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

  “Your Honor,” Alvarez cuts in, “the Savages have resources beyond that of the average citizen. They head a criminal empire.”

  Bailey chuckles and says, “Yeah, about that, my father was ousted from the Savage Angels three years ago.”

  “Bailey, would you just let me do my job?” I snap.

  “If we must offer her bail, how about we start at five-hundred-thousand dollars?” Alvarez offers.

  My mouth gapes open at the outlandish number. “Your Honor, my client deserves—”

  “You think I’m just gonna let a criminal that tricked our most vulnerable population out of their retirement off the hook that easily?” Judge Fischer says with fire in his eyes. “If I let her walk outta here, what are the chances she’ll show up for her hearings? Considering her family’s history. You must have thought of that. You’re too smart not to.”

  The look he gives me lets me know how disappointed he is with me, and truth be told, I’m disappointed in myself.

  I never thought I’d be put into a position where I’d actually want my client to flee, but it’s the only good option available to me, and I’m afraid I’ve made that too obvious.

  This isn’t good.

  “Your Honor, please. It’s unfair to make Bailey pay for the sins of her father. She is a business owner, and despite her record, a good and productive member of society. Let her out, and I promise you, she’ll be at her hearings,” I lie.

  The judge stares back at my client, trying to puzzle together what the hell I’ve gotten myself into because he knows full well that I’d never willingly represent a Savage.

  “Is there any way she could be offered conditional bail or perhaps a work release?”

  After a minute of agonizing silence, the judge says, “Third-party conditional bail. Into your custody. She’ll be fitted with a tracker and only be allowed to go to work and back home. Bail is set at fifty-thousand dollars.”

  I blink back at him, trying to process his words. “Pardon?”

  “If you are so confident in your client, prove it to me. Take responsibility for her.”

  My mouth feels suddenly dry. Judge Fischer is a smart man, but I never figured him to be this strategic. He’s helping me, yet forcing me to stay within certain boundaries he knows I want to cross.

  Even Alvarez seems to be at a loss for words.

  I look over to Bailey, who’s wearing a wry grin. This deal with Caleb wasn’t supposed to include his sister coming home with me. It was supposed to be me kissing the bail money goodbye while she hightails it out of town. Now, if she leaves while under my watch, I’ll be held responsible.

  But, I don’t have the luxury of a choice.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Bailey will be staying with me, at my place. Because of my obligations, I will not be able to bring her to work each day.”

  “I’ll sign the paperwork, then you two can be on your way,” Judge Fischer replies.

  Bailey casts me a seething gaze. “But my shop—”

  “You can either stay behind bars, or you can come home with me. I have a job too, and I can’t just sit around, waiting for you while you’re huffing bleach.”

  “Mr. Ward, have you forgotten where you are,” Judge Fischer scolds, and all at once, my cheeks flush red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

  “I could lose my shop,” Bailey pleads to me, ignoring Judge Fischer.

  “Then I guess you should have made better life decisions.”

  “Did you not hear my not guilty, potato, puh-tot-toe plea?” Bailey cuts in.

  Alvarez bursts into a fit of laughter, and even the judge has to look away, pretending to have a tear in his eye.

  God, this girl is nothing but trouble.

  At least she’s hot…

  The thought startles me like a splash of cold water, setting my hairs on edge.

  She’s not at all like the women I’m usually attracted to, which most would consider pageant pretty.

  This woman is the very definition of…Savage. She’s the sharp edge of a razor, ready to cut you at the slightest wrong move.

  And yet, as I look at her, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have those long legs wrapped around my waist.

  “Would you just shut that damn mouth of yours?” I whisper into her ear.

  Judge Fischer clears his throat. “I take it you accept the terms.”

  As if I have a choice. If I don’t accept the deal, I’ll have to deal with Caleb Savage. If I do, I’ll have to deal with Bailey Savage.

  Fuck me…

  “Well?” he says, his eyes stern and unforgiving.

  Damn him to hell for this.

  “Fine. Release her to me.”

  Chapter 3

  Bailey

  Holy heck, what the hell did I do in my past life to give me such bad luck? Was I a puppy murderer?

  After getting fitted with an ankle monitor, my new lawyer, Mr. Ashton Douche-Face Ward, escorts me out to his Maserati, opening his passenger side door to let me in.

  His icy gaze is not lost on me. If he’d think about lightening up a little, ditching the suit, and pulling the stick out of his ass, he might actually be cute.

  Okay, that’s not fair. He’s most definitely attractive, but I don’t do moody and broody. His taste probably runs more pristine princess than biker misfit, anyway.

  He did just spring you from the slammer. The least you could do is try to play nice.

  But as I look over to thank him, I see that he’s casting me in a blistering gaze.

  “I think Judge Fischer has just about lost his damn mind,” he spits out.

  “You’re the one that decided to post my bail, agreeing to his terms.”

  “Jesus Fucking Christ, I’ve dealt with conditional bail before, but fucking babysitting?” He slams his hands against the steering wheel to emphasize his displeasure.

  “Well, if we can just find a way to remove this ankle monitor without alerting the authorities, I can be on my way. That is what you had wanted, right?”

