by Shandi Boyes
“Furthermore, I don’t want you to do this... I’ll find a way to get the rest of the money my mom owes... I don’t want you dragged into this...” Her pitch lowers with every sentence she speaks.
Like a light bulb switching on, the entirety of our situation dawns on Savannah. “Why do you need a quarter of a million dollars?” As she has done many times today, she answers her question on my behalf. “Holy shit, you know about the missing money? How do you know? No one is supposed to know about the money my mom stole.” Her voice is barely a whisper by the end of her rant.
The late afternoon sun bounces off her hair when she moves out of the tree line so she can nervously pace. “If Col finds out about the missing money... oh god... he’ll...” She plunks her backside onto the bench at the edge of the playground.
I hook Damon’s backpack onto my shoulder before joining her on the wooden seat. “No one knows.” I place my hand under her chin to lift her eyes to mine. “No one knows about the missing money but me, you... and Axel.” It's the fight of my life not to sneer when mentioning his name.
Savannah’s head bobs up. “Does he know you know?”
“Axel?” I clarify, wanting to ensure we are on the same page.
When she nods, I nod. I thought my confession would ease the panic flaring in her eyes. It doesn’t. Not in the slightest. She looks more panicked now than when Axel was screaming her name at the top of his lungs this morning.
“Does he know I didn’t tell you what you know?” She's talking in riddles, confusing me more.
Spotting my bewilderment, Savannah explains, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the missing money. That was the first term of our agreement. He said if anyone found out what brought us together, our agreement would immediately cease. If he thinks I told you about the money, he’ll end our arrangement.”
Her reply corroborates what I had suspected: Axel bribed her to be his girlfriend.
“You don’t need to worry about breaking the terms of your agreement. Axel and I discussed a new arrangement this morning,” I enlighten her, my ticking jaw matching the beat of my heart.
Savannah’s glistening eyes dance between mine as she waits for me to clarify. I don’t know if shock is rendering her speechless, or the fact I said we discussed an arrangement instead of me pounding one into him like I really wanted to.
“If we hand the remaining money to Axel by Sunday, your agreement will be fulfilled,” I explain, hopeful the plan I devised on the drive here will pan out.
Savannah nods. “That’s always been my objective. It’s just taken a lot longer than I was hoping.”
“That’s where your knowledge of the fighting circuit will come into play. I plan to turn fifty thousand dollars into a quarter of a million dollars by you telling me who to bid on during the next circuit.”
Savannah licks her dry lips as her pupils widen. “I can’t do that, Ryan. I don’t want that kind of responsibility on my shoulders. What if I get it wrong?”
“You won’t,” I assure her, my tone relaying my confidence. “You know these men. You can read them as well as you read me. Just steer me in the right direction. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Ryan...” The rest of her sentence is swallowed by a deep sigh.
“You can do this, Savannah. I know you can. If you can’t do this for yourself, do it for your dad.”
My last sentence is a hit below the belt, but I’m so desperate to get out of the corner we’re backed into, I’m using any tactic I can. Savannah removes it quickly, but I don’t miss the rogue tear that fell from her eye when I mentioned her dad.
After intaking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, she discloses her worries. “If I lose your money, it will be gone forever, Ryan. I can’t bring it back. I sold every possession we own to put toward my mother’s debt. I can’t replace your money.” Her voice grows croakier with every syllable she utters. “We are flat broke. My dad’s health insurance pays for his care, but other than that, I have nothing to offer you if your gamble doesn’t pay off.”
“Yes, you do,” I reply as my thumbs remove her tears, hating every one spilling from her beautiful eyes. “You have this.” I trace my index finger over her sinfully plump lips.
“And this.” I trail my fingers down her chest, stopping at the spot thumping so hard it vibrates my fingertips.
“And this.” My voice comes out extra hoarse when my adventurous trek across her body glides over the two large mounds thrusting up and down in the rhythm of her breathing.
