Page 2 of Filthy Savage

I was so stupid.

So young and naive.

Maybe I still am because I’ve wished more than once that he would show up and confess his love for me. I can’t count the times I lay in bed and imagined him darkening my doorway, confessing his love for me, and fucking me into next week.

It never happens, though. It will never happen.

Picking up my glass of wine from the floor beside the tub, I take a drink and let out a sigh. Then, I lean over and scroll backward on the book because I missed a whole chapter. Before I can get going again, my phone rings.

UNKNOWN CALLER

“Don’t get mad.” His voice sounds funny.

Combine that with the unknown number that came up on my phone, and I’m on edge as it is. Nothing about this can be good. I know it can’t. I don’t hear from him often, at least not by phone call. He usually texts me.

“Humble,” I growl.

I’m probably the only person who calls my brother by his given name, Humble. Our parents were not known for giving us traditional names, and Humble is a city in Texas. I never asked for specifics on how they came up with the name. But the DarkHorse MC has given my brother the dumbest fucking name to use… Clink.

That’s what he’s called now, and I hate it. I refuse to use it when referring to him. He is Humble. He will always be Humble.

“I’m in jail, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting out anytime soon. Probably end up in the pen, if I’m being honest.”

My heart beats against my chest so hard that I can hear the blood roaring in my ears. I don’t know what to say. I don’t have any words inside of me to actually speak. I knew this would happen. But I am frozen—my heart racing, my breathing coming out in short pants, and my vision blurs.

“Spencer. I’m so damn sorry,” he rasps.

His words cause my spine to straighten. “Was it your club’s fault?” I demand.

The shock begins to wear off as the anger bubbles inside of me. He doesn’t say anything, which is enough of an answer for me.

“It was their fault,” I whisper.

“I agreed to the job, Spence. I just needed you to know that I wouldn’t have my phone with me. But I’ll call you when I can. Hopefully, you’ll be able to come and visit me soon.”

God. I hate this. Tears prick my eyes, anger receding as sadness washes over me. “Whatever you need, Humble. I’m here for you,” I rasp, trying to keep from choking on my tears. I’m such a crybaby, but Humble is all I have.

He snorts. “No worries, little sister. The club has my back.”

My anger instantly reappears. I want to scream at him that they, indeed, do fuckingnothave his back. If they did, he wouldn’t be where he is right now. But I don’t say anything. He doesn’t need my anger thrown at him right now. He can literally do nothing about it.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone who deserves my anger. And I’m going to make sure they get it—tenfold.

We end the call, though I do it out of protest, while he does it out of necessity. I’m left with an empty feeling inside. It consumes me, and I can’t believe this happened. I knew it was bound to one day. You don’t live life on the edge and not get caught eventually.

I had just hoped I wasn’t around to see it. But I am. So, now I have some decisions to make. Staring at my cell phone, I make one. It’s probably in haste. But I can work anywhere. I don’t have to be here in Austin.

I’ll grab a suitcase, pack my bag. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I pack enough for two weeks. I can wash clothes when I’m in Pineville. If the Suds-N-Bubbles has closed down, I know I can drive to the next town to take care of my business.

That’s the thing with Deep East Texas—if you can’t find what you need in your town, there’s one ten minutes up the road, and they’ll probably have what you’re looking for.

Climbing out of the bath, I dry off as my snap decision takes hold. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. But the time is now. I dress as quickly as I can, then move through my apartment like I don’t have a moment to spare. As if this is an emergency, though it’s really not. My heart is racing, and my nerves are completely shot. I don’t even know how I’m going to drive, but I can’t wait.

Packing my computer and all of my chargers in my laptop bag, I make my way out of my apartment. After double-checking my door to ensure that it’s locked, I head toward my Tesla that’s parked in my single covered spot and charging.

As I load everything into my car, I hear my name being called. Lifting my head, I look up to see my across-the-hall neighbor making her way toward me. I wince. I don’t want her to know I’m leaving for a while.

I don’t want anyone to know.

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