Savage Life Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Kathleen Kelly

  Published by Kathleen Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Kathleen Kelly is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  All efforts have been made to ensure the correct grammar and punctuation in the book. If you do find any errors, please e-mail Kathleen Kelly:

  [email protected]

  Thank you.

  Cover designed by Letitia Hasser

  www.romanticbookaffairs.com

  Editing and Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Book design by Champagne Book Design

  Title Page

  Copyright

  A Note About the Savage Angels MC Series

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  About The Author

  A NOTE ABOUT THE SAVAGE ANGELS MC SERIES

  It is recommended that each book be read in order.

  Savage Angels MC Series

  In Order:

  Savage Stalker (Savage Angels MC #1)

  Savage Fire (Savage Angels MC #2)

  Savage Town (Savage Angels MC #3)

  Savage Lover (Savage Angels MC #4)

  Savage Sacrifice (Savage Angels MC #5)

  Savage Rebel (Savage Angels MC – Novella #6)

  Korrupted Angels, a novella and cross over with Geri Glenn

  Savage Lies (Savage Angels MC #7)

  Savage Life (Savage Angels MC #8)

  Savage Christmas (Savage Angles MC #9)

  The Grinders Series

  Truth (The Grinders Book 1)

  Curtis (The Grinders Book 2 – Coming 2020)

  Keep up to date with my books on my website

  kathleenkellyauthor.com

  WARNING:

  For Mature Audience 18+

  Contains Adult Sexual Situations, Graphic Violence, Coarse or Offensive Language.

  And it’s “R” rated for a reason.

  PLEASE keep this in mind if you have any type of triggers.

  A lot of people helped in the making of this book.

  You the reader, for buying this book and all of the others in the series.

  My husband for putting up with me wearing my pajamas for days on end and not doing any housework or cooking. You are my greatest cheerleader. Love you.

  Kaylene Osborn who made me create a plan and checks up on me all the time. Words can’t express how much I love and adore you.

  KE Osborn who reached out to me in the first place and formed a friendship connection. You have a piece of my heart, thank you for all your words of encouragement and support. Here’s her link for Amazon, read her, and you’ll love her as much as I do.

  Belinda Donaldson who listens to me, no matter the time. She’s also the keeper of secrets, she’s so good at it she forgets them… PMSL. Thank you for being my oracle for all things Savage Angels MC.

  Sheriff Carlos Morales

  I take a deep breath and instantly wish I hadn’t. My stomach churns, and I glance at FBI Special Agent Wilson Blackbear, whose lips are turned down in a frown as he examines the scene in front of him. This man was once a friend in another life when I was a detective in Los Angeles, but now we can barely stand to be in the same room with each other. Wilson looked down on me as I left the department, and he went onto bigger and better things. Well, at least in his mind.

  Tourmaline is my town. It’s relatively quiet and the reason I took the job. I got sick of rolling around in the filth of Los Angeles. After a while, you can’t get the stench off you. I looked at myself in the mirror after my partner was killed and realized I didn’t know who I was.

  I breathe in through my mouth, and it makes the stench a little easier. Wilson looks up at me from his crouched-down position in front of the body, the frown on his face deepens.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “You know.”

  “So you think it’s the same killer?”

  Wilson stands, nostrils flared. “It has to be.” He backs up two paces, careful not to disturb any evidence. “How the fuck did you end up on his radar after all this time?”

  I shrug. “Tourmaline is a safe place.”

  “Not anymore. This makes four. Do we know who she is?”

  I look down at the badly beaten face of the young woman.

  “I think her name is Mary. She’s been trying to hang out with the Angels since she was fifteen. It was only after she came of age that they let her back into the compound. Mary’s been missing for a week. She must have done something to anger him… he didn’t keep her alive long.”

  Wilson lets out a sigh and puffs out his cheeks. It makes the old bullet wound on his cheek look grotesque. He’s American Indian, and he’d be almost beautiful if it weren’t for the scar.

  “Yeah, whatever she did, she angered him. The question is, do you think he’ll take another woman or stick to his agenda.” Wilson points to her face. “It’s overkill. He normally keeps them pretty.”

  “He’s never deviated before.”

  Wilson shrugs. “It’s been a while. Maybe this is his new normal, his new M.O.”

  I shake my head. “No, the ritual is everything. If this is Mary, he’s left her out in the open for a reason.” I indicate to the house we’re in. “This isn’t his killing ground. He didn’t want to keep her safe and tucked away, he wanted her found. We need to find it, the place he buries his dead.”

  “Did you get any ravens?”

