Page 65 of Savannah Royals
“Youreallydon’t like it when we touch her, do you?”
Paul.I stare hard, warning him. He’s going to get us in much deeper trouble if he doesn’t ramp up his poker face.
“Is she your bitch, Paul?” Craig walks over and presses the cold barrel of the gun to my temple. I hold my breath, but I don’t close my eyes. I keep them pinned on Paul, willing him not to give the game away.
“Yes…” Craig breathes. He takes my jaw in his hand, turning it from side to side. “You’re the real prize, aren’t you? Paul’s infamous Cat Burglar.”
He’s so quick I don’t see it coming. He backhands me across the face. Hard. My cheek and jaw sting, then burn. Branded in the shape of his foul fingers.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Paul whispers from his seat. His tone is calm, but it promises murder.
“You’re not really in a position to make demands, Paul, but I can see you’re getting upset. I don’t want that. We’re all friends here, right? Old friends from the bayou. You don’t want me to hit her? Fine. I don’t have to hit her. What do you think about this instead?” He tugs me close, pressing his hips into mine. His hand skates up the side of my ribs, reaching. Teasing.
I school my expression into a mask of calm. I don’t want Paul to see me getting upset, and I certainly don’t want to give this cretin even a second of satisfaction.
“Is this better?” Craig asks. His hand settles on my backside.
“Enough!” Paul slams his fist on the table.
Paul…I inwardly groan. Tony closes his eyes and exhales slowly.
We’re well and truly fucked now.
“Enough,” Paul repeats, more quietly this time. His gaze is locked on Craig. “I’m the one you really want. We both know it. I’m the kingpin, and I’m sitting right here. Either take your shot, or put the gun down so we can sort this out like civilized men.”
“Unbelievable.” Craig cackles. “Merciless Paul. Cold, ruthless Paul. Everyone says you’re bulletproof, but it looks like there’s a heart under there after all.”
Panicking, I look at Abe, still helpless and pinned on the floor. His dark eyes are wide with fear.
“The real question is…” Craig’s attention moves back to me. He removes the gun from my temple, and—I can’t help it—I exhale mightily. “How does she feel about you?”
A new kind of fear blooms when Craig slides the gun from my face to Paul’s, removing all rationality, all logic, from my mind.
“Whaddya think, little wolf?” he asks me. “Should I shoot him?”
I swallow mechanically.
“Take the heater,” he tells one of his men.
A bearded Magpie grabs the weapon, keeping it trained on Paul.
Craig flexes his fists once, then lands a brutal punch to Paul’s right eye. He winds up quickly and swings again, hitting the exact same spot. Paul releases a small grunt at the second impact, and that’s all it takes to completely undo me.
“Stop,” I implore. “Just…stop.”
I’ll do anything, give anything. There is no price I won’t pay to make it stop.
Craig pulls back, victory glinting in his eyes. “Just like I thought,” he whispers. “Come here, little wolf.”
I walk slowly, like a sleepwalker.
When Craig reaches for my hips, his grip is sharp enough to leave marks. He nods to his friend, and the bearded man presses the revolver directly to the center of Paul’s forehead.
“You’re gonna watch this,” Craig says to Paul. “You’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna enjoy it.” He grabs the back of my head and forces his lips on mine. It’s pure instinct to resist—I wiggle and try to pull away—but his claws are wound tight into my hair. Welding me in place.
A thudding of fists erupts from the corner, followed by a groan.
Abe.
