Page 52 of Born Savage

“Keep your fuckin’ panties on,” I smirk back, taking another drag. “Jade was just telling me how much she and the other girls like Scarlett,” I share, blowing the smoke through my lips.

“Does that sway your decision?” Army butts in, thankfully ending any chance Fifty had to keep his jealousy act going.

“It’s up to her, brother,” I answer as my eyes swing back to find her.

“Well, if I were a betting man, I’d say she likes it here,” Army says, following my gaze as his arm falls on my shoulders.

Her blonde hair shines in the setting sun and a bright smile pulls at her cheeks. Cora’s hands wave wilding in the air as her mouth moves a mile a minute, and I watch Scarlett crack with laughter. Without a doubt, she is happy here.

Thirty-Two

Scarlett

Istand from the table, along with the other girls, starting to gather plates and clean up the mess. I have to admit, I really like having women around that aren’t strippers and biker groupies.

My eyes instinctively turn to find James when I hear his deep laugh across the yard. He’s standing with Army and Fifty, smoke seeping from his lips as he laughs. I love seeing him like this.

“Set those plates back down, darlin’. Come take a little walk with me,” Pops requests, his hand gently touching my arm.

“Uh…okay,” I stutter.

Setting the plates back down on the table, I feel a slight pang of guilt knowing that the others are doing all the clean-up. Cora catches my eye and offers a smile.

“Don’t worry about the mess. Go on,” she says and I smile back, offering a small nod.

Pops offers his arm and I take his elbow, letting him lead me across the lot. The gritty scent inside the garage fills my nostrils as we walk through, finally stopping in a small office.

“This is how the club started. Right here, in this garage. It was just me and a couple guys. All we wanted to do was work on our bikes and ride together. It’s grown a lot since those days,” he shares, pointing out a wall filled with hanging photos.

“Go ahead. Take a closer look,” he grins.

I move forward, my eyes stopping on an aged photo of three guys standing in front of a sign reading Dawson’s Garage. My hand lifts to touch the glass it’s set behind.

“That was the day we opened this place. It was just me, O.B. and Tommy,” he explains.

My eyes continue to move over the wall, examining the history. Dozens of pictures cover the wall, but I quickly stop on another. It looks like a clone of James, but it’s obviously an old photo.

“That’s Jimmy Jr. and Kasper,” Pops shares.

“So, that’s James’s dad?” I ask.

“And his uncle,” he answers as I continue to examine the picture. They’re both wearing leather cuts, and I know that Jimmy is gone, but I’ve never heard anything about Kasper.

“Can I ask about Kasper? Is he still around?” I wonder softly.

“You’ve probably heard his nickname. He went by Ghost,” Pops tells me and I nod in realization. I have heard stories, but I never made the connection.

“Kasper took over the club for a short time when Jimmy passed, but it didn’t work out. The problem with my youngest was that he always put himself first. Kasper thought about himself before the club, before his family. He got mixed up in some bad shit and brought it down on the club. We dealt with the fallout, but in true Kasper fashion, he ran to protect his own ass. Knowing him, he’s alive and well, scamming some poor sucker in Mexico or maybe Canada. He has the ability to survive,” he offers.

“So, you lost both your boys?” I ask.

“I did. But I still have James, and he just might be the perfect combination of both of my boys. He’s strong, both mentally and physically, and he puts family first,” he says, and I watch his eyes light up as he talks about James.

I turn back to the photos, finding an adorable picture of James sitting on a bike in front of his dad, a huge smile filling his face.

“How old was he in this picture?” I ask.

“Maybe five or six. He always wanted to be around the bikes. Even as a toddler, he loved it,” Pops smiles.

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