The restaurant remains silent long after the rear door closes behind him.
Lenrog exhales once, almost wearily, and looks at me. “Miss Mercy, I owe you more than an apology.”
“You owe Darlene one too.”
His brow lifts. “Darlene?”
“The elderly woman your son’s idiot friend threw into a register.”
His face hardens. “Noted.”
“Good. Note it in whatever terrifying ledger you use.”
Kauss’s thumb moves against my hand. A grounding touch. Or maybe he is grounding himself.
Lenrog turns to him. “Take her home.”
Kauss’s voice is cold. “I do not take orders from you.”
“No. Tonight, consider it rare common sense from a man having a very disappointing evening.”
I look at Lenrog. “Is he going to come after us again?”
Lenrog’s silence lasts too long.
Kauss hears the same answer I do.
My stomach sinks.
Lenrog says, “Not tonight.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” he says quietly. “It is not.”
Kauss draws me closer without seeming to realize it. “If he escapes you?—”
“He will not escape me tonight.”
“And after tonight?”
Lenrog’s eyes are old suddenly. “After tonight, we all learn what resentment does when humiliation stops being enough.”
That is not comforting.
Kauss turns to me fully, his free hand hovering near my face. “May I?”
My throat tightens. Even now, after all this, he asks before touching the bruise.
“Yes.”
His fingertips brush my cheek with such devastating gentleness that I nearly cry in front of a room full of criminals, rich diners, armed guards, and God knows who else.
“I’m okay,” I say again.
“No,” he says quietly. “But you are here.”
That is not nothing.
