Page 49 of Savage Protector

“I’ll take it in for you, then.”

She turns on the stairs to frown at me. “You? How will you?—”

I grin. “Meet the latest recruit to the security staff. I get to move round the university at will, so locating the good professor won’t be a problem. When does it have to be in by?”

“End of the day tomorrow.”

My smile widens. “Best get on with it, then. You can’t keep him waiting.”

The table set up by the window, Leila settles there with her laptop and pile of medical tomes. The only sound is the rustle of pages and the rapid-fire click of fingers on keyboard. She gets on with her mission, and I have the chance to study my own special project.

Casey has forwarded a lot of useful information, including recent pictures of the brothers, their vehicles, their workplaces, plus more on their habits, associates, regular activities. Iftikar is a gambler, apparently. Likes poker, though he’s not especially adept at it, and works out a lot at one of the high-end gyms in Glasgow. I check; it’s one of ours. An idea begins to take root.

Mehrban’s a bit of a gym bunny himself but is a less frequent visitor and uses a place in Greenock as and when he feels like it. He has no established routine I can rely on, so I’ll need a different strategy for him, but I do have an idea. I’ll need to have chat with Jack.

Leila sits upright and stretches.“It’s done,” she announces and shoves her chair back to stand up. “I just hope Professor Evans is satisfied now. Oh, is that the time?”

“Nearly eleven,” I mutter and set my phone aside. “I’ll make sure he gets it by close of play tomorrow. Right now, I’m taking a shower.”

“I had one earlier, while you were out. Was that okay?”

“Course. Want any supper?”

“I couldn’t eat a thing after that blowout earlier. Tea would be nice, though.”

I drag my T-shirt over my head. “You should find everything you need in the kitchen. Mine’s black, no sugar.”

She doesn’t move, doesn’t reply. I turn to check she heard me.

Leila is standing, transfixed, gaping at me.

I pause, my lip quirking. “Like what you see?”

“I…I…”

I stroll over to where she appears to have become rooted to the spot. “Leila? You’re staring. You’re a medical student, you must have seen a man without his top on before.”

“I have, yes. But…not like that. Not like you.”

I look down. I do my share of working out—Jack insists on it for all of us—and I like to think I look good, but the expression on her face is not one of admiration, exactly. I doubt if it’s lust either. It would be better described as stunned amazement.

“What does that mean?” I ask her.

“The…the tattoos,” she manages at last. “They’re…they’re…wow!”

I slant a glance at the mirror on the front of the wardrobe. True, my ink is pretty extensive, and I like it. I have two full sleeves as well as a vibrant tangle of intricate designs on my chest and shoulders. Not so much on my back, yet, but I have plans. Some of the images denote my allegiance to the Savage cause, the oath I took to serve, obey, and support Ethan and his family. Several rites of passage are depicted, too. My first kill on Ethan’s instructions, and each one thereafter. Five in all. Not that many, considering. The boss tends to prefer to do his own dirty work. I just take the specialist stuff, the jobs calling for long-range accuracy with a rifle.

She closes the gap between us, one hand raised. “May I?” she asks.

“Go ahead.”

She traces a tiger’s head ensnared by a snake, emblazoned on my left pectoral. “This is beautiful,” she gasps. “Did it hurt?”

I give a non-committal grunt. “They all hurt like fuck at first.”

“Then why…?”

“Because I like them. It’s worth it.”

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