When Savannah giggles, I know my playful tease was delivered as intended. Our conversation went from choked with devastation to firing with lust faster than I could snap my fingers.
I run my index finger down the little indent popping in her cheek before murmuring, “But even if those things weren’t on the table, I’d still give you my money, Savannah. Because you're my girl, and anything that's mine is also yours.”
The sun doesn’t have a chance in hell of outshining Savannah when she smiles at my reply. Not a thing in the world can beat her smile...
Nothing but her murmuring, “I love you.”
Prompting me to reply, “But not as much as I love you.”
33
Ryan
Savannah’s breathing is so out of control, a strange whizzy noise accompanies every exhalation as we walk toward an isolated warehouse on the edge of Hopeton.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she double-checks for the hundredth time the past hour.
I tighten my grip around her hand, answering her question without words. The past five days flew, but it wasn’t filled with just angst and torment. Upon discovering the drug paraphernalia in Damon’s room, my mother agreed with my suggestion of sending him to Aunt Kaci’s for summer vacation.
It took a little bit of convincing, but after showing her the most exorbitant airfares I could find online, she also sided with my proposal of her driving Damon to Aunt Kaci’s to save the hefty airfare she knew her husband would never agree to. Although the situation is not ideal, I not only kept my promise of placing distance between Damon and our father, but I’ve also achieved weeks of freedom from being my mother’s keeper.
Even though my Aunt Kaci is related to my father by blood, she still hates him. Her dislike is so strong, when I called her to say my mom was going to drive Damon to her ranch out in the country in Kentucky, she miraculously fell victim to a horse kick that same afternoon. My mom was so worried about her sister-in-law, she failed to notice the X-ray Aunt Kaci emailed, along with a doctor’s certificate saying she was out of commission for six weeks, was as old as me. My dad was reluctant to let my mother leave for so long, but when Aunt Kaci suggested he hire in-house care for his beloved older sister, he soon changed his mind. He's as stingy as he is violent.
With a promise to return as soon as Aunt Kaci was capable of looking after herself, my mom and Damon left town early the following morning. I should feel guilt that relief was my first thought while watching my mom’s taillights disappear on the horizon, but I don’t. I’ve watched over my mom for years; it’s time for a little break.
“You’ll want to stay near the front, but out of line of the main players,” Savannah says, drawing my focus back to her.
When we stop near a row of chairs on the far right hand side of the ring, she explains, “Bidding opens five minutes before the fight and closes the instant the referee declares the fight is starting. The maximum bet a bookie can accept without seeking approval is fifty thousand dollars.”
“Can you bid on my behalf?” I ask, mindful some of the bookies may recognize me from the times I fought in this circuit.
Although Col’s fighting circuit is closer to our home base, with the smaller circuits having less stringent security measures, we chose to visit one over thirty miles from home.
“No. Women are here merely for entertainment, not to be entertained.” Our scoot past a small gathering of scantily dressed women strengthens Savannah’s reply.
<
br /> A week of quiet isn’t the only thing I achieved since my mom and Damon left town. I’ve also had a week of exploring every inch of Savannah’s body. It’s been a glorious motherfucking week.
I want to act like a stud and pretend Savannah was on her back the whole time, but that would be a lie. We did the standard things any new couple does: we went to the annual fair at her school Friday night; we watched a handful of corny rom-com movies, and we shared a milkshake while watching the sun disappear on the horizon last night. Although none of the things we did required a lot of money, the time we spent together was priceless.
Even doing things that are not standard in a blossoming relationship couldn’t deter me. Like being reintroduced to her father every morning and evening when I arrived to pick her up or drop her off, watching grainy fight videos to gauge our frontrunners in an underground fighting ring, and pretending I don’t see Axel’s name flash up on Savannah’s cell a minimum of five times a day for the past week.
I should have been clearer when I advised Axel to stay away from Savannah. I didn’t realize I’d need to stipulate in an electronic form as well. But there's some good that came out of the situation. While punching in the address for tonight’s event into Savannah’s cell, another message from Axel flashed up on her screen. Although his text was painstakingly long, the last sentence smothered any doubt I had that they have been in contact.
