Page 92 of The Way We Are

When Axel nods, I clarify, “That’syouraccount?”

Axel swaggers back to stand next to Douchebag Number Two and Three. “Ours.” He waves his hand across their three chests. “It’s our venture capital. That littleoperationyou’ve seen growing in Ravenshoe the past few years is about to triple.” He rubs his hand under his nose as his eyes drift to Savannah. “Just one hit of the stuff we’re manufacturing will make a five dollar whore’s pussy taste as sweet as hers.”

I save Axel from being belted for the second time by saying, “Triple, hey?” I let out a whistle, feigning that I’m impressed. “That’s gonna be hard to pull off in a four by four cell.”

The arrogance on Axel’s face fades for worry when I tuck my chin into my chest and ask, “Did you get all that?”

The squeal of police sirens answers my question on Regina’s behalf.

Realizing our gathering has gained the attention of over a dozen plain-clothed officers, Axel and his two minions make a run for it. They don’t even make it halfway out of the dusty parking lot before members of Regina’s crew have them kissing the pavement.

Satisfied all danger is on lockdown, I spin Savannah around to face me. Her lip quivers when she begins to speak, “He didn’t do that to me. We didn’t—”

“I know, Savannah,” I interrupt, not needing her to defend Axel’s malicious words.

He knew he lost her to a better man, so he did anything he could to act like he wasn’t hurting. I can’t say I blame him. If I lost a woman like Savannah, I don’t know if I’d ever recover.

After inspecting her knuckles for signs of damage, I ask, “Are you alright?”

Even though she nods, I still tug her into my chest and hold on tightly. Her acting skills are so top-notch, even I believed her performance—and I’m the guy who sat by her side yesterday when Regina explained what the forensic accountants had discovered from the ledger we gave her.

“Do you think Axel will tell Regina where my mom’s body is?” Savannah asks a short time later, her voice as low as my heart rate.

Pain stabs the middle of my chest. She sounds so broken. “She may not be dead, Savannah. Don’t give up hope yet.”

Savannah locks her glistening eyes with mine. “I should have read her postcards, then I would have known they weren’t from her.”

“You were angry—”

“I was stupid,” Savannah interrupts, her voice cracking with emotions. “So, so stupid. Axel knew this. That’s why he played me for the fool I am.”

I lose my chance to argue with her when Regina arrives at our side. Her almost black eyes bounce between Savannah’s for two heart-thrashing seconds before she reacts in the same manner Savannah did when she was tormented by her past yesterday.

She cocoons her within her arms and whispers reassurances in her ear. I can’t hear a word she's speaking, but Savannah’s shudders ease with every word she whispers.

37

Ryan

“Hey, you’re... ah...”

“Ryan,” I greet, stretching my arm over Thorn’s bed to offer him my hand to shake.

“Ryan, right,” he replies, accepting my offer.

“I’m a friend of Savan... ah...Ruth’s.”

Thorn’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, you know my daughter Ruth?”

Before I can answer, Savannah enters Thorn’s room, stealing not only the words from my mouth, but the air from my lungs as well. The plum material of her strapless dress swishes around her smooth, silky thighs, and her ample breasts are barely contained in the thin strap of material crossing her mid-section.

With our last four weeks shared equally between the pool and the bedroom, the lightness of her hair is even more effervescent, and her skin has a mouthwatering glow. She looks wickedly evil and angelically innocent at the same time. Don’t ask me how that's possible. I’m just calling it how I see it.

“Hi,” Savannah greets before balancing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to my mouth.

Her kiss is innocent, but the growl her father emits makes it seem like anything but. I’m not surprised by his anger; he has reacted the same way every time I’ve arrived to pick Savannah up the past four weeks.

Savannah smiles, loving her dad’s protectiveness. “Are you ready to go?”

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