Savage Mercy (Savage Saviors MC #1) Read online

  SAVAGE MERCY

  Screw the consequences, she belongs to me

  I want them destroyed

  Brutal. Barbaric. Gruesome.

  That’s exactly how I want it done to them.

  The monster inside me will not agree for anything less.

  Vengeance is the only thing I’ve lived for.

  Until I experience something new for the first time... desire.

  Desire so strong that makes me think twice about my worthless life.

  For a woman.

  They’ll never touch her again.

  They’ll never run their hands down her gorgeous curve.

  They’ll never hear her beg.

  She belongs to me

  Savage Mercy

  Savage Saviors MC Book 1

  J.C. Allen

  Timothy Allen

  Copyright © 2018 by J.C. Allen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For you, the woman who was supposed to be my life long lover and partner. Though we are no longer together, this series will re-capture all of our emotions and desire for each other once more.

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  Book Playlist

  1.“Wicked Games” – The Weeknd

  2.“She Bad” – Tyla Yaweh

  3.“Sativa” – Jhene Aiko ft. Rae Sremmurd

  4.“Losin Control” – Russ

  5.“Best Part” – Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R.

  6.“Teenage Fever” – Drake

  7.“Crazy Sex” – R. Kelly

  8.“Cake” – Trey Songz

  9.“Legs Shakin” – R. Kelly

  10.“To My Bed” – Chris Brown

  11.“Mr. Steal Your Girl” – Chris Brown

  12.“Birthday Sex” – Jeremiah

  13.“The Zone” – The Weeknd ft. Drake

  14.“Tempo” – Chris Brown

  15.“Earned It” – The Weeknd

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Derek

  2. Eve

  3. Derek

  4. Eve

  5. Derek

  6. Eve

  7. Derek

  8. Eve

  9. Derek

  10. Eve

  11. Derek

  12. Eve

  13. Derek

  14. Eve

  15. Derek

  16. Eve

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon From J.C. Allen

  Prologue

  Two Years Before

  It wasn’t fast enough.

  It never was.

  I raced across the city in my old “bike,” a beaten-down, clinging-to-life Honda from the 20th century, sporting a clanker of an exhaust and worthless shockers. She’d charged ahead as fast as she could, outrunning it all.

  It wasn’t like I needed a miracle—I just needed her to get just a little faster…

  The words of Maggie, my beloved wife, seven months pregnant, still rang in my head from seconds ago.

  “Please! Derek! Hurry! I can hear him knocking down the door!”

  I didn’t know “him” was.

  I didn’t need to. I know who he worked for.

  The Black Falcons. The birds of prey that killed my father, my mother, and my brother.

  And now they’re coming for my wife and daughter.

  Someone’s going to die today, and it’s not going to be a Knight.

  When I had hung up started, everything turned to black. The pavement. The sky. The edges of my vision.

  It was a fucking miracle, as I pulled up to my house, seeing the front door caved in and off its hinges, that I had not hit any pedestrians, cars, or guard rails on the way home. The whole process couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but damn if it didn’t feel like ten lifetimes.

  I didn’t want to think the worst had happened. I didn’t want to think I’d walk in and find Maggie dead, her stomach not moving…

  I refused.

  Life couldn’t be falling apart like this.

  A year ago, I had led the pleasant life. Though connected to the Savage Saviors by name, I’d avoided the worst of the lifestyle. My father ran it, my brother was set to take over, and Maggie loved me. The city got to enjoy its “soft” vices without too much oversight from the cops—as long as people weren’t stupid or overt—and crime remained low.

  And then, the Black Falcons showed up.

  Or, rather, they devolved out of the Savage Saviors.

  Rogue agents who thirsted for more. Criminals who hadn’t shown their true colors. Sociopaths who saw anything less than murder or rape as weak.

  I just called them evil.

  And now, they’d brought the fight to my front door.

  “MAGGIE!” I bellowed into the house as I stepped inside.

  I heard nothing. Shards of glass, wood, and other broken objects littered the floor. There’d been a fight, at least. Good. Maggie didn’t go down easily, I knew that of her.

  But where the fuck was she?!?

  “MAGGIE!”

  My voice carried through the house, and I realized with some degree of terror that I’d just given away my position to the intruder. The Black Falcon here—if there weren’t multiple ones—would ambush me as soon as I moved to the wrong spot. I was a dead man.

  Fine. As long as Maggie lives and the Black Falcon dies.

  I stopped making so much noise and went to find a knife in the kitchen. I should have had a gun, but I’d stupidly thought we’d never need one. I’d never make that same goddamn mistake again. If I couldn’t live in a nice world, I wasn’t going to play nice.

