Page 39 of Dragonfly

Not happening.

Then again, something… something’s not right. She seems far more frustrated about being caught and brought back to the room than that I grabbed her arm and forced a tracking chip under her skin.

And that makes me think she wasn’t running from me, but to someone else.

No.

“Not my problem, Savannah. If you had a lover, it’s too late now. You’re mine. You signed on the dotted line, y dear. Don’t forget that.”

“I know, but… look. It’s not a guy, alright? Not like you think.” She lets out a sound of frustration. “I have to go. Don’t you get that?”

If it’s not a guy—and I take that to mean any other lover, either—then what is it?

A pit in my stomach forms as the image of Ava Crewes pops into my head. “A child?—”

Her head turns to the side.

Fuck.

I grab Savannah’s arm, tugging her just hard enough that she’s forced to look at me. “Is there a kid?”

“What? No!”

I don’t want to look too closely at the relief that rushes through me when she says that.

I want her loyalty. I crave it. If there was a man, I wouldn’t worry. But a child? I know Savannah is broken. Twisted almost beyond repair. I’m working on straightening her out, but I can’t imagine the woman in front of me harming a child. If she’s a mother, I will never be the one she is loyal to more than anyone, and I need that.

I warned her. If she betrayed me, the consequence was death. But as she looks up at me, tears making her eyes go glossy, that part of me that’s always had a soft spot for the goody-goodies, the kind souls… it sees something that she’s kept hidden from me all along.

Beneath her tough exterior and unpredictable—and, fine, murderous—nature is a sweetheart who doesn’t want anyone to know it.

I saw it, though. I know it’s there. And I’m surprised by that, that’s nothing compared to how my growing temper cools the moment she makes her confession.

“It’s my cat,” she admits.

Her cat. She risked everything for her cat.

What the hell am I supposed to do about that?

FOURTEEN

UNDER THE BED

DAMIEN

The answer to that question is very simple: since I refuse to let Savannah leave my home, that means someone has to go retrieve her cat. And since I obviously can’t trust my men to do the job, it looks like that falls on me.

After all, if you want a job done right, do it yourself.

Honestly. How did none of my guys realize that she had a cat? Even if her pet was hiding when they went to the address on Savannah’s license, there had to be some sign. Bowls. Cat food. Toys. I’m even more frustrated when I let myself into her place with the keys Chester retrieved for me when he went and moved her car from outside the laundromat to my garage because the first thing I come across is an empty water fountain on ground level, perfect for a pet.

The second thing I notice? Is just how sorry of a place my poor wife was living in before I brought her to live with me.

I knew she didn’t have money. Between the decade-old car she was driving and the fact that she worked as a driver for a rideshare app, it seemed like she was just scraping together enough funds to survive.

This building is Dragonfly-owned. The rent could be lower, but I didn’t get where I am today by being fair. As a businessman, legitimate or not, I need profits. Being a landlord added to what we brought in with our counterfeiting operation and our drug deals with the added bonus that it’s, technically, above board.

Savannah is renting a single bedroom. I want to think that my boys cleaned it out the other night, but I know better. I sent a crew over to retrieve my new wife’s wardrobe and anything that it seemed like she couldn’t leave behind. At the time, I mentioned obvious prescriptions or mementos that might make her a little more comfortable in her new home.

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