Savage Love (Savage Trilogy 3)

At exactly sixty seconds, I back the Porsche 911 up and turn onto the main road again. The houses in this area have a wide girth between properties and I drive a full block to the sprawling, well-lit property where Tag is now waiting for me to kill him. I pull into the driveway, kill the engine, get out and charge for the door. I don’t knock. I open the fucking door and head right inside. Tag’s wrinkly ass is sitting in a recliner by the fireplace. He has two men on the couch, with their backs to me, and two hanging out by the fireplace. I draw my weapon and the two by the fireplace are dead. Adam is in the room just that quickly, and he kills the two on the couch. Tag pushes to his feet but not fast enough.

I point the gun at his face, fully intending to kill him. “Wait!” he shouts. “If I die, Alejandro will rape Candace before he kills her.”

My eyes narrow, unease rattling in my chest. “He doesn’t work for you.”

“Pocher is a fool and so is Gabriel. Never hire a paid killer to protect you. For the right money, he’ll kill you instead. Isn’t that right, Rick Savage? Kill me, and she dies after she’s raped.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Candace

Smith and Adrian both ensure I know they’re present. Smith actually bumps into me and apologizes, and the moment he catches my arm and steadies me, I want to hug the man. Adrian just manages to always be in my line of sight, even while eating about every food offering in the place. These two men are perhaps the only reason I’m sane right now. At present, there’s a robust man with pink ruddy cheeks chatting with Gabriel while the brute of a man who is now my bodyguard hovers at my back. I can barely process the words coming out of the mouths surrounding me. There’s a glass of champagne in my hand, and quite out of character, I down the contents and set the glass down on a waiter’s tray. Right now, right this very minute, the men in my life—my father and my own personal Savage—are standing on a ledge that might crumble beneath them. If they crumble, I crumble.

“You seem distracted,” Gabriel says, as the ruddy-faced man walks away and his attention falls on me. “Are you still feeling under the weather?”

“That’s the first time you’ve asked me that since seeing me.”

His expression tightens. “You’re angry.”

“You said that earlier,” I point out. “My answer is the same now as it was then. No, I am not angry.”

He narrows his eyes on me and then he catches my hand. “Come with me.” He doesn’t give me a chance to agree or disagree. He’s walking and taking me with him, the brute of a bodyguard following. Heads turn to follow us, pretty women eyeing Gabriel with lust and me with envy. Please. Take him. Take him now. He leads me out of the ballroom to a side door which places us in a narrow hallway.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “You have a speech to give in ten minutes.”

He flicks me a look over his shoulder. “Thirty minutes. They pushed it back.” He keeps walking and before I know it, once again, I’m being led onto a private balcony. I swear it’s déjà vu to the last party we were at together and not in a good way. Out here, I’m trapped. Out here, he can touch me.

The night air lifts with the scent of honeysuckle and cedar that might otherwise be pleasant but suddenly I’m thrust against a wall, behind an open door. My God, does the man pay for a private balcony at these events just to grope me? Before I know his intent, his legs cage my legs, his hands settling possessively at my waist. “You look stunning in that dress.”

His breath is warm and suffocating on my cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Are you wearing a bra?”

I prickle and fight the urge to knee him. “Of course, I’m wearing a bra.”

His eyes grow hungry. “Show me and don’t stop at the bra. I want to see your pretty pink nipples.”

“I’m not going to show you.”

His finger brushes across my nipple, and I catch his hand. “Stop, Gabriel.”

“I’m your fiancé.”

“And the future president. Don’t grope me on the patio.”

His eyes burn with a mix of heat and lust. His hands grab at my skirt, and he tugs it upward.

“Gabriel,” I gasp, and so quickly, so very quickly, he grabs my panties, the panties I wore for Rick, and yanks them off me. I yelp and he holds them between us. “Something to keep with me when I go to New York tonight.” His hands creep to the inner side of my backside, and panic overwhelms me.