Page 132 of Savage Outlaw

Ruiz owned it. Or rather, her cartel husband did.

Verónica was trying to shaft her own hubby by having Roux play his tables and win more than the money she’d put up.

Sneaky bitch.

Any other time Roux would have been impressed. But not when she was blackmailed into being here.

She was all for women solidarity, she’d signed a petition once for equal pay from some chick on the street. But Roux didn’t care if Verónica had a bad homelife and needed the cash to run away. Her give a fucks ended the moment the older woman had taken a photo in order to use it as collateral.

Roux could be petty as fuck as well as all the Tucker’s before her.

The games went on.

Became more intense.

Those who dropped out stayed behind to watch the pot become fatter.

They spoke in hushed Spanish, smoking cigarettes, gulping whiskey.

Roux would kill for a beer and she only realized beers were out for the time being.

While she waited for the woman across from her to place her bet, Roux put her hand to her stomach. Smiling on the inside. Yeah, she didn’t mind so much not having beer.

With eyes on the table, her fingers over her cards, she heard feet shuffling a few feet behind her. Roux knew without looking that it was Tad. He was pacing like a caged tiger waiting for release. He hadn’t wanted her to come, he wanted her home wrapped in cotton behind their front door. She loved him all the more that he supported her decisions.

They’d be home soon enough.

Sooner still if the man striding inside the building had anything to do with it.

Julio Ruiz wore a dark blue blazer, white shirt cuffs peeking out with a silver pinky ring on his left hand and a gold Rolex at his wrist. His muddy hair was disordered on his head as if he’d dragged his hands through the strands. He had eyes for no one there other than his wife.

Verónica reacted and though Roux’s eyes were on the game, she noticed everything. The sharp hiss as Ruiz grabbed his wife’s arm and leaned in to whisper. It was then Roux lifted her eyes and met Verónica’s. Ohh, if looks could kill.

Roux then played her last hand and threw every last chip into the pot.

There was a collective gasp. The stake was up to two million.

And Roux was cool as a fucking cucumber in winter when she laid her cards down.

Andlost.

She’d lost the whole lot.

Verónica’s face was a picture. Roux would have pawned her last pair of leather boots so she could whip out her phone to snap a photo to laugh over later.

She got to her feet and smiled to the woman opposite who was now richer than when she walked in. “Good game.”

“You too.” The dark haired beauty returned and went to collect what she was owed. Thank god for bank transfers.

Roux then looked over at a furious Verónica. “Shit happens. Told you I don’t cheat. I do lose sometimes though, so bad luck and all that.”

“You bitch,” Verónica hissed and Roux smiled. “Oh,honey.” She stretched the word as condescendingly as she could, “if only you knew.”

Axel exchanged a chin lift of unfriendly recognition with the male Ruiz, who was looking fit to exhale fire. He spat out rapid Spanish to his wife, looking chastised before she stormed off in front of him. Ass sashaying like Jessica Rabbit.

A hand she’d recognize in a line-up of thousands curled around her neck before Tad came into her eyeline. “Time to go, Cookie.” His voice was both like sandpaper and liquid desire. She grasped onto his fingers and smiled up at him.

“Lead the way, handsome.”

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