Savior (Blackwings MC - Devil Springs Book 3) Read online

  Savior

  Blackwings MC - Devil Springs Book Three

  Teagan Brooks

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Note From The Author

  Prologue

  1. Savior

  2. Savior

  3. Avery

  4. Savior

  5. Avery

  6. Savior

  7. Ranger

  8. Savior

  9. Avery

  10. Savior

  11. Avery

  12. Savior

  13. Copper

  14. Savior

  15. Avery

  16. Savior

  17. Avery

  18. Savior

  19. Avery

  20. Savior

  21. Savior

  22. Savior

  23. Avery

  24. Savior

  25. Avery

  26. Savior

  27. Savior

  28. Copper

  29. Savior

  30. Avery

  31. Ranger

  32. Avery

  33. Savior

  34. Avery

  35. Savior

  36. Avery

  37. Savior

  38. Avery

  39. Savior

  40. Avery

  41. Savior

  42. Avery

  43. Savior

  44. Avery

  45. Savior

  46. Avery

  47. Savior

  48. Avery

  49. Avery

  Epilogue

  Also by Teagan Brooks

  Also by Teagan Brooks

  Also by Teagan Brooks

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 Teagan Brooks

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Adult Content Warning: For ages 18 years old and older due to graphic sexual content, explicit language, and violence.

  Acknowledgments

  Cover Design: C.T. Cover Creations

  http://www.ctcovercreations.com

  Cover Model: Chase Ketron

  Cover Photographer: FuriousFotog

  https://furiousfotog.com

  Proofreading/Editing: Kathleen Martin

  Content/Developmental Editing: Rogue Readers

  https://www.facebook.com/Rogue.ReadersOG/

  Special thanks to Kathleen Martin, Melissa Rivera, Tina Workman, Jennifer Ritch, Katherine Smith, and Brittany Franks.

  To my friend.

  Love you, mean it.

  To all the good guys who have had bad things happen.

  You’re still good guys.

  Note From The Author

  The Prologue…It’s emotional and might be difficult for some of you to read. I assure you, it was hard for me to write. But I did it because things like this really do happen. There’s not always a bad guy to blame. Sometimes both parties are victims. Somewhere along the way, with the help of social media, a mob mentality has developed. People attack other people based on something they heard or read without knowing the full story. And they post nasty, hateful words that serve no purpose other than to fuel more hate. Bad things happen to good people. Don’t assume. Don’t judge. Be helpful, not hateful.

  Prologue

  Savior

  Crash.

  The sound of metal crushing metal on impact filled my ears while an unrelenting pressure against my chest held me in place. My neck snapped forward and my vision filled with a flash of white. Before I could make out what was in front of me, my eyes began to sting.

  Something was happening, but I didn’t know what and I needed to find out. I pushed myself forward only to be stopped by something holding me in place. I was tired. I closed my eyes and started to drift off when another loud noise caused my aching body to jolt.

  “Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” someone was screaming. “Hey! Fuck, man!”

  Then another voice, or maybe it was the same one. “It’s bad. We need help now! I can’t get either one of them out! Please hurry.”

  My body started to shake. “Come on! Please! I need you to help me.”

  My eyes shot open, and I tried to take in my surroundings. My vision was blurry, and my eyes stung, but I knew right away I was in my truck. And the airbag had deployed. And I couldn’t see anything other than my smashed-up hood through the windshield. What happened?

  Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Help me!” a man I didn’t recognize insisted and pulled on my door. I undid my seat belt and pushed against the door. It took a bit of force, but we got it open, and I climbed out of my truck.

  “This way! We have to get him out,” the man said and took off running.

  I dazedly followed him, unsure of what we were doing. I looked around and wondered where I was when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I’d worked late. I was driving home on the interstate. And then, nothing. My vision came back into focus and landed on the car in front of me. Suddenly, my adrenaline kicked in, and my body sprang into motion. I ran over to the car, and together with the man who’d helped me, we wrestled with the mangled car door until we finally pulled it open.

  “Hey there! Sir! Can you hear me?” the man screamed.

  I pulled out my knife and watched the man’s eyes widen in fear. “Here,” I said and held it out handle-first. “Cut the airbag and his seat belt so we can get him out.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea,” he rambled.

