Page 47 of Savage Fire

As it was, it was taking everything within Fang to not mount his bike and go on a hunt. He was the lone wolf,el lobo solitario, and he wanted to track them down and rip them to pieces.

“Let me know as soon as you find something,” he demanded, making AFK turn from his screens to peer curiously at Fang.

“What’s this about, because I know there’s more to this than the shit with the Russians and Colombians. You think one or both of them has targeted Tessa, right? But why would they do that? As far as we know, we aren’t even on their radar yet, so why would they be watching her, targeting her if we’re not even a ripple in their pond?”

Fang couldn’t tell him his suspicions. Not yet. Not until he spoke with Jorge. Thebastardobetter have some fucking answers.

“I’ll fill you in after I’ve spoken with Odin. Before then, if there’s anything I need you to know, I’ll tell you.” If anything, Fang needed to warn Odin about Jorge and what his reemergence in Fang’s life might mean for the club.

AFK pursed his lips, his long, dirty blond hair catching the flickering lights from his screens.

“Right, brother,” he replied, turning back to do his thing, dismissing Fang.

Closing the door to AFK’s nerd cave behind him, Fang headed toward the parking lot. He needed to have a face-to-face with Jorge. And if that meant calling him to set up a meet with him, he’d do it. Tessa was his priority. He’d do anything to keep her safe, even face down his greatest enemy.

His brother.

Catching Fae’s gaze on his way out, he asked her to check in on Tessa and let her know that he was headed out on club business. More than anything, he wanted to go back into his room, lock the door, and forget the rest of the world existed. He wanted to continue that conversation with Tessa, tell her how much she meant to him, how he would do anything for her. Kill for her. Die for her. But he couldn’t. Keeping his Tessa safe meant their conversation would have to wait.

Mounting his updated Harley Forty-Eight Special he rode out through the gates and headed toward a little spot in the desert he’d found a few years ago when he was scouting for a place to build the pot farm, the Herb Garden. Just a few miles from the compound, was a patch of land down a lonely dirt road. On that patch of land was a single dilapidated shack. Out there, no one could overhear. No one could interrupt. No one could see something they shouldn’t.

Parked, kickstand down, Fang dialed the number Jorge had called from, tensing when the man answered after the first ring.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,hermano?” The fucker sounded like he was smirking.

“This is a warning to you,hermano,” he said, that word like piss in his mouth, “you mess with Tessa, I bring hell to your fucking door. There will be no place on this earth where you can hide from me.”

Tense silence filled the line. “No one threatens me,cabron, especially not men who should be fucking kissing my Hermes Giovanni loafers in thanks. That aside, I have nothing to do with whatever you think I did to Tessa.”

“You know about Tessa, though. If you called me, you know where I am, who’ve I been with—you’ve been watching me,” Fang sneered, hating the feeling of powerlessness creeping through his blood.

“Of course, though I will admit we lost you for a few years. It wasn’t until someone reached out to us that we were able to find you again. And what a fortuitous happenstance that was.”

Those words made his guts roll. “Someone reached out to you? About me? Who?” Was there a fucking serpent in the grass?

“I don’t know. The only thing I know is I received an email eight months ago from someone looking to cash in, as it were, with information about you. As a matter of fact, one of the first bits of information they provided was the name of a certain blondediosa.”

Blonde goddess? Shit. “Someone sent you information about Tessa, and you don’t know who it is?” This was a fucking nightmare!

“No. From the tone and wording in the emails, I can tell it’s a woman. Someone close to you or your club, because she had information I doubt you advertise to the general public.”

“Like what?” he asked, terrified of the answer. A club whore knew better than to share anything they heard or saw in the clubhouse, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t if they got bitchy and wanted to make money or hurt a brother. And his Bees, the only other women who knew jack shit about his life, including where he was born—he trusted them to a point, but enough that he believed they’d never dig into his past, contact his brother, and sell secrets about him.

“Why the phone call,hermano? Did you call just to threaten me, or is there another purpose for this chit-chat?”

So the fucker wasn’t going to tell him what this mystery bitch gave him.

Suddenly, something Jorge had said finally filtered through to his forebrain.

“What do you mean I should be thanking you? What could I possibly want to thank you for?”

Jorge tsked arrogantly. “You want to know, I want to meet your president. Get me a sit down with Odin, and you’ll know everything I know about your little…Russian problem.” The asshole hung up before Fang could tell him to fuck the hell off.

Shit. So the Calderone Cartelwasmixed up with the Mendoza’s. Just what he fucking needed.

Desperately in need of Tessa, he headed back to the clubhouse. Jorge’s words about the informant selling info about Tessa, the threatening texts to Tessa, and Tessa’s attack all working to laser focus his mind on one thing. He was tired of giving Tessa space to overthink, to twist shit up in her head, to try and forget what he felt like inside her. What they had when they were together, just the two of them. Together, they were perfection, fire on fire. Burning up everything around them until they were sated in the ashes.

First, he’d fuck his woman. Then, he’d meet with Odin.

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