Page 23 of Savage Heart

He couldn’t help but smile at his brave little girl.

“You are so brave, you know that? I know your mama is going to be so proud of you,mitt hjerte.” My heart. The endearment felt right on his tongue. He’d only known about her for a few short minutes, but she already owned his heart.

Just as her mom had for more than ten years. Regret at what he’d done to her…tothem…still ate at him every day, especiallynow that he saw her all the fucking time. He thought that once she left for college, he’d be able to forget about her, move on, maybe even claim another woman as his ol’ lady, but that never happened. It couldn’t, not when he still loved Liz Simpson with every piece of his heart and soul. Hell, no one looking at him, his choices, and his lifestyle would ever believe that he’d been in love…was still in love. He’d fucked so many women, even callously rubbing the club women in Liz’s face, that anyone who knew him wouldn’t believe he had a heart at all.

Odin knew. He’d been there ten years ago when Trouble had done what he’d done, and he’d been there when Trouble had drunk himself to blindness every night for weeks afterward. And Odin had been there when Liz had finally moved out of her apartment, leaving him and Vegas in the dust. For years after that night at the bar with Bonnie, he’d wondered how Liz was; did she love her new town? Had she made new friends? Had she graduated? She’d received her MD, but what about the rest of her life? Boyfriends? Lovers? Had she ever gotten married? Had she forgotten about him until she moved back to Vegas?

When he’d hurt her, he’d broken his own heart—not that she would ever believe that what he did, he did for her. Staying in Vegas would have been a mistake. She had to leave to live her own life, to become a successful doctor as she’d always dreamed of doing, and that meant letting her go.

I could try to explain….

For what purpose? It wasn’t like she’d ever forgive him for what he’d done. She fucking hated his guts, and from what she’d said just that afternoon, her pain was still as fresh as it had been ten years ago. They couldn’t just pick up where they left off. But…Erika…. That was a complication he never saw coming. A complication…and an advantage.

In the distance, and closing in fast, were the sounds of sirens.

“Hear that?” Odin asked, a soft smile on his otherwise intimating face. “That’s the police and ambulance. When they get here, I want you to stay with me, okay? We’re going to let them take care of your mama, and Trouble is going to stay with your mama, alright? He’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

Only a minute later, there were feet pounding on the porch steps, and the front door he’d left ajar was slapped against the wall behind it.

“Back here!” Trouble yelled, knowing exactly how it would look to have two men in kuttes kneeling beside a bleeding woman. He raised his hands and flicked his gaze to Odin, who did the same.

The small kitchen area filled with men with guns drawn, and Erika let out a squeak of terror.

“Hands up where I can see them!” the officer in the front commanded.

“Hold up, we’re here because the little miss called us when her mom wouldn’t wake up,” Odin supplied.

The officer sneered. “Yeah right, likely story. You boys don’t do enough shit out at that compound of yours, you got to cause trouble to good people?”

Trouble grit his teeth, biting back the words that would no doubt land him in lockup. Fucking pigs.

“The men who hurt her are gone. She was like this when we got here—”

“The scary men are gone. They hurt my mama and she won’t wake up. Mr. Odin said he would help. He-he told me to call 9-1-1,” Erika announced, her little lip trembling, her bright green eyes glistening with tears not yet shed.

Behind the officer still holding his weapon aimed at Odin, who was obviously the biggest threat in the room, someone cursed.

“Vikander, looks like you’re in the shit,” a familiar voice called out, then cursed again. “Lower your weapon, Dolwyn, for fuck’s sake. There’s a little girl in there!” Detective Benson pushed through the group of five officers crammed in behind the one sticking his gun in Odin’s face. Benson was a longstanding ally to the club, having been given commendations based on some of the…err…shadier work the club had done. They cleaned up a few messes, and handed the glory to Benson, who’d used the “cracking of the case” to ascend the LVPD ladder.

Dolwyn, the cocksucker, hesitated, anger and hatred bleeding into his cheeks, turning his pallid skin a glowing red.

“Dolwyn!” Detective Benson barked.

Dolwyn finally did as he was commanded, lowering, and then holstering his gun.

Standing up to his full height, Odin glared down at Dipshit Dolwyn, then turned to pull Erika into his side—and everything in Trouble pinched tight. That should be him holding her, making her feel safe, but he knew that right then wasn’t the time to unload all the shit that needed to be said and done. He’d missed nearly ten years, he could wait another hour or two. Maybe.

“This is Liz Simpson, this is her house,” Odin supplied, pointing at the woman still bleeding and unconscious on the floor. At the sight of her an invisible fist slammed into Trouble’s chest, then his belly, then his skull—never in his life had he felt such helpless agony.

He could only watch as the EMT’s appeared at the door and Benson waved them through to the kitchen.

Trouble finally breathed a full breath when the EMTs hurried to Liz, forcing Dolwyn and his cronies out of the kitchen. The EMTs made quick work of examining Liz, and Trouble rapidly listed off the things he’d observed during his field exam.

“She’s stable for now, but we need to get her to the hospital,” the first EMT reported, taking his time splinting Liz’s arm and wrist. The other EMT was checking the depth of the wound on Liz’s head. Trouble knew that head wounds bled like a bitch, but that did nothing to stop his soul from bleeding into the pit at the core of him.

She had to be okay.

As the EMT’s moved the unresponsive Liz from the floor to the gurney, Trouble knew he had to go with her. Be with her.

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