Branded: Savannah: Sisters Bound By Blood

by Karen Kelley

  She wanted to make sure Breaker didn’t regret his decision to help her. Besides, with Marco, her day always started at six a.m. She had to greet him in his bedroom with coffee and a full breakfast that Isabella would have prepared, but heaven help her if she spilled one drop as she carried the heavy tray up the staircase. Working with Shorty was actually enjoyable.

  They laughed when Rayan's voice carried all the way back to them as the waitress joked with the customers. She knew exactly how to work the rowdy men, and even the women who came in for a break from their regular routine.

  Sometimes Shorty would start to sing, off-key, of course. And that had her smiling even more. She could hear Angie complaining about Rayan and Shorty.

  "Oh my God, you people are killing my eardrums. I told Breaker he needs to put a jukebox in, and not just hire a band on some of the weekends."

  A couple of times, Savannah felt as if someone watched her and turned. Both times, Breaker had been standing behind her. He would only nod, then leave. A couple of times, she heard him working the bar with Angie and cutting up with Rayan.

  For the first time in a long time, Savannah began to relax, as if nothing could touch her while she was surrounded by these people. Maybe Breaker was right, Marco would never find her here. She was safe.

  Then her shift was over. She washed the last pan, then looked around to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

  "Come on, girl," Shorty said as he balanced baskets with burgers and fries and carried them out of the cooking area.

  She removed her apron, hung it next to Shorty's after taking off her gloves, and then followed him to the bar's main part. Angie and Rayan sat at one of the round tables that seated eight people with a chair in-between them so they would have plenty of room. Shorty skipped a chair and pulled out the next one, so she followed suit and took a seat.

  "What’s your poison?" Breaker called out.

  Everyone gave him their drink orders, and a few minutes later, he set the uncapped bottles of soda in the middle of the table. She should've known the extra basket with a cheeseburger and fries was for him.

  "I want to thank everyone for a fantastic shift," Breaker told them. "I couldn't do all of this without you. Now, I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starved. Let's dig in."

  For a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. Yes, she'd been smelling the burgers all night, and her stomach had been growling. She’d only had a light lunch. She looked up and found all eyes were on her.

  Rayan gave a short laugh. "You would think by the way you're staring at that burger that you'd never had one before."

  Savannah picked up the burger with both hands. "I haven't." She took a bite and was suddenly transported to heaven. When she looked up, they were still staring at her.

  "Well," Shorty began. "What do you think? Don't I make the best burgers in the country?"

  Rayan snorted. "If she's never had a burger before, then she wouldn't know if yours was the best or not."

  She couldn't help it, Savannah began to chuckle. "It is a really good burger."

  Shorty sat up straighter and sent a glare in Rayan’s direction. "I told you so."

  They all laughed. A strange feeling washed over Savannah. It was hard for her to explain. It was almost as if she'd known these people all her life. That was crazy, of course. Except for Breaker, she'd only met them a few hours ago, and she hadn’t known him much longer. Maybe she was just tired because of everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. Yes, that had to be it.

  "I hope Shorty didn't work you too hard," Breaker said as the two of them walked up the back staircase to his apartment.

  "Not at all. I enjoyed being around him."

  "I thought you might." He unlocked the door, and they went inside. "If you don't want to wash dishes, I could probably find something else for you to do."

  She shook her head. "No, it's very calming."

  "Do you think you'll want to stay on for a while?"

  Savannah thought about the people she’d met today. She felt good about being here. Marco had tried to steal her ability to even think for herself so that she would be more and more dependent on him for her every need, more in his control. She'd known that all along, and it had gotten harder and harder to fight him. Now, she was starting to feel alive again.

  "Yes, I'd like to work for you." When she looked at Breaker, it felt as if there were butterflies in her stomach. She wondered about this strange new feeling he was causing inside her. She figured it was just gratitude.

