25. Nyx
Chapter 25
Nyx
Savage’s leather jacket rustles as he brings his beer to his lips.
“You’ve barely eaten,” he says, before taking a sip.
“I’m trying.”
He looks a hell of a lot better today in a crisp white t-shirt and freshly laundered black jeans. Even though it looks like days since his tousled hair has seen more than his fingers.
“I’ll get the chef to cook something else.” He’s already trying to spot the closest servant, or soldier, or whatever constitutes ‘the help’ at a cartel-owned villa.
“This is fine, Caesar.”
Bella whines, but I force myself not to look at her. Just because we bonded in the bathroom last night and I had to wipe snot off her fur before we went back to bed doesn’t mean I’m going to hand over my food.
I toy with a roast chicken leg, even going so far as to bring it to my lips. It looks and smells fucking delicious, as does the spicy rice, the avocado salad, and another dish—red beans mixed with some kind of meat, maybe pork.
But the thought of having to chew and swallow anything makes me think of my stomach, and that makes me think of my nightmare.
And then the photo of that poor, chopped up girl on Matty’s phone.
The girl I thought was Athena until I saw her dark hair.
I couldn’t even get out of bed today. Savage’s flat screen was on, episodes of some comedy series playing on mute. I couldn’t be bothered to turn up the volume, because I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the actual show. I just wanted something to stare at as I desperately tried not to replay every single fucking mistake in my life on loop.
I’m in the same black joggers and misappropriated red vest I wore yesterday. Haven’t showered. Brushed my teeth. Even washed my face. My hair was such a tangled mess I just piled it on top of my head.
Savage just keeps frowning at me like I’m his first fucking attempt at a Rubik’s cube.
The chicken leg drops down into my mountain of rice, sending a few grains tumbling to the floor. Bella the German Hoover is at my feet in an instant to vacuum the tiles. Then she looks up at me with her round eyes gleaming with concern like she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be fed in her life again.
“Fine. Fuck it.” I throw my drumstick toward her, but Savage snatches it out of the air a split second before Bella can inhale it.
Smack .
Bella looks confused when she realizes there isn’t a chicken leg in her mouth, and then whines and lies down on her belly, her big brown eyes instantly forgiving me for being such a tease.
We’re outside on the villa’s patio, Savage, Vito, Andy…everyone but me enjoying an early supper of roast chicken as the sun sets behind the trees.
On a normal day, in a normal person’s life, it would all have been pretty as fuck. The orange and pink hues mirrored in the calm waters around the jetty with its single motorboat that was probably used for years in drug runs.
The way the setting sun peeks through the Spanish moss dangling from the branches of the massive oaks along the bank. The early evening breeze that toys with the lace curtains framing the French doors leading inside.
How can I appreciate anything when my sisters are suffering through God-only-knows what hell?
How can I fucking eat ?
I shove my plate toward Savage. “Help yourself.”
Instead of eating my food, he tosses the chicken leg I’d been trying to feed to Bella back onto my plate.
“Chicken bones,” he says mysteriously.
I huff at him, tilting my head as I cross my arms over my chest. “And puppy dog tails?”
Andy delivers an impressive, “These are a few of my favorite things!”
Everyone at the table turns to look at her. She shrugs. “What? I was in the choir before…life happened.”
Savage returns to his own meal, inspecting his chicken leg like he’s wondering how best to devour it.
Vito leans over to me. “Dogs shouldn’t eat cooked bones, especially chicken. Could splinter and pierce their intestines.”
I hurriedly swallow down bile, clapping a hand over my eyes as a vivid flashback from my nightmare assaults my memory.
There’s a wet smack-chomp under the table. I peek out through my fingers to see Savage biting chunks of meat from his chicken leg and feeding it to Bella.
“You okay, sweetie?” Andy asks. “You’re looking a little pale today.”
I send her a frosty smile. “Bet I’m doing a hell of a lot better than my sisters. They’re on their way to the auction block, in case anyone missed the news report.”
