The Revenger (14 page)

He chose that moment to look up at her. Their gazes collided, and it felt like a blow to the gut. Her skin tingled as they battled each other in a staring contest. She hated him, yet couldn’t look away. It could only be that this reaction was wired into her nervous system.

Just a hint of a smile pulled on one side of his lips. The bottle continued its endless spinning, encouraged by his long fingers to keep the rhythm when it slowed. Savvy clenched her fists, then spread her fingers wide. She had nothing to do with her hands. She couldn’t relax; her body was ready to fight, and her posture reflected that.

The music dulled to a hum, and soon enough, all she could hear was the spinning. The glass screeched softly in her ears, minutely scratched by the metal table’s surface.

The other side of his mouth joined in the smile.

She wouldn’t give up—the stare was everything right now. She wouldn’t lose to him, submit to him. Savvy began threading and unthreading her fingers, unconsciously mimicking the tempo of the spinning bottle.

He bit his lip as if to prevent his smile from getting wider. He failed. He basked in her unwavering attention. That alone should have been enough make her drop her eyes, but she couldn’t do it.

Her heartbeat was as loud as the spinning.

The night of the accident, her heartbeat had seemed to take over everything. It had absorbed sound, fear, disbelief. The fraction of a second it took for the truck to slam into her van had been endless, yet there was no time to think. She’d reacted suddenly and violently to the danger and swerved the wheel.

She’d swerved the wheel, and because she’d chosen left instead of right, she’d lost them. Because she had chosen to protect herself, she’d offered Kal and Sara’s side of the van to the impact.

Silas Sagan and his dangerous green eyes blurred as she reminded herself of the unyielding truth: her selfishness in her family’s time of need had been the end of everything. The bottle spun and screeched just like the van, glass and metal.

A drunk house whore, completely unaware of the standoff between Sagan and Savvy, walked through the crossfire of their face-off and broke her concentration.

She took three quick breaths before she could exhale.

When she looked back at Sagan, he had not moved—he was still biting his smile. He lifted an eyebrow to let her know he felt he’d won. Savvy put a hand to her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face.

She made a fist so her shaking would be less obvious. She knew Boston wanted her to sit near Sagan. She tilted her head from one side to the other, trying to alleviate some of the tension in her neck. Then she put one foot in front of another. Sagan might be a bastard, but he was just a man—nothing to be afraid of. She just wished it wasn’t so hard to swallow.

Savvy pulled out a chair across from him and sat down. She plucked the bottle from where it had been spinning like a gear, and the noise stopped. The music was louder suddenly, her mind finally allowing her to be fully aware of her surroundings.

Sagan curled his hands into fists, their job removed.

He was so close now. Only the table stood between her and his ring, a tantalizing temptation.

“Did you enjoy your dance, Savannah?” He didn’t have to shout because she watched his lips.

She shook her head.

“Jack seemed to like it.” He lifted his thumb to his mouth and bit down, like her thoughts on the matter were so important.

“Take the ring off, and I’ll show you how I feel about all the assholes in this house.” Savvy licked her lips, tasting champagne.

He grabbed the ring and pulled it as close to off as he could. “I love playing with fire. Wasn’t it fire that took your husband and daughter to their graves?”

Savvy’s brain snapped. Hearing Kal and Sara mentioned by his evil tongue set her off.

She stood and her chair clattered behind her. If she hadn’t drunk so much and been in this tight dress, she would have been smoother, but she still made it over the table.

Sagan stood, backing against the wall, and he caught her as she leaped at him. Savvy swung, landing a good punch to his jaw before he clamped his arms around her.

Instead of being scared, he was chuckling, though it wasn’t a happy sound. Their struggle didn’t go unnoticed, either. The DJ cut the music.

In an instant, the loud, definitive sound of a gun being cocked coupled with the feeling of a cold barrel being pressed against her head. She stopped trying to hit Sagan, and he tightened his grip.

Savvy looked away from his face just inches from hers. She felt like a trapped panther, her urge to kill cresting her anger.

“Savannah, Boston here will kill you the second I give him the order. Then our games will be over.” Sagan hugged her to his body, punishing her with his squeeze.

“Kill me?” She laughed, finally looking into his face. “Understand this: that would be a blessing, not a curse.” Maintaining eye contact with her captor, she addressed her bodyguard. “Do it, Boston. Pull the trigger.”

The thought of her own demise caused Savvy’s heartbeat to slow. A peace settled over her, and her smile now echoed Sagan’s previous expression of pleasure. He loosened his hold on her and waved one hand at Boston. He pointed the other toward the DJ. The gun barrel was removed, and the music came back on.

“I think you need to understand how dangerous I am, Savannah. This bravado will only be tolerated until it bores me.” He let her go completely and righted the chairs on his side of the table. He held one out for her to sit.

She sat, burning to give him the finger, bite his ear off—anything.

Instead of sitting next to her, he leaned down to speak in her ear. “You sit here and think about what you’ve done. When you’re ready to apologize, I’ll be at the poker table.”

Redredredredred

Savvy did as she was told by default. She sat with the party swirling around her because it took a few minutes to come down from the high Boston’s weapon had created in her. For a moment, she’d glimpsed the end of her pain. As her breathing returned to normal—well, normal for this place—Sagan’s vapid, brainless whores fluttered back to their spots at the table, waiting for his return. They treated Savvy as if she wasn’t there.

Fine by me.

She could see him from the corner of her eye at the head of the poker table. The quiet game seemed out of place in the party atmosphere, the tension of high stakes palpable.

She turned her attention to whore-filled table. The women around her were barely dressed, and their skin looked perfect, though their eyes were dead.

