Savage Love (Savage Trilogy 3)

Of course, she’s not okay. She just had a blade to her neck, watched me kill Wes, and now heard me tell Tag what I fantasize about doing to him.

“I’m alive,” she says. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of fabulous considering all that’s happened.”

My jaw clenches with anger over that blade and how easily it ended up at her throat. She grabs my hands. “Don’t go down the blame rabbit hole, Rick,” she orders, “or the ‘save me by leaving me’ rabbit hole, either. You’re not leaving me. We just had this conversation before all of this happened.”

“You’re right, baby,” I say, hating how easily she believes I’ll leave again, and I have no one to blame but me. “We’re past that kind of doubt. I’m not leaving you. I’m not even thinking about leaving you. What I am going to do is kill Tag and every motherfucking bastard who works for him. There will be no mercy. Not after me seeing that blade at your throat.”

CHAPTER TWO

Savage

I pull the Porsche to the door of Hotel Emma, where several doormen await, and quickly scan my face for blood. I’m out of the car on the driver’s side before either of them can get to me. Further inspection of my arms, hands, and clothes, tell me that I killed that dipwad without wearing a drop of his blood. If Candace didn’t know how efficient a killer I am, or how well-trained I am at killing and getting away with it, she does now. I’ve told her that I’m not the surgeon she was once going to marry. The problem is that being told such a thing, and saying you understand it, versus having the truth shoved in your face, is like comparing peanut butter and jelly. They aren’t the same. And like peanut butter and jelly, Candace and I are not the same, but we are underrated as a team. I underrated us as a team. I just hope like hell she didn’t overrate us in her mind. Because I love the fuck out of this woman.

By the time a doorman is helping Candace out of the car, I’m by her side. I have my arm around her when I palm my keys and some cash to a guy who looks about twelve, and can’t take his eyes off the car. “Don’t wreck it,” I tell him. “I need it in working order.”

His eyes jerk to mine and like most people, his gaze lands on the scar down my cheek. “Oh no,” he stammers. “No, sir. I’ll be gentle with it.”

“I’m never gentle,” I promise him, and he pales whiter than the white that appears to be his normal state.

I turn away from him and guide Candace toward the hotel entrance. “You scared him,” she whispers urgently.

“Good.”

“Rick!” she scolds.

“Relax, baby. I gave him a hundred-dollar tip. He’ll get over it.” I hurry us to the elevator and inside the open car. Once I’ve keyed in the code for the upper level, I pull her close and hold her, my face buried in her hair, inhaling the sweet floral scent. “I could have lost you tonight,” I whisper, my lips at her ear. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.” Some part of me knows this might sound like a defense for my actions, but it isn’t. It’s simply how it is and will be, which is why I catch her face and tilt her stare to mine. “I won’t let that happen.”

Her arms slide around me and she steps closer. “I know,” she says and just that easily she’s said it all, she’s given me everything. She’s offered me her trust.

We stand there, staring at each other, heat and emotion waving between us. One floor after another dings in passing, but life and future years will not pass us by, not ever again. The elevator halts with our destination, and I cup her face, my lips brushing hers.

We reach the door of the suite and Adam opens it before I can. “All clear?” he asks.

“So far so good,” I say, pulling Candace in front of me, and urging her forward.

She steps inside the foyer, and I follow her, shutting the door behind us to find Adam giving Candace a scowling inspection, his eyes fixated on her neck. My gaze follows his and holy fuck. How did I not see the blood marking her delicate skin? What kind of asshole wouldn’t inspect her for injury after what just happened?

“He cut your damn neck.”

“I’m fine, Rick,” she says, touching the wound. “It’s not even painful.”

“You’re not fine.” I tilt her head and now I’m scowling. “You’re cut. You’re bleeding.” I catch her to me and hurry her with me down the hallway, away from Adam.

“I’m fine, Rick,” she insists. “Stop acting like I’m delicate. I’m not delicate.”