  I grabbed a massive steak knife, the kind of thing that looked like it cut whole cows, and held it out, prepared to stab at any motherfucker that didn’t look like Maggie. I followed the trail of debris up the stairs. The house was eerily silent—had I not heard Maggie’s cries on the phone so recently, I would have thought that I’d come home from vacation, the intruders by now on the other side of the country.

  It led to my bedroom, door halfway open. I gulped. I listened closely for any incoming sound of danger, any footsteps, any creak of the wood, but I got nothing. I didn’t really want to move over there—I wanted to protect Maggie with my life, but I didn’t want to believe I had to at that moment.

  Had hell come so quickly to my life? When I was that close to having heaven on Earth with my little girl coming into the world?

  I shook my head, bit my lip, and moved forward. I came to the door and saw blood out of the corner of my eye.

  Oh, no…

  I peered into the bedroom. I didn’t have a full view, but I saw the worst thing I could have.

  Maggie’s feet, her heels still on—one of them broken—splattered with blood.

  And then I opened the door.

  I fell to my knees.

  My beloved, my dearest, my sweetest, my life…

  Murdered on the bed, the life choked out of her.

  “Maggie,” I said, my voice quivering. “Maggie, no…”

  I lost all sense of the world around me. I didn’t even notice the gunshot in her chest, so twisted had my visi
on become. I didn’t even… I couldn’t…. I…

  “MAGGIIIIEEEEEEE!”

  Tears streamed out of my eyes as I held her unmoving, unstirring body. God, why?!? Why?!?! There had to be… there had to be something…

  Please…

  But no.

  The Black Falcons had brought hell to my world—no, that was an understatement, because I had a concept of hell before this. But this type of hell, this world I had suddenly found myself in, brought me a type of pain that was indescribable—like having your heart ripped out over and over in an endless loop I couldn’t escape.

  “Ma-Ma-Maggie… Maggie…” I said, my voice quivering.

  And then I felt the gun push against the back of my skull.

  “Derek Knight. You goddamn little bitch.”

  It was a voice that most certainly did not belong to any of my father’s friends. It was a voice that would haunt me and cement the change I was about to make forever.

  I assumed the man thought that I was going to be submissive, given that my hands were shaking, tears poured out of my eyes, and I was before my dead wife.

  He was a dead motherfucker.

  I moved so violently that I knocked the gun out of his hand, slamming it into the wall. In the half second before I rammed the knife into his side, I saw a tattoed man, crosses on his wrist, the shape of a black falcon on the other, and a hood covering most of his face.

  He grunted out in pain, his eyes going wide, but I wasn’t fucking done with him. I grabbed his head and slammed it into my bed frame, knocking numerous teeth out of his jaw as he stumbled backwards. I took a snowglobe, broke it against the table, and slammed it into his face, shattering his eyes and drawing screams of pain I’d never heard a man utter before.

  It wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t going to bring Maggie back.

  So he was going to get the same fate that she had suffered.

  I punched him hard into the wall, dropping him to his ass. I grabbed the gun and pistol-whipped him, then shot him in the knees so he couldn’t get out. After crying like a bitch for a dozen seconds, he spat up blood and looked up to me, his eyes shut and blood pouring from all over his face.

  “Rock… sends his condolences! You… little… bitch!” the shooter cried out, spitting blood all over my floor. “The Savage Saviors are dead! Believe it… Knight! You’re, you’re a dead man! Just like your wife! The Saviors… are dead! The—”

  I pulled the trigger, shutting that asshole the fuck up. I couldn’t take another goddamn exhalation of oxygen from him, let alone another word.

  But just as it didn’t bring an end to my suffering from Maggie, it didn’t end the sound of his voice in my head.

  “The Saviors are dead!”

  That damn voice echoed in my head like a fucking cavern.

  And then, as if God hadn’t fucked with me enough, as if the universe hadn’t conspired enough to make my life a living hell, as if Murphy’s Law hadn’t had enough fun kicking me while I was down, I saw her outside the window, smiling.

  My wife.

  Maggie.

  Alive.

  I… I wanted to say I knew it wasn’t her. I wanted to say that I knew that she was a victim, gunned down while I was gone, a cowardly fucking act by the Black Falcons and one which I would have my revenge for sooner rather than later. I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I knew this was all an illusion, a desperate attempt by my mind to hold on to her.

  Except… what I wanted to say wasn’t what I actually thought. I swore she was real. The way she held her belly in one hand, the way the bump protruded with our daughter, set to be born in a month or so…

  “The Saviors are dead!”

  But it wasn’t real.

  “The Saviors are dead!”

  There were only two things that were real in that moment. My thirst for revenge.

  “The Saviors… are…”

  And that my life had changed forever.

  “Dead!”

