Page 5 of Filthy Savage

It’s not that kind of trip home, but I also decide she doesn’t need to know the ins and outs of my trip. I don’t even know who she is. I pay for the treats and thank her, then she calls out for me to wait before I leave.

“If you’re around on Saturday, I’ll be at the farmers’ market. There are always a bunch of great vendors there.”

My heart squeezes at the mention of the farmers’ market. Not because my family went there or anything, but I remember Atomic loving the market, and in turn, Brew did, too. He took me a few times when I was a teenager and expressed an interest in it.

It wasn’t a complete lie. I did like going, but I was mostly interested because he was into it. Teenage starry-eyed dreams were of us going to the farmers’ market together, hand in hand, and buying fruit together. What an idiot I was.

“I’ll see if I can make it,” I say, giving her a wave and thanking her again before I head back to my car.

Settling my bakery box on the front seat, I shift the car intoReverseand head to the motel in town. I am doing everything I can to avoid going to the clubhouse, but I know I need to before I run out of electricity.

Ophelia sits behind the desk of the motel, and I can’t help but wonder if the woman has ever left her station. As soon as the little bell rings over the door, she lifts her head, and I step into the office.

Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t recognize me immediately. I almost laugh, because this woman knew me as a kid. She used to catch us swimming in the motel’s pool and run us out, but she always did it with a smile on her face.

“I would like a room,” I state.

She frowns, no doubt attempting to place my voice. When she asks me my name, I tell her.

Spencer Maddison.

That’s when her eyes widen as they shift from the computer screen to meet my own. “No,” she breathes. “Little Spencer Maddison?”

I can’t help but laugh. The fact that she called me little when I’m well over five foot nine. “In the flesh,” I say, giving her the best smile I can muster.

Her lips curve up into a grin that dies almost immediately. “Your brother,” she whispers. “He’s one of the good ones. I hate that he was thrown in jail that way.”

I almost,almostlaugh in her face. She acts as if my brother is innocent and that this is something that unjustly happened to him. Instead of saying that, I give her a tight-lipped smile.

She nods, then turns back to her computer and types in some things. I give her my credit card to keep on file, and then she hands me a key.

“Now, if you get bored in that room, you just come on down here. I can always use someone to play cards with,” she says with a smile.

Thanking her, I tell her that I’ll definitely do that. Because I probably will. It’s not like I have anything else to do once my computer work is finished for my clients.

Taking the key, I walk over to my assigned room, open it up, and look around. I know that at least here, I’ll be safe. Which is more than I could say for my parents’ place or the clubhouse.

I gather all of my things, including my box of bakery treats, and carry them into the room. I want to try the desserts, but I decide I’m going to wait until I’m back from yelling at the Dark Horse MC. The sugar will probably help calm my anxiety.

BREW

The clubhouse isin a fucking uproar over Clink being arrested. It shouldn’t have happened. We have a new route, a new system, and it hasn’t been completely vetted yet. Of course, this happens to Clink, our treasurer. Why would it happen to a brother who didn’t hold an office? Because that shit would be far too fucking easy.

Lifting a beer to my lips, I take a pull. Fuck. I cannot believe this has happened. Then, the door to the clubhouse swings open, letting the light into the otherwise dim room. The sight of her causes my fucking breath to hitch like a goddamn idiot.

“You assholes got my brother thrown in jail,” she snaps.

Spencer Maddison.

Fucking hell.

The room goes completely silent. A growl escapes my lips, and I march toward her. The closer I get to her, the more she must realize who I am. Her eyes widen, and she takes a few steps backward.

She’s taller than she was the last time I saw her, filled out a bit more, too, sexy as all fucking hell. Once I’m directly in front of her, I lean forward, growling again. This fucking woman. She’s just as beautiful as she was when she was eighteen years old. No, she’s more beautiful, which I didn’t even know was possible.

“Outside,” I snap.

“Fuck you,” she grinds out.

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