Redemption
Savage Souls Series
Book 5
LS Silverii
This fifth book in the series is dedicated to my boys. May you never know life such as this.
This series allowed the opportunity to incorporate my experiences as an undercover agent as well as what I’ve learned through my studies of human fringe behavior. I appreciate all of my brother and sister law enforcement officers who walk the jagged line daily. Those who keep the faith despite the frayed conditions have my eternal gratitude.
The writing community is amazing for surrounding each other with genuine support. These wonderful people generously support and mentor me without hesitation. I thank you for your time, talent and truth. Liliana Hart and Jean Jenkins.
Thanks for being a Savage Souls reader. To show appreciation for joining me on this outlaw adventure, I’m giving away Sterling Silver Biker Pendants. Each episode in the series has a unique piece of biker jewelry that symbolizes that book. Enter by clicking the link below and you might become one of the Savage Nations Most Wanted Prize Winners.
forms.aweber.com/form/32/368041932.htm
ABOUT THIS SERIES:
**Please note this book is dark romance and deals with adult themes. Recommended for mature readers only**
This story unfolds over five volumes.
Copyright © 2015 by L. Scott Silverii
Kindle Edition
SilverHart Publishing
Redemption: Savage Souls Series
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it bears to reality is entirely coincidental.
Produced by LS Silverii at SilverHart Publishing.
S
t. John’s journey
with Justice to hell and back had changed him—Abigail could see the transformation in his face as he slept. The fragile peace she’d seen there was now a distant memory.
With her slender fingers, she brushed the tangled of hair from his forehead. His nose crinkled but he slept on. Abigail smiled, though loneliness still consumed her. She knew he needed the rest, but desperately wanted to be with him. She’d been so worried after he left. Maybe just a quick hello wouldn’t hurt, maybe a kiss.
“James, baby you’ve been sleeping for days. Time to wake up,” she whispered in hopes he’d be ready to rise. She leaned down to press her wounded lips against his gaunt cheek.
“Baby girl, leave that man alone. Let him sleep,” Justice spoke in an unusually rare conversational tone. He filled the threshold to St. John’s bedroom—his legs crossed casually at the knees and his right hand planted inside the doorframe.
Rattled, Abigail blew out a series of short breaths to regain control of her emotions. She’d been so content sitting with a sleeping St. John. Yet, here was her owner. Servicing Justice was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Here, baby girl. Come to daddy,” he snapped and rustled his thumb and fingers against each other like he’d call a dog.
“But, Justice…” Her heart palpated with intensity. Sweat covered her cheeks and palms. She began to hyperventilate. “I want to wait for him to wake up.” She whined, wringing her fingers into each palm.
“Don’t make me come get you. I want to let the man sleep—he deserves it, but you’ll be the one to disturb him if I come in there.” Justice’s casual tone smeared into something void of good nature.
Abigail offered a false smile as she closed her eyes to regain calmness. She struggled to rein in her heavy breathing and smoothed her raggedy hair as a soothing technique—it’d worked on her son, Jack.
“Yes, Justice?” She stood before him—her neck craned upward to look into his bearded face.
A chill snaked its way across her shoulders when she noticed the same soulless expression as she’d noticed on St. John’s face after he’d returned. Her mind screamed at what these two badass men must’ve experienced.
“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.
Abigail scissored her way back toward Justice’s bedroom on unsteady legs. Hands pressed tight across her tattooed gut, she battled the rumble of hot intestinal bile. She bit her lip so hard she licked away the coppery taste of blood. She held back a whimper. Not now. Please, she didn’t want to do this again, not ever.
His large, warm palm fell upon her neck. “Not in my room, baby.”
Abigail choked back a sob. She couldn’t take more fucking. The chamber was reserved for group or freaking-ass shit. She rubbed her damp palms against both butt cheeks, still sore from the gang rape and beating. Her body would shut down if they went there. And if Justice sensed her rejection or hesitation she’d be punished severely. The thought of more discipline tattoos made her chest clutch in disgust. Abigail fought to draw in a deep breath then exhaled in short quick bursts—her arms drilled straight down against her sides. She forced her chin up.
Fuck it; I’ll do what I gotta do to get these murderers. Bring it on.
“Not in the chamber, baby. You must really be messed up if you’re ready for more fucking.” Justice laughed. He led her down the stairs—his hand still on her neck. She anticipated a shove, but he only helped her down the stairs.
