Page 4 of Savage Sin

There’s a lot of shady shit going on here, but a rogue Savage isn’t one of them.

I fish around in his pockets until I find what I am looking for. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

“Is that a real question?”

“For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe the men of Genesis actually have you on their payroll.” From my left, Dragon sounds about as impressed with the runner as I feel.

I find the runner’s phone and pull it out.

“Passcode.”

Silence.

I squeeze hard enough that his eyes look ready to pop.

“My face. My face.”

I flip the phone, and it unlocks. Dragon takes it and it’s only a few seconds before he reads the messages sent to his bosses. “He’s telling the truth. The other guy got away, according to what he told Harlon.”

“Harlon give you my number?”

“Yeah, man. He said to call you. Scroll up a bit and you’ll see I’m tellin’ the truth. Look, you don’t gotta pay me on the contract. Just let me go. My bosses will take care of everything on their end.”

I grunt. That is not how this works. “This isn’t your kill. Besides, I took out a find and retrieve contract. Not a kill contract. You won’t be collecting, period. But I have a feeling your bosses will have a few questions for you.”

The runner turns pale and his brow furrows with fear. He’s going to the infamous Genesis basement and for a round of twenty-twenty questions with Harlon and his men. They don’t like it when one of their own tries to take advantage of a contract and this one thought he could be slick.

“I suggest you skip going home and head straight to Rio.”

I toss him away from me and crouch beside the body. This time I don’t stop to think or let my brain tell me to wait. I grab the dead man’s hand and turn it over. No tattoos. No barbed wire over the knuckles. The vice around my heart eases a fraction. I shove the sleeves of his shirt up. No tattoos wrapping from the edge of his wrists up either. I roll him over and tear the shirt down the middle just to make damn sure I’m seeing the truth and not what my brain wants to see.

Someone shines a light over my shoulder and sure enough, I don’t find an unfinished phoenix spread over a chest.

I turn my eyes up to Dragon as sick relief twists my guts into knots.

“Prez? Ares, man. Tell us, damn it.”

Dragon and I both angle toward Riot and Wolfe, who have joined us. “It’s not him. It’s not Rage. We’re in the clear.”

I’m on my feet and eating up the distance to the runner before he can get away, all three of my men come shoulder to shoulder with me. Seeing us puts the fear of hell and all of Satan’s demons into the runner. The coward revs his bike to life.

Before he can flee, Wolfe grabs him by the front of his shirt and hefts him halfway off the bike.

“Where’s the Savage cut that got us out here in the first place?” he roars over the rumble of the bike.

“Y’all are crazy motherfuckers. Here, take it.”

He tosses a leather vest with the Savage skull sewn into the leather at us. Wolfe releases the runner, and he peels out, sending gravel and dirt flying. Less than ten seconds and he disappears over the ridge and out of sight.

I pass the cut to Dragon, who hands it down the line. One look and he gives a voice to the facts in front of us. “It’s a Savage cut, but it’s not Rage’s.”

“So whose is it and who among you is missing?” There’s only one way to get a Savage cut. Patching in, becoming a prospect or tearing it off a dead body.

Riot grunts. “You mean besides, Rage? Fuck, I don’t know. It didn’t come from the poor asshole on the ground over there. None of us know him and it’s been radio silence on all fronts since Lilith came back to me.”

“Lemme make some calls.”

Dragon takes out his phone and starts dialing. We patched in a handful of brothers back when I met Nova. It feels like a decade ago, but it’s only been about five months. A lot has happened since we hooked up. Namely, a lot of fighting, but Riot is right. There’s been a lot of calm lately and it feels like a new storm is brewing.

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