  "Good, I kind of thought you might. At least I hoped you would. Shorty can always use a hand in the back." He went to his office and opened the door. "I thought you might want to have a little privacy. It isn't much, but you're welcome to use it as long as you want."

  She hesitantly walked over, then peered inside what used to be his office. Now, there was a twin bed against one wall, and a small dresser on the opposite side.

  "I know it's not very big, and it's not much, but I thought it would suit you for now."

  "You made a room for me? What about your office?"

  "No big deal. I had one of the customers to help me move my desk into my bedroom. I got the bed out of storage. The mattress might smell a little musty. I’m sorry about that."

  "No, no, it's fine. It's better than fine."

  "Good. I'll say goodnight then and see you in the morning."

  She nodded, unable to speak. It had been so long since anyone treated her with any kind of decency that it was hard to take everything in right now. Breaker had even made up the bed.

  She slowly sank to the edge. He thought she wouldn't be comfortable on the sofa, then he was afraid this room wouldn’t suit her. He didn't know that she'd slept on the floor at the end of Marco's bed. The only time she was allowed in his bed was when he wanted to use her. Afterward, she would take her blanket and pillow, then curl up on the floor. That had been fine with her. It would have been far worse sleeping next to Marco.

  So yes, having her own bed was going to be nice.

  Chapter Seven

  "Antonio and Roberto have not checked in since last night when they were following a car that they thought Savannah might be in," Juan spoke behind Marco.

  Marco pressed his lips together and fisted his hands. "How could she know anyone? She was too closely guarded. I want that bitch found. No one disrespects me this way." He turned on one heel and glared at Juan. "Someone had to have helped her escape."

  "We've questioned Martin. We think she crawled into the back of his pickup without him knowing she was there. Once he got to the convenience store and was filling up with gas, she slipped into the restaurant. It’s the only way she could’ve gotten away."

  "And you know that is what happened?"

  "I called and questioned Martin myself and know he stopped on his way home. I’m almost certain Savannah hid in his pickup. The waitress described her, and she said the girl looked scared. That was also about the time Martin stopped to get gas. The only other customer they had during that time was some guy going home to Louisiana and an older woman who was local.”

  “And you also had this older woman questioned?”

  "Yes, men went to her house and searched it. She says she remembered seeing the girl, but Savannah didn’t approach her.”

  “You think she was telling the truth?” Marco asked.

  “I do.”

  “And this man?” Anger began to build inside him. “Tell me about him.”

  "The waitress said he was going back to Louisiana and gave a brief description of his car. He was the better lead, so Antonio and Roberto went after him. They caught up with him before he made it to the interstate."

  “You’re sure Savannah might have been with him?”

  “I’m not positive. When Antonio called in, he confirmed the man was driving a late model, dark blue sedan that was pretty beat up, and it had Louisiana license plates. Roberto told me the man had figured out he was being followed and pulled
to the side of the road. Not long after that, we lost contact with Antonio and Roberto. They never called back."

  “I’ll kill them both!” Marco grit his teeth. Juan took a step back.

  She’d fooled him. If there hadn’t been a problem with the drug shipment, he wouldn’t have come back early and discovered her gone. They might not have had any chance of finding her, but fate had thwarted her. Marco had known they were meant to be together from the moment he’d first seen her.

  Savannah couldn’t see what was right in front of her. She had worked to gain his trust. She made him think that she was resigned to being with him. It had all been a lie. He'd given her this beautiful home to live in, and this was the thanks he got. She'd turned against him the first chance she got. He would make her pay for that.

  He turned his back on Juan and looked out the window again. He watched as Martin pruned one of the bushes. His eyes narrowed. Martin had given Savannah flowers when she walked outside. Martin had put a smile on her face. She'd never smiled like that at him. Maybe Martin had helped her to escape.

  He marched to the back door and opened it, stepping outside. He strode across the lawn, stopping near Martin. The gardener saw who had come up behind him and immediately bowed.