“Am I in trouble? I only wanted to make sure he was sleeping well.” Abigail became more nervous as he led her out the back door and onto the porch. “Am I going in the Box?” Her body stiffened.
“Relax. You ain’t in trouble.”
“Then why am I being taken out here?” Her bare feet shuffled across dried leaves and twigs congealed with motor oil and diesel.
“I owe you.”
She began to cry uncertain tears. Shaking hands jabbed to smash moisture. “For what?”
“I failed to protect my pig… I mean my property.” Justice’s index finger touched his lips to cover his mistake. “I gave this club an order to not lay a hand on you until I returned. St. John had asked and I felt I owed him that much.”
“Thank you, but…”
“I know, and what I had to do pains me more than you’ll imagine—examples had to be set. No matter the relation. The Savage Nation comes first.”
Abigail’s body grew rigid, but flaccid at the same time. Bone and muscle still supported her slight weight, but loose legs trembled and threatened not to hold her. She sank down atop the torment structure known as the Box, where bikers or old ladies were assigned punishment for violating the club’s charter.
“I thought I wasn’t going into the Box, Justice?” She pawed at his arms but he pulled away. Laughter nervously spilled from her mouth.
“You’re not, but I need you to shut up and listen.” His glare startled her. “I gave an order, and my own brother disobeyed that order and dishonored the code. I won’t tolerate disobedience.”
She gnawed on her pinky nail. “I know you won’t, Justice.”
“I had him killed.”
Abigail gasped at the news and his matter-of-fact tone. Her eyes widened as Justice manipulated the lock that held the heavy wooden door closed. An old tattered leather motorcycle boot lay close to the entrance.
“He won’t hurt you ever again,” Justice exclaimed as he grabbed a leg with one hand and drug the offending biker’s corpse out of the Box.
Abigail fell to her knees, vomit spewing. Her body jerked in sync with the writhing in her gut. Trembling, she looked up into Justice’s eyes. His, too, were filled with moisture and pain.
“You had him killed because of me?”
“Yes, and to show the rest that this ain’t fucking-around time.”
Abigail’s gaze locked onto the scar that extended from above the corpse’s right eye and sliced across the left side of his chin. It frightened her as much now as it had on the Las Vegas highway months ago when she came face-to-face with Vengeance. He had pointed a double-barrel shotgun at her back then and stopped her from running to her son, Jack. She would never forget Vengeance’s words to her, “Fuck Jack, he’s dead.”
Abigail wiped her nose on the shoulder of her shirt. Words seized in her chest but she swallowed harder than normal. She reached up toward Justice—he offered her a hand to stand.
“Justice.”
“Yeah, baby?”
“It was Viper and his crew visiting from Utah.”
His face drained pale. “What?”
“Vengeance didn’t rape me.”
S
t. John leaned
over the bench seat and pushed the pickup truck’s passenger door open. Abigail padded in circles while he did. Her eyes glanced at St. John, but they were clearly scanning for someone else. He patted the seat, encouraging her to hop in. They were off to Hope Falls.
Abigail walked her battered hand across St. John’s thigh until it rested atop his knee. Saddened at the sight, he glanced at the blistered skin that covered her latest tattoo. Another one given as punishment. He was glad she’d stabbed one of the rapists with his own knife, but the toll she paid had cost her a knocked out back tooth and a new Savage Souls tattoo with a pig’s image.
Her soft blue eyes swept up into his. Eyelashes fluttered. “It was worth it.” She squeezed his leg.
“I knew you weren’t going to back down. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you,” he said, interlacing his fingers with hers.
“It’s okay. I put myself in this situation.”
St. John tried to force the edges of his mouth into a smile, but he couldn’t. He’d failed to protect her.
“I want you to meet part of my team. They’re the only ones I trust right now, and time’s running out for everyone.”
“Why do you say that?”
“This Gray Man is the wildcard. Even Justice is afraid of him.”
Abigail let out a sigh. St. John felt her body tense at the name. His hand returned to the steering wheel.
“Something you want to tell me?” His eyes cut from the long asphalt ribbon to her.
“It’s that name. I might know something.” She folded her arms, and then restlessly pressed her palms over her mini-skirt to straighten it out. Calloused knuckles stretched as her fingers gripped the hem of her garment. She tugged the skirt down but one evil-looking dragon skull tattoo still peeked from her inner thigh.