  I nod as my gut rolls over. “Yeah, he’s smart. He delivered them to one of my deputies. Guess he figured out I’d have cameras.”

  “Hmmm, I need to call in a profiler. The Behavioral Analysis Unit might need to get involved.”

  “Christ, that’s the last thing I need.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Sheriff, women are being killed,” replies Wilson with contempt.

  “Fuck you, Wilson. This bastard has haunted my dreams for years. I don’t need you telling me anything. I want him caught. Hell, I want him dead! You’re not the one he sends the tapes to, the tapes of these poor women screaming ‘no
, no.’ That was me.”

  Wilson scrunches up his face and nods. “The tapes, have you received any?”

  “No,” I reply, flatly.

  “So, he has broken with tradition. Maybe it’s not the same man.”

  “My gut tells me it’s him.”

  “Your gut’s gone soft since you moved to the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  I take a breath and count to ten.

  “Wilson, I don’t know what your problem is, but we need to work together to figure this out.”

  “No, we don’t.” Wilson turns his back to me, heading for the door. “The FBI thanks you for your help Sheriff Morales, but we’ll take it from here.”

  The pompous ass walks out, and I’m left staring at the badly beaten body of a young woman who I knew. I crouch and look at her closely.

  “What did you do, Mary… to upset him? Why did he do this to you?”

  I stand and head for the door, the stench of Mary staining everything around me. When I get outside, Wilson is ordering my men around, none of whom are doing what he says.

  My newest deputy is a woman, Lucy Dalton. I signal for her to come to me.

  “Yes, Sheriff?”

  “Deputy Dalton, make sure all courtesies are extended to Special Agent Blackbear.”

  “Yes, sir. He’s a bit of a dick.”

  I raise my eyebrows, surprised at her frankness.

  “Best not let him hear you say that.” I smirk.

  “Yes, sir. He wants us ‘country yokels’…” she makes quotations in the air, “… to keep out of the crime scene and wait for the FBI crime scene investigators to arrive. As if we’d stomp all over it! We want this bastard caught just like everyone else.”

  I place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let him see he’s gotten under your skin. Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction. Do your job, you’re good at it.”

  Deputy Dalton brightens at my compliment.

  “You staying, Sheriff?”

  “No. I’m going home.”

  “I saw Izzy at the diner on my way here. You might want to make sure she gets home okay.”

  I look at her sideways and push up my hat at the front. “You keeping tabs on me, Deputy?”

  “It’s a small town. Things spread like wildfire. You should go to her, so she knows you’re safe.”

  I shake my head and walk away. I know she’s right. Izzy will be worried as will all the patrons in the diner. I’m just not sure I’m ready to face any of them right now.

  Carlos

  I drive through town, not stopping at the diner. Instead, I head for home. I need a long, hot shower, then I can face Izzy and everyone else. I live in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by families. I’m sure the whole town knows where I live. It’s a dark gray weatherboard house with white trim containing two bedrooms, one bath, and the garage is at the back of the lot. I don’t like the garage attached to the house. I think it’s because I used to live in an apartment building. It’s a bitch in winter when it’s snowing, but thankfully, it’s summer right now. Tonight I park in the driveway. Surveying the area around me, I’m satisfied no one is lurking in the bushes, so I get out and go inside. The house is quiet as I make my way to the shower. I let my clothes fall where they may as I strip on my way to the bathroom. The only thing I don’t let drop to the floor is my gun. I take it with me and place it on the vanity within reaching distance.

  The killer in Los Angeles used to send me tapes of the killings. I got to listen to those poor girls scream for help, and he used to get them to say my name.

  ‘Please, Detective Morales, please help me!’

  I had nightmares for a long time, and they have started again. The tapes one day ceased, and then the killings stopped. Many theories circulated about what happened to him—prison, death, new hunting grounds—but I think I always knew he wasn’t finished with me. With this type of killer, they get a taste for it and typically don’t stop until they are caught or are put down.

  The hot water and soap do a lot to help me feel clean. After I have soaped up, I stand under the water until it runs cold. Reluctantly, I get out of the shower and dry myself. I wrap the towel around my hips, pick up my gun, and head for my bedroom where I have a king-size bed, a side table next to the bed, and a rug on the floor. The curtains are black and block out the sun for those days I want to sleep in, which isn’t often. This room is at the back of the house, and the other bedroom is at the front which I use as my office. Opening my closet, I pull out a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and an old denim jacket.