  Peasants, that's all the people were who worked for him.

  "How could you betray me and help Savannah escape?"

  Martin immediately looked up, eyes widening. "No, Patron. If she was in the back of my pickup, I did not know it. I would never betray you."

  "You’re lying." He pulled the gun from the waistband at his back, aimed, and then pulled the trigger.

  Martin staggered back a step, looking down at the red seeping across his white shirt. Without a word, he fell to the ground on his back.

  "No one betrays me. I am Marco Sanchez, and I run this town," he screamed before turning and striding back toward the house. As he passed by Juan, he said, "Have someone take care of that mess, then meet me in the house."

  He didn't have to stick around to make sure Juan would do his bidding. Juan had always been his right-hand man, and he'd never had reason to question his loyalty.

  Marco went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon, downing it, then pouring another. His heart raced, and his breathing was ragged. He knew he had to get control of his anger. His father taught him not to show any weakness. Not if he wanted to keep control of his men and his household.

  But yet, Savannah had always been his weakness.

  He still remembered the first day he'd seen her. He'd had business in the area, and his driver had stopped for gas before they would return to his hacienda. He wasn't even sure what made him look up, but he had, just as Savannah and her little sister were walking toward the grocery store across the street.

  She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She'd been wearing white shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. Her legs were long and lean. But it was the way she walked. Like a young ballerina, graceful and smooth.

  She had the palest blonde hair that reached almost to her waist. When she smiled down at her little sister, it was as if the sun had broken from the dark clouds. He knew at that moment he had to have her, and he would pay whatever cost to get her.

  His smile held no warmth as he thought back to the day he’d purchased the young beauty. So much fire in her eyes when she’d looked at him. She was going to be his pet. Of course, he knew he would have to tame her. He wasn't worried. He never failed. Besides, it put fire in his blood to bend her to his will.

  But she'd run away that first night. He'd had to teach her a lesson, so she wouldn't forget who owned her. He hadn't wanted to brand her, to mar her beautiful skin, but it was necessary.

  Now she had shamed him in front of all of his men. Savannah had made him a laughingstock. He would have to make her pay. Maybe he wouldn't kill her quickly. He would bring her home and remind her every day what happened when someone betrayed him.

  His hold on his glass tightened. He took another drink, then forced himself to calm down. The door opened, then closed.

  "The body has been removed."

  He didn't care about the body. The man had only worked for him. A gardener. Easily replaced. He only wanted to get Savannah back. "Have we found out who she was with last night?"

  "Roberto called in the license plate before we lost contact. It came back to John Smith. Obviously, an alias."

  Marco's eyes narrowed. He turned and looked at Juan. "Why would the average man need an alias? I want him found."

  "We've also checked all of the bus stations and gave her description. No one remembers Savannah getting on a bus. I think she might still be with him."

  "Go! Find her, and this John Smith," he spat. They would find out who he really was and why his car was registered under an assumed name. He would make Savannah watch this man die because he’d helped her escape. He slammed his fist down on the counter. The bottles of alcohol sitting on top rattled. No one crossed him. No one!

  Chapter Eight

  Angie slapped her hands on her hips and faced Breaker. "The girl doesn't hardly have any clothes. At least she doesn't have many. Didn't you say all she had with her was a backpack? Believe you me, you can't fit that much stuff into a backpack. There are probably other things she needs as well. Female stuff. She needs to go shopping," Angie scolded him.

  He held up both hands. All he’d done was walk into the bar, and she turned on him. "Hey, I don't have a problem with her going shopping." He was back to feeling guilty. He should've thought about this himself. Hell, guys didn’t need…stuff. Why the hell would he ever think about…stuff?

  "You didn't notice her clothes hanging on the back fence to dry? She’s been washing them out by hand."

  No, he hadn't. Well, yeah, maybe he'd seen clothes on the back fence, but he hadn't thought anything about it. "I assumed she knew she could use the washer and dryer in the back room of the bar. I'll make sure she knows today."