  Not that I have a place to go.

  Ward chuckles gravely. “Yeah, that’s no longer going to fly.”

  “You said I should skip town.”

  “That was before I was forced to babysit you. Now, if you disappear, I’ll be held accountable.”

  I refrain from saying, “Like I give a fuck,” and instead ask, “Why are you helping me? I’m not stupid enough to think that Caleb’s ever done anything good in his life, so you owing him a favor only means you’re not as straight and narrow as your polished exterior.”

  “Caleb Savage is the last person I’d ever do a favor for.” He fastens his seatbelt and starts the car with a push of a button.

  Doesn’t bailing his sister out of jail qualify as a favor?

  He backs the car out quickly, it lurches, then surges forward, pressing me back against the seat.

  “If you’re not more careful, you’re the one that’s going to be spending the night in a cell,” I tease. “Or does being a lawyer mean you don’t have to answer to the rules?”

  “It does come with some advantages, such as knowledge of the system.”

  “So, what are our options?” I ask.

  “Options?”

  “You are my lawyer, ya know. I was patiently waiting for a public defender to arrive when you showed up?”

  “First thing I’ll do is review your case. Spoiler Alert: It’s pretty bad. Then, I’ll see what kind of deal I can make for you.”

  “Deal? So you’re not even going to entertain the idea that I might be innocent?”

  He smirks, his chest rising and falling in a chuckle.

  So that’s how it’s gonna be. He won’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. I suppose I should have expected as much, but I guess a part of me thought that he’d at least have an open mind since he was taking on my case.

  We ride in silence through the rough section of town, the only place I’ve ever called home, into the wealthier area of Highland Meadows. Which
might as well be another planet.

  Even at night, everything here looks new and well maintained. When I was younger, Highland Meadows had just started development. Everyone was excited because it promised to bring in jobs and opportunities.

  Except that working in a rich zip code doesn’t mean you’re going to get paid more. A friend of mine left her waitressing job at Applebee’s for the prospect of working at the prestigious Crest’s Creek, which boasts a menu of dinners that cost well into the hundreds of dollars. She ended up bending over backward, doing twice the work, for a small fraction more than she’d made waiting tables at her old job.

  “I just want to go home,” I say in a deadpan tone.

  “And I’d like nothing more than to bring you home,” Ashton grinds out, taking a sharp right turn, “but unfortunately, that’s not an option.”

  I roll my eyes. “So you’re just going to be grumpy as fuck and blame me for all your woes?”

  He stops in front of a gate, which opens when he pushes a button, revealing the fanciest apartment complex I’ve ever seen.

  After parking, he shuts off his car, turns to me, drinking me in with apprehensive eyes. It’s almost like he’s studying a different species.

  He wouldn’t be the first guy put off by my edgy style. Some guys crave it; others shun it. Can’t make everyone happy, and I really don’t care to.

  “As of right now, you’re not to leave my apartment. I’m going to try to change the terms of your monitoring, but that could take a week or two.”

  “But my work—”

  “If you were really making anything, you wouldn’t have to steal people’s retirement income.”

  My jaw drops at his cocky arrogance. “So, your mind is already made up about me? I’m just some low life thug that hustles grandmas.”

  “Did you even for a minute think that I believed you were innocent?”

  I reach for the door handle. “Nope. Not gonna do this. I’m done.”

  He grabs my wrist tightly in a grip I have no chance of escaping.

  “You can’t leave. Not when my ass is on the line.”

  “And you only have yourself to thank for that. I don’t even know why you bailed me out. My brother doesn’t give a fuck about me, and I haven’t talked to him in years.”

  “Apparently, he does care about you.”

  “Just drop me back off at the jail. Your arrogance is suffocating.”

  “No can do. As I told you, your brother cares a lot about you.”

  “Well, you can’t hold my wrist like this forever.”

  His lips widen into a grin, then my body is yanked toward him as he exits the vehicle, pulling me through the doorway and over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” I call out, but he disregards my plea and continues toward an elevator.

  We go up several floors until the door slides open into sleek and modern decor.

  He sets me down, helping to right me when I stumble.

  I’m about to give him a good tongue lashing, but as I take in the simple, modern penthouse, I’m at a loss for words.

  “Like I said,” he starts in, “you’re not leaving my apartment. Not until we go before the judge again.”

  I respond in silence, knowing that it’s better to lay in wait than expend my energy now.

  “Tomorrow, I begin working on your case, but I have to have my assistant bring me some files from my office first. If I have to go anywhere, I’ll have someone here to watch you.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to get me a babysitter?”

  “Like I said, I’ll be held responsible if you disappear, so, until your day in court, this is where you’ll stay.”

  “I need to be able to go into work.”

  “That is not an—”

  “I know how to make your life hell, and although it would bring me great pleasure, I’m smart enough to know that it’s working against my best interests. Let me go to work. I’ve worked three years building my client list, and it might not seem like a lot to you, but it’s all I have.”

  His jaw clenches, and if I’m not mistaken, a glimmer of respect shines in his eyes.

  “I promise I’ll behave if you let me see my clients.”

