“Seventy-five thousand.”
Gasps echoed through the barrel room. Even Alex looked shocked.
Isabel’s face flushed red, and she looked from Saffron to me, then back again.
“Seventy-five thousand going once,” Alex said slowly. “Going twice...”
Isabel’s voice could have frozen wine in the barrel. “You can have him.”
“Sold to bidder number forty-seven for seventy-five thousand dollars!” Alex shouted, not bothering with the rest of the countdown.
The applause was deafening, but I was in no mood to play up the crowd, not when I saw Saffron get up and leave her table. I jumped off the stage and rushed in her direction. Not fast enough, though. Isabel beat me to her.
“Seventy-five thousand? Are you fucking kidding me, Saffron?” I heard her say as I approached. “We all know you can’t afford that kind of money.” Saffron didn’t bite back. “I guess you’re hoping that, this time, he’ll marry you. Fat chance of that. Whatever will you do when he doesn’t? More, what will your daddy do?”
I’d heard more than enough and took a step forward. “Everything okay here?” I stepped closer to Saffron than Isabel and rested my hand on the small of her back.
Isabel straightened, and her smile switched to high beam. “Of course! I was congratulating Saffron on her win. Seventy-five thousand dollars—you must have quite the evening planned.”
Likely knowing I’d heard what she said, Isabel walked away.
“Come with me,” I said, taking Saffron’s hand like I had earlier.
“I’m leaving. We can talk tomorrow.”
I didn’t stop walking until we were outside. “You leave without telling me what’s going on. I follow.”
She removed her hand from mine, and I let her, knowing if she dashed off toward her truck, I’d beat her there.
“I have a headache. I don’t want to be here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“No,” I said, softening my tone when I saw the tears she was trying damn hard to hide. “Tell me what you need, and it’s yours.
“Tomorrow,” she said again. “Meet me at the Olallieberry Diner at ten.”
I wanted to argue. More, I wanted to take her in my arms, find out why she was on the verge of crying, then make whatever was upsetting her go away. Instead, I gave in. “Tomorrow. Ten AM. And if you’re not there, know that I’ll have the sheriff put out an APB on you.”
That got a half smile. “Vader wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t know the favors he owes me.”
The smile was gone. “Don’t worry, Snapper. I’ll be there.”
I let her walk away, and as she did, I swore I heard her add, “I have no choice.”
3
SAFFRON
When I arrived at the Olallieberry Diner at nine forty-five, the morning fog had rolled in from the Pacific, wrapping Moonstone Beach Drive in a gray blanket that muted the crash of waves across the road. Through the diner’s windows, warm light spilled onto the sidewalk, and I could see the breakfast crowd filling most of the red vinyl booths.
My stomach churned. Not from hunger—I couldn’t eat if I tried—but from what I had to do in the next hour. Ask Snapper Avila, the man who made my heart race every time he walked into a room, to save my family. Without letting him know we needed saving.
The smell of bacon grease and coffee, along with the comforting chaos of clinking plates and morning conversations, wrapped around me when I walked inside. Marcy Delgado looked up from behind the counter and grinned. We’d gone to high school together, though she’d been two years ahead of me. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun, and she had new purple streaks that hadn’t been there the last time I was here.
“Saffron! I haven’t seen you in here for weeks.” She grabbed a menu. “Table for one, or are you meeting someone?”
“There will be two of us, thanks.”
