Page 4 of Savage Fire

Alive but a little dead inside.

Alive but now living on the fringes of the life she was supposed to have before that nightmare.

But it couldn’t be helped. A prosthetic knee cap and metal in her femur meant she was disqualified from ever doing what she loved—MMA. She understood. People with parts added shouldn’t be given the same consideration as people who were all natural. Hell, she basically had a bionic leg, more metal and plastic than bone. And no amount of healing would help the bone-deep ache. Even now, moving with purpose across the blacktop to her car made her leg hurt like a bitch. It didn’t help that her PT, Jamie, hadn’t taken it easy on Tessa today just because it was her last day. No. She’d gone balls to the wall, stretching her, working the muscle. Yeah, it hurt, but it was agoodhurt because at least she still had a leg. After getting her knee cap blown off and her femur shattered, the orthopedic surgeon nearly gave up, informing her that if he couldn’t piece together the femur enough to hold those pieces together with a titanium sleeve, he’d be forced to take the leg at her upper thigh. And, oh Lord, her knee. It wasn’t just the knee cap that had been ravaged, it was also all the little connective bits that held it in place. One of the nurses said it looked like crock pot pork roast after it had been shredded for BBQ.

Sliding into her ten-year-old Nissan, she checked her text messages and saw one from her best friend, Skathi.

SKY: COME HERE WHEN YOU’RE DONE. WE’LL CELEBRATE.

It had been sent an hour ago. Tessa couldn’t help but grin. She loved the hell out of her best friend, who also happened to be the old lady of the president of the largest MC in Nevada. Before moving to Las Vegas and ending up the partner of a badass biker, Skathi was a badass herself—a former Jaegerkorpset, otherwise known as a Jaeger, a member of the Royal Danish Special Forces. Yeah. Badass to the motherfucking max. Add to that Skathi was gorgeous, loyal, courageous, and kind to her very bones, and you got the most amazing person any woman could ever hope to befriend. And Tessa knew full well just how grateful she was to have Skathi as her bestie…even if she did hang out with a bunch of jackass bikers.

We are not thinking abouthimtoday, she mentally huffed, annoyed that even the thought ofhimmade all her girly parts tingle. All that golden-brown skin, taut, thick, hard muscle, those dark eyes that twinkled with wicked promise, that mouth that dreams were made of, and goddamn thataccent—No. No, Tessa!We do not want to fuck a biker. Especiallythatbiker.

Shit.

The Savage Raiders MC. Her saviors and her destroyers. If she hadn’t gotten involved with them, she wouldn’t have been caught up with their mess with the Cartel that had led to her shooting. On the other hand, though, if she hadn’t gotten involved with them, they wouldn’t have been there to save her, either. She’d have been like the other women trapped in that warehouse; caged, battered, and destined for a life of sexual slavery at the hands of human monsters. But it wasn’t justanySavage Raider that swooped in through a fire fight, picked her up, cradled her to his chest, and murmured words of comfort and care into her ear as he carried her from the Cartel carnage. And it wasn’t justanySavage Raider that refused to leave her hospital room, hovering over her like an angel of death to those who’d harm her. Who’d also assigned himself the role of driving her to and from her PT and doctor’s appointments until the doctor cleared her to drive herself. And it wasn’t justanySavage Raider that slept on her couch every night for two months because he knew she needed the help…despite her stubbornness. Who slipped into her room at night when she woke up screaming and crying, shuddering from nightmares too real to dispel. Who wrapped her in his arms, rocked her, soothed her, and kissed her temple oh so gently until she fell asleep again. No…it hadn’t been justanySavage Raider that had invaded her life, rooted himself under her skin, and bunker-busted his way past the ten-foot thick walls she’d erected around herself.

It had beenoneSavage Raider.

He’s no good for you, Tessa.

Rubbing at the aching spot on her chest, she swallowed thickly. God, she needed coffee—and probably a kick in the ass—before she headed to the compound.

TESSA: GONNA HIT UP DUNKIN FIRST. NEED CAFFEINE.

Starting her car, she heard the chime of her phone before she could put the car in gear.

SKY: HOW MANY?

Tessa smirked, rolling her eyes. She knew what Skathi was asking: “how many cups have you already had today?”

TESSA: NOT ENOUGH.

Tossing her phone into the passenger seat, Tessa grabbed herself large iced mocha latte with two extra Turbo shots topped with whipped cream, then pointed her car toward the Savage Raiders’ compound.

Her home away from home lately. A home that smelled like beer, pot, and leather, and sounded like a 90s revival band had moved in. When she wasn’t working, working out, or sleeping, she was either at the compound hanging with Skathi or she was curled up on her couch at home, watching old 90s sitcoms in the dark. You could never watch too manyFriendsreruns.

Yeah, she was pretty pathetic now. Not that she had much of a life before she got her leg demolished. Back then, though, she’d spent hours a day at the MMA gym training with Skathi and sparring with other fighters. When she wasn’t training, she was working her evening job as an EMT, doing her part to keep the drunks and druggies of Vegas from suffocating on their own vomit. Honestly, she loved her job. The adrenaline rush, the elation when things went good, when a life was saved. It wasn’t all good, though. What job was? Especially when life and death enjoyed waltzing around each other to music only Fate could hear.

She arrived at the compound, having just finished sucking down her coffee, smiled, and waved at the prospect, Davey, who was manning the military-grade gate, and drove through to park in front of the massive former firehouse that had been retrofitted, remodeled, then upgraded over the ten plus years Odin and his Raiders had resided there.

As she walked through the door and into the large central common room complete with scattered tables, some couches, a fully-stocked bar along the far wall, a stripper pole and stage in the furthest corner, and pool tables tucked away in another corner, she blinked to adjust her eyes to the lighting and smokey haze. She glanced around but didn’t see her friend among the rabble sitting, smoking, drinking, fucking out in the open, and shooting the shit. As per usual. She never liked seeing the men screwing club whores or getting BJs where everyone could watch. She wasn’t a prude, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. Like sandpaper on a burn. However, she did see someone she wanted to hug the shit out of. Long blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun, bright blue eyes that glowed with intelligence, and a body so curvy it was a driving hazard in the rain.

“Dr. Liz,” Tessa called, slowly making her way across the scuffed hardwood floor to a table in the middle of the room. Three of the six seats were taken.

Dr. Liz, aka Dr. Elizabeth Simpson, was a concierge doctor the club called on when Tessa’s skills as an EMT just wouldn’t do the job. Gunshot wounds, knife wounds, broken bones—Dr. Liz kept the boys of the club alive after they did stupid shit. She was also the on-call doctor for the club’s brothel, where she handed out birth control shots, took blood samples for bi-yearly STI exams, and performed all the usual lady exams as needed. Unfortunately, she’d also been called upon in emergencies when one of the brothel patrons got a little too rough with one of the women. While the club brothers “took care” of the patron, Dr. Liz took care of the woman.

Liz jumped to her feet, her brilliant grin spreading over her face.

“Holy shit, Tessa!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Tessa and squeezing.

Squeezing her back, Tessa chuckled. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, what’re you doing here? Another dumbass get his dick stuck in the screen door?”

Liz pushed Tessa away playfully. Rolling her eyes, she replied, “If only that were the worst thing they get their dicks stuck in. No, I’m here because I heard today was your last day at PT and I wanted to make sure I was here to celebrate with you. I know Skathi has something I mind, and she invited me to come along.”

“Oh? Do you know what these plans of hers entail?”

Liz smirked. “Not a clue, but I’m assuming that since these plans are to celebrate you, they do not involve sobriety or modesty.”

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