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  Savage Redemption

  “My life was all about revenge until I met her.”

  I want them destroyed.

  The Anarchists killed my father, haunt me and my brother, and seek to destroy my club, the Savage Kings.

  For years, I have stopped at nothing to annihilate them.

  But for years, I also never forgot her.

  She was everything to me.

  She brought joy to my life.

  And I had to leave her without explanation.

  But a chance encounter has brought her back to me.

  And now, everything has changed.

  My life is now all about having her—and nothing can stop me.

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  Burnt Romance

  Carter Steele

  Contents

  1. Petey

  2. Anna

  3. Petey

  4. Anna

  5. Petey

  6. Anna

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  1

  Petey

  The Anarchists of Death had returned.

  And they had cost me a chance at a wonderful moment with Anna.

  But for now, I couldn’t worry about what could have been. I had to investigate just what the hell had happened. There were Anarchists on bikes who had shown up and ridden off as soon as I shot at them, but they had returned fire. I had to follow them.

  “Stay here,” I advised to the half-naked Anna, crouched behind desk, fearful of an attack. “I’m coming back shortly. I promise.”

  “But—”

  “You’re safest here, I promise,” I said.

  I turned away from her and headed toward my bike, as pissed off as I’d felt in some time. It wasn’t even that the sex got interrupted; there would likely be a time and a place for that. It was more that the peace and prosperity we had all experienced as a club was now out the window, and we’d now have to go back to violence.

  I pulled out my phone just before I got on my bike and called Brock.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “Anarchists just attacked the fitness studio, the one near the barber shop,” I said. “Could just be a coincidence, but I doubt it. I think they’re going for the area where there’s a lot of civilian foot traffic, in the place where they can instill the most fear.”

  “Shit. Are you going after them?”

  “I’m going to do a quick tour, see if I can catch anything. Tell everyone else to be ready.”

  I hung up, already knowing I was so far behind the attackers that I wasn’t likely to catch them. I turned my bike on, revved the engine, and sped out of the parking lot, doing a quick sweep of the area. I knew that they had likely gone back to wherever their base was; I just wanted to make sure no one else was lying in wait to ambush Anna and the rest of us further.

  I ran about a one mile perimeter around the fitness studio. One parking lot had some teenagers making out in one of the cars, but otherwise, the place was deserted. Romara had gone to sleep, but it had opened itself up to some pretty bad nightmares.

  I pulled back into the shopping center, parking my motorcycle in the handicap spot closest to the fitness studio. I ran inside and found Anna back dressed, having put on even her jacket. She looked terrified, but she also looked saddened.

  “What the hell was that?” she said, a repeat of her line from earlier, but one said with a lot more grief behind it.

  I walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, but she was much more withdrawn. The cheerful, happy Anna that had the youthful vibrance of a twenty-year-old was now replaced by someone who probably felt that she had been lucky to survive a potential shootout by her store. If that didn’t put the fear of God in her, then she was more than just brave, she was crazy.

  “That was an attack by the Anarchists,” I said. “I suppose you’d like to know just what the hell is going on.”

  I removed my hand, noticing that she had not reacted in any way to it, and explained everything between the Savage Kings and the Anarchists. Anna hardly reacted to anything I said, not even to the fact that we had tried to drive them out. She was numb from the attack, or she was just looking to get away.

  “My friend, Erin, she told me about you guys,” Anna said. “She said that you guys were trouble. She said you were killers. Said you shouldn’t be trusted.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I mean, you just confirmed all of it.”

  “I don’t mean that,” I clarified. “There’s a difference between someone who murders for fun and someone who kills to protect what they love. We love Romara, but if you listen to your friend, Erin, she thinks we’re murderers for fun. Which do you believe?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “I don’t know, and that’s not really something I want to think about,” she said. “I just want to go home.”

  I bit my lip, staring at those fearful eyes, trying to find the appropriate response. I had to let her go. I had to hope that an opportunity would come up down the line, but I didn’t think there would be much hope for it. It was pretty hard to come back from a gunfight like that.

  It was pissing me off. Not her—the situation.

  “Do you want a ride home?” I offered.

  “I drove myself here,” she said. “But thanks.”

  The thanks at least sounded genuine, if a little nervous. Maybe she thought that her thanking me would open the floodgates for me trying to sleep with her again. Or maybe she’s just so shook from the situation that anything she says is going to sound bad.

  “OK, if you want me to come over later—”

  “Come over?” she said, her voice rising. “My studio got shot up, Petey! It’s going to cost thousands to repair. And you still want to come over?!?”

  Shit.

  “I meant come over to provide protection, I know that this isn’t the time for anything more.”

