Page 12 of Ruthless

My heart pounds against my chest as I grip the handle of my bag tighter in my right hand and power walk. The Georgia clay crunches under the soles of my shoes the closer I get to the edge of the property, but my steps never falter. The faster I make it out of here, the better for me. Moonlight is my only guide of where I’m going, and I’m thankful that it’s extra bright tonight, or else I’d end up walking face-first into one of the many Georgia Pines that line this property.

A knot twists in my stomach the farther away from the house I get, but I bury it deep down someplace I’ll think about much later, when I’m alone and have time to think. I’m not quite ready to deal with it just yet. I’m not one to run from my problems, which seems to be all I’ve been doing lately. My hand goes to my flat stomach as a deep sigh leaves me. Putting the baby’s needs first will always be my number one priority. And so far, I’m failing miserably at it.

Trees give way to the deserted country road ahead of me the closer I get to the end of the driveway. The frogs croaking all around me are my only company, but I keep my focus straight ahead until I’m at the edge of the property. Connor should be pulling down the road any minute. I clutch my phone in my left hand and keep double-checking the screen for a text that he’s close by, only to find a blank screen. When I called my brother earlier, he was ready to rip me a new one until he heard me sniffle into the phone, then his demeanor completely changed. My eyes are still puffy from crying, which only pisses me off more. I’m usually not a big crier, but these damn pregnancy hormones have me feeling extra sensitive over the slightest thing, and it’s driving me nuts.

A twig snaps behind me, and I jump so high that I almost drop my phone. I whip around to find Axel coming out through the shadow of the trees. “Going somewhere, Short Stack?”

My fingers dig deeper into the leather strap of my bag as I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Thoughts of ignoring him and power walking to the end of the road to wait for Connor cross my mind, but I’m sure he’d catch me before I could make it even a step.

Left with no other choice, I roll my shoulders back and straighten my spine as I attempt to meet the gaze of the youngest Savage brother. All three brothers are well over six feet tall and tower over my five-foot-two frame. I have to tilt my head back to be at eye level with him, but I don’t let that intimidate me. I may be short, but I’m scrappy. The frame of my glasses slide up the bridge of my nose, smashing the ends of my lashes against the lenses as I do. I’d fix them, but my hands are full between my bag and my phone.

The glow from Axel’s cigarette illuminates his face, showing off the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes dip down to the bag in my hand and back up to meet mine. He arches his eyebrows at me in silent question, waiting out my silence. If he’s anything like my brothers, then he won’t back down until I answer him.

I clear my throat a couple of times and wipe any remaining tears with my wrist before caving and answering him. The last thing I ever want to do is look weak, but it’s too late to save face with that, so I don’t draw attention to it.

“I am.”

Axel blows a cloud of smoke out the side of his mouth and cocks his head to the side as he stares at me. He still doesn’t utter a word, but I can see him working something out in his mind. I shift my weight from side to side and let out a deep breath while he continues to watch me, wishing like hell my brother would hurry up and get here already.

Something must click into place for him because the next thing I know, he’s bending at the waist, reaching his hand out toward my bag. “Let me hold this for you, Short Stack.”

“Oh, I got it. It’s no trouble.” I readjust my grip, but it slips from my fingers before I can even finish that sentence. He grabs it and tosses it over his shoulder one-handed as he plants himself next to me, sending a slight scent of tobacco mixed with a hint of cedarwood through the air when he does. They’re both bold smoky smells that seem to fit his persona perfectly.

“My mama would come back from the grave and kick my ass if I didn’t.” He pinches his cigarette between his lips and winks at me. Unsure of what to say, I just nod my head.

We stand at the side of the road in a content quiet. Like he’s come to accept my decision to leave and is supporting it. Neither of us speaks, but it isn’t awkward like seconds ago. Moments later, my brother’s truck pulls up right next to where we’re standing, and all tension leaves my body, but that momentary bliss only lasts a fraction of a second.

As soon as it’s in park, Rory hops out of the passenger side and walks over to us. I should have known that Connor wouldn’t come alone. All of my brothers are close, but Rory and Connor are the two oldest and have always been thick as thieves.

“Country.” Rory jerks his chin Axel’s direction, his voice hard like granite.

My brother matches Axel in both height and muscle and is equally as intimidating. The only difference is that Rory has gotten more tattoos in the last few months. The full sleeves of art that cover both his arms extend all the way up to his neck, stopping just underneath his jaw. A fact my father wasn’t too pleased with, but my brother—the rebel—always does what he wants.

“Irish.” Axel takes the cigarette out of his mouth to return my brother’s greeting. “Here.” He slaps my bag into the middle of my brother’s chest harder than necessary, causing his weight to shift back, but he stops himself from stumbling back up against the truck.

Rory’s tatted fingers fist my bag until his knuckles turn white. He clenches his jaw but doesn’t make a sound otherwise.

My eyes bounce between the two of them, watching, waiting. This is the first time they’re seeing each other since Connor punched Zane in the face, and we eloped. I’m not sure what to expect because they’re both hotheads that prefer to hash things out with their fists, and there’s no way I can pull them apart before they attempt to kill each other. That doesn’t mean I’m going to just stand by and watch either.

“Ror, just get in the truck.” My heart pounds against my chest as he continues to stand there. I know he won’t take a swing if it risks hitting me in the process, so I push my way in between them and put my hands on his chest. “Please, big brother.”

Rory darts his blue gaze down to me for a brief second before they swing back to Axel, but he doesn’t budge otherwise. The tic in his jaw is his only tell that he’s holding himself back. I’m pretty sure that if I wasn’t standing in his way, Axel would be bleeding and on the ground right now.

My fingers dig into his broad chest in one last-ditch effort to get through to him until I feel his skin fold under the pressure. The muscles of his chest tense from underneath my touch, but he refuses to listen. I’m debating on another option when Connor hits his horn, knocking them out of their stare down. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as Rory backs away toward Connor’s truck without a word.

My feet stay rooted to the spot next to Axel as I watch and make sure he doesn’t backtrack this way to sucker punch him. Only when he’s done tossing my bag in the back seat and planted in the passenger seat with the door shut, do I make to move, but Axel once again stops me with his words.

“This is gonna be fun.” Axel smiles to himself, causing his dimples to appear.Before I can question what he means by that, he asks, “Just do me a favor, will you?”

“What’s that?” My eyebrows pinch together.

“Give him hell for me, Short Stack.” Axel holds his cigarette up and waves it in front of me. “And let’s keep this between us.” He winks and disappears into the darkness. I rub my forehead and adjust the frame of my glasses as I stare at the space he left behind, letting his words replay in my head.

“Let’s go, Ken.” Rory smacks the side of Connor’s truck, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I jump, but it’s enough to get me moving. “Coming.” Without another thought to Axel’s cryptic favor, I slip into the passenger side of the truck and shut the door.

Before the interior light shuts off, Connor takes one look at my puffy face and narrows his eyes. “That fecker hit you?” His slight Irish accent is nowhere near as thick as our dad’s, but like all of us siblings, it comes out more the angrier he gets.

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