Savage in the Streets: A Grumpy Romantic Comedy (Savage in Love) Read online

  Savage in the Streets

  A Grumpy Romantic Comedy

  Lark Anderson

  Contents

  Title Page

  Also by Lark Anderson

  Chapter 1

  Bailey

  Chapter 2

  Ashton

  Chapter 3

  Bailey

  Chapter 4

  Ashton

  Chapter 5

  Bailey

  Chapter 6

  Ashton

  Chapter 7

  Bailey

  Bailey

  Chapter 8

  Ashton

  Chapter 9

  Bailey

  Ashton

  Chapter 10

  Ashton

  Bailey

  Chapter 11

  Bailey

  Ashton

  Chapter 12

  Bailey

  Bailey

  Chapter 13

  Bailey

  Chapter 14

  Ashton

  Ashton

  Chapter 15

  Bailey

  Bailey

  Bailey

  Chapter 16

  Ashton

  Chapter 17

  Bailey

  Chapter 18

  Ashton

  Chapter 19

  Ashton

  Bailey

  Epilogue

  Reviews & ARCs

  About the Author

  Also by Lark Anderson

  Sneak Peek - The Billionaire’s Board

  Savage in the Streets

  Copyright © 2021 by Lark Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Lark Letter Press

  131 Daniel Webster Hwy #166

  Nashua, NH 03060

  www.larkandersonbooks.net

  [email protected]

  Edited by: Eva Lynn

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Also by Lark Anderson

  The Beguiling a Billionaire Series

  The Billionaire’s Board

  The Billionaire’s Fixer Upper

  The Billionaire’s Funding

  The Bad Girl

  The Dis-Graced

  The Trainwreck

  Hacking His Code

  Reckless in Love

  Love you…not!

  Trust you…not!

  Tempt you…not!

  Savage in Love

  Savage in the Sheets

  Savage in the Sweets

  The Glow Girlz Series

  Stacey's Seduction

  Tempting Teysa

  Desiree's Delight

  Venus Quarantine Initiative

  Her Chosen Mate

  If you’d like a FREE ebook, click HERE!

  If you'd like to become an ARC reviewer for Lark Anderson, please email her at: [email protected]. If you would like to subscribe to Lark's newsletter, please sign up here.

  Chapter 1

  Bailey

  My entire life, I’ve been lied to. Kicked around. Cheated on. And perhaps worst—underestimated.

  The last thing I should be is surprised, but this one really knocked the wind out of me.

  Detective Brawner locks his cold eyes with mine. “Ms. Savage, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to—”

  “Don’t talk to me without my attorney present,” I snap back.

  He smiles as a kind grandfather would. “It could take a while for a public defender to show up.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “Of course, you are. You’ve sat in that chair how many times?”

  “I thought I told you to shut up.”

  “You, my lady, have every right to remain silent. I cannot and will not rob you of that. I’m not going to ask you any questions; however, I am going to present you with some hard truths.”

  I glare daggers back at the asshole who’s so clearly mocking me, sealing my lips tight against his insults.

  He casually thumbs through my case file. “I don’t think a public defender is going to be able to navigate the courtroom in your case.”

  “It’s what they’re paid to do,” I blurt out because my dumb ass can’t keep my mouth shut.

  “Yeah, but they certainly don’t do it well, and when a jury hears the testimonies of all the elderly people you swindled, robbing them of their retirement…well, I can’t say they’re going to look too kindly upon you.”

  I shift my eyes away but quickly check my nails, not wanting Detective Cockwaffle to see that he’s gotten under my skin.

  “With your history, you’re looking at years in federal prison.”

  Keep your mouth shut. He’s trying to rile you.

  “Of course, if you cooperate, I will personally see to it that you are treated well and leniently.”

  “Is that so?” I say in an exaggerated tone.

  You idiot!

  “Ms. Savage, I’m going to say this bluntly: I don’t want to see a pretty thing like yourself rotting behind bars.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “You know I can’t do that. Heck, I can’t even say you’ll get bail. That will be decided at your arrangement.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, trying my best to look like I don’t give a fuck, when deep inside me, I’m down on my knees, trembling like a small child.

  Heaven knows I’m no saint, but I carved out a decent life for myself. Now, everything’s about to get ripped away from me in the blink of an eye.

  All because I trusted him.

  “I have a daughter your age.”

  “Let me guess. I remind you of her.”

  The detective chuckles condescendingly. “Nope. Not at all. You see, she’s in Harvard.”

  His words shouldn’t sting as badly as they do. Maybe I’d be at Harvard too if I’d grown up with two loving parents, in a safe home with better schools.

