Page 39 of The Hunted
Her earlier words coming back to taunt him the same way the Reaper’s had.
What skeletons could she possibly know about, and was she going to expose them now?
“This must be new.” Amra’s fingers tapped along her drink. “He never talks about you.”
“Is there a question in there you want answered, or are you going to talk in circles until I respond in a way that fits your narrative?” Silva’s tongue was sharp.
The subtle jab was meant to disarm someone not paying attention to the assault coming their way. Amra simply smiled, shoring up her arsenal for a direct hit.
“I’m going slow on purpose. I want to make sure you can keep up.” Amra’s tone was as sweet as Silva’s had just been.
Watching the two of them was equivalent to watching a tennis match but more intense and bloodier. Each volleying insults that weren’t out right hits but subtle jabs that managed to do more damage.
He could put a stop to this. He should have; it would be the decent thing to do. But this was not only entertaining but educational. He wanted to see how far Silva would go. What she’d say to get under Amra’s skin, and he wanted to see how Amra’s mind worked. He stayed away from her at the office, but maybe after tonight, that would change.
What skeletons are in your closet, Amra?
“Janelle never talks about you either. The times we’ve hung out, you were never there and yet tonight, you magically appear?” Amra leaned back while Silva leaned forward.
Janelle, hearing her name finally pulled her attention away from Martin. Her brows were up to her hairline as she glanced between Amra and Silva. “What’s going on, guys?” Her voice shook, but no one seemed to pay her any mind. Her gaze volleyed between the two of them, trying and failing to get a read on the situation. Martin leaned back looking oddly amused, like he’d been paying attention the entire time and knew a cat fight was surely about to happen.
A tense silence stretched around them, even the chatter from the bar dimmed as if they were all locked in their own little bubble. Santino held his breath and waited to see who would strike next. Technically, Amra hadn’t asked a question, though the implication was there underneath her words, and she wanted to see if Silva was quick witted enough to pick up on it.
Abrupt laughter bubbled out of Silva, and it made Amra drop the smirk off her face. Silva withdrew her hand from his hold and started clapping.
Huh?
Santino watched her closely, his mind wondering at the possibilities that could come off her lips. Was this just a tactic to stall for time, or had she been purely amused by Amra’s insinuation?
“You’re good.” Silva said in between laughs. “I really thought you were just boasting. You know ego can be a deadly thing, but bravo.” She clapped again. “It was genius work trying to spin this all back on me, and it would have worked on someone else.” She leaned in. “But I’ll let you in on a secret.”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “You have to try a little harder with me.” she staged whispered. “I’m not the one who magically appeared and suggested we come to this bar. A bar you knew Santino and his partner frequented. Oh no,” Silva put up her hand cutting off whatever Amra was about to say, “being a bartender might not be the same as those fancy degrees you like to throw around, but you learn to pick up a few skills that never leave you. One of them is being able to see and read the room. Don’t think I didn’t notice you suggesting to Janelle we come here because it was quieter.”
Silva leaned back and placed her hand high up on his thigh. She was staking her claim on him in front of everyone, and his cock twitched at the thought. He was no longer surprised by his body’s reaction to her but was still curious about the responses she provoked in him.
“You wanted to come here for a chance to see him. What you didn’t count on was me knowing him the way that I do.” There was a bite in her words. “Why don’t you use that pretty piece of paper you’re so proud of and work through your feelings in a professional and healthy manner? Tell Santino that you like him and he’ll gently turn you down so you can move on with your life. He’s not yours, Amra.”
The crack of a whip had less impact than the way Silva had said Amra’s name. The hit made her flinch all the same, and it was marvelous to see her hard exterior disappear. Her shoulders rounded, there was a flush to her skin, and her nails dug into the fabric of the seat she was on.
But that wasn’t the only thing that surprised Santino from this confrontation.
It was the look on Martin’s face. The way his eyebrows were pinched, the hard set of his jaw, and the way his hands were balled into tight fists at his side while he all but glared at Amra.
Looks like Silva hit more than one nerve tonight.
“Walk me out,” Silva’s hand tightened around his thigh, and he barely swallowed a groan when the sensation made him harder. He nodded to keep from croaking like a frog and stood up at the same time she did.
“It was good seeing you, Janelle. Call me okay?” She didn’t wait for her friend to respond. She was walking past Santino like a woman on a mission, and he watched the sway of her ass a little longer than necessary before his body moved to follow her out.
The second they were out of Luther’s, Silva whirled around on him. Her mismatched eyes were a blaze of fire—the left one usually a wealth of warm honey had darkened to the point where it was almost black and the right one no longer the blue of a calm ocean but that of a turbulent sea. “I’m sorry if I just made your morning at the office a little awkward, but she had it coming.”
The accent was back. It wasn’t as obvious as when they first met, but it was peeking out now. Almost as if she were trying to keep it hidden. “You’re not from here, are you?” He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out the accent more than he was worried about what she actually said.
Silva opened her mouth and then closed it before she chuckled. Her eyes softened as did their color. They were back to the warmth and depth he was used to, and he realized Amra really got under her skin.
Does that mean she likes me?
The thought was juvenile, but he couldn’t understand why Silva would be bothered by anything Amra had to say, especially when it was more about him than her. Unless Silva had orchestrated their run in tonight, but that didn’t seem plausible. There were too many variables that didn’t connect.
