Page 84 of The Way We Are

He slants his head to the side and bows a bushy brow. “You have over one hundred thousand dollars in your hands. How is that not enough?”

“Because it isn’t half of what I need,” I reply before I can stop my words.

I don’t know what it's about this guy, but I can’t lie to him. Maybe it's because his eyes warn he spots deceit from a mile out, so I don’t bother trying to pull the wool over his eyes?

When his eyes turn to Savannah eyeballing our exchange with worry slashed across her features, I instinctively place myself between them.

“Ah,” he murmurs in a low drawl. “This isn’t for you. It's for her.” He doesn’t need to articulate whom he's referring to. The twitching of his lips gives it away. My brows stitch when he suggests, “Two to one.”

Spotting my bewilderment, he explains, “I’ll give you two to one odds.” He tugs open a large leather bag braced against his thick ankle. There are ten times more bundles in his bag than there are in my hand.

“But I can get four to one odds from the bookies,” I reply, nudging my head to the figures being drawn up on the main board.

The Russian man smiles a slick grin. “You said you only needed double. I’m offering you double. Two to one odds. Take it or leave it. But if you leave it, and they throw your ass out of here without a penny to your name, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He sits down into the row next to his bag, his composure neither bothered nor intimidating. He appears as if he doesn’t care which direction I take.

I shift my eyes to Savannah, praying she will guide me down the right path. She shrugs her shoulders, leaving the decision up to me.

“Trust your instincts,” she eventually mouths.

I wait a beat, hoping a few deep breaths will ease the knot in my stomach.

“Two to one?” I double-check, my deep tone cracking like I’m still in the midst of puberty.

The large brute of a man lifts his eyes to mine. He stares at me long enough a wet patch forms under my armpits before nodding his head. He accepts the money I’m holding out for him before scribbling our bet onto a piece of cardboard. He then hands it to me.

“Thank you...” I leave my praise open, hoping he will fill in the details.

He doesn’t keep me waiting for long. “Tobias. You can call me Tobias.”

After issuing him my final thanks with a dip of my chin, I hotfoot it to Savannah. “This is it. Our golden ticket,” I say, like I’m the fat kid clutching the winning ticket to enter Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

Savannah doesn’t reply; she’s too shocked. It’s understandable—I just took our stringently laid out plan and threw it out of the window on a man I’ve never met. I really fucking hope the honesty in Tobias’s eyes lives up to expectations.

With my heart smashing against my ribcage, I skim my eyes across the room, seeking Isaac amongst the densely populated crowd. The dangerous beat of my heart races toward coronary failure when my attention locks on a flurry of black entering the main arena from an entrance on the far left.

After discreetly speaking into the cuff of her midnight black pantsuit, Regina merges further into the sweaty-smelling space. All the breakfasts I’ve consumed the past week race to the base of my throat when her sleek steps come to an abrupt stop not even ten seconds later. Following the direction of her wide gaze, I spot the reason for her faltering movements. She's staring at Tobias—the man I just handedallmy money to.

Panic bubbles in my veins when Tobias nods an inconspicuous greeting to Regina before he continues his conversation with the three men surrounding him. His companions are none the wiser to the familiar gleam his eyes got when he raked them over Regina’s frozen form. I know the gleam all too well, as it's the exact one my eyes get every time Savannah is in my presence.

Tobias and Regina know each other—very well.

Fuck.

My eyes stop bouncing between Regina and Tobias when Savannah asks, “Is that Regina? She looks exactly as you described.”

I nod, too riddled with worry to form a better response.

The color drains from Savannah’s cheeks. “Why is she here?”

I shrug my shoulders, still void of words.

“If she is hereworking, we’re in trouble, Ryan. Big,bigtrouble.” Savannah barely whispers her last two sentences.

When Regina darts down a corridor where the locker rooms are, I shift my eyes back to Savannah. “Should I go talk to her?”

Now it’s Savannah’s turn to act mute. After chewing on her bottom lip so harshly little red lines rush to the surface, she mutters, “Do you think it will help?”

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