  But instead, my mother died when I was nine, my father was a drunk, and I dropped out of school at fifteen.

  That’s not to say I’ve been unsuccessful in life. At nineteen, me and two friends were able to get enough crowdfunding to open Savage Beauty, a hair, makeup, and tattoo shop that sees quite a lot of foot traffic.

  Unfortunately, one of my friends fell in love with the needle and is now buried six feet under, and the other is stuck in their own downward spiral.

  I’ve been trying to keep the lights on, but it was never meant to be a one-woman show.

  “Look, Bailey, I don’t like seeing you like—”

  The door opens, interrupting Detective Brawner.

  A tall, suited man walks into the room, setting his briefcase down on the table and directing his attention at the detective.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to disengage from my client.”

  His client? Wow, this guy’s certainly a step up from the last public defender assigned to me.

  The detective dons a sour look. “You must have the wrong interrogation room, Mr. Ward?”

  Inwardly, I sigh. My heart sinks to my stomach, threatening to expel the contents. There’s no way that Mr. Ward, in his expensive suit and cocky grin, is a public defender.

  “No, Craig,” the lawyer says. “I’m here to represent Ms. Savage, who is to go before the judge shortly.”

  The detective scoffs. “That’s a load of horse shit, and you know it. There are at least a dozen other people waiting for their arraignment.”

  “What? Are you surprised
that someone like Bailey Savage is afforded the same privileges as, say…your son?”

  Detective Brawner’s face flashes red. “My boy didn’t hurt no one! He was young and made a mistake.”

  “Your son got behind the wheel of a car at three times the legal limit of intoxication. He could have killed someone, while Ms. Savage put no one in harm’s way.”

  I cock a grin, lifting an enlightened brow at my foe.

  Turns out you aren’t so perfect after all.

  Detective Brawner’s lip curls into a sneer, but he says nothing.

  “If you could be so kind as to secure her a police escort to the courthouse, we can be on our way.”

  For a moment, it looks as if Detective Brawner is going to tell Mr. Ward to shove off, but instead, he takes a key from his belt and releases the lock chaining me to the table.

  “I’ll be right back,” the detective says.

  “Oh, and move us to another room. A private one that’s not being monitored,” Mr. Ward commands.

  Detective Brawner complies, taking us to a corner room with a small table and two chairs.

  A million questions bombard my brain, but before I can manifest one into speech, Mr. Ward says, “When we go before the judge, all you have to say is not guilty.”

  “Don’t you want to know what happened?” I ask.

  “I know why you’re here. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Who are you? I mean, the detective called you Mr. Ward, but how is it you can get special favors from a judge? And why would you do that for me?”

  “My father is Preston Ward, who once upon a time, represented your grandfather. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here because of your brother,” he says sharply.

  “Get out!” I snap, pointing toward the door. “I don’t want your help.”

  He chuckles. “You do realize that it will be hours before they get a public defender in here?”

  “I don’t care, just as long as you’re not here on my brother’s behalf.”

  “You’re going to need my help. I haven’t had a chance to fully review the case, but if you’re found guilty, you could spend years behind bars. A good plea deal will see you out in half that time. A little more will be shaved off for good behavior. That’s if you can behave.”

  “You don’t even think the possibility exists that I’m innocent, do you?”

  His arrogant grin widens, and I know with absolute certainty that I hate this man almost as much as I do my brother.

  “Once we see the judge, he’ll set your bail. I’ll make sure it gets paid, and where you go from there…” He bobs his head from side to side.

  “Are you suggesting I skip town?”

  “It’s certainly better than spending years in the pen.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “It’ll be a black smear on my record that’ll get glossed over eventually.”

  “How do you know my brother?”

  His lips become a tight line. It bemuses me that my rather innocuous question could become a thief of joy to such a straight-and-narrow looking man.

  “Just keep your mouth closed. We’ll be in front of the judge in no time. Then, we never have to see each other again.”

  Chapter 2

  Ashton

  The last thing I want is to be carrying out favors for miscreants like Caleb Savage, but life has a way of forcing your hand.

  At least Bailey has tried to maintain some semblance of a normal life, opening up a beauty salon and, by all accounts, working pretty damn hard to get by.

  It’s not surprising that someone with a background like hers would resort to theft, but the scale at which she committed her crimes is pretty damn impressive.

  “Little Ash, is that you?” Judge Robin Fischer says.

  “Ah, that’s Mr. Ward, thank you very much.”

  “Get over here and give me a hug.”