  He runs his fingers through his ridiculously sexy, mocha-colored hair. God, he’d have great just-been-fucked bedhead…and his five o’clock shadow would feel amazing grazing my thighs…

  God, why is my brain even going there? This man gets off on humiliating me, and that is not my jive.

  “I can’t let you leave my apartment, but I can help you.”

  I shake my head in angry frustration. “How? Are you going to pay to keep my shop open while I wait for my court date?”

  “No, but one of my friends used to be a hairdresser. Her husband died, and she took some time off from work to stay home with her son. I hear she’s grown bored and would probably jump at the chance to take on some clients.”

  I scoff. “Somehow, I doubt your little mom friend is going to appeal to my clientele.”

  He takes out his phone, this thumbs flying across the screen.

  “I don’t know. I think she might just have what it takes.”

  He holds out his cell, which shows a pixie of a woman with bright pink hair holding an adorable little boy with a Mohawk.

  I give a quick nod. “She’ll do.”

  “I’ll give her a call. If she says yes, you’ll have to forward your schedule to her and get her up to speed.”

  He steps away, and I get a chance to observe my surroundings without him hovering over me.

  Light gray walls with dark blue accent tones give the place a masculine vibe. Everything is simple, yet expertly arranged.

  And it all looks expensive.

  Ward suddenly appears next to me, making my heart triple-beat.

  “Jesus Christ—have you ever heard of personal space?”

  “Mabel is thrilled for the chance to take on a few clients.”

  “Her name is Mabel? Is she gonna be in a reboot of Golden Girls?”

  “I’m gonna have to tell Mabel you said that. She’ll be amused.”

  For the first time since I’ve met him, he gives a genuine smile, two deep-set dimples enhancing his devastatingly handsome face.

  Oh fuck—why does this asshole have to be so hot?

  Part of me wants to turn into a fawning schoolgirl, puff out my chest, and twirl my hair between my fingers, or rather, my dread.

  But Ashton is so straight and narrow, I’m pretty sure he’d faint if I actually came onto him.

  I clear my throat, trying hard not to let my eye rove his suited body. “The first appointment is in the afternoon tomorrow, so if I could touch base with her before then, that would be great.”

  “It’s late. I’ll make sure you’re in touch with her in the morning, but forward me the schedule so I can pass it on.”

  “Thanks.”

  My eyes wander. Bad idea. His body, even though clothed, is unreal. He’s got to be well over six feet, his biceps clearly visible through his button-up shirt.

  It’s been almost eight weeks since I’ve last had sex. Being around Ashton is going to be torture.

  But then again, he’s acquainted with my brother, which instantly turns him from a high ten to a low four.

  And even though he’s doing me a huge favor, I have to lay into him. “Why are you doing this for my brother? He’s scum, and you’re,” I gesture wildly around the room, “possible royalty if your goddamn lifestyle gives any indication?”

  His eyes darken. The smile leaves his lips.

  “I can’t imagine a guy like you would buy drugs from my low-classy brother. So what the fuck is going on?”

  His face tightens, and if I’m not mistaken, seething hatred flashes in his eyes.

  It looks like we do have something in common.

  “I’ll take you to your room now.”

  I follow Ashton into a bedroom that could very well fit my entire studio apartment inside it. The furniture is all modern,
and no doubt, pricy.

  I look down at my tank top and frayed jeans.

  “I need to go back to my apartment to pick up some things. My clothes. My—”

  “I’ll give you a few tee-shirts until we can have your stuff brought over.”

  “Oh…about that,” I say sheepishly.

  “What?”

  “The police have an old address of mine.”

  “You didn’t bother to correct them?”

  “No. About a year ago, the apartment above my shop opened up, and I moved in. I didn’t bother to update my information.”

  “So whose place did they search?”

  “I had been renting a room from an old lady. As far as I know, she never filled it after I left. I still collect mail from her. She’s friendly. She probably didn’t tell them I had moved because I do things like bring her meals and grocery shop for her.”

  “This could actually be a good thing,” Ashton says. “We can get rid of any evidence before we tell the cops your updated address, which we will have to eventually do.”

  “Oh! My cat!”

  “Jesus Christ, you have a cat?”

  “Princess Petunia. She’s probably terrified right now.”

  “I’ll look at having her boarded tomorrow.”

  “Like hell!”

  “I’m not going to have Princess Petunia take dainty little shits all over my Laureno, hand-knotted area rugs.”

  “She’s literally all I have. The only thing that hasn’t let me down. If I go away…I don’t even know what will happen to her.”

  “Then maybe you should have kept your hands out of other people’s retirement funds,” Ashton says sharply, and for the dozenth time, I’m reminded why I hate him.

  “Does it make you feel good to be a prick?” I shoot back. “When have you ever had to worry about anything in your comfy, cozy life with your Harvard law degree? Am I supposed to believe that you’ve earned everything in your privileged little existence? Bet your parents sent you to the best private schools, while mine could barely get me dressed in the morning. They were too strung out.”

  His face softens. Maybe there is a shred of humanity lurking in the monster standing before me.

  “You’re in luck because, for once, my privilege is going to work to your advantage as I leverage my Harvard law degree to try and get you off without doing hard time.”