Page 29 of Danger

Chains waited patiently for Sprite to finish serving a group of guys beer and quickly got her attention. “You need another beer already?” she asked.

“Um, no,” Chains said, holding up his glass that was still half full. “I’m good on the beer front. I wanted to offer you a place to stay.”

“Oh, no,” Sprite said, “that’s not really a good idea. I’ll be fine. I’m sure this will all blow over in a few days.”

“And then what?” Chains asked. “You’ll go back home and let that asshole hit you again? You can sleep in my room, and I’ll take the couch,” he assured.

“I don’t think that will work out, Chains, but I really appreciate the offer,” Sprite said.

“Why the hell won’t it work out?” Chains asked.

“Because you asked me out,” she reminded.

“No, I didn’t ask you out,” he insisted. “I asked you for your phone number. Listen, I promise that we can keep this completely platonic,” he assured. “No strings attached. You’ll have a safe place to stay, and I’ll feel good about helping out a friend. It will be a win-win for us both.” He took it as a good sign when Sprite giggled. He wasn’t sure how in the hell he was going to keep his promise when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and seal his mouth over hers, but he’d give it his best shot. It was the only way to keep Sprite from her mom’s asshole boyfriend.

“Fine,” Sprite said after what felt like an eternity. “I’ll take you up on your offer, but I’ll take the couch. I don’t want to put you out or be any trouble. And this is totally platonic—no funny business,” she insisted, pointing her finger at him.

He couldn’t help his smile, “No funny business,” he said, holding up his right hand as though he was swearing in. “I promise.”

“I get off at midnight. You want to give me your address and I’ll be there shortly after I close the bar down?” she asked.

“I have to stick around for church,” he said, “so, I’ll be here until midnight. You can follow me back to my place.”

She nodded, “Thanks, Chains. This means a lot. You’re a good friend.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about her calling him her friend, but for now, he’d take it. He had his foot in the door and if push came to shove, he’d kick it down if necessary.

Sprite (Royal Harlots Book 3) is coming soon!

Do you love the James family and want to read more? You can find Cillian’s story here, in Roadkill (Savage Hell MC Series Book 1)! Here’s a little teaser to get you started!

Savage

Prologue

Savage sat in the holding cell, waiting for the officers to bring Cillian in to see him. He knew his old friend would call him for help sooner or later. Cillian James was the one he failed, and Savage lived with that disappointment in himself every damn day. Savage was good friends with Cillian’s dad and had been since they arrived from Ireland when Cillian was just a kid. He promised to keep an eye on him after his parents went back to Ireland and Cillian stayed in the US, but somewhere along the line, Savage failed him.

When Cillian tried to join Savage’s MC, he refused him. Patching in the kid would have been the wrong call. He didn’t belong in that group of military misfits and one-percenters who made up his motley crew. To Savage, they were family but to Cillian, they would mean the end of what he wanted—a chance at a normal life. So, he told the kid that he didn’t want him and even made up some excuse about him being too hot-tempered for their club, just to throw him off the scent. It had the opposite effect though and Cillian became even more determined to find his way in. Even if that meant joining Savage Hell’s rival club—the Dragons. They were bad news and before Savage could step in and save Cillian, he had stolen a car to try to prove his worth to the Dragons. The problem was—they didn’t want Cillian and when it came down to it, they let him rot in prison over a gang prank that went wrong.

Their leader thought it would be funny to set Cillian up to take the fall for grand theft auto and he took the bait and was now serving his time for the crime he committed. It pissed Savage off knowing that he could have prevented all of Cillian’s problems if he had just let him into Savage Hell. But it was too late to go back and change all of that. All Savage could do now was help his friend and he was hoping that was why he was summoned to the prison so early on a Monday morning.

The steel door creaked open, and Cillian walked in wearing handcuffs and a smile. The officer instructed them that they were not allowed any physical contact, they only had ten minutes for their visit, and he asked Savage if he wanted Cillian’s cuffs on or off.

“Off,” Savage growled. As soon as the handcuffs were removed, Cillian sat down on the other side of the table from Savage and nodded.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Cillian said.

“No problem, Cillian. It’s been a damn long time,” Savage said. “I’ve been here a few times, but you refused to see me—what was up with that, man?”

Cillian chuckled and Savage sat back to cross his arms over his chest, finding the whole thing less funny than his friend.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Cillian said, and Savage just shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I heard anyone call me by my real name. I was starting to forget who I was in here.”

“Yeah, I heard about all of that,” Savage said. “You got into some trouble. I heard you killed a man.” Cillian eyed the guard who stood in the corner of the room, watching and listening to every word they were saying.

“Nope,” he said. “But I got the credit in the yard for it and that’s how I got my nickname—Kill.” Cillian flashed Savage a grin and he shook his head.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Savage growled. “I think I’ll stick with your real name, Cillian.” His friend didn’t seem at all put off by his refusing to use his new nickname, even shrugging it off.

“Suit yourself,” he said, his Irish accent sounding in full. Savage didn’t realize just how much he had missed his friend until just now.