  Six Months Before

  The laughter of my brother, Chuck, and a man I did not know filled my ears, penetrating even through the bag placed over my head, through which I was barely breathing.

  “Your own sister,” the rough, gravely voice said. “Even to a man like me, that’s cold.”

  “I have to do what I have to do,” my brother said.

  What the fuck did you do?

  What the fuck did you do?!!?

  I tried to scream, but duct tape sewed my mouth shut. I had no chance of screaming, I had no chance of cursing, and I certainly had no chance of begging for anything.

  I was also naked. I could feel my hands bound behind my back, my feet untied, but two men with thick hands placed upon me.

  “And you have come through rather well,” the man said. “As promised, you have made great progress on your debt.”

  “Progress?”

  The word hung in the air like an ominous warning. Chuck had said the word not as a curious inquisition, but as something of a betrayal.

  Ironic, I bitterly thought. I knew what he’d done, even if I didn’t know the specifics—he’d brought me into his life of crime. I was his sister, and he was using me now.

  I just prayed not in the way I feared, given the fact that I was naked with at least three men around me who were not my brother.

  “You really think this one act was going to repay everything you owe us?”

  The man’s words were chilling, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the lack of clothes I had. They were said without malice or surprise, which made them even worse. Nothing was scarier than the sociopath who put threats into the same category as ordering food from a Michelin restaurant, and that was exactly what happened here.

  “She’s cute, she’s going to bring in a ton of revenue for you, and—”

  “Was that part of the agreement?”

  A ton of revenue…

  “At what point, boy, did we discuss anything about future gains? This was a one-time payment of a deal.”

  He’s going to use me for prostitution.

  “You gave her to me, I pay off some of your debt. Not all. But enough that you should be happy.”

  Chuck sold me into prostitution.

  My own brother…

  “You said we—”

  My brother went silent at what sounded like a wicked punch delivered to him, knocking the wind out of him.

  “I am going to tell you once, boy,” the man said. “This is what you get. Consider yourself fortunate that I have decided what I have given you is enough punishment for talking back to me. Get out of my office before I change my mind.”

  Chuck didn’t utter another word as the sound of the door shutting behind him reached my ears.

  My breathing intensified as I realized that I was alone now. It’s not like Chuck was going to defend me—he put me in this fucking spot; he drugged me at the bar, he got me here; my own goddamn brother!—but, maybe it was sick to say, he was familiar.

  There was nothing familiar here.

  Suddenly, a large hand grabbed my head and ripped the bag off, yanking some hair with it. I whimpered, and I barely got a glimpse of the man speaking to Chuck before he slapped me, dropping me to the ground.

  “My name is Rock,” he said. “And you are mine.”

  He waited until I struggled to my knees. I always kept trying to move my hands, somehow always forgetting they were bound behind my back.

  “Let me explain one thing to you,” he said. “I don’t care what your name is. I don’t care what you wanted to be. I only care that you give me and my men what we want. You are not a woman, but a product for me to sell on the streets. You are disposable, you are worthless, and you are pathetic. If I could carve you up and let me get off of your genitals alone, I would have you dead by now.”

  This man…

  Terror and fear didn’t begin to describe him.

  What had my world come to? Why was I, Eve Kellerman, an aspiring economics and biology
major, suddenly reduced to… being an abused victim and soon-to-be hooker?

  Why?!?

  But I knew already to keep my damn mouth shut.

  “We have some rules that we will go over,” he snarled. “But we can start in the easiest way possible.”

  He reached for the duct tape on my face and ripped it off. I screamed in pain, but his boot into my chest ended that quickly. I bit my own lip, drawing blood, so I stopped.

  And then he and his men began unzipping their pants.

  “Satisfy us and show us why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”

  1

  Derek

  Present Day

  The smell of coffee wafted to my nostrils at an hour well past when most people would have awoken to the smell of their favorite caffeinated drink. A single waitress worked the old, 70’s diner, probably a bit of overkill given that I’d come to this place so many times I could cook their dishes blindfolded. She checked in only once to confirm my meal, once to deliver it, and once to bring the check. She knew me enough, and that’s all I cared about.

  I sat against the back of the booth, looking at the empty seat across from me. I sighed.

  Fuck.

  I had barely slept the night before. The truth was, I hadn’t ever truly fallen asleep. No, such a luxury hadn’t come to me in quite some time, and I didn’t just mean last night. I measured the deepness of my sleep by how quickly I could have bolted up and acted in a moment of need, and that quickness never went beyond a split second’s worth of recognition.

  Life had just changed in that regard. Ever since that fateful day…

  Fuck.

  I wanted to groan, to scream, to roar that curse as I lifted my head. Every day that I woke up, every fucking day…