Page 79 of Savage Heart

Hesitant silence, then, “I can’t. They’d kill me. I need you to come and get the money, then give it to them.”

Speechless, Liz choked on air. What the fuck?

“You actually think that sending me with the money will keep them from killing you—fromkilling me,for that matter?They came to my house, Lyle!They attacked me in my house with my little girl there! They beat the shit out of me, Lyle—because they were looking foryou, because you stole theirfucking money! I have been afraid for my life for weeks now, looking over my shoulder, terrified those fuckers would find me and kill me.” She was screaming at this point, and she could see people walking by, staring at her through the windshield. “Take them their money, Lyle—step up and do the right thing, think of someone else for once.”

“No. If you want the Russians off your back, come and get the money. I’ll put the number for the boss in one bag. There’s five,so make sure you have room in your car. You call the number, set up a meeting, and give him the money. Once they have their money back, Liz, they will leave us alone. You and I will both be free.”

This motherfucker is acting like I had anything to do with his bullshit.But he was also right; if she gave Danil Oblek his money, what more could he want with her? That’s why he’d come to her house; to get his money back. Once he had it, she’d be free and clear, and Lyle could deal with whatever else Oblek thought the asshole deserved.

Maybe they’ll break a few of his ribs, and a leg or two….

Again, “do no harm” was going out the window.

Dammit, dealing with the MC, and now the Russians and Lyle, was turning her into someone she didn’t recognize. Not that she didn’t like it….

Her gaze flicked to the window, searching for Slick. She couldn’t see him, but she assumed he was there somewhere “babysitting” her from a distance.

“Where am I supposed to get this money?” she asked, her voice tense. What the hell was she thinking? How was she supposed to handle collecting five bags of cash? What happened if she got pulled over, or carjacked—

Shit! This had danger written all over it, but she had to do something! She couldn’t keep living like she was, holed up in Trouble’s house, abandoning her patients at the clinic—she’d put her life on hold because of the Russians, and if giving them back their money could get rid of them, she had to do it.

But she had to be smart about it. She’d read too many thrillers to not have learned something about running headfirst into dangerous situations—just like feather-headed damsels in historical romances, who chased the cloaked villain into the abandoned warehouse without a fucking clue how to defend herself.

But Liz wasn’t a dumbass Regency heroine, she was a motherfucking 21stcentury foster system survivor, single mother, and doctor, and she’d deal with whatever came with all the tools she had in her arsenal. She just hoped Lyle Pace was ready for his ass-kicking.

Lyle’s weird, flat voice said, “I’ll meet you at the clinic. One hour. Make sure you aren’t followed. Those bikers might try to take the money for themselves. If I see a single biker, I’m out of here, I can’t risk the money not getting to the Russians.” The line went dead, leaving Liz to stare down at the phone.

Was she really doing to do this? Was she really going to put her life in danger just for the chance to get the Russians off her ass? And what about Trouble and the Savage Raiders? They’d been working to deal with the Russians, but she had no idea what that meant. Shedidknow that the Russians represented a danger to the club—and the man she loved. If giving the Russians back their money spared a single person in the club from getting hurt…she had to do it. For herself. For Erika. For Trouble. For the Raiders.

Steeling her spine, she sent Skathi a text, telling her she couldn’t get her supplies. Then, she texted Tessa and Fae, who were going to be pissed as fuck. Liz mentally shrugged; she’d handle those two once she handed the money to Odin—because there was no damn way she was taking that money anywhere near Danil Oblek.

That done, she turned and looked out the back window. She couldn’t see Slick anywhere; the parking lot was busy.

Since she hadn’t turned the car off, she put it in drive and inched forward out of the parking spot. Checking left and right, she watched for the biker. The only thing she saw was some sort of commotion near the parking lot entrance, which just meant people were too busy to look at the suspicious woman as she drove out of the parking lot and onto River Street. After a block,then two, then three without any sign of Slick, Liz heaved a sigh of relief. Lyle seemed a bit angry about the Savage Raiders, and he was obviously misinformed about the club. Trouble didn’t want the money, he wanted the Russians to leave them alone—and it wasn’t like the club needed the money! They were multi-millionaires! She hadn’t seen a bank statement, but she wasn’t an idiot; she knew the clubs’ many businesses made a lot of money, especially their security agency. The idea that they wanted the money Lyle owed the Russians was laughable.

Get to the clinic, get the money, get to the clubhouse.Odin or Trouble would deal with making the call, and they could do the hand off with the Russian asshole.

The clinic was a thirty-minute drive, so she drove carefully. Her body was throbbing from being so tense, her hands were aching from gripping the wheel so tightly, and her heart was racing so fast she was surprised she hadn’t fainted.

With ten minutes to spare, Liz pulled up to the back of the clinic, out of sight of the street. Usually, the back of the clinic was the entrance for their more discreet patients, the ones who didn’t want anyone to know they were there. This time, however,Lizneeded some discretion; she was hiding from Slick. The last thing she needed was Lyle getting spooked and doing something stupid.

Glancing out the windshield, her heart in her throat, sweat beading on her forehead and the back of her neck, Liz spotted a car she didn’t recognize. Lyle drove a brand new, cherry red Maserati, and the car parked by the back door was a plain, black sedan, like the kind you saw in those cop shows.

The kind you see following the victim….

Shaking off her thoughts, she catalogued her increasingly bothersome symptoms.

Flushed skin, hot to the touch, shaking hands, rapid heartbeat, shallow, panting breaths…she was on the verge of a panic attack—and now was not the time.

Closing her eyes, she willed her body to calm the hell down. She just needed to go inside, grab the bags of money, then get the hell out of there.

Swallowing down the urge to vomit, she forced herself to suck in a deeeeeep breath. Before she could succumb to the rising panic, she threw her door open, and slipped out. Clutching her cell in her hand, she slammed the door shut. For a moment, she stared at the back of the building that had once housed her hopes and dreams of a successful medical career. Now it was a whitewashed carcass, where her dreams had died. Lyle Pace had killed them.

After this, I’m going back to working at the hospital.Or…she could just become the full-time doc for the club.

Locking the spark of something warm and happy into the back of her mind, she tore her feet from the asphalt, and hurried to the back door. Using the keypad, she entered the code, then pulled the door open, sliding inside before the door swung shut, heavy and loud, behind her.

Now, she was locked in the building, and she had no idea where Lyle was.

---