Page 9 of Savage Possession
Trembling with exhaustion and a pretty healthy dose of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I step up to the door and look directly at the camera with all the hope I can muster that the right person sees me in time.
3
ASH
I’ve spent three days watching these docks, but nothing has come or gone. Seventy-two hours of nothing. I could have used this time to hunt Isabella down and convince her whoever the fuck else is trying to get her into bed, is the wrong choice.
I have to laugh at that. Like I’m the better choice to anything a girl like her has lined up. She comes from high society. Her parents probably have half of the wealthiest people lined up wanting her hand in marriage.
Me? I’ve got the funds in the bank to knock them all back with surprise. Crime pays, after all, but I also have the lifestyle of a biker. In a word, my life is gritty where hers is polished.
But that kiss was as sweet as heaven.
Anyway. She's gone, and I have been given a task that needs my full attention. I can hunt her down after I wrap up my assignment.
I need to stay focused. A new designer drug has swept through New Orleans and our parish, spreading deeper into the country.It’s marketed as a substance that won’t get you high, can’t cause an overdose, and only sharpens your senses and boosts brain power. And to top it all off, the origin of the problem is right here in our own backyard.
Let me back up, because that brochure on Euphoria is pure bullshit. This drug kills, period. It already has. The last three bodies were college kids partying at our club, the Voodoo Lounge, just last week.
Not exactly fun times. Storm’s handling it. The one silver lining is he figured out how they’re moving the drug through town—flower boys, of all people. Smart cover. And now one of those flower boys finally cracked. Long story short, he handed over shipping dates and cargo numbers.
Which puts me here. There’s more going on, but I’m tired just thinking about the mess Euphoria has put us all in.
I pull out the crumpled piece of paper again and scan over the printed columns of information. Times, cargo numbers and company names of the shipments containing the drugs are all here. This piece of paper was definitely confidential.
I stare over the hood of my truck at the dead port.
Either this list is a decoy, or they caught the leak and switched up their delivery schedule. Makes sense—even if it pisses me off.
Shit.
I call my prez. Reaper’s gonna hate the interruption. I’ve been radio silent for three days, and for good reason. I can’t afford to lose focus. I promised Reaper I had this handled, and I damn sure mean to see it through. Besides, he’s busy officiating Storm and Emilia’s wedding.
I scrub both hands over my face. Fuck. Coming back empty-handed is not what I wanted, but it is what it is. I need a shower, food and to clear my head, anyway.
Reaper needs to know I’m switching gears. I pick up my phone right when the screen flares to life with a flash of movement across the screen.
Huh. I flip it around and blow up the image of the back alley to Arabelle’s bookstore.
After the Vultures attacked Arabelle in her bookstore, we all beefed up the security. I made sure Storm and Beast looped me in on the video feed of the bookstore and the Savage compound.
There are a few blind spots Reaper and I left so we could silently move through our own properties, but when it comes to our various business ventures, every angle is covered.
And right now I'm watching a beautiful woman with ash blonde hair in what looks like a wedding dress stare up at the back alley camera.
I crank the engine and point my truck back to Haven. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to weave through the back roads of the bayou and pull into the back alley and slam on the brakes behind a familiar motorcycle but I don't see the asshole who usually rides it.
But my attention is more on the beautiful yet shaken woman standing in my high beams.
I kill the engine and slip from the cab.
I don’t think or slow down to ask questions about her smeared mascara and torn dress. I only take her smaller frame into my arms. I don’t take another breath until I have her front pressedagainst my front and I can feel the erratic thump of her heartbeat against my chest.
“Isa, sweet angel.” My hands roam over her hair, her shoulders and down her body. I can’t believe she’s actually in my arms. I’m not a man who prays, but I send up my gratitude to whoever might be on my side for once.
Isa pulls back a fraction. Despite the deep shadows swallowing us both, I can see those tender blue eyes scan my face. I don’t know what she is searching for. Anger? Acceptance? All I know is I see fear staring back at me and my heart screams for vengeance against whoever sinned against this sweet angel.
I should ask her why she’s here, but I don't care. Not this very second. I’ll get to it, but right now I only care that she’s in my arms and came back to me for whatever reason that might be.