  He takes me into his massive arms, and for a moment, I worry he’s not going to let go.

  And I can’t blame him. It’s like we’ve traveled back in time.

  We part, but his hand finds my shoulder, and his eyes look on at me with a fatherly pride that I’ve never seen from my own dad.

  “How’s the wife?” I ask, forcing a smile.

  “Karen’s good,” he says with a dazed nod. “Keeping busy. Ever since Carolyn passed…well, it’s been difficult.”

  My heart lurches at the mere mention of the girl who I’ll never get to see grow old. Someone who meant so much to me. It’s been ten long years, yet, it feels like it was yesterday that we were last huddled in a booth at Big Benny’s, planning our lives.

  “I can only imagine,” I finally reply.

  “How’s Liz?”

  Dread twists in my gut at the mention of my sister, though I’m glad he cares enough to ask. My parents wrote her off long ago.

  “She’s better.”

  “That’s great to hear. Now, when are you going to settle down and have some kids of your own? You’re pushing thirty-two. Clock’s ticking.”

  Once upon a time, I would have answered: as soon as Carolyn agrees to be my wife, but it just doesn’t feel like that life is in the cards for me anymore.

  Thankfully, a knock sounds on the door, and a guard tells Judge Fischer it’s time to get moving.

  Ashton

  Bailey’s case is third on the docket, and we get before Judge Fischer fairly quickly. After polite formalities, I approach the bench with Alvarez, the asshole prosecutor I have to contend with.

  Judge Fischer eyes Bailey’s up and down, taking in her unique presence. “Well, your taste certainly has changed over the years.”

  With long black dreads and tattoos poking out of her orange jumper, Bailey’s look runs edgy. Still, her features are delicate, and her skin is porcelain white. Perfection through a darker lens is what I’d call her, though that forces me to acknowledge just how captivating she is.

  Judge Fischer knows that saying something like that could get tongues wagging, and quite honestly, I’m shocked and offended by the insinuation. Especially in front of a shark like Alvarez.

  I clench my jaw, forcing the frustration from my face. This is Robin Fischer, after all. Carolyn’s father.

  “Your Honor, Bailey Savage is my client. Nothing more. It would be highly unethical for me to cross—”

  “I meant the type of case,” Judge Fischer cuts me off. “You’re a big, fancy corporate attorney with a Harvard law degree representing a woman who’s…” he looks at the file, his brow drawing inward. “Well, that’s impressive.”

  Alvarez chuckles low in his throat. “But not at all surprising.”

  “This woman is accused of basically enacting a low-level Ponzi scheme, stealing around five-hundred thousand dollars,” Judge Fischer mumbles under his breath.

  Not a lot of money, in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make her a felon.

  “Bring her before me,” Judge Fischer demands.

  To my relief, she obeys, walking up to the bench without so much as a word.

  “On the charge of felony theft, how do you plead?” The judge asks Bailey.

  “I didn’t do it,” she says.

  “Am I to understand that you’re entering a plea of not guilty,” he returns.

  “Potato, puh-tot-toe.”

  I arch a brow. “Did you really just say ‘potato, puh-tot-toe’ to the judge at your arraignment?”

  Alvarez can barely conceal his laughter.

  Fuck, no use dwelling on it…

  “Would setting bail at twenty-thousand dollars be reasonable?” I interject.

  “Twenty-thousand dollars?” Bailey snickers. “I hope you didn’t believe my brother when he said he’ll pay you back.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to talk?” I snap at her.

  Alvarez shakes his head with a smirk. “Isn’t that on the low end for felony theft?”

  Judge Fischer scans the documents, shakes his head, and says, “I can’t let her out.”


  “Can’t let her out? Your Honor, she’s not violent. Hardly a risk to anyone. She has a business that needs her around to manage it—”

  The judge cuts in with, “First of all, she’s a repeat offender. Second, she’s a flight risk.”

  “Flight risk?”

  “Roughly four hundred thousand dollars is unaccounted for, more than enough to skip town with.”

  “Take her passport.”

  She snickers. “What makes you think I have a passport? I’ve never been out of my small, podunk town.”

  I ignore my wayward defendant and instead address the judge. “Your Honor, I beg you to reconsider your position.”

  He grunts, leaning back in his chair to think as I’ve seen him do countless times in the courtroom.

  “How about fifty thousand dollars,” I offer. “Would that be enough?”

  “It’s not just the money, Mr. Ward—you know that.”

  “But it’s a good place to start negotiating. One hundred thousand dollars, and an ankle monitor that will allow her to go from her apartment to her work.”