Page 84 of Discovered Magic
Royal put an arm around her, drawing her back. “She’s fine where she’s at, friend.”
“La dame, she can speak for herself, ami,” Draven replied in a steely tone, his annoyance giving away his French roots.
The outlaws shared a wary look, and Silas stood as Draven and Royal’s stare-off continued.
“Do we have a problem here, fellas?” he asked.
Royal was the first to relent, dropping his arm. “No. No problem. He’s right. Abbie should decide who she wants to befriend and who she doesn’t.”
“She’s our captive. She doesn’t get to decide shit,” Silas growled. “Damn woman’s been nothing but trouble.”
“Your man shot me,” she retorted, taking offense.
Draven and Castor tensed.
“Thankfully, Royal knew what he was doing and was kind enough to dig the ball out,” she quickly clarified.
Withdrawing a small bag from his vest, Draven withdrew a ring. Set in a winding silver vine were a series of tiny blue-violet stones. The ring was delicate and beautiful, exactly the style she preferred.
“May I offer you a gift?” he asked, holding out his hand. “A reward for your bravery, if you will.”
With a nervous glance around, she laid her right hand in his, gasping the instant he slid the ring onto her finger. His thoughts, along with Castor’s, Damian’s, and Wilder’s, crowded her mind. The overwhelming barrage caused her to sway, and once again, Royal wrapped an arm around her.
“I hope you will think of me, ma chère, whenever you wear this trinket.”
“Laying it on there thick, Masters, aren’t you?” Castor’s unspoken response echoed in her mind, like Wilder’s the night they had dinner.
“I must sell it, as Wilder said,” Draven replied.
Hoping they could hear her as she heard them, she telegraphed, “Castor’s right. You need to be less charming and more businesslike if you want Silas to take you seriously.”
Aloud, she said, “It’s beautiful, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t see where no gal like her needs fancy jewelry ’n all,” Jennings inserted sullenly. “Ain’t good fer nothin’, that one.”
Royal turned downright feral, jerking him up by the neck. “What the fuck did I tell you about talking down to her?” He shook him like a terrier with a rat before throwing him at her feet. “Apologize, or I’ll slit your throat where you lie.”
“What? She got a golden puss—” Jennings snarled.
In one smooth but lightning-fast motion, Silas drew and put a bullet between the man’s eyes.
Abbie gasped at the ruthlessness and covered her mouth. None of the others seemed to see the issue with casually gunning someone down.
“Anyone else think they’re entitled to talk back to my brother or me?” he asked coldly.
The OG crew shook their head, although Morcant’s creepy AF eyes gleamed with delight. Doubtlessly, he’d stir strife if he could.
“Good. Wendall, you help Frank remove the trash and clean up this hovel. Royal and I are going to converse with our new friends outside.”
As Abbie shifted to join them, Silas froze her with a glare. “Not you. Park it until we get back.”
Damn, the man hated her, and she hated not being able to work out why. His brother’s attention?
She opened her mouth to object, but Castor’s voice rang through her mind, “Please do as he says. We have a plan.”
“Fine,” she said, letting her irritation show. Her sullenness made Jennings’s mild by comparison.
Silas pointed to the body. “One dead not enough for you, lady?”