  She appeared to relax a little, but my faux pas with my words had left the lingering effect.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “As long as you didn’t tell the vandals where I lived.”

  “I don’t even know where you live,” I said, but she was already walking out the door. “Anna—”

  But she disappeared. A short while later, I heard the sound of her car turning on, backing out of its spot, and driving out into the distance. I turned to the cabinet, put my hand on it, and let out a long sigh.

  “Goddamnit, Anarchists,” I said. “You cost me a lot more than just pussy tonight.”

  “So this happened like an hour ago?” Brock said.

  The sheriff stood outside the store, waiting for his chance to conduct an official investigation. We needed to go through and see if we could find anything that we could use against the Anarchists first. I doubted that we would accomplish our mission, but there was one thing I wanted to get out of this moment.

  “Yeah,” I said. “They tore down the window. It’s gonna cost some money for her to repair.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Brock, I’d like for us to help pay for it.”

  Brock looked at me like I had just suggested that we turn the club into a go-kart club.

  “The hell?”

  “I feel like this is my fault somehow,” I said. “If they’ve been spying on us, they know that I’ve been around her. Even if they only saw me enter tonight, they must have figured that my bike there would mean it would hurt us. And it has. It’s put us back on the defensive. But what hurt us hurt her. I feel responsible.”

  “So pay out of your pocket, Petey.”

  “Brock.”

  Brock inhaled slowly throu
gh his nostrils before turning back to me.

  “Petey, I look up to you a lot in this club. You’re my mentor, in a lot of ways, and I’m always grateful for that. But if we spent funds helping out everyone who suffered as a result of the Anarchists, we’d be broke in two months. And if we help Anna, eventually, it’s going to get out that we helped her and other people are going to want us to help them. We can’t be hand outs. I’m sorry.”

  Brock’s fierce determination made it clear that there was nothing I could do to change his mind. As much as I hated to say it, objectively, I understood.

  “Got it,” I said. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

  But that didn’t mean that I was done trying to pursue Anna.

  If anything, tonight had only invigorated me further. And it wasn’t just to have a chance to be with her physically.

  I’d seen her hurt. That pained me. It reminded me of when I had seen Kathryn hurt and pained. And when that had happened, I had not been able to do anything.

  I was not going to fuck that up again. I didn’t know what would happen in the long run between Anna and me.

  But I did know that I was not going to let her down like I’d let Kathryn down.

  2

  Anna

  When I went home, I immediately poured myself a glass of red wine with trembling hands. I gulped down the whole thing in just two sips and hoped and waited for it to kick in.

  It did not.

  Nothing I did could make me forget what had happened about twenty minutes ago. Nothing.

  It was the first time I had ever seen such violence in the flesh up close. And I hadn’t even “seen” that much violence. I had only heard the windows to my studio shatter, followed by gunshots and motorcycles driving away. I had seen more violence in one half-hour block of a movie than I just had in person.

  And yet, it was so personal… I was so close…

  And then, Petey had the gall to say he’d come over later?!?

  I poured myself another glass of red wine. This time, I nearly filled it to the brim, blowing well past the point at which a normal person would have stopped pouring themselves a glass. I again drank copious amounts, though this time, I stopped at the second gulp, even though I still had half the glass to go.

  I thought Petey was better than that. True, our relationship had started like fire. We had barely known each other, but his charisma and charm had gotten to me so much that we were right there, about to have sex on my desk, just like I had fantasized. It was that close.

  But I wouldn’t have been attracted to him if he was a jerk. I’d never fallen for a jackass before, and I wasn’t about to start now. If Petey wanted to be that way…

  But he didn’t. He said that he misspoke. Do you believe him?

  I want to. I’d like to believe him. I’d like to believe that what he said was just a mistake and that he’s really sorry.

  But…

  You’re afraid of getting hurt again. After Jason, you’re looking for any excuse the moment things get bad to turn and walk away. You’re just looking for an escape. It’s not perfect, therefore, it won’t work. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?

  I finished the rest of that wine and poured myself another glass. Soon, the cycle was getting vicious—the more wine I drank, the more thoughts that crossed my mind. The more thoughts that crossed my mind, the more that I drank. I couldn’t get enough wine to shut up the ruckus in my mind.

  It was about midnight when, drunk as a skunk, I stumbled over to my couch, nearly tripping and spilling my wine. Exercising extreme caution—as much caution as my overloaded, drunk body could muster—I placed my glass on the coffee table in front of me and closed my eyes.

  When I awoke, it was still dark outside, although the sky was turning a slightly brighter shade of blue. My hands no longer trembled, but that was replaced by an unbearably annoying fact.

  I was hungover. And I had not even gotten any good sleep.