Everyone flinches when Savage’s fork clatters onto his plate. I glance at him through my lashes as he slowly takes a sip from his beer, eyes locked on something in the distance.
“We’re doing everything we can to find them,” Vito says in a tight voice. “We have every halcone at our disposal digging up what they can about Sullivan’s auction?—“
“Yeah, sure Vito, thanks. I’m gonna sleep real well tonight knowing all five of your buddies are helping out.”
“Sixteen,” he mutters.
“ All sixteen men? Dear God, who’s running the cartel?”
“Nyx…” Savage growls from beside me.
But before I can tear into him, Andy clears her throat. She toys with her drawstring of her pale gray hoodie when everyone turns to look at her.
“Before you rip each other’s heads off, I sent Bryan’s blood off for testing this morning.”
Savage takes a visible breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he glares at me. Maybe I shouldn’t keep pushing him. He looks ready to launch himself over the table at the next person to test his patience.
I guess he decides to take the high road because he slowly turns to look over at Andy.
“How long?”
“Thank you is a more appropriate response,” Vito mutters.
“Thank you,” Savage says, his eyes flickering to Vito before fixing on Andy again. “How long?”
“Usually a week or so, but Vito found a lab who’d rush the results for us.”
“How. Long?”
“Four days, tops.”
Savage wipes his mouth with a linen napkin as he stands. Bella’s on her feet in an instant, watching him carefully in case he tosses more food her way. He turns to me, but his gaze falls to my mouth instead of making eye contact.
“I’ll see you upstairs. No detours.”
He strides away, and thankfully the air of malevolence he’d been percolating in leaves with him.
Bella doesn’t. She pads a few steps toward the French doors, but then looks back at me with big eyes.
“Go with Savage.”
She whines, seeming utterly torn between following her master and staying behind. Who knows if there might be more food scraps coming her way?
“Bella!” Savage calls from inside.
Damn it, it’s those soppy brown eyes of hers that keep getting the better of me. I never knew I’d feel sorry for something capable of tearing my limbs off.
I snatch up my chicken leg and bite off a chunk.
Smack!
She’s still wolfing it down as she lopes after Savage, her black ears flopping against her big head.
“You’re really starting to fit in, aren’t you?” Vito asks.
I glare over at him. Andy glances between us, dividing her attention between us two and her nearly empty plate of food.
“Because Savage’s dog likes me?” I pick up my glass of water and scowl at him over the rim as I take a sip.
He gives a dismissive wave. “Bella likes everyone. Especially the ones she gets to eat.”
I almost choke on my water. “And you’re lecturing me about feeding her fucking chicken bones?”
He shrugs away my annoyance, then leans back so a middle-aged woman in a gray and white uniform can take away his plate. She comes around the table to take Savage’s too, and I hand her mine.
“Can you manage all three?” I ask, worried about her scrawny-looking arms carrying all three the heavy plates. They’re not exactly the kind you get at a Dollar Tree.
“ Claro, se?ora ,” she replies.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Vito chimes in with, “ Eso es todo por ahora. Puedes retirarte ,” or something.
The woman gives another quick duck of her head and hurries away with a stiff back.
I shake my head. “That was mean.” He frowns, so I frown. “Or was it?”
“He just told her she could go,” Andy says before taking a bite of the bean and pork dish.
“You should learn some Spanish, Mrs. Domingo.” Vito smiles at me. “Might help you understand your husband better.”
“He speaks English to me.”
“And your kids?”
I don’t take the bait. Vito’s just being an asshole. The merry little twinkle in his fucking eye is a dead giveaway.
He’s wearing white linen slacks and a carefully pressed white button-up shirt with yellow palm trees on it. If I had even an ounce of motivation, I’d go raid his cupboard. He’s slightly shorter and much more slender than Savage. His clothes would fit me a lot better.
“What…you didn’t come to the same conclusion?” Vito prompts. “You know how it goes. First comes love, then comes marriage…” He rolls his hand, eyes wide. “Then comes…?”
“A baby in a baby carriage!” Andy blurts out.
