she’s rambling on about boiled candies and Barbie dolls, but the wound on her head seems to have dried up a little. It’s probably not that serious, but, like most head wounds, it’s bleeding a lot and sure as hell looking the opposite.

  I shake my head, cursing my luck that of all people I had to come across, it had to be her.

  “Soooo delicious,” she says, her hands waving about, “but you don’t want the green-and-white ones. No, sir. Red-and-black for life.”

  There’s something about her that sets every alarm bell ringing inside me… and gets me rock hard to match. In a crazy kind of way she’s cute, a body built for fucking; long, toned legs, and a set of lips that would look real nice around my cock.

  Never stick it in crazy, I remind myself, heeding the long lost, prophetic words of Dean. It’s asking for trouble.