Page 18 of Filthy Savage

My woman included.

I have to get her to actually go to lockdown, though, which might be a fucking problem, considering she hated it back in the day—with a passion. And I can tell while some things have changed with her, notthatmuch.

My woman.

Fuck.

Just thinking about her as mine makes my heart fucking squeeze inside of my chest. I cannot believe that she could actually be mine. Spencer is the one who got away because that’s what she needed, but I’ll never let it happen again.

I ride by the bakery to make sure she isn’t still there. Thankfully, everything seems to be locked up tight. As I continuetoward the motel, I smile at the sight of her little Tesla parked in front of her room.

I walk up to her room. Atomic has already told me which one is hers. I lift my hand and knock on the door. I can hear some voices, recognizing them easily as the television playing and I smile as I wait for her.

The door flies open, and she stands in front of me, her eyes widening at the sight of me standing in front of her.

“You check your peephole?” I ask.

Her tongue peeks out and slides across her bottom lip. “No,” she snaps. “I heard a bike. I knew it was one of you.”

Shaking my head a couple of times, I clear my throat. “Babe,” I grind out. “What the fuck. I know without a doubt that Clink taught you better than that.”

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, then steps to the side, allowing me to pass. I walk into her room then watch as she closes the door behind her but doesn’t lock it. Clearing my throat, I turn to face her, trying to keep my anger at bay, but she pisses me off.

Spencer is standing with her back against the door, and if I didn’t know better, I would think she’s scared of me in some way. Another thing that pisses me off.

“Wanted to talk to you about your brother. Don’t have specifics yet,” I begin.

She blinks a couple of times, clearing her throat, but I can tell she’s on the verge of tears. “He’s going to jail, isn’t he?”

I dip my chin slightly. I can’t stay away from her. Closing the distance between us, I cup her cheeks and lower my head, touching my forehead to hers. “He’s going to prison, beautiful.”

Her eyes slide closed, and I can feel the pain radiating from her body. I hate this shit. I wish I could take it away. I wish I could undo it. And whatever guilt had eased, it’s back now, in full force.

“I hate it,” she breathes.

Lifting my head, I look at her face and watch as she slowly opens her eyes. They find mine, but she doesn’t speak right away.

“Tell me the rest,” she eventually demands.

“The lawyer is going to try and get him into Texarkana so he’s close by. Not sure if the judge will agree, but that’s the hope. Also, hoping for a much-reduced sentence. But there are no promises.”

“Just hopes,” he exhales.

“Got something else,” I murmur.

Fuck me, but I do not want to tell her the next part. I do not think she’s going to take it well at all. I don’t remember much about her when she was younger, not really. I remember her, but as far as what she liked or disliked, I have no fucking clue. She wasn’t on my radar yet, not until that night, and then she left.

“More?” she asks.

“I need you to pack your shit and come to the clubhouse,” I say.

She blinks. Once, twice, three times as she stares at me. Then she presses her lips together, and her eyes narrow on me.

“Are you putting me under lockdown?” she sneers.

“Not a fan?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Spencer snorts. “No, I am not a fan. I won’t be doing it. I am not part of you people. I fucking refuse.”

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