I glare at her. “You’re a chronic overachiever, aren’t you?”
She grins, putting up her hand like I called on her in class. “Spelling bee champion of my high school three years running. And I was on the Dean’s List.”
“His list of most annoying students?” I ask dryly.
She laughs. “Probably. I used to circle typos in the school newspaper and slip it under the English teacher’s door.”
“With your name on it?” Vito asks in a horrified whisper.
“You kidding? I was trying to make the world a better place, not get a hundred spitballs in my hair before lunch.”
I give her a grudging smile, probably my first attempt of the day after that awful nightmare and the lingering dread building inside me.
“You shouldn’t keep your husband waiting,” Vito says. “I’m sure he’s already missing you.”
“Bella can keep him busy.”
Vito is staring at me in a very intentional way.
I frown at him, shrug. “What?”
He glances at Andy without moving his head, then widens his eyes.
Oh.
My smile has returned. It feels good, especially after hearing my sisters were—and might still be—in close proximity to a child molester.
I lean back in my seat, lacing my fingers and making them crack as I stretch them over my head. Vito relaxes a little, giving Andy a quick glance before grabbing his beer and sitting back in his seat.
“What a view, amiright?” I fall back on my cushioned backrest, letting out a long sigh. “I could stay out here all night.”
Vito leans forward, an arm on the table. “Pretty sure Savage told you to go upstairs as soon as you were done eating.”
“It was more of a suggestion than a command.” I cock my head. “He knows I rebel against authority.”
Vito’s mouth tightens, but he’s nothing if not resourceful, it seems. “You know, we should give you some space. Shit’s been crazy lately.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder at Andy. “Why don’t we get out of here? Let loose a little? I know the owner of this amazing little club out in?—“
“Ooh, I’d love to go clubbing,” I cut in.
When Vito sends me a scathing glare, I shrug. “What? We didn’t get in any dancing yesterday.”
“Because of O’Brien, right?” Vito slides his crossed arms over the table, leaning in to squint at me. “What took you so long, anyway? You were gone forever.”
The crumb of spiteful glee I’d scraped together dissolves. I was planning on pushing Vito’s buttons until he did something interesting—exploded, caved in, I dunno—but instead, I ended up pushing my own fucking buttons.
“Sonofabitch wouldn’t stop yakking,” I mutter, crossing my arms too, but leaning back and hoping Vito will lose interest. “You know how villains are. They all have verbal diarrhea.”
“I’m not really in a mood to go out,” Andy says, giving me a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Vito studies me a moment longer, and then drains his beer. “Think I’ll just turn in for the night.”
He glances at Andy as if waiting for her to stop him, but she just nods and gives him an awkward wave.
“Yeah, fine,” he mutters, sparing me one last scowl as he shoves his chair back, before storming through the French doors.
Andy giggles. “That was mean.”
“You were in on it?” I drop my chin, chuckling. “Damn, you’re cold.”
“Probably the first time ever a girl hasn’t jumped on his dick the moment he looks in her direction.”
“Is that something you’re planning on doing in the near future?”
“Doubt it.” She shrugs. “He’s cute, but he’s in a cartel. And he’s just so..unserious.”
I stand, fussing with my hair, reluctant to join Savage upstairs.
“Heading back?” Andy asks quietly.
“I should, yeah.”
“Or…we could have a drink?”
I look over at her, smiling at how hesitant she is. “You don’t sound so sure.”
She shrugs, giving me a lopsided grin. “Ever since I’ve been back from…I dunno…” She trails off, her eyes going glassy before focusing on me again.
“Hell,” I fill in. “From the little you told me, it sounded like hell.”
“Yeah,” she breathes, slumping back in her chair like I knocked the wind out of her.
“You know what, a drink sounds pretty fucking good to me.” I look down at the table, but the only thing on here is a pitcher of cordial, and a bottle of unopened wine. We all had beers, except for Andy. She just had some cordial.
She seems just as disappointed at the lack of proper alcohol on the table.
“Is there a bar we can raid?”
I snap my fingers at her. “I know just the place.”