Page 1 of Savage King

The evening everything changed…

The drone of music, laughter, and friendly banter follows us outside the bar. Sari looks a little unbalanced in her six-inch heels. It seems like the tequila sunrises she downed have finally caught up with her.

"Oh, come on, one more," she whines like she does every girl's night out.

"I'll take you home, Sari. You'll thank me in the morning." Jo grabs her under the arm.

"Watch out, you're the one who gave Miss Pukey her nickname," Elli warns, and I snicker. The four of us have been best friends since sophomore year in college—randomly crammed into thesame apartment despite having nothing in common except our stubbornness. Six years later, we’re still inseparable.

"You act like being called Miss Pukey is such a badge of shame," Sari huffs, flicking her hair dramatically. "Some of us are out here living our best lives. Not crunching numbers at midnight."

Jo smirks. "At least my spreadsheets don't end up on TMZ."

"One time!" Sari protests. "One stupid article about a mayor’s side chick, and suddenly, I'm the scandal queen of New York."

Elli laughs and pulls her coat tighter. "Meanwhile, some of us are up at three a.m. giving rectal exams."

Sari pulls a face. "We get it, Doctor Elliott." Then turns to me, "At least I don't have to inhale dust all day in a stuffy basement, scraping ancient dirt off priceless artifacts."

"Careful," Jo warns with a wink. "Scarlet might start giving lectures about the correct humidity levels for Roman frescoes."

"I would never," I say, hand pressed to my chest in mock offense. "Unless you ask nicely."

Another burst of laughter bubbles out of all of us.

This is what I love about them. Every other Friday night, we meet at Toni’s Sports and Grill for a girls’ night out. Sometimes Elli can’t make it because of her insane resident hours at St. Raphael’s Medical Center, but tonight we got lucky—she managed to trade shifts.

I check my Uber’s ETA on my phone—five more minutes.

"Mine’s here," Jo announces. Tight hugs and kisses are exchanged before she steers Sari into a lime-green Ford, where she immediately starts hitting on the hapless driver. Jo grinsover her shoulder at us, mouthingLong night, and Elli and I both burst out laughing, waving her off.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Elli asks, glancing at me.

I know she’s thinking about the warning from my dad—the one I stupidly mentioned last week. Ever since, she’s been hovering like a mother hen.

"I'll be fine. The Uber will deliver me right to the front of my apartment building, where Fred will open the door for me and let me in," I assure her. To call Freda doormanis a bit misleading; he looks more like a bouncer, but that's one of the reasons my dad is paying the enormous rent for the apartment that I couldn't afford on my museum salary. Not that I am complaining. I love where I live. It is an amazing apartment complex right downtown. It has everything I ever need nearby, and best of all, it comes with extra security. That was the clincher when I was picking a place to live. Plus, Dad vetted the location as safe, and he’s always on top of crime in the city.

"Ah, Fred," she grins. As hoped, the mention of Fred makes her all mushy and googly-eyed. She has a thing for men who are as tall as they are wide. "How is my buddy?"

"He's good, and so is hisfiancée," I intone with a warning glare. "His very pregnant fiancée. Soon to be Mrs. Fred."

"Damn," she shakes her head. It's not like Elli doesn't have a plethora of admirers waiting on her doorstep. Three men hit on her tonight alone, but none of them were dangerous enough for my best friend's taste.

"Are you going to be alright?" I ask.

"Moi?" She exclaims in a fake French accent. "Naturellement."

I giggle. Her accent is horrendous. "It'smont, notment," I try.

"What?"

"Nature-elle-mont!" I pronounce it for her.

"Oh?" She waves her hand and giggles. "Oh well."

A nondescript brown Toyota pulls up, "That's me," I say.

She grabs my arm. "No, seriously, Scar. You know your dad is on a big case."

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