Page 1 of The Savage Outlaw

Prologue

“Sir, there is new information.”

“There always is new information. Every second of every moment is nothing but new information.”

“Right. Of course. Um, he’s getting out.”

“Leave the car,” he says.

The door opens and shuts. Now he’s alone. It’s the only way to properly think.

He reaches forward and drinks from a bottle of the cleanest and freshest water known to man. Packaged in a glass bottle. The cost more than anyone should ever pay for water, but he’s good for it.

The car is moving. He stares out the window. For these moments he purposely turns his phone off. Plus, he has enough secretaries to filter through the nonsense and bullshit that comes through every two seconds.

To speak to him on the phone is a privilege. To see him face to face is an honor. Yet he knows there is no honor and certainly no privilege in what his next plan is.

The car parks at the far end of the hospital parking lot. He speaks to himself, private and secure in the back seat of the car.There’s a bulletproof and soundproof divider to ensure nobody hears or sees a thing.

“The outlaw is getting released from the hospital finally,” he speaks out loud to nobody. “Medical records show just how close he came to death. Amazing what modern medicine can do for someone. They cut an incision in his head to help relieve the pressure from the swelling in his brain. They kept the outlaw alive, tucked away in a coma, and then he’s suddenly feeling all better.

“Well, far from better, but better than dead. Although these psycho outlaws don’t fear death for a second. They embrace it. They chase it down and flirt with it. They want it. They know there’s a celebration on the way if they die. But let’s back up for a second here as I’m thinking out loud. The outlaw was attacked by a fellow member. A rogue man. I believe they use the term ‘rat’ to describe him. His whereabouts I can’t be sure of right now. That tells me either he somehow slipped through the cracks and is gone, or these outlaws are smart and have him hidden somewhere. Probably chained up, waiting for whatever sadistic ritual the outlaws enact on a rat. It’s all so interesting. Like a functioning society that isn’t part of society…”

He sits back and nods. Of course he’s done his research. The origins of the outlaw biker club. And even before that. The general history of motorcycle clubs. Where they came from. Why they existed then. And now. The history and evolution of it all.

He knows everything about Johnny Cutter, including the gorgeous woman he was with, named Ginger. They had a daughter—Jessica—who is a doctor. She’s married, going by the name Dr. Hazel.

It’s amazing how endless information is. You just have to wait, focus, and let it come to you.

“So the outlaw has awakened,” he speaks out loud again. “Seems there’s a little controversy with that, however. The outlaw is apparently married. Again, simply fascinating how deep this all goes. An endless pit.”

He looks out the window at the hospital. The outlaws have been coming and going from there for a while now. Visiting their friend. Their brother. The man who sat to the right of Cyrus.

“The President of Sins of Fire Real Anarchy West,” he says out loud, nodding his head.

It all felt somehow fitting. Somehow right. Some outlaws wore leather cuts, smelled like whiskey and the dried stench of a woman’s vagina, and rode motorcycles. Other outlaws wore suits and ties. A few of their roads crossed paths though.

The back door opened and a woman climbed into the back seat of the car. She was properly blindfolded. She had been thoroughly tested for every disease known to man. Her entire life’s existence was explained back to her, making it known any fucking issues would result in the horrible death of everyone in her life. The power made him hard as a rock.

Sure, it felt good when the blindfolded, top dollar escort unzipped his pants and gasped as she wrestled his impressive size from his pants. He grinned, watching as she licked her lips, touching his hard penis, not really sure how something that large would fit into her mouth. She had been paid for this gig already, so there was no turning back. No refunds.

When her mouth touched his erection, he turned his head and stared at the hospital again. He and the outlaws were so much alike in so many ways.

For a second, he almost hated the idea that he was going to destroy the entire motorcycle club.

Chapter One

Wakey Wakey A Clit is Shaky

At times when Priest shut his eyes it looked like a kaleidoscope of colors and images, none of which made him feel better at all. The bright flashes of lights from within his closed eyes sent bolts of pain into the back of his head, which then wrapped up and around his head, like someone forcing a helmet onto his head that was three sizes too small.

A constant migraine type pain ached, sometimes moving throughout his entire body, leaving his toes curled up tight and his hands gripping at the stiff hospital bed sheets. There was no relief from the pain. Even with his eyes open, peripheral images teased Priest. And if he tried to look left or right too fast to chase down the visions that weren’t there, it would trigger another painful migraine.

Fucking Fitz.

Those two words had a way of calming Priest. He made damn sure someone described to him what Fitz looked like on a daily basis. The club had the traitorous rat hung in a garage by his wrists. They’d beat him daily and then force feed him water and some food. Just enough to keep him alive. Keep him waiting for Priest.

The thought of gutting Fitz from his asshole up to his throat… it made Priest’s cock throb. Anyone in the room at that moment would witness Priest with his eyes shut and a huge bulge under the covers jumping up and down.

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