Page 78 of Running Feral

“Sav,” I say, for lack of any other words coming into my head.

“You doing okay?”

He stares me down, and I can’t tell if he’s asking me if I need another drink or if I’ve recovered from my violent vacation. Or maybe both.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” I eye the bruises.

Sav shrugs. “You seem jumpy. Are you worried fuck-face is going to come in? Or is this about my father?”

I freeze, and I swear my whole-ass jaw drops.

“What? Patrick is yourfather?”

I haven’t had the opportunity to spend a lot of my life gossiping in my life, but this must be what it feels like. I swear it’s like a curtain got pulled. They kind of look similar, I guess. Although most of the Banna look like generic, mean, tattooed, white guys. They all run together, after a point.

“How the fuck did I not know this?”

Sav winces, then shrugs, although he looks a little embarrassed. “You’ve been busy.”

I whip my head from side to side, trying to process the greater implications of this information while checking no one’s actively eavesdropping on us. I catch sight of Gunnar pretending not to be watching me and doing a terrible job of it, and when I wink at him to let him know he’s been caught, he at least has the decency to blush.

Watching a man that’s all that…mango all pink-cheeked and embarrassed when I wink at him is swiftly rising to the top of my ‘hottest things in the universe’ chart.

Then I turn my attention back to Sav.

“So, if Patrick—lord high dipshit of the Banna—” deargodit feels good to talk shit about him, even if it could still get me killed, I’m so very fucking past caring, “—is your father, then why aren’t you sitting on a gilded throne or some shit? Shouldn’t you be supervising all the high-end deals and, I don’t know, snorting coke off the biker bunnies’ tits? That’s what those assholes are all gunning for, as far as I can tell. Every one of them I’ve had more than a ten-second conversation with seems to fully embrace the cliché.”

Sav is staring at me like I’ve lost it, but I’m buzzing with adrenaline now. My nerves from before have burned away for some reason, and I feel like I’m ten feet tall.

Fuck these guys. If the crown prince of the redneck mafia can be over here washing dishes for a living, doesn’t that mean one lowly little thief that they never even liked can slip off into the night?

Or maybe I’m so burned out on being afraid of everything I just hit max capacity like a brick wall, and now my brain is swinging wildly in the other direction.

Fuck everything. Maybe I’ll just be happy from now on. Who cares if they kill me?

Sav clears his throat before he speaks, because my thoughts have obviously drifted again.

“I didn’t want to do it anymore,” he says. “It’s not supposed to be something you can leave, but some things are worth trying, at least.”

His somber tone ratchets down my high a little bit. I feel stupid for getting so worked up over nothing, and that little adrenaline buzz, along with the brief, artificial euphoria it brought with it, flees my body and leaves a black hole of nothing behind it.

I nod, because I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.

Sav turns to go back to work, but I stop him.

“Do you think he’ll come for me? Your father? Or will he let me go, because he never wanted someone like me there in the first place?”

The look he gives me in return is so confusing, I couldn’t begin to guess what he means by it. He looks pained. Almost guilty. But also like he has something to say that he’s not saying.

I sit there quietly, waiting for the words to come, but he doesn’t answer my question. He looks at me for a few moreseconds before turning away, leaving me with more questions than I had in the first place.

Whatever that means for my future, it can’t be good. Sav has to know something he’s not telling me. Otherwise, there would be no reason for him to stay quiet.

My brain gets sluggish at the thought. I’ve vacillated between some form of scared, angry, and over-excited too many times today, and I already feel worn-out. All I want to do is count down the minutes until the shift is over and I can replace all these feelings with Gunnar.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Iwasn’t lying when I told Tobias I enjoy bottoming sometimes, even if I generally prefer to top. And I definitely enjoy it with him, because watching him come alive—taking control of himself and what he wants—is absolutely exhilarating.

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