Savage Burn (Savage Trilogy 2)

I take both cups and hand them to Adam, not because I don’t want the coffee but because I want her more. Catching her waist, I rotate, offering Adam and Smith a nice view of my pretty little ass. “Don’t do that,” I say softly. “Don’t create a problem where there is no problem.”

“And don’t coddle me and whisper all discreet to keep me out of the loop, Rick Savage. We both know this isn’t me creating a problem where there’s no problem. We have so many problems that I’m buried to my waist in problems. I don’t solve them by pretending otherwise or back to the coddling. I don’t need that. And that doesn’t make me stronger. Or us stronger, either. I think it’s pretty clear that you forgot what a fighter I am.”

I visibly flinch. “Punch me with words, why don’t you, baby, but I guess I deserve it.”

“Yes,” she says quite precisely. “You do, and not for the past that I promised to stop using as a weapon, but for the right here and now.”

“I own my past sins, baby, but I will always protect you. You’re going to have to get used to that.”

“We’re going to talk about that.”

I lean in and press my lips to her ear again. “As long as we fuck about that, too.”

“We can do both,” she says, pulling back to pierce me with a green-eyed stare, “but I’ll still win this argument.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say, giving her a wink.

“You’re impossible,” she says, poking my chest, a hint of a smile on those pretty lips. Lips I’m more than ready to have on about ten places on my body.

“We’re ready for real this time,” Smith calls out.

My lips press together. “Let’s get this over with. Then you can start dealing with how impossible I am.”

I release her and when I would turn away, she catches my arm. I arch a brow and she kisses me, spreading her sunshine all over my shit-show. I didn’t realize just how badly I needed that sunshine. I catch her to me again, kiss the hell out of her and then release her. She might not need to be coddled, but she does need to be saved. Most likely from me, but that’s not going to happen. I’ll be drinking and drowning in that sunshine from here on out.

We sit at the kitchen table with Smith and Adam, all of us drinking coffee while Smith prepares to hit the play button on his MacBook. “Asher’s working on the transcript for the audio. There’s very little here that feels like it helps us. The hope here, Candace,” he explains, “is that you hear something we don’t, something helpful.” He slides a pad and paper in front of her. “In case you want to write anything down.”

“Thanks,” she says, sliding the pad closer to her.

Smith eyes me. I arch a brow and when he doesn’t speak, Candace does. “Just say what you need to say, Smith.”

He clears his throat and his attention remains on me as he says, “They talk about Candace. You know that, right?”

“If you want to warn me,” Candace interjects. “Warn me, not Rick. “I’m not worried about what he says about me. I’m worried about what he does to my father. Push play, and my God, can you all stop treating me like a delicate flower?”

I laugh and squeeze her leg. “It’s not you they’re worried about, baby,” I say, leaning over to give her a look. “It’s me. They’re afraid I’ll get in the car and go blow his ass up.”

“But of course,” she replies, “you won’t do that because we need to protect my father.”

“Or,” I suggest, “maybe we’re over-complicating things. If I go kill him, he’s not around to kill your father.”

“But Tag is,” she argues. “And we don’t know all the layers of trouble my father has found, either, or even who else might want him, and us, dead.”

“What she said,” Adam replies. “And you aren’t killing Gabriel. We’re putting him in jail.”

“We’ll see about that,” I say, kissing Candace before I motion to Smith. “Play it.”

“Jail is the right answer,” Candace argues.

“You don’t want to be coddled,” I say. “So, no coddling. Fucktard Gabriel can still order a hit on your father from jail, baby. And these two bozos know it. They know he has to die. It’s just easier for everyone to wait until he forces my hand before they agree. Then they can sleep at night.” I motion to Smith. “Play the damn audio.”

He grimaces but has the good sense not to argue. He gives a nod and pushes play. To my surprise, Candace covers my hand where it rests on her leg, with her hand. It’s her way of thanking me for being honest, her way of telling me she can handle whatever comes out of my mouth. She can. Sure. I know she can, but hearing what I feel, and seeing me put it into action, are two different things. We’ll see what she can handle before all of this is over. Of that I’m sure.