  The subject of their discussion suddenly came in the front door. They both stopped talking to stare at her. Damn, she looked good, even if it was the same yellow T-shirt that she’d worn the other day. It still looked damn good on her. He liked the way her jeans hugged her hips, too. Yeah, he was in trouble.

  She was about halfway across the room from them when she happened to look up and stopped in her tracks. "What's wrong? Did I do something I shouldn't have?"

  Again, Breaker listened to her apologize. She did that a lot, as if she knew she’d done something wrong—even when she hadn’t. The more he was around her, the more he hated Marco, and he’d never met him.

  "You did nothing wrong," he said. "But Angie pointed out to me that you probably needed to buy a few things for yourself." He pulled his keys out of his pocket and laid them on the counter. "You have permission to take my pickup."

  He'd already put his car in the garage where he stored it when he wasn't doing government work. The pickup was a hell of a lot nicer.

  When she didn't take the keys, he wondered what he’d done wrong this time. He looked at Angie, then back at Savannah, whose cheeks had turned a rosy red.

  "I don't know how… I've never… I mean…" She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth.

  That was something else she was doing a lot. He found himself getting lost in that moment. More and more, he wanted to see if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked. Dammit, he didn’t want to think about her like that. He didn't need that kind of complication in his life. Hell, she probably didn't want to start up anything either.

  She drew in a deep breath. "I don't know how to drive. Marco never allowed me to…” Her words trailed off, then it was as if she was gathering her strength. “I'm fine, really. There's nothing I need right now."

  "I'll take you before we open," Angie told her. "The boss can start your driving lessons tomorrow."

  Her face lost some of its color. "Oh, I don't want to be a bother. It's okay. I don't mind not knowing how to drive."

  "If we don'
t do as Angie says, she’ll have both our heads on a platter,” Breaker told her. “Now, go shopping. It's still a few hours until we open. If you run late, I'm sure we’ll be able to handle everything on our end until you return."

  Angie walked around the bar and grabbed her purse. "Come on, Savannah."

  After they walked out of the bar, Shorty came from the back where he’d been cooking jambalaya. Occasionally, he would fix something special like that, and they would offer free bowls of the dish for anyone who wanted it until it was all gone, and it always went fast. Anyone that knew how well Shorty could cook never turned it down.

  "Got that jambalaya simmering on the burner." Shorty slid onto a barstool and released a deep sigh. He studied Breaker for a moment, then looked toward the door. "She's a good kid, but I think she's had a hard life."

  "I think she has, too."

  "She hasn't said much to me. You?"

  He shook his head. "She hasn't said a lot. I know for a fact there are bad men hunting her. The guy she was with is called Marco Sanchez. If you ever hear his name, come tell me. From everything I've gathered so far, he’s bad news. The kind of man who’ll shoot first and ask questions later."

  Shorty slowly nodded his head. "When I was in Vietnam, there were some Vietcong like that. Those VC were crazy bastards." His eyes took on a faraway look.

  Breaker knew Shorty had it hard when he was in Vietnam. He'd been shot twice and stabbed once, then left for dead by the VC. That day, they'd wiped out most of his platoon. They patched him up, but he refused to go home until the war ended. When it did, most people treated him pretty badly. Instead of cheers, the crowds jeered the returning vets. The years passed, but the memories were still there, haunting his waking hours more and more.

  One day he wandered into Breaker’s bar. He ordered a beer and began to talk. It was quiet that night, and Breaker listened. He knew Shorty was at the end of his rope and wouldn't last much longer. That night, he offered him a job as cook. Told him it wasn't much, but it was at least honest work. Then he told Shorty about what he'd gone through in Afghanistan, and the four tours he’d volunteered for while still active duty. That night they bonded, and a friendship was born. Shorty still had problems, but he was getting better every day.