Bound For Me(4)

By: Natalie Anderson

“You guys head home,” Savannah said tightly. “I’ve got it from here.”

“You okay to stay and close up alone? Is the bar empty?” Luca still didn’t look at the security screen. He didn’t look away from Krista.

“Almost. Nothing I can’t handle.” She picked up the brush and pan.

They didn’t argue, clearly desperate to get away and into each other. Savannah watched them go out the back, taking a moment to stand in the open doorway and breathe in the ice-edged air. She needed the frigid shot to center herself. She glanced up at the pale mountain rising above her. The snow gleamed in the starlight. The purpose built picturesque resort town of Summerhill was spectacular and if she were here for any other reason, she’d love the place. But she wasn’t here for fun.

She was here for payback.

Summerhill was owned by Rex Hughes—the quintessential billionaire businessman-turned-advisor. And it was operated by his son Connor Hughes—the typical spoilt ski-boy with slightly long sun-streaked hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. In the one picture she’d seen of him on the web, he’d looked like the ultimate poster-boy for the snow-bunny-loving party scene. No doubt he’d inherited the dodgy business ethos of his father along with the billions.

But it was Rex she really wanted a word with. Rex who’d fed her father a fairytale of you-can’t-lose share schemes.

But you could lose. Everything.

Given they owned this town, both should have been easy to find. But she’d been in Summerhill almost a month already and hadn’t gotten anywhere with her mission. Rex was away—probably on some pay-millions-for-no-value-speaker circuit.

Getting an appointment with Connor was apparently impossible. She hadn’t made it past the reception at the eye-wateringly mammoth ‘Lodge’ and Hughes HQ. And she’d had to work double shifts daily here at St Clair’s, throwing flashy cocktails to earn the tips she needed to pay for the essentials. Like food and a temporary roof over her head.

Day by day, hand to mouth.

She’d bet none of the Hughes clan had ever had to work as long or as hard.

She breathed in another hit of cold air then closed the door. She wasn’t feeling any kind of dull ache in her heart at the sight of Krista and Luca cuddling into each other as they ran out to his car. Nope. She was steeled for tossing the asswipes out. She was going to enjoy it. She wasn’t afraid of being alone with them. They didn’t know Luca had left already. And they wouldn’t.

But when she walked back into the bar carrying a small brush and dustpan, it was empty. Yet not silent.

Heavy feet stomped, voices out in the entrance corridor carried.

“Who does he think he is, telling us to fuck off?”

That was Ultimate talking.

“He’s the king of the mountain, you dick. You don’t mess with him. Come on, we’ll go up the road and find some party girls.”

“He’s an asshat.” Ultimate blustered. “I’m not afraid of him.”

The front door slammed.

King of the Mountain? Savannah paused behind the bar. Had her loner customer had left as well? Oh. She wasn’t in any way disappointed about that.

But then she realized there wasn’t quite silence in the room. A rhythmic chinking sounded close.

Her heart quickened as she looked around the corner of the wooden bar. Then she sighed.

The ‘King of the Mountain’ was hunched down by the mess of shattered glass on the floor, one hand cupped and full of glass fragments.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, swiftly going over to him. “I’ll do it.”

He glanced up and shot her another lethal look, but still said nothing.

Savannah bent opposite him and put the dustpan on the floor. “You tell them to leave?” she asked.

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