Page 10 of Savage Outlaw

She was as beautiful as she was wild. Feminine and tough at the same time, so fucking beautiful his teeth ached … but she was not a flowers kind of woman.

Shit. He shook his head. He was supposed to be keeping her at bay, not entertaining stupid thoughts of sending her gifts.

It was far too late for that.

He might win her back with a pet tiger but never with a bunch of daisies.

The gambling den as always was over crowded. Each table filled to capacity.

This was Reaper’s deal, seeing to the addicts and the ones losing their houses because they just couldn’t say no to a card game.

He ambled slowly behind Reaper; half listened as he exchanged words with Marcel.

“It’s down.” Marcel informed. A thin cigar hanging from his lips, disguising his usual halitosis stench.

“By how much?”

“10k so far. There’s a bitch in the other room, can’t tell if she’s counting cards. I got a man watching her. But she’s cleaning up, only been here two hours.”

TheSoulswere not in the habit of allowing someone to walk in off the street and start to empty their piggy bank. The aim of gambling was to drain the coffers of every idiot schmuck out there, not fatten their pockets. The house always wins, in the case of theSoulsanyway. They were not and never would be philanthropists.

Butcher, while watching a game of Black Jack, listened to Reaper bitch at Marcel before he shuffled through to the other room to survey the moneybags winning big. If she was cheating, then Butcher felt sorry for her.

She’d get blacklisted from everySoulsracket across the country. And for an addict who liked to get their kicks that was a harsh punishment.

Once a person got on the shit list to the RSMC, it was a mark that carried far and wide.

“You sitting in?” Marcel asked. “We can make room.”

“Nah, not today. Where did this woman come from, she a regular?”

Marcel and his neck full of gold bling didn’t look too fazed so Butcher wasn’t either. Wasn’t like any of theSoulswere hurting for money, no one was going hungry tonight, put it that way. Butcher could afford three motorcycles, a sweet Raptor, a whole fucking mansion across the river, if he wanted it. But he preferred the simpler life. He liked having a nest egg, for thosein casemoments. One day he’d get a family and his old lady and kids would be set.

Again, his gut tightened because it brought a picture of a family scene in his mind he’d rather not entertain.Fucking impossible.

“Seen her maybe once or twice in the last month or so. She’s different.” Marcel blew out smoke. “She’s got confidence, walks in like she owns the place, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t ask for anything. She plays, wins some, then she takes off.”

From the sounds of it, Marcel was a little in love with this mysterious chick. Butcher shifted on his feet and saw Reaper in the doorway, eyeballing him.

“What? Is she cheating then?”

He met the brother halfway. “Not as far as I can tell. She’s good though. She’s up about twelve grand right now.”

It was about the same time he heard a room full of groaning and cursing. Sounded like the woman was winning again and the other high flyers didn’t like it.

“Butcher, come and take a look.” Reaper said in his native New Zealand accent.

He gave Butcher a look so intense that he thought the ghost was trying to subliminally tunnel into his brain. He followed and Reaper stood to the side once they got to the room next door.

Circular tables filled the room. Smoke lingering in the atmosphere and a lot of money piled into the middle of each set.

But no one held Butcher’s attention as the last table down the other end did.

He knew right away why Reaper called him through.

His entire body—bones, muscles and sinew became arrested in watching a table. A woman threw a handful of chips into the center, not even looking at her cards face down. Her eyes were sharp, gloating beneath those midnight dark lashes like she knew she was onto a winner and those other schmucks were about to lose big. She didn’t glance away. She didn’t back down from the intimidation pulsing her way from men twice her size.

Long sable hair caught back in a ponytail, sleek and inviting.

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