Page 27 of Desperate Actions

“T-thanks,” I mutter and take over.

“What do you think is happening?”

“Whatever it is, that asshole deserves it. Look,” Andrea says, and she grabs my margarita and leans over the bar to dump the liquid into the stainless steel sink.

She shows me what’s left and I see a filmy white residue.

“He tried to drug me,” I whisper, horrified at what might have happened if Sammy hadn’t been there to save me.

And just like that, I fall a little harder.

Chapter 7-Sammy

The alley stinks—garbage, booze, piss—but there’s another stench now.

Fear.

It rolls off the two pathetic excuses for men as I step into the dimly lit lane, where Junior and the rest of our security team already have them pinned and shaking.

“Please, man, just let us go?—”

The motherfucker who tried to drug my Pixie is begging now, voice thin, desperate.

But I don’t answer him.

He doesn’t deserve it.

I give a sharp nod to the brute holding him in place, a silent command.

“What did you find?” I ask.

The man reaches into his jacket, then tosses me a small pill bottle.

I catch it. Turn it over. Read the label.

Rohypnol.

My stomach curdles, my grip tightening around the bottle as rage spreads like wildfire in my chest.

“Fucking motherfucker,” Nico snarls.

“The other one had some, too.”

The same guard tosses another bottle, this one snatched from the air by Junior, who catches it quicker than a cobra strikes.

The two pieces of shit go still.

And then the excuses start.

“No! I swear, we weren’t gonna hurt anyone! We were just having some fun!”

Some fun.

My vision blurs with red.

“Some fun?” Junior spits, stepping forward, looming. “You stupid fuck. You came intoour clubwith the intention of hurtingwomen. Then you were dumb enough to single outour women.”

His boot slams into the bastard’s gut, sending him reeling against the brick wall with a wheezing groan.

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