Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(53)
Rowan stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable, almost blank. “Promise me,” she said at last.
Anything, anything to get out of that cold, dark room, away from that hellishly glowing screen. “I promise, okay? I promise.”
Without another word, Rowan went to the computer and snapped it shut, then shoved it into her carry-on tote. Savannah took what felt like the first breath she’d been allowed since walking in the door, her pulse raging in her ears. I won’t, she thought to herself, I can’t, I won’t, I can’t . . .
But after the longest seventy-minute flight she’d ever experienced, spent sitting next to Rowan’s icy silence, and the ride home that seemed it would never end, she trudged into her apartment, dumped her bag on the couch, and dropped into her desk chair to face her laptop.
Drawing a breath, she turned it on. Waited a few seconds that felt like an additional eternity for it to fire up. Surfed to YouTube. Licked lips dry as parchment as she searched “Larson vs. Dugas” with hands that wouldn’t stop their frantic shaking.
And she watched.
Chapter Sixteen
He’d punished himself today, driven himself to the point of exhaustion, and it felt f*cking good. It had been a long time since he’d felt so hopeful, since he’d taken true joy in his training, and Jon had wanted to turn backflips from sheer happiness.
“Whatever you have to thank for this, keep it up,” he’d told him as they finished for the day.
Mike knew damn well who he had to thank for it. He only wondered what was taking her so long to call him. Her flight should have landed hours ago, but he tried not to worry. She probably had a lot of damage control to do, and he wouldn’t bother her in the middle of it.
Zane even stopped by, Mr. Rock Star himself, and they had a couple of beers while Zane regaled him with wild stories from the road. Mike wasn’t ready to reveal much about his own weekend, remaining nonchalant when Zane asked how hanging out with Savannah had gone a couple nights ago. Right now the entire experience still felt like a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell. If she couldn’t tell it to the people in her life, then he wouldn’t tell it to his.
They ended up at Damien’s nightclub, getting their asses handed to them in a lively Texas hold ’em game during which a shit ton of their money bled into their brother’s greedy pockets.
“I don’t know why you even try,” Damien told them as he threw down a straight flush to beat the full house Zane had gone all in on. Zane collapsed across the table, banging his forehead against it as Mike erupted in laughter. “Are we done here? It’s like falling off a f*cking log, playing you two. Give me a challenge, at least.”
“The f*ck you laughing at?” Zane snapped at Mike, lifting his head. “You went out half an hour ago.”
“I told you to give it up then,” Mike reminded him, taking a swig of beer. Jon would probably slap it out of his hands if he could see him, but he so rarely got to hang out with both of his brothers at the same time. Tonight was a treat, because there weren’t too many places Zane could go anymore without getting mobbed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”
“I believe your exact words were, ‘Just give him half your money and let him kick you in the nuts.’ No wonder he didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard him,” Zane grumbled.
“For the record, I would have taken that deal,” Damien said, crooked grin in full force. His dark shark-eyed gaze caressed his copious stacks of chips as if appraising a priceless jewel. Yeah, sometimes Mike worried about that one. Not that Zane didn’t have his own vices to deal with, but if Damien’s ever came to light, it could possibly be the end of him.
Something else Mike had their loving mother to thank for. The endless parade of men through her house had included one who had taken Damien with him to several of the illegal poker rooms around Houston, once the boy had shown an interest and a good head for the game. And a monster was created. That monster had built an empire Mike suspected was beyond the scope of his and Zane’s wildest imaginings, and that scared both of them. But asking Damien about it, or trying to warn him, only resulted in the blank wall of his famed poker face. Useless.
And where the hell was Savannah? Mike tugged up his shirtsleeves and checked his phone, which he had kept at his elbow all night in case it lit up with a call or message from her. So far, it had remained dark except for various acquaintances—his manager checking on him, a couple of his training partners from the gym. But never the name he wanted most to see.
Enough was enough. He sent her a text while Damien began taking Zane to task about limping in too often on his bets. Is everything okay? Short and sweet. He wanted her to know he was thinking about her without interfering too much with whatever she was dealing with back home.
Thinking about her was an understatement. Even while spending time with the two people most important to him, Mike couldn’t get her out of his head for more than a minute at a time.
“Booty call?” Damien inquired, lifting a brow. “You’ve been all over that phone tonight.”
Mike gave him the finger.
“I’m just saying, if it falls through, there’s more willing * downstairs than you could shake your dick at.”
Zane laughed while Mike shook his head. “You’re a goddamn disgrace.”