Page 12 of Savage Temptation (Savage Reign #2)

EMILIA

I wish I had taken Jinx up on the offer of a change of clothes. I would have liked a shower too. Since I didn’t, I am irritable and have little patience for tears

Frankly, it’s hard to feel bad for the flower boy when he keeps throwing me a judgmental side eye at my feathers.

Jagger pulls out his guns and places them on a table.

They are impressive pieces with silver pearl inlays on the handles.

I don’t know the names of guns at all, but those puppies are huge and scary.

Big enough to leave the sniffling flower boy with a big hole in his head if he doesn’t start talking. And I tell him as much.

“Crying won’t change the fact that you’re not leaving that chair without giving us answers.

Unless you want to be worm food come sunrise.

Jagger only wants to know delivery schedules.

We already know about the Euphoria and the deliveries using flowers.

Tell us that and you can run home and live to tell the tale that you survived a Savage. Oliver never has to know.”

The mention of Oliver’s name has the kid who looks to be no older than eighteen with a patchy attempt at a beard and mustache on his baby face turning ghostly pale. And the tears dry up.

“That’s interesting.” Jagger picks up on the shift in the guy and takes over.

“Oliver scares you.” Pure delight ripples over Jagger's expression. “What do you think he will do when he finds out you let yourself get caught by a Savage?”

“Gator bait,” I chime in feeling a little sick to my stomach at scaring the kid, but I know it will help many people in the end.

I make the chomping sign with my fingers against my thumb.

“Painful. Have you seen them do a death roll? I hate the idea of being stuffed under a rock and nibbled on every now and again when they want a midnight snack.”

The longer I talk the paler the boy gets. He shifts in his chair.

“Uhh. You’re…you’re kiddin’ right? You won’t do something like that to me.”

Jagger runs his finger along his gun. “She wouldn’t, but you work for Oliver you know damn sure he would.”

The boy chokes down a swallow and I swear I want to pick up the phone and call his mother to come pick him up. But that won’t do anyone any good.

“Look man, I just needed extra cash. My momma is workin’ three jobs, and I found something that could help. If you like I can give you the full delivery schedule they gave me. That work?”

The boy presses his lips together like he is trying to keep from confessing more truths.

“What?” I ask, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

We’ve kept the lights low and the whole place locked down since we aren’t exactly supposed to be in here.

So, I doubt he can see my quizzical look.

Because of that, I layer in all the intimidation I can muster into what I have to say next.

“Spill it, asshole! What are you not telling us?”

His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second. Jagger kicks the legs of his chair.

“Talk!”

The boy shakes his head and sits back in the chair, his leg bouncing one hundred miles an hour. “Fine. What the fuck ever, alright? Look, I’m not proud of this, but I took something from Delmont’s office.”

The boy uses Oliver’s last name. I guess it takes the fear of the man down a notch.

The boy is the kind who talks with his hands and they are all over the place and wildly gesturing in front of him. “Let me just show you. Can I do that? Geez. You two.”

He goes for his back pocket and Jagger picks up his weapon, pointing it at the boy's head.

“Slow and easy,” Jagger practically hums in the calmest voice I’ve ever heard an armed man use, causing me to shiver.

We both look at him, but the boy is the one who freezes with his hand halfway to his back pocket. “Yeah. Alright. Damn, man. You gotta take it easy. I’m just pulling out a piece of paper.”

His voice shakes as much as his hands do when he gives me the paper. I unfold it to find two, actually.

“What are these?”

I hold them up to catch most of the light from the bar at my back. “Hm. One has a list of times and locations and the names of clients.”

The boy juts his chin toward my left hand.

“That one is my delivery schedule. I pick up flowers, pop in a few baggies among the buds, and give them to the people on the list. Done. Then there are the random calls to the phone in my pocket. Like the college kids who ordered tonight. They only get my number if they ask the right question at the flower shops. They call and I’m wherever they are within thirty. Boom. Job done.”

Jagger scrubs a hand over his face. “Do you think this is a game?”

“And this one?” I hold up the piece of rumpled paper in my right hand, interrupting Jagger.

“I lifted that. Saw it stickin’ out of Delmont’s briefcase or whatever and thought he’d pay to get it back. An opportunity, ya know?”

