Savage Love (Savage Trilogy 3)

I toss cash on the table and exit the coffee shop, walking across the street to the door of the club. Kane is still nowhere in sight, and I decide, fuck him. I’ll negotiate. I’ll figure this shit out. I always do. I enter the building to a security desk. “I’m here to see Pocher,” I announce to the stiff-necked geek behind the desk, with jet black hair, and wearing black-rimmed glasses.

“He’s expecting you, Mr. Savage. Go right down.”

Jesus.

Mr. Savage comes out sounding like a pervert porn show on that man’s lips and I pray to God that I never hear my name spoken that way ever fucking again. And he said it while telling me to go “right down.” And what do I do? I go right down the steps, just me and my arsenal of weapons they didn’t check me for. Lucky me. Unlucky them. And fuck me, already the spice from the many versions cigars reek, punching a hole in my nostrils. I’m not smoking a cigar, for any level of peace.

At the lower level, I’m inside what feels like a damn sex club for old people. There’s antique furnishing and smoke in the air, while low hanging chandeliers are dropped over the top of heavy wooden tables. Even the hostess that greets me has cleavage to her belly button but she’s not old.

She bats her eyes at me and points to a room behind a curtain. “Are they naked back there? Because if they’re naked back there, I don’t want to see a bunch of old man balls.”

She laughs. “No. They’re not naked.”

She better be right, I think, heading in that direction. Once I’m at the curtain, I inch it back to find a large room with a random cluster of sitting areas. Pocher’s sitting at a table, with two armed guards standing behind him. I inventory their weapons, or potential weapons, and how they carry their bodies, their hands. They have skills, just not my skills. There’s also a pretty girl chatting Pocher up to his left. He’s fifty-something, thin, almost gaunt, with graying hair. She’s twenty-something with ridiculously large breasts and blonde hair. On any other day, I ignore her, just like I am this day. On any other day, those guards would already be dead, but I’m showing restraint. For now.

“Rick Savage,” Pocher greets. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight. Join me.”

I stop on the opposite side of the table but I don’t sit. “What do you want with Candace?”

“You. She brought me you. And we both know you’re far more useful to me than she ever will be, though she decorated Gabriel’s arm quite nicely. A shame he’s dead. I had big plans for him.”

“If you think me a man without resources, you’re wrong.”

“You should sit.” He motions to a waiter. “Get the man a vodka.”

The choice of vodka is his way of telling me he knows all my dirty deeds. Gabriel told him. Tag probably ran his mouth as well until he figured out he was a liability. I press my hands on the table. “What do you want?”

“A trade.”

A waiter sets a vodka in front of me. I ignore it, focused on him. “I don’t trade.”

“I know you know who, and what, I am. I know you know what that can mean for you, good and bad. And I know you like money. Five million a year to be my personal problem solver. And of course, my guarantee you and all those you love stay safe.”

I pull my weapon and point it at his head. Of course, his guards pull their weapons and point them at me. The woman screams.

“Go,” I order her, and she all but falls out of her chair trying to comply. Even before she’s gone, I’m addressing Pocher. “You and I can die together, Pocher,” I say. “I’m liking the way the world feels after, aren’t you?”

“You won’t leave that pretty little Candace. We both know that.” He sounds gallant but the slight quiver of his lips tells me otherwise.

“I know you know who, and what, I am. Do you really want to take that bet?”

His cellphone rings on the table where it lies, and I can see the caller ID. It reads “Kane Mendez.”

“Go ahead,” I say. “Take that call. Tell him you’re busy.”

His eyes narrow on me and he picks up the phone. “This is Pocher.” He listens a moment and then says. “Very well.” He hangs up. “It seems we’re done here,” he says.

“Done?” I laugh. “I’m not feeling done at all.”

Pocher motions to his men to put away their weapons and they do. “We’re done, Rick Savage.”

“I’m pretty sure the only time I’m done is when you’re bleeding out all over the table.”

“I’m sure Kane Mendez has explained to you why that’s a mistake as he’s explained to me your value. You, Candace, and all those connected to you are granted immunity.”