Cry Wolf

Chapter Eleven

Sava

The call from St. Joseph 's had broken in on her time with Cooper like an unwelcome news bulletin. Mrs. Cooper was suddenly having a bad spell, and couldn't Mr. Cooper please come? He had been there all morning and half the afternoon as it was. Selfish, greedy bitch. It wasn't enough that she had to hold on to him mentally, she had to drag him away physically, as well.

"I hate her," Sava

No one noticed she'd spoken at all. No one was paying any attention to her.

She took a gulp of her vodka tonic and did a slow reco

The anger burned a little hotter, flared up as she tossed another splash of alcohol on the flames. The irony was just too bitter. Laurel was what she was because of Sava

She stared hard toward the bar, where her Baby was being toasted and cheered by T-Grace and the regulars. And Jack Boudreaux stood by her side, the least likely white knight she'd ever seen. Baby was supposed to be home, brooding, hiding, weak, and in need of her big sister for comfort and support. Damn her. She was getting stronger by the day, by the minute, snatching away Sava

She picked up a matchbook off the table and mutilated it while she watched the way Jack hovered over Laurel, touching her shoulder, the small of her back, leaning close to whisper something in her ear then throwing his head back and laughing as she slugged him on the shoulder.

He had never whispered anything in Sava

"Damn you, Baby," she muttered, polishing off the last of her drink.

"You talkin' to me, ma belle?" Leonce bent over her from behind, sliding one bony hand down over her shoulder to fondle her breast.

"Damn right, you jerk," she complained. "You're not paying any attention to me at all."

His scar repulsed her. It constantly drew her eyes to the grotesque lumps at either end of it and the misshapen end of his nose in between. She'd heard a story once that a woman had given him the mark with the business end of a broken bottle, but Leonce seemed to bear no ill will toward the gender. He came on to anything in panties.

"I'll pay anything you want if you get naked with me, chère."

Whore. You're nothing but a whore, Sava

Her anger spiked, breaking through her facade of boredom. She wasn't for sale. She did what she wanted when she wanted with whomever she wanted because she wanted to. Which made her a slut, not a whore. The bitter distinction burned in her stomach like an ulcer, and confusing, conflicting emotions twisted and writhed in her chest, the pressure building like steam in a radiator.

Needing to take it out on somebody, she grabbed a chunk of Leonce's beard and gave it a vicious twist, wringing a howl out of him. He staggered back the instant she let go and crashed into a pool player getting ready to take a shot, earning himself a jab with a cue stick and an earful of four-letter words.

Leonce ignored the other man, his glare fixed on Sava

Sava

She snatched up her glass and threw it at him, bouncing it off his shoulder as he ducked away.

"Crazy bitch!" he yelled as sneers and chuckles rumbled behind him. "You goddamn crazy bitch!"

Sava

She'd had her eye on him for a while now. He hadn't been nicknamed Bull for nothing. He was all of twenty-three and built for service from his mile-wide shoulders on down. It seemed like the perfect time to put him to the test.

But as she set off, hips swaying, tossing her wild mane back over her shoulder, concentrating all her considerable energy into the total package of allure, A

Sava

Young and pretty, that's who she was. And she had a su

The little bitch had no business sniffing around the men here. She had a man of her own, a husband. Sava

She strolled around behind the table, slipping in between Taureau and the waitress, sliding an arm around Taureau's thick, sunburned neck as if they were longtime lovers. She ignored his startled expression and fixed a hard-eyed look on A

A

Sava

Taureau and his buddies shot up out of their chairs, eyes round with astonishment. Someone yelled "Cat- fight!" above the blare of the jukebox. There was another call of "Grand rond!" and instantly a circle of spectators formed around the two women as they crashed into a table, sending bottles and glasses flying. Beer spilled in a foaming river across the wood floor, making the footing treacherous and giving an advantage to A

Sava

T-Grace let out a sound that was something between fury and a war cry as she barreled out from behind the bar, elbows flying into the ribs of anyone who didn't get immediately out of her way. She plunged through the crowd, shouting at the top of her lungs, her eyes bulging wildly as she rushed to save not her daughter but her glassware and furniture. A

Laurel jerked around on her bar stool to see what the commotion was all about, and her heart clutched in her chest as a red-on-white dress caught her eye. "Oh, my God, Sava

Without a thought to her own safety, she launched herself off the stool and dove into the crowd. Jack swore under his breath as he grabbed her from behind and swung her out of his way. He made it to the melee about the same instant as T-Grace, and they danced around the combatants, angling to get a hold on one or the other of them to pull them apart.

An old hand at brawls, T-Grace was less than diplomatic. She didn't hesitate to land a few blows of her own or grab a handful of Sava

Jack jumped in behind Sava

Laurel hovered on the edge of the action, her stomach twisting, her breath like two hard fists in her lungs, disjointed thoughts shooting through her mind like shrapnel. She hadn't even been aware of Sava