Page 64 of Savannah Royals
Six men rush in.
Abe jumps up from our table, headbutting the nearest intruder’s gut. Two assailants swarm him. Together, they wrestle Abe to the floor. The other three men line up in front of Tony, Paul, and me. Tony rises to his feet, but theclickof a cocking revolver in his face forces him back into his seat. I glance under the table and see Paul’s knife in his hand, but it’s useless. Instead of fighting back, he ducks his head, hiding his face under the brim of his hat. With a quick move, he pops his collar around his cheeks as well.
“Gentlemen, m’lady. Put your hands where I can see them,” the man with the gun drawls.
Heart racing, I comply. I place my palms flat on the table and glance at Abe on the floor. There’s just one man standing over him now, but he’s got his boot resting on Abe’s ribs and a gun pointed at his head. Abe is pinned on his side, a trickle of blood dripping from his lip.
“Once we get what we came for, we’ll be on our way. Just sit there politely and nobody else needs to get hurt.” The gunman spits at Abe while two henchmen crack the register open.
Silently, I wonder if these men know Farley’s is one of our safe houses. They haven’t made any move toward the back room, so hopefully, this is just a terrible coincidence. These things happen in the bayou. So many gangs, fighting for scraps…
Just empty the register and leave,I silently plead.
Paul nudges my foot beneath the table, but he keeps his head down.
“Magpies,” he whispers, barely releasing his breath. He tilts his head toward the gunman in front of Tony. “Craig.”
My heart stutters.
I recognize the name. Paul gets his Magpie tribute from Craig—he’s the survivor, the one we let escape the night we took down Damien Keller. The years have worn him down, weathered and hardened his face and body. I can only hope the same is true of us. The gang doesn’t seem to know who they’re holding, but if Craig recognizes Paul…
I fidget nervously in my seat. Only two of the Magpies have guns, the one trained on Abe and the one in Craig’s hand. The rest are only packing knives.
“Sit still, princess.” Craig’s attention shifts to me. Paul presses down hard on my foot.
“S-s-sorry,” I mutter, quickly looking down.
Interested now, Craig walks over to me. He sweeps my dark hair back from my face and runs his grimy fingers down my cheek. I grit my teeth but don’t move. Paul’s head is still down, but his fingers fist on the tabletop, knuckles turning white.
“What’sa matter, fella? You don’t like me touching her?” Craig’s focus shifts to Paul for the first time. He bends down for a better look and inhales sharply. “Holy shit!”
Paul rises to lunge, but Craig is quick. He swings the revolver directly against Paul’s forehead. With a sharp flick of the barrel, he knocks the fedora off Paul’s head. It tumbles back and flutters to the ground.
“Sit the fuck down,Paul,” he hisses. His gaze sweeps the room, looking at me, then Tony, then Abe. Slowly. Calculating.
“No guns in my bayou, Craig,” Paul says, trying to distract him. “You know that.”
Craig ignores him, continuing to stare at Abe. “Four people. Four…wolves?” Disbelief is etched on his face. He has the attention of his whole band of thieves.
“Check ’em,” Craig calls out. “Him.” He points to Abe, pinned on the floor.
Keeping the gun trained on his head, the Magpie looming over Abe bends down. Slowly, he lifts the side of his shirt, revealing the wolf tracks inking their way over Abe’s ribs.
“I’ll be goddamned,” Craig hoots, rubbing his jaw. “We caught ourselves somewolvestonight, boys. Pat ’em down. All of them. Can’t be too careful.”
One by one, each of us is searched. They pull knives from Abe and Tony, one each. And three off Paul. They toss the contraband on the bar, saving me for last.
“Stand up.” Craig swings the gun from Paul to me. I rise slowly and step away from our table as two men descend. Their hands rove all over, lingering in places where they know damn well I’m not packing anything.
I stiffen at their touch. “I don’t have anything on me, Craig. Call your dogs off.”
“Patience, patience, little wolf. Can’t be too careful.”
His men continue groping, and Paul snarls from the table. Craig watches Paul’s rapidly darkening face with delight.
“Isn’t this fascinating, fellas?” he calls out. “I think we’ve discovered a little game.”
The men pause.
