Page 49 of Savage Heart

Sighing, she used her thumb to unlock the phone, then read the text.

Unknown: I’ll be by this afternoon to get you. See you then, baby.

Another text came right after that.

Unknown: Save this number.

Liz scoffed, shaking her head.

Baby?Seriously?That could only be Trouble, because no other man in her life would ever use that endearment, not only because she was single, but because Trouble hadno troublebeing a ridiculous asshole.

So, after ghosting her the day before, he was coming today? That must have meant he spoke to Dr. Faison, who’d been by that morning to tell her he was discharging her that afternoon.

Rolling her eyes, she shuffled back to the chair and sat down—and she couldn’t help but remember waking up one morning with him sitting right in that chair. He’d been sleeping, and he looked ragged, with dark circles under his eyes, his beard a little shaggy, and his long hair pulled back into a sloppy top-knot. Usually, she hated men with effeminate hair styles, thought they were a little too hipster for her. But on Trouble…God, her ladyparts woke up faster than she did at the sight of him sitting there, leaned back like a god taking his ease with mere mortals, his beautiful face softened in sleep, his plump, perversely perfect lips open as he breathed—the man was built large, so he looked like a monster sitting in a fairy’s chair, but the bulk of him was still tight, hard, and pulling his clothes taut to the point of impropriety. He might as well be naked for all the good that t-shirt and those jeans did at hiding the rock hard muscle in his arms, his chest, his abdominals, and his thighs. And that very noticeable bulge in his jeans…yeah, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Thankfully, the nurse came in right then, dragged her attention from a man she shouldn’t even be talking to let alone gawking at with drool on her chin.

She sighed, hating that she was getting aroused just remembering Trouble at rest.

Only a few more hours and she’d be out of the hospital…and in Trouble’s house.

Where I can look my fill—nope. Nuh uh. She wouldn’t look, she wouldn’t fantasized about all that massive, tattooed, tanned muscle pressing her down on his bed while he railed his fat cock into her, his long hair hanging down around them like a curtain of silky sin as he groaned deep and long….

Ugh. She rolled her eyes, forcing herself to think less about his body and more about what was going to happen once she and Erika were stuck in his house.

Was she ready for that next step? Was she ready to spend hours a day with a man who broke her heart and seemed determined to get all up in her shit? Sure, Erika would also be there, but that was part of what made it all so difficult. They’d all be together…like a family.

The one thing she’d wanted most in her life.

Swallowing down the acute pain at all she’d lost—her parents, her childhood, and the man she loved—she scrolledthrough the apps on her phone, looking for anything to take her mind off of what was coming.

Because, despite her bravado and her intent to keep space between herself and Trouble, she was terrified that no matter how hard she pushed, he’d just push back harder.

“I got something to say to you,” Hell Hound grumbled, coming to a stop right in front of Trouble, blocking Trouble’s way to his suite, where he’d planned to shower off the nasty Russian blood, and then get his ass to the hospital where he’d be picking up Liz. She was going home with him today…and he’d finally have her right where she belonged.

“Yeah?” Trouble drawled, looking up at the man he’d called brother for a decade.

Hound was a big motherfucker; broad shoulders, massive arms, and at least two inches taller than Trouble, who was nothing to sneeze at at 6’8”. In another life, Hound would have been a fabled berserker, a frenzied killing machine, battle-honed, and as sharp and deadly as a battleaxe.

Trouble knew exactly what Hound wanted to talk about, and he knew it was time to come to Jesus. Sighing, Trouble crossed his arms and lifted his chin, waiting for the man to speak. He owed it to Hound to hear him about, and let him have his say. And probably take a few swings at him.

Hound’s bearded face was hard, his expression harder, his copper-colored eyes like twin meteors.

“Brother,” he spoke, his voice as deep and rumbly as the Harley he rode. “If I’d known what was really going down in Tipped, I’d have kicked your ass before ever helping you out.Yeah, you’re my brother. Loyalty to club matters to me, but that….” He shook his head, his ragged dark brown hair brushing against his giant shoulders. “You told us you were scraping her off because she was bad news, and I believed you. I’d only seen her when you brought her around the bar, had little conversation with her, didn’t know her other than she was the one you were fucking on the regular. So when you said she’d outlived her time in your bed, I didn’t give it a second thought when you asked me to stand at the door, watch for her, and then text you when she arrived.” Hound’s nostrils flared, his body growing tense as he replayed what had happened. “You made me help you hurt a good woman—and for what?” he snapped, leaning in to put his face right in Trouble’s.

To another man, Hound’s actions would be considered an act of aggression and would get his ass beat, but Trouble knew Hound was upset, that he was on the edge between respecting Trouble as his VP and wanting to rip out his asshole. And Trouble knew he deserved whatever Hound would say or do—because he loved the motherfucker, and he understood the position he’d put the man in ten years ago,andtwo years ago, when Liz came back, and all the old feelings resurfaced—for Houndandfor Liz.

“You were a goddamn dumbass who couldn’t have a simple conversation with his woman. Motherfucker, all you had to do was tell her you were done. You didn’t need to pull Bonnie in on your shit—you didn’t need to involveme, either. And now…that woman hates me, because I was part of something that broke her—and don’t say that woman isn’t broken,” Hound barked. “Every goddamn time she walks into the clubhouse and sees you wrapped around Amelia, you can see the pain in her eyes. Sure, it’s only there for a moment, ‘cause she’s real good at putting on a mask, but I see it—weallsee it, so I know you see it, too. Butyou don’t give a shit. You want to hurt that woman, repeatedly, and why? What has the doc ever done to you?”

Trouble, floored by what Hound was saying, couldn’t speak. His chest felt like the gigantic fucker was stepping on it.

Whydidhe continue to hurt his Skizzy? What had driven him to pull Amelia into his lap whenever Liz showed up? The answer was the same as the one he’d realized yesterday.

Because you’re a piece of shit, just like your pa. You don’t deserve good, not when you’re born of bad.

“You’re right, brother,” Trouble said, sighing. He dropped his arms to hang loosely at his sides, preparing himself for the punch he knew was coming. “I used you, just like I used Bonnie—may she burn in hell—and I went about breaking things off with Liz all the wrong way. You’re also right that I’ve been using Amelia to hurt Liz.” He swallowed, knowing what he was about to say would flay him raw. “The truth is…I don’t know why I wanted to hurt Liz. I think, part of it, was I just wanted to keep her at a distance, keep the memories of what I did to her as far from me as possible. Amelia’s easy pussy was a quick way to sink into oblivion and forget my shit, even for a night. But every morning, those memories would return, that shame and guilt would return, that pain would come right the fuck back—and I’d search out that easy pussy to forget again.”

Hound pursed his lips, shaking his head, disappointment on his rugged face.

“You gotta know it’s not going to work, Trouble. Fucking, booze, beating the shit out of club enemies…its good for letting go of stress, having fun, and blowing off steam. But, brother, catastrophic life fuck ups? Nah, man, that shit never goes away, never gets easier, not until you deal with it.”

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