Blood drains from my face. “An opportunity to die, sure. Because as soon as he has you in his sights, he’ll put a round between your eyes for those sticky fingers.”

I turn a wide-eyed look at Jagger who looks as stunned as I feel. But the boy only shrugs. I really do not think he understands the gravity of his actions.

I hold up my right hand. “What’s on this paper?” I demand.

“Port delivery dates, from what I can see. Yeah. Read it yourself, lady.”

“This is fucking unbelievable. You had a hand in killing those college kids and who knows how many more.”

That’s Jagger.

The boy shrugs, but doesn’t meet Jagger’s hard gaze. “Way I see it, they killed themselves by getting addicted. I’m here to earn money for my momma. Beginning and end of story.”

Jagger sent Bourbon home when we arrived. The fewer witnesses the better and all that, I guess. So if Jagger acts on the rage pulling at the corners of his eyes and lips, I’ll be on mop up duty.

Jagger takes the piece of paper from me. He walks over to the bar and reaches over, pulling something out. A shotgun? A shovel? I can’t really tell from all the shadows and weird angles of light. From the look on the boy’s face, he’s thinking the same thing I am.

But luckily for the boy, Jagger has other ideas.

He returns and slams the piece of paper down on the table and then tosses a pen on top.

“Write where I can find your mother and her phone number. There’s not a decent mother alive who wants their kid pushing dope to bring in the money. She’d rather live on the street than have that for her son. Believe me.”

He’s talking about his own past with his own mother. She worked three jobs and raised him on her own while never breaking the law. From the stories he told me, she made damn sure he walked the straight and narrow, too. How Jagger ended up as a Savage still baffles me.

“Wh…what for?”

If Oliver scared this boy, the idea of Jagger calling his mommy makes him look ready to faint.

“You’re not gonna tell her, right?”

“I’m going to get her permission for you to start work here as soon as the place opens.

As a dishwasher, and then you can move up the ranks.

” Jagger sits up and makes sure he has the boy’s attention.

“You have solid meat on your bones, somewhat of a head on your shoulders and you seem teachable. At least for your sake I hope you are. I’ll keep this between us if you show up three nights from now ready to get your hands dirty.

Your pay will be enough to cover rent and food for your mom. We have a deal?”

There’s color back in the boy’s face and his eyes light up with a burst of hope. He writes the information Jagger needs and looks relieved for the help.

A second ago I thought brain matter would be all over the floor, instead this little interview turned into a job recruit. I huff out a laugh, relieved to my core.

Jagger stands and pulls the boy to his feet before taking him by the shoulders. “Let me make myself clear. Listen up. You’re done in the drug running biz, you feel me?

The boy nods eagerly.

“Give me your phone.”

He does, and Jagger punches in what I assume is his phone number. “If Oliver sends anyone after you, or your momma, call me. Now give me the other phone. The one Oliver uses for the drug drops.”

“Sure.”

“What’s your name?” I cut in.

“Acadian. Friends just call me Whispers.”

I can’t help but smile. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Because I move in and out with no one knowing, I guess.”

Fitting in his former line of work.

“In thirty minutes there will be a guy named Jax wearing the same cut I have outside your house. Your mom will never see him but he will see everything. You get in trouble, he's there to help. Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watch Acadian leave the lounge out the side alley door looking one hundred pounds lighter.

I lean up against the wall, arms crossed. “You saved him, you know that?”

I wrap my arms around Jagger when he closes the door.

“It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s something.”

Jagger sounds as tired as I feel.

“True.” I offer, and scrunch my nose. “I feel bad for scaring him, but you gotta admit we make a great team.”

“I would hate to be on your bad side, baby.”

“Sunup is a while away and I spy a bathroom and a shower in your office.” I rise on the tips of my toes and place a kiss on his cheek. “Do you happen to have a towel and T-shirt or something that I can borrow?” I would be happy with just about anything right now.

I look down and wiggle my dirty toes, earning me a warm chuckle in response.

Jagger’s eyes caress over my body, and that ever present hunger for me is back in the dark depths of his eyes. His grin is downright predatory. “Come with me.”