Page 26 of Desperate Actions

But that lasts all of two seconds.

Becausehe’shere.

Sammy.

And Chris’ world ends in an instant.

The sound of his skull smashing against polished wood is muted by the noise of the bar.

But I hear it just fine.

The crack echoes inside my ears. The sheer power, the force behind it, is enough to make my stomach drop. And my heart pound.

It is not a normal reaction to violence.

Gasps.

Squeals.

Glasses rattle against marble.

I don’t flinch.

Because my focus is only on him.

His expression is pure fury, his body tense with violence, his hand still fisted in Chris’ collar like he’s debating whether or not to finish the job.

He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in measured control, but his eyes—his bold hazel eyes are on me.

“You okay?”

His voice is low, rough, deadly.

I wipe at the sticky margarita clinging to my skin, trying to ignore the way my fingers tremble.

I nod. But my heart is racing, and Sammy sees it.

He sees all of it.

And suddenly—he’s even angrier.

The kind of anger that demands blood.

“Don’t fucking drink that. And stay right here.”

His command is sharp, absolute, and before I can respond, he’s already looking past me.

“Andrea! You got her?”

“Yeah, I got her.”

Junior’s already dragging Peter toward the side door, security swarming the area, but Sammy?

Sammy isn’t leaving this to them.

He drags the man, Chris, towards the side door and I am left standing there, mouth open.

“Here,” Andrea says, and she’s wiping my face and neck with a wet napkin.

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