Page 22 of Savage

Savage's fingers tapped urgently on his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His piercing blue eyes narrowed as he found the name he was looking for. Without hesitation, he hit the call button.

“Jay,” he barked when the line connected. “Need your expertise, brother.”

“Savage? What's up, man?” Jay's voice crackled through the speaker, a mix of curiosity and concern clear in his tone.

Savage scrubbed his hand over his face. “Got a situation. Need you to dig up everything you can on a loan from The Rejects. Recent, probably within the last year. Under Savannah Wright. I need to know if they have their hooks in her.”

“The Rejects?” Jay whistled low. “That's some nasty business, Savage. You sure you want to poke that hornet's nest?”

Savage's free hand curled into a fist. “I'm sure. It's important, Jay. She’s mine.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Savage could almost hear the gears turning in Jay's head. “Alright, I'm on it. Give me a few hours to work my magic. You know I've got ways of gathering information. If there’s a digital trail, I’ll find it.”

“That's why I called you,” Savage said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You're the best at what you do.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Jay chuckled. “I'll hit you back as soon as I've got something solid.”

“One more thing. Could you send me the footage from the playdate?” There was a pause at the end of the line, and hewondered briefly if Jay would tell him no, which was within his rights.

“Done. Check your inbox. I’ll get back to you about the rest, soon.”

“Thanks brother.” As Savage ended the call, he felt a mix of relief and trepidation wash over him. Jay's skills were unparalleled, but the information he might uncover... Savage wasn't sure he was ready for it. Still, he knew it was necessary. For Savannah's sake and the sake of the club. If the Rejects were looking for Savannah, they’d stumble into Watchmen territory and nothing good would come from it.

"Jay's on it,” he announced to Tater and Lucky, his voice gruff with emotion.

Lucky nodded approvingly. “Good call, brother. We need to know what we're dealing with here.”

He checked his inbox and saw the video surveillance link was already there. They carefully placed the cameras at The Citadel to protect confidentiality. There weren’t any in the dungeon or play spaces, but the rest of the building was covered. He watched as she pulled in. She appeared anxious, but that wasn’t too abnormal for a little attending their first real life in person event.

For liability reasons, the bar area was under video surveillance, and there were signs up to let members know that. Savage watched intently as Savannah approached and ordered drinks. A look of pure terror flashed quickly across her face, before she carefully masked it. There was no doubt she recognized the bartender. Who was he? He sent a text to Jay to inquire about the bartender. He’d barely hit send when his phone alerted him.

One of the side effects of having a TBI was short-term memory loss. Multi-tier reminders were set for all appointments and events. His phone would send him an alert one week, one day, and one hour before his appointment. Savage pushed awayfrom the table, his chair scraping against the worn floorboards of the clubhouse. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his seat.

“I've got to head out,” he growled, shrugging into the familiar weight of the leather. “Promised Phantom I'd help with the gym today.”

Tater raised an eyebrow. “You sure that's a good idea, man? With everything going on with Savannah…”

Savage's jaw clenched. “I need to clear my head,” he admitted, his voice low. “Besides, I made a commitment.”

As he strode towards the door, Lucky's voice rang out. “Just remember, brother. Whatever's going on with this girl, we've got your back.”

“My girl,” Savage corrected, a lump forming in his throat. He pushed through the clubhouse doors, the late afternoon sun warming his face. The ride to Valhalla was a blur, the steady thrum of his bike doing little to quiet the storm in his mind.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the new gymnasium, Savage spotted Phantom's truck immediately. The sound of power tools and shouted instructions filled the air as he made his way inside.

“Savage!” Phantom called out, waving from atop a scaffolding. “Glad you made it, man. We could use an extra set of hands on these support beams.”

Savage felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he surveyed the organized chaos around him. Men - all veterans like himself - worked side by side, transforming the space into something meaningful.

“Put me to work,” Savage said, rolling up his sleeves. As he joined the others, he couldn't help but think of Savannah. Was she truly in danger? Or was he seeing threats where none existed?

“You okay, brother?” Mad Dog asked, handing him a drill. “You seem distracted.”

Savage hesitated, then shook his head. Mad Dog lived in Valhalla but was also a member of The Watchmen. He was a close friend and an officer. "Just got a lot on my mind," he admitted. "But I'm here now. Let's build something good."

Sweat beaded on his brow as he hefted a heavy beam into place, his muscles straining with the effort. Laughter and the hum of conversation surrounded him. Every man there was a special forces veteran. While they weren’t all best friends, they all respected each other and would die for the other.

“Hey Savage, toss me that level, will ya?" called out Phantom, a former SEAL with a prosthetic leg.

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