  I headed for my bedroom, leaving the glass of wine on the table, a bit disgusted that I had allowed myself to turn into such a mess. Yeah, violence had happened near me, but it wasn’t violence directed at me. It’s not like someone tried to shoot me and I barely avoided it. And in any case, Petey would have prevented anything terrible from happening.

  Is that so? Petey? So you want him around to protect you? I thought you were afraid of getting hurt.

  But what if he wouldn’t hurt me? What if…

  The thoughts vanished as a feeling of an upset stomach started to take hold. The world above me, though dark with the lack of sunlight pouring in, still spun, streams of blackness swirling above. The contents of my stomach, in turn, rose to meet the darkness above. I made a beeline for the bathroom, opening the toilet seat just in time to vomit a significant portion of the wine that I’d had just hours before.

  I coughed and hacked over that seat for a long, long time. I felt so lonely sitting there, feeling at one of my lowest points since the divorce. Everyone thought that I was handling it with aplomb, and maybe I was, but this was a moment that I was finally cracking. In the quietness of my apartment, well into the night with no one to hear me, having just survived a near-death experience with a man I was about to fuck that I’d only met a few times, I realized that I may have looked nice to the outside, but inside, I had suppressed quite a bit.

  I didn’t know what was worse—the feeling that came as a result of that, or the fact that I still found myself wanting Petey there. Loneliness had something to do with it, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t function without him. I just…

  I stopped trying to figure it out. Eventually, I finished, flushed, and crawled to my bed. The rest I could handle when I woke up again.

  This time, I didn’t wake up until about 10 a.m. I was still hungover, but the pounding headache had turned into a mild one. I could taste the aftereffects of my vomit and went to immediately brush my teeth. The toothbrush timer went off after two minutes; I let it run for six before I finally considered it a job enough well done.

  It being Monday morning, I did not have any classes to lead until the noon session, but the late morning did mean that I was going to fall behind the administrative tasks of sending reminders to members who hadn’t shown up to class in some time, scheduling special events, and taking care of otherwise menial tasks. I also didn’t really have time to eat breakfast and digest it before the first workout. I’d just have to head over to the shop and run my first session on a fasted stomach.

  That is, if you’re even going to have a class with your studio broken into.

  I sighed.

  I got into my car and drove over in gym shorts and a black tank top, throwing on a pair of shades as well to account for the mess. I got over to the shop and found the sheriff’s car waiting outside. I scanned the area to see if Petey or anyone else was nearby.

  There were not. I was probably more relieved than anything to know that I wouldn’t have to deal with questions about what had happened the night before. I walked up to the entrance, seeing Sheriff Craig Jones inside, taking notes.

  “Morning, Miss Adams,” the sheriff said. “I’m sorry to see what happened here.”

  “As am I,” I said.

  I had no idea how much to say or not to say. I didn’t want to involve Petey anymore than I had to, but I didn’t want to be the civilian to hide things from the cops.

  “We suspect that a gang from the far side of town, the Anarchists of Death, did this as retaliation.”

  “For what?” I said.

  The sheriff looked down at his notepad, as if that would somehow provide the answers. The way he spoke, though, told me that he already knew what was going on.

  “They and another group here, the Savage Kings, have a bit of a… contentious relationship, let’s say. Are you familiar with them?”

  “Yeah, a little,” I said. “A couple of their members have taken classes with me.”

  “A couple” was an exaggeration to my knowledge. But on the other hand, it was certa
inly possible that they were bigger than I knew and that some of their members had, in fact, taken courses with me. It was just a guess, but I didn’t think the sheriff would hold it against me if, upon going through my records, he noticed only Petey had taken a private class.

  But I could easily see him piecing together a thing or two…

  “Well, if you want my advice, Miss Adams, be careful in dealing with the Savage Kings,” he said. “They are not bad men per se. But they are ‘bad’ men, if you understand what I’m saying. They attract a certain type of crowd and lead a certain type of life that I would not recommend anyone follow if they can help it. They may offer a certain thrill, but it comes at a price.”

  I bit my lip and nodded.

  “Now, I’ll need to ask you some questions as part of my investigation, Miss Adams,” he said. “Were you present when this attack took place?”

  I looked up at the Sheriff, who waited patiently for me to continue.

  “Yes,” I said. “I was giving an individual lesson when it happened.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. “And did you get a look at the criminals?”

  He’s not going to ask about anything else?

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “That’s quite alright, it’s a stressful situation to be in.”

  Sheriff Jones asked a few more questions, but none of them probed into the specifics of the lesson I was teaching me. I chose not to think about why that was, believing that a stroke of good luck was something that wasn’t to be questioned in this spot.