The smallest decided to acknowledge her. “You might think you’re hot shit, but Mr. Sagan is mine.” Savvy looked into the distance above the woman’s teased hair.

Another on her left voiced an opinion. “He’s ours. We keep him happy, and if you ever punch him again, you’ll be dealing with us.”

Savvy had to sit on her hands so she wouldn’t act on the vicious beatings she envisioned.
I could snap every neck at this table if he didn’t have on that fucking ring.
She covered her mouth.
How vile am I?

Savvy wondered how the same brain that had pondered the difference between a fleecy, stuffed puppy and another with hard plastic eyes for Sara could so easily be this evil. The contemplation made her stomach churn. She turned, neatly puking in the potted plant just behind her chair.
What am I now?

“She’s so disgusting.”

Savvy didn’t care which whore thought so. Boston came to her side and took her hand. She thought he was being sweet until she remembered he’d just had a gun to her head—and failed to actually use it.

She looked at his face as he clasped the sandy diamond bracelet to her wrist and handed her a minty piece of gum. He wore a shameful expression and looked like he had a lot to tell her. She shook her head, dismissing him. His betrayal wasn’t his fault. It was hers for trusting him.

Boston stepped back into the shadows, and the whores began tittering as Savvy followed their gaze. Jack was sitting down at the poker table, being dealt in. A very male threat passed between him and Sagan. One after another, the other players folded their hands, leaving only Jack and Sagan remaining.

She picked out Sagan’s bet amongst the chatter. “Fifty thousand.”

The whores left the table like a swarm of hungry bees. They surrounded Sagan like a bad music video. A crowd formed around them, closing the drama from Savvy’s eyes. She tried to ignore the poker game until her name was mentioned. The crowd parted, and Jack was pointing at her.

“Come here, love. If you’re going to be wagered, I feel like you should have some say.” Jack winked and grinned encouragingly.

Savvy shook her head and stood, walking over to the poker table, which had become the center of the party. Boston’s face was a mask of disinterest, so she wasn’t sure what was expected of her.

Jack held out his hand, and she stepped up next to him, the only spot available. He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist.

“Let’s restate the wager now that the beautiful woman has graced us with her presence. Oh, look, Saggie! She can be right next to me and not take a swing. I must be magic.” Jack smiled up at her.

Savvy knew enough not to smile back. She’d walked into a very dangerous interaction and inadvertently handed Jack the advantage. The shimmering crowd of silver ladies made a chorus of comforting noises. Savvy couldn’t help but sneer at the sight of a grown man being pampered because he wasn’t getting his way.

Sagan ignored the women and caressed his pile of chips with the steady ease of an expert. He licked his lips and looked at Savvy, his emotions well hidden.

She wished she could place the feeling he gave her; it was such a mixture of pure want and murder.

Jack stood up and threw his arm around Savvy’s shoulders. “You win, Saggie boy, and I’ll give you fifty-thousand dollars and your choice of any car in my garage.”

Jack leaned close to Savvy and let her blonde curls cover his whispering lips. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I always win.”

He turned back to the table and all its spectators. “If I beat you like my teenage dick, then I get to stroll on the beach with Savannah for one hour.”

Savvy’s head spun. This wasn’t about her. It was about these two very deadly men. She searched the crowd for Boston and caught sight of him sprinting up the stairs.
He’s abandoning me now?

Finally Sagan stood, brushing the women away with a crisp gesture.

“Like Jack said, I’d need your permission for this wager, Savannah. I wouldn’t have a lady go against her wishes.”

Sagan’s gaze tried to tell her something, to threaten her against siding with Jack, but with no Boston and a buzzy head, she shrugged and told the truth. “My permission isn’t something you’ve sought before, but I’ll give it now.”

Sagan fumed silently. He dropped his chips, and they scattered on the table. The silver girls flinched. Each and every one of them gave her a dirty look. Jack buried his slow, sexy chuckle in her hair, as if they were lovers.

This is
so
not good.

Sagan’s stare unnerved her, but Savvy refused to take back what she’d said.

His jaw tensed. “Well, Jack, I’m all in, then.” Sagan tossed his cards on the table and took sip from his drink.

“That’s one hell of a hand, Saggie.” Jack’s body remained relaxed despite the straight on the table.

Sagan snickered. “And if I know you well enough, you’ll have an impossible hand because you cheat, bastard.”

Sagan turned and left. Jack released Savvy long enough to flip his hand and reveal that he had, in fact, a flush.

“Look! I won, fair and square! Saggie, are you mad because I’ll get to play with your new toy first?” Jack shouted the last bit and turned to face Savvy with a huge smile, like he hadn’t just demeaned her. “That sounded bad. I’m just busting his balls.” Jack took her hand and led her to the closest French door. “We better get out of here before he changes his mind.”

She hesitated at the stairs to the beach, wondering at their very easy escape.

Jack knelt in front of her and worked the clasp of her heel. “You won’t need these to walk on the beach.”

With her shoes off, Savvy gave up trying to gauge what was going to happen. She padded across the porch and down the stairs. Jack offered his arm, and she almost took it, but then shook her head. She could do this herself.

*~*~*~*

Silas tried to hear his thoughts around all the mindless tittering of his ladies. He closed his eyes and hoped Savannah would wise up and turn Jack down.

But when he opened his eyes, he looked past all the shiny, glossed lips to see Boston running back down the stairs. Guaranteed he had been making sure Bugs had security for Savannah. One of the girls rubbed his bicep and whispered comforting nothings in his ear, but Savvy had disappeared down the steps to the beach. He clenched his fists.

Son of a bitch.

Now he had to decide whether to suck up his pride and chase them. The range of his ring was about a mile, he’d been told. They wouldn’t get a mile away, would they?
Fuck.