Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(12)
New Orleans.
Savannah? His heart gave an odd leap at the thought. It had been six weeks and he’d long ago abandoned even the almost nonexistent hope he would hear from her again. But there was literally no one else in that area who would be calling him.
“I’m out,” he told his brother, getting up and bumping fists with him. “Thanks for being a pain in my ass, as usual.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Don’t be a stranger.”
Mike tried to pretend Damien wasn’t looking at him like he knew something was up. He felt his brother’s eyes on him all the way out the door. As soon as he was down the stairs and out the back of the building into the balmy night, away from the din of bass-heavy music and drunken blather, he returned the missed call while his legs ate up the distance to his truck.
“Come on,” he muttered after three rings. “You can’t not answer now.”
But apparently she could. At least he got his confirmation that it was indeed Savannah’s number when her bright, cheery recorded greeting sounded in his ear. So different from the sorrowful woman he’d encountered. He’d seen that glimmer of brightness in her, though. Even at the cemetery, it was dimmed, but it wasn’t gone. God, he hoped she was okay.
Then her greeting ended with the standard encouragement to leave a message after the beep, and he had a split-second decision to make. He hated talking to these f*cking things.
“Savannah. It’s Mike Larson. I know you tried to call and I’m sorry I didn’t answer in time. Hell, for all I know you butt-dialed me or something and I’m making an ass of myself. In any case . . . I hope you’re well. And . . . well, I’m here. I hope to hear from you.” Shit, had he really said “butt-dialed”? He hung up before he could get any more idiotic and tell her something like Say the word and I can get to you by dawn.
There wasn’t a damn thing she could need from him that badly.
Chapter Four
Savannah listened to his message four times. She’d drunk too much, danced until she was exhausted, flirted until she’d convinced herself she still had it . . . but even after all of that, she’d come home alone and called Mike anyway. He hadn’t answered, but he’d called back. She had missed it because she’d been in the bathroom and her phone had been on the charger.
Hearing his voice again took her back to that awful day, but it also reminded her of how she’d felt a little better after talking to him at the café. She lay on her bed in the dark, willing the room to quit spinning every time she closed her eyes, and soaked up the sound of it. It steadied her in the tilt-a-whirl of her head, somehow. He seemed so concerned, which confused and frightened her. He was supposed to be the monster, or at least her family thought so. He wasn’t supposed to be the knight, but everything about the urgency in his message said that he would slay any beast she asked him to.
“God, you are so drunk,” she scolded herself, throwing her phone aside. “Leave this man alone.”
But she’d only lain there for two minutes before she picked it back up and impulsively called him back.
“Savannah?” he barked in answer. She couldn’t help chuckling.
“I think that’s adequate confirmation that you remember me.”
That seemed to surprise him; he stumbled over his words for a few seconds. “Well . . . yeah, of course I remember you, how the hell could I not? Are you okay?”
Her eyes filled with tears. Drunk tears. Yay. She squeezed them shut against the deluge, spinning room be damned. “No.”
“Jesus. What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna be an aunt.” She fell silent and let him digest that for a moment. He had enough of her family history to know what it meant.
“Jesus,” he repeated. “Savannah . . .”
“I know,” she said, her voice small. “I thought at first I would tell you that to make you feel bad, but . . . now I realize that’s awful of me. It’s not like there’s anything you can do to make it better. So I don’t know why I’m telling you. Just to talk, I guess.”
“Have you been drinking?”
Damn, here she’d thought she’d been somewhat coherent. “Um . . . yeah?”
“Are you safe?”
“I’m home in bed. Safe as can be, I guess.”
He let out a breath that sounded like relief. “Good. You had me ready to hop a plane, girl.”
Savannah’s eyes opened in the dark. Her heart turned over in her chest. “What?” No, no, no. You’re not the knight, you can’t be the knight. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah? Try me. The least I can do for Tommy is look out for his little sister.”
And her heart settled back into its normal rhythm. Of course, he feels obligated, she thought. It had nothing to do with her. “Oh.” She cringed a little at how disappointed she sounded and quickly tried to remedy it. “That’s really not necessary.”
“No, it isn’t. But I would do it anyway.”
“I only went out with a friend from work. She brought me home and put me to bed.” Tasha had even left her Advil and water on the nightstand, God bless her. “It wasn’t a very long trip, either, since I actually live on Bourbon Street.”