  I dress quickly, making sure to put my shoulder holster on, securing my gun in it. I walk back through the house, picking up my clothes. The washer and dryer are in a small room located near the back door, sort of a mudroom come utility room. It’s good for days when I have been out in the thick of it and covered in muck. I can strip off here and not track it through the house.

  The shirt I had on this evening has my sheriff’s badge attached to it. I clip it onto the jacket I’m wearing then put the whole lot into the washer. I set it to wash, drop in a tablet, and go into the kitchen. Without thinking, I grab a cup to make myself a coffee but stop. I need to get to Izzy and let her know I’m okay. Picking my hat up off the floor, I head for the car. Doing a quick look around, I don’t see anyone who shouldn’t be here, so I get in and make my way to the diner.

  As soon as I open the door, all eyes are on me. I can see the questions on their faces, all wanting to know if we found another body and who she is. I can’t answer any of their queries, and right now, I don’t want to. Izzy sees me enter and makes a beeline toward me, concern etched on her pretty face.

  When she gets to me, Izzy wraps her arms around my waist and kisses me lightly on the lips.

  “Coffee?”

  “That would be good.”

  “Food?” I shake my head and purse my lips. Izzy frowns. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “This morning with you, here. I think I spend way too much time in this diner.”

  Izzy giggles and her smile warms my heart.

  “The food is good, though.”

  Izzy breaks away and heads behind the counter.

  “Where’s Cassia?” I ask.

  “She’s out back helping Howie. My shift ended two hours ago, but I thought I’d stay and help out.”

  I glance around the diner, and it’s full, so I take a seat at the counter. I can hear the locals whispering amongst themselves, no doubt talking about the latest murder. Izzy pours me a cup of coffee in a large to-go cup and also cuts two slices of pie then places them in takeaway containers.

  “Do you have ice-cream at home?”

  “Why?”

  “Do you?” repeats Izzy.

  “Yeah, only vanilla, though.”

  Izzy nods and walks out the back to the kitchen area. She’s barely gone for a heartbeat when she steps back through carrying a brown paper bag that looks like it contains burgers. She puts the pie inside the bag, hands me a coffee cup, and walks around the counter to stand next to me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  I give her a quizzical look but don’t argue. I climb off the chair, take the brown bag from Izzy, and head for the door.

  “Sheriff?” asks one of the patrons.

  I turn around, and it’s Mr. Jobling from the local newspaper.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Sheriff, do we know who it is? Off the record, of course,” asks Mr. Jobling looking very serious.

  I shake my head. “You know, until her parents are notified, I can’t say.”

  “And you know he can’t. Leave the man alone. Let him have something to eat, sleep, and tomorrow you can all ask him whatever you want. But tonight, let him be,” states Izzy, hand on hip, coffee held out in front of her.

  “It’s okay,” I say quietly.

  Izzy twists her head to me, stares for a moment, and then opens the door to the diner.

  I look around the room taking in all the worried faces.

&nb
sp; “I will say she’s a local girl. Keep your women safe. If you think a newcomer is odd, tell someone. If you think a local is behaving strangely, tell someone. My door is always open.” I pause and do another sweep of the room. “But do not, and I need you all to hear this, do not go after this person by yourself. You’re not the law, I am.” I nod to the crowd and join Izzy outside. She lets the door swing shut and heads for my truck.

  I open the passenger door, and she climbs inside. When I get in, I look at her.

  “You okay?” Izzy asks.

  “Thank you.”

  “What for?” asks Izzy.

  I hold up the brown paper bag. “This, and for trying to protect me in there.”

  Izzy smirks. “Sometimes you need looking after, Sheriff. Tonight it was my turn to look after you. Now, where are we going to eat?”

  I grin at her. It’s been a while since someone has wanted to look after me. “Would you like to come back to my place?”

  Izzy gives me a sideways glance. “You wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of me now, would you, Sheriff?”

  I shake my head. “No, no, no, and it’s Carlos. I don’t want to be the sheriff right now.”

  Izzy laughs. “Damn! Okay, Carlos, let me know if the sheriff wants to mess around.”

  I chuckle at her and shake my head. “You should call Dane and tell him you won’t be home tonight. I don’t need him or one of his men banging on my door, trying to see if you’re safe.”

  “Presumptuous!” Izzy giggles.

  “Not like that. I’m beat. I want food, company, and sleep.” I stare into her eyes. “I’m not saying I don’t want you, I do. But tonight could we just sleep together, let me hold you and maybe the nightmares will stay away?”

  A crease appears on her forehead. “Nightmares? Oh, Carlos, I’m so sorry.” Izzy leans across the seat and puts her lips to mine. “I can do that. But I need to warn you, I snore.”