Page 63 of Savage Enemy

“Watch and learn, brother. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I clocked another meddlesome gossip headed my way, looking desperate to get something straight from the Moscatelli horse’s mouth.

“Mrs. Sanders. How are you?”

She stopped short to look me up and down.

“Very well, dear. We’re all very surprised to hear about your unexpected resurrection.”

“It’s really less of a resurrection and more like an official return to society,” I said.

She leaned forward, as if I were about to serve the most piping-hot tea the world had ever been served.

“Oh? Return to society? What do you mean? From where?”

“Well…”

I leaned in, cupping a hand around the side of my mouth, like I actually cared whether anyone bothered to read my lips.

She met me half way. “Yes?”

“The car accident was tragic, but I didn’t die. Just washed up on the riverbank under a bridge.”

Then I switched to a whisper that Santo could hear.

“And that was when the river trolls took me hostage.”

She clamped her fingers around the pearls dangling from the single strand around her neck.

“I don’t understand?”

“Oh, listen to me complain,” I said, then mustered a deliberately annoying giggle. “I actually miss a few of the nice ones.”

The woman gawked at me in bewilderment.

I tipped back the rest of the champagne into my mouth, savoring the tickle of the bubbles and the one small bit of freedom that couldn’t be taken from me tonight. Just because my life wasn’t my own anymore didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.

Santo gripped my elbow to lead me away.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sanders. Please excuse us.”

I turned back to wiggle my fingers at her, but he jerked me forward again, biting back laughter.

“Fucking trolls?”

I snorted so loudly, I had to cover my mouth.

“Well, I had to tell her something. Saying I faked my death and ran away to be a barista in New York wouldn’t have packed the right punch, you know? The Starbucks benefits just aren’t the same in Chicago.”

Santo pressed his lips together.

“Girl, you got problems. And you’re also a light weight.”

“Nothing another flute of champagne won’t solve. Or make me forget for the next several hours… I’m gonna need more than one glass.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

Santo took the empty flute and set it on a nearby table.

---