Caged: Takedown Teague (Caged #1)
This is not made for TV. This is the raw, brutal underground of no-holds-barred combat. Inside the cage there is nothing but me and the pain I inflict on those who dare enter. In the cage, I never have to worry about anyone but myself. Yet, when she began standing outside of the cage, everything changed. I was no longer fighting for the money or the glory – I was fighting for her.
Trapped (Caged #2)
My crazy neighbor lying naked in the produce section of a grocery store.
The sting of a knife as it slices through my flesh.
Now I know why they say life is never easy.
The soft touch of Tria’s hand against my chest is the only thing that keeps me going, but there are consequences. As a fighter, I should be able to deal with anything life throws at me, but there is one circumstance I simply can’t handle.
I only have one coping mechanism: a tube around my arm and a needle in my vein.
Released (Caged #3)
No pain. No disturbing thoughts of the past. No guilt from my recent actions.
Deep down, there is still a part of me that knows how screwed up I am. I don’t see a way out, not now. Tria’s gone, and the possibility of her forgiving me in my current state is exactly zero. I know I have to pull myself together, accept my responsibilities, and try to make amends, but I have no idea where to start.
No job. No apartment. I’m living on the streets with the other junkies. As little as I had to offer Tria before, I have nothing to give her now. The only way out is to come clean and tell Tria the truth about my past, but the idea of reliving the memoires is so painful, I can’t think about it long enough to figure out a solution.
I’ve hit rock bottom, and I don’t even know which way is up any more.
Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her family and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker, and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys science fiction movies, masquerading as a zombie, is a HUGE Star Wars fan, and member of the 501st Legion of Stormtroopers. When the geek fun runs out, she also loves soccer in any and all forms - especially the Columbus Crew, Arsenal and Bayern Munich - and anxiously awaits the 2014 World Cup. Savage holds a degree in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories.
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I could hear a voice in the other room, but it didn’t concern me, so I didn’t move. Through heavy eyelids, I watched the piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. I found shapes of animals in the patterns, just like cloud pictures.
“The beans are gone.”
I rolled my head to the side and looked up at Krazy Katie’s face. I smiled and tried to say something, but my tongue wasn’t cooperating. I focused on her eyes as they stared down at me quizzically.
“Trains need an engineer,” Krazy Katie said.
“It’s okay,” I said. My tongue still felt weird, all numb and heavy. I twisted it around in my mouth, and it tickled my teeth. I blinked a couple of times before looking back at my neighbor. “I got the helm. I’m all good.”
Did trains have a helm, or was that just boats? I laughed.
Krazy Katie covered her eyes with one hand. I could see her chest rising and falling as she took long breaths. I started counting slowly in my head but quickly forgot the number.
“Left the station,” she said quietly. “No engineer. Kicked in the caboose. Nothing but tracks.”
She turned in slow motion, and I watched vapor trails of her dull blue T-shirt swirl around the room as she left. I heard the window slide shut and then silence.
“I’m all good,” I whispered.
There was no reply.
Even though my arms and legs were way too content to be bothered with moving, I shoved myself out of bed anyway. My rig was sitting on the kitchen table, all ready to go. I was still pretty high, but I could feel darkness closing in around me, and I didn’t want it.
I wanted warmth and happiness.
Plastic tube, arm slap, needle prick.
“Like a fucking pro.”
I lay my head on the table as the fluid sensations rippled through me. Tria didn’t matter. She’d forgive me in time. In fact, she was probably already over it. How could she not be?
“I’m good. Really, I am.”
I was never one to lie to myself, but it was getting easier all the time.
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