  “Did you already call 9-1-1?” I asked.

  “Yeah, as soon as I saw the accident. I didn’t know if—”

  I cut him off. He didn’t know if we were dead. I didn’t need to hear it. “Good. They should be here soon.”

  It seemed like hours, though it was only minutes. First, the fire trucks and an ambulance arrived. Then, the highway patrol. And then, at least ten more police cars showed up. Why? Because I’d fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed into a police cruiser.

  I was completely sober.

  I passed two separate field sobriety tests.

  I passed the breathalyzer.

  I offered to let them take my blood.

  I wasn’t speeding.

  I was tired.

  It was an accident.

  But, hours later, none of that mattered. Because, accident or not, I’d killed a police officer.

  1

  Savior

  I don’t remember much of the first few days after the accident. I was extremely sore, and my chest had a nasty bruise from the seat belt; but, I didn’t have any other injuries—not physically anyway.

  While I laid on the couch in a complete daze, my grandfather hired an attorney for me, deactivated my social media accounts, and turned my phone off for a few days.

  But some of his efforts were too late. I’d already seen the comments about me on social media.

  “Piece of shit was probably drunk or on drugs.”

  “I hope he rots in hell.”

  “Those babies will grow up without their father thanks to this asshole.”

  “It was intentional. He was targeting a police officer.”

  “Cop killer.”

  I refused to see or talk to anyone except Gramps, my lawyer, and the po
lice officers working on the case. I didn’t know what to do. How do you continue on with your life after something like that? I knew there was nothing I could do to change it, to make it right, but I needed to do something.

  “Gramps,” I called from the entryway to the kitchen. He whirled around, surprised to see me off the couch. “I want to go talk to her.”

  His face fell as he shook his head. “You can’t, Kellan, and you know that.”

  “How can I not say anything to her?” I yelled. “I killed her husband. I should at least fucking say I’m sorry.”

  “That’s not how this works, Kellan. You can’t contact her right now, or ever for that matter. And, honestly, how do you think she would react to hearing your apology? Do you think she wants to talk to you? Because I sure as shit don’t. No, you need to let her be and focus on dealing with your own issues,” Gramps said firmly.

  “Can I at least send some fucking flowers to the funeral home?” I asked with unnecessary venom.

  “Yes, you can if you do it anonymously. And check your attitude, boy. I’m on your side.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and dropped my head. “I’m sorry, Gramps. I just don’t know how to handle any of this. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and it kills me that I did that to those kids,” I confessed.

  “I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, but the fact of the matter is, there isn’t anything you or I can do to make this better. Not right away. Just like when you lost your parents, it’s going to take time for the hurt to lessen, but it’s never going to go away completely.”

  Six Months Later

  “Kellan,” my grandfather called. “Come have a seat, boy. We need to have a talk.”

  I knew what he wanted to talk about. We’d had the same discussion a number of times in the last few months. But, he was all I had for family, and I loved and respected him. So, I sat down and listened.

  “I’ll keep this short since we’ve been down this road several times now. I had lunch with Ranger last week, and we talked about you and your situation. He called today and said you’ve got an hour to get your ass over to the Blackwings MC clubhouse. You start prospecting for them tonight.”

  Was he serious? “I’m sorry, Gramps. What was that?”

  “Phoenix Black is the President. He’s expecting you. When you arrive at the gate, tell them who you are, and they’ll direct you to him,” he continued.

  “Gramps—” I started.

  “This isn’t an option, Kellan. You’re going over there, and you’re going to put on that leather vest. I will not sit idly by and watch you guilt yourself into an early grave. I’ve already buried my wife, my daughter, and my son-in-law much earlier than I should have; I won’t add you to that list. Even if I have to strap you to the roof of my truck and drive you over there myself, you will do this,” he said vehemently.

  I’d never seen Gramps so worked up. He rarely, if ever, got angry or raised his voice. I was so shocked by his outburst that I didn’t even attempt to argue with him.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get changed and head over there.”

  Gramps was right; joining the MC was the best thing for me. He knew I was spiraling downhill fast. Who wouldn’t be? The guilt I felt about the accident was slowly consuming me.

