Page 21 of Savage Heart

“I c-can do that,” Erika sniffled. “You’re coming, right?”

God, his heart. His little girl needed him. He couldn’t get to her fast enough.

He swallowed, then croaked, “Yeah, baby, I’m comin’.”

The line went dead and everything inside of him screamed at the silence. Logically, he knew it needed to be done; the little girl needed to call for help, but she was still alone. Those motherfuckers who hurt Liz could still be around. Erika could still be in danger.

Fuck!

“We got to get there, man,” Trouble rasped, his hands in fists on his lap, his knuckles aching with the pressure.

Odin didn’t even look at him, his eyes pinned to the road. The speedometer read 92MPH, but it felt like they were cruising rather than flying.

Everything was moving slowly, too slowly—but his heart was beating fast, too fast. He gripped his kutte over his heart, sucking a breath into lungs too tight to fully inflate.

“We’ll get you to them, brother. Just hold on, yeah?” Odin murmured, still not taking his eyes from the road.

In a daze, Trouble listened as Odin called Skathi using the Bluetooth dash speaker, telling her to meet them at Liz’s house. Trouble did not know why Skathi had to meet them there; it was already going to be a goddamn mess.

“You’ll need someone to stay with the little girl, take care of her, make sure she gets to her mama,” Odin said, answering Trouble’s spiraling questions.

The little girl.

Hislittle girl.

Fuck! He hadn’t even considered that someone needed to make sure the kid was safe while her mom was hurt. And even eight months pregnant, Skathi was a goddamn killing machine. You could take the Jaeger out of the corps, but you couldn’t stop them from being fucking awesome. Erika would be safe as hell with Skathi watching over her, at least until Liz was okay.

But what if Liz didn’t—

No. Fuck no! He couldn’t—wouldn’t—think of that. She had to survive! He just found out she had his kid, she had some explaining to do, then she had some apologizing to do—but she had to get well, to live.

She has to live.

Another twist in his chest made his hand grip the kutte over it tighter until the leather squealed within his fist.

The screeching of the tires in the quiet, affluent neighborhood would no doubt wake the dead, but Trouble didn’t give a shit. He jumped from the truck even before Odin had put it in park.

Pulling his Sig Sauer P-226 from the waistband at his back, he approached the condo. Two stories with a postage-stamp front yard, a concrete walkway that led to a small porch, and another walkway that led around the side of the building, probably to a small backyard. Everything was well-manicured. But it felt off. This was where Skizzy was living? He almost smirked at the nickname. He’d given it to her a few weeks after they’d gotten together. One thing about Liz was that what you saw was what you got. She wasn’t afraid to just be herself with you. The night of their first pre-planned sleepover, instead of putting on something sexy and easy to rip off like most women he’d been with over the years, Liz had surprised the shit out of him. To say he was shocked when she’d come out of her bedroom wearing an oversized Niners T-shirt, and a pair of cutoff sweatpants, was an understatement. She hadn’t even beentryingto be sexy…still, she’d failed. She’d looked hot as fuckno matter what she wore. At his shocked look, she’d shrugged and said, “This is what you get. You want Beverly Hills, look elsewhere. With me, you get the skid row trailer park.” He hadn’t ever wanted anything else. From then on, he’d called her Skizzy, Skidrow Lizzy. And his Skidrow Lizzy was sweatpants, greasy pizza, and comfy couches, she wasn’t angles and concrete and cold, uninviting porches.

And Trouble was uninvited, just as the fucks who hurt his Liz had been.

Falling into his training, Trouble threw a glance at Odin, whose expression was hard, unreadable. His prez was gone; his commander was standing there. Signaling Odin that he should take the back while Trouble took the front, Trouble waited until the behemoth moved around the building and out of sight, knowing that the man was large but fully capable of sneaking up on any enemy.

Moving up the six stone steps to the porch, Trouble noticed the door was ajar. On the left side of the door was an opaque glass wall, meant to offer the resident a better view of people on the stoop. Had Liz seen the men who hurt her? Why had she let them in? Had they forced themselves in? And who were these fucks that dared to come into Liz’s home, where her daughter lived, and hurt her?

Fuck. Too many questions…and Liz was still waiting for him to save her.

At the door, he leaned in, putting his ear to the gap, listening for movement.

Silence.

Finally, he pushed the door open, slowly. He knew time was of the essence, that he had to get to Liz and Erika quickly, but one thing he learned in active duty was that rushing in could lead to dead bodies. And the last thing he wanted was to die, especially since he now had so much to live for.

Erika.

His daughter.

Peering around the door, Trouble took in the scene immediately. The door opened up into a small foyer with a short hallway, and he could see the kitchen off to the right. Beyond that was a living space. All he could see of that from the door was the large flat screen TV playing some animated movie, and the back of a deep green couch.

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