Axel: Please, babe. It’s been days since I’ve heard from you. Aren’t you missing me yet?
His message filled me with hope that one part of my pledge is going well so far. Axel? Axel fucking who? I’ve kept Savannah’s thoughts so occupied the past week, I’m beginning to wonder if she can even recall Axel’s name, much less have the chance to miss him.
“Hmm?” I say when Savannah’s singsong voice interrupts my thoughts.
The groove between my brows morphs onto her face when she murmurs, “You don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now if you want to,” mistaking my quietness for hesitation.
“Will you come with me?” I ask without pause, already knowing her answer, but hopeful she’s changed her mind.
Savannah shakes her head. “My dad won’t leave his room, and I can’t leave him, Ryan. I just can’t.”
“Then I’m staying,” I reply, issuing her the same answer I’ve given numerous times this week when she tried to talk me out of my decision. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. If you’re here, I’m here. If you’re gone, I’m gone.”
“What if I get lost, and you don’t know how to find me?” she asks, her voice so low I can barely hear it over the hum of the crowd.
Her question causes a stabbing pain to my chest. Savannah will never admit it, but she's petrified her dad’s condition is genetic. Although tests disclosed she doesn’t have the APOE-e4 risk gene, she has read enough information on Alzheimer’s to know you could not have the gene and still develop the disease.
I sling my arm around her shoulders then tug her into my side. “Then I’ll wait for you to come home. Because no matter how hard you try, you never forget your roots.”
Thorn is in the very last stages of his disease, yet, he still remembers Savannah. His brain is a little muddled on her real name, but the way his face lights up when he sees her makes up for the slip in name.
The heat roaring through Savannah’s body becomes obvious when I press my lips to her temple. Although my pulse thudding in my ears drowns out her next set of words, I don’t need to hear them to know what she said. The extra thump her heart gains every time she tells me she loves me makes it clear.
“But not as much as I love you,” I reply just as the lights over the ring dim, announcing the first match about to begin.
Even hearing my response a minimum of fifty times this week doesn’t stop Savannah’s lips from curling against my chest. She loves hearing it as much as I love saying it.
“What’s our total?”
Savannah tallies up the last three fights before lifting her eyes to mine. “One hundred and eighteen thousand.” The disappointment in her eyes grows when she mutters, “I’m sorry; I didn’t see that last loss coming. I got the brothers confused. They look so alike, I got flustered—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt, my voice reassuring. “We’re still ahead, and we have plenty of time...”
My words trail off when Savannah shakes her head. “This is the last fight, and I don’t know either of the men fighting.”
After issuing a final apology by using nothing but her eyes, she glances down at two names scribbled on her writing pad. The haze that’s been clouding my mind the past four hours clears when I recognize one of the names jotted down: Max Levingston.
Ignoring the niggle in the back of my head warning me to slow down, I snag the money we’ve amassed so far tonight, then make my way to the bookies standing at the side of the ring.
When a large, balding man notices me approaching the betting circle, he steps into my path, stopping me from reaching the two men who’ve been handling my bids all night. “Bids aren’t open yet—”
“I know, but this negotiation is going to take a little longer than a standard one.”
He keeps his hand splayed across my chest as his eyes drop to the money I’m clutching for dear life. “Bets over fifty thousand require approval—”
“I know,” I reply for the second time, fighting with all my might not to roll my eyes over the obvious. “That’s why I need longer to negotiate.”
“You’re wasting your time. If you race in there with that much money, they’ll either take your money and not approve the bet, or they’ll take your money and kick you out. Either way, they’ll take your money.”
Hearing the honesty in his thick Russian accent, I tug my money in close to my chest.
“You probably don’t want my advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway,” the massive man warns. “Cut your losses and leave.”
“I can’t do that,” I retort, shaking my head. “This isn’t enough.”
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 pa
tch 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 handed all my money to.
