Savage Series by E. Jefferson Clay
Savage #4
Savage 04
E. Jefferson Clay
Her robe slipped from her shoulders and she stood naked before him. Savage reached for her gently, almost reverently. The light was turned down and a silver haze of moonlight drifted through the window of the hotel room."Help me forget, Clinton."
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Savage #5
Savage 05
E. Jefferson Clay
He put his arms around her and rubbed her back, like a man trying to warm his hands. She seemed to like it, so Savage rubbed some more, giving his hands more latitude. Marylou sighed and grew warm against him. She gave a startled gasp when his lips found hers; she hadn't even considered the possibility of anything romantic, what with her father snoring not a hundred feet away, and two men laying dead close by. Once implanted, however, the notion took hold of her swiftly. It was no time at all before Clint Savage found that another of his hunches had come true.There was nothing under her robe but her sweet, soft body.
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Savage #6
Savage 06
E. Jefferson Clay
Savage kept right on running as though the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels, so fast in fact that the big sombrero tumbled off just as he raced beneath a light."It is Savage!"Suddenly there was gunfire in the valley night, the wicked lead droning around him as he did an impression of an antelope in full flight.The wild shooting didn't hurt him, but the fall did. In the darkness, he ran headlong into a pit as dark as a pawnbroker's soul. He cartwheeled and cracked his head against a large stone that didn't give an inch. The sky seemed full of shooting stars and Roman candles as he clawed his way out the far side, cursing like a muleskinner. What price excitement now, Savage? And where had he left Stud? His brain was so addled he couldn't remember, and the loud voices and the thump of running feet drew closer.
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Savage #7
Savage 07
E. Jefferson Clay
They passed a solitary tree that had witnessed a hundred years of prairie history. Brendan stared back at it. Once they had hanged a man there, a bounty hunter who tried to poison their coffee after posing as a miner down on his luck. The Donovans hated lawmen, solid citizens, rich people and anybody who didn't speak with an Irish accent, but most of all they hated bounty hunters ... especially the tough ones.If nothing else, Clint Savage had shown he was tough enough.
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Savage #12
Savage 12
E. Jefferson Clay
Bullets droned overhead. The enemy knew where he was but could not see him. But soon Savage could see them, one of them at least. It was a Mexican standing in a shielded doorway with a rifle to his shoulder and blasting at the gate house.Savage took his time aiming. His bullet caught the Mexican in the temple, spattering tissue all over the red brick wall.Savage lay on his side, feeding fresh bullets into the magazine. Soon he heard hoofbeats. The ambushers were making a run for it. But he still hadn't identified who they were until, running away to his left to gain a sweeping view of the battle scene, he saw the band of horsemen thundering away.The biggest of the party glanced back once over his shoulder ... and Savage recognized the striking features of Vinny St. Claire!
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Savage #13
Savage 13
E. Jefferson Clay
With yelps of triumph, the two surviving Comanches appeared on opposite sides of the staggering figure as Savage burst from the trees.He was so dazed he was unaware that the riders had been able to accurately trace his progress through the woods.He waited for the bullets to hit, but the Comanches weren't shooting. Instead they came charging down on him, screaming and brandishing their rifles, and an even more fearful thought than that of death hit him hard.They wanted to take him alive!And that would be worse than any death known to man.
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