  I’d originally planned to get kicked out of the club; but after being thrown into the fray right off the bat, I discovered that I wanted to earn my patch and be a member of the club. I found another family—something I’d only had in Gramps since I lost my parents. The Blackwings quickly became my brothers, my family, and my home. But, there was another reason why I wanted to become a patched member.

  After the first thirty days of prospecting for the MC, I started earning money for my assignments. It wasn’t close to what the patched members made, and nowhere near what the officers got, but it was more than I was making working as an electrical assistant, which meant it was more money I could spend on Officer Parker’s children.

  Gramps and my lawyer forbade me from contacting the family, so I found other ways to make sure they were okay—or as okay as they could be. For two years, I gave them as much as I could. And even though everything I did was for them, it ended up helping me, too, by giving me a purpose.

  Until the day I found out they were gone.

  2

  Savior

  I didn’t realize how I’d changed since they disappeared until it was brought to my attention one afternoon.

  “Savior, Phoenix wants to see you in his office,” Badger said.

  Being called to the President’s office out of the blue was the adult equivalent of being called to the principal’s office in the middle of class.

  “Have a seat,” Phoenix said from behind his desk. “You’ve probably heard by now that Coal is transferring to the Devil Springs Chapter. He’s going up at the end of this week, and you’re going with him.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked in complete surprise.

  “You heard me,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “You’re a good brother, and I hate to lose you. You take any assignment I give you, and you do it well, but your heart isn’t in anything you do, and I think you need to get out of Croftridge. You’re merely existing here. As the President of this club, it’s my job to know everything about my members, but I didn’t feel the need to share your past with Copper. I’ll leave that up to you to decide when the time is right.”

  I sat in stunned silence for several minutes. “I can’t leave Gramps,” I blurted.

  “Bullshit. Your Gramps is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You’ve already moved out once, and he was fine.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but he was right. After my parents died, I lived with Gramps until I was nineteen. I moved out for a few years before moving back in with him. I didn’t intend to stay as long as I did, but it turned out living with him as an adult was very different than it was when I was growing up, and it worked well for both of us.

  “Listen, Savior, I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through right now, but I think this is the best thing for you, and your grandfather agrees. Go to Devil Springs and give it an honest shot. If you do that and it doesn’t work out, you can come back here.”

  “I just don’t see how things will be different there than they are here. My physical location doesn’t change anything.”

  “Well, then, there you have it. Nothing changes. So, Devil Springs shouldn’t be an issue,” he said, effectively dismissing me.

  A few days later, Coal and I trailered our bikes, loaded my truck, and headed to Devil Springs. The club had a rental house for us, but it wasn’t going to be available for a few weeks. So, Copper worked out a short-term lease agreement with a nearby apartment complex. Thankfully, both the rental house and the apartment were fully furnished. The minimal amount of belongings Coal and I had between the two of us fell somewhere between comical and pathetic.

  The club welcomed us with a party, but Copper didn’t waste any time putting us to work. He wanted me and Coal to hang around the bar owned by the club to see if we could catch anyone running drugs through there. Not a bad assignment, per se. Just a little odd considering Coal wasn’t old enough to drink, and I refused to put any alcohol in my body if I was going to be driving.

  “You want to play some pool?” Coal asked.

  I shrugged. “Might as well. We gotta be here for a few hours, and it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

  There were three pool tables at the back of the bar, and they were positioned perfectly to give us a view of the entire bar, with the exception of the hall leading to the bathrooms.

  As I expected, the bar was dead as hell. Regardless of what they did on the other six days of the week, most people in small southern towns didn’t go out drinking on Sunday night.

  It was much the same for the next two nights. Things picked up on Wednesday and Thursday, but not enough to make the time pass any faster. But Friday night was a different story.

&nb
sp; Precious Metals went from having five customers to being packed in a matter of an hour. It didn’t take long for the bartenders to become overwhelmed.

  “Think one of us should go help them?” I asked Coal.

  “No. Copper doesn’t want anyone knowing we’re associated with the club.”

  “I feel like an asshole just sitting here when I could be helping,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, I do, too, but we’re doing our job.”

  “Let’s go sit at the bar. Between the two of us, we can at least keep the crowd back some,” I suggested.

  “Lead the way.”

  There was something about being a biker. Even when we weren’t wearing our cuts, people just knew not to fuck with us. Well, most people did. There were always a few idiots who didn’t get the memo.