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“This.” He runs his finger along his scar.
“Oh, I wasn’t…” I noticed it earlier, I mean, who wouldn’t, but that wasn’t what was on my mind now.
“You don’t have to lie.” His serious stare bores into me.
“I’m not lying.” But since I can’t exactly tell him the actual truth, I take the bait. “You can tell me if you want to, but you don’t have to.”
“My dad.” He leans back, bringing his cup to his lips. Savini tips the entire contents in his mouth and swallows harshly. “Tried to kill me when I was ten. Almost succeeded.” He drops the glass onto the table and swirls the empty thing around.
Holy fuck.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure why I say it. But there’s something about the idea of a child being hurt by someone who should have been there to protect them that makes my resolve soften for this man. He might not deserve my sympathy but ten-year-old Lorenzo does. And maybe that’s who the apology is for, not this dangerous man sitting in front of me.
“It was a lifetime ago.” Savini pours more of the rye into his glass, and then, without asking, fills mine, too.
My heart aches for the child of his past that was brutally attacked by his father. A sort of compassion that only someone who had an abusive parent can have fills me, and my mind swirls with memories I've repressed for many years. Memories that haunt me in my dreams and plague my waking life. One's that I've mastered shoving into the depths of my psyche.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Savini draws my attention toward him.
I meet his gaze, unsure of what to say. A part of me wants to tell him who I am, who he is to me, and confess that I've been stalking him for the past six months in an attempt to uncover the truth about my brother's murder. To tell him that I never bought the story that the police gave me, and that the double homicide in that alley beside Bram's diner was nothing more than a big fucking cover-up. The media may have bought it but I didn't.
But instead, I tell him another truth. “No kid deserves that from a parent.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, almost like a standoff of sorts.
Luckily, the waiter arrives with our food, saving us both from having to continue such a growingly awkward conversation. I may have been tracking him for half a year but we’ve only known each other all of fifteen minutes.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” The waiter stands there anxiously.
Savini waves him away and nods toward my plate. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I settle my sights on the perfectly cooked filet, steaming chunks of seasoned potatoes, and roasted broccolini. My stomach growls in response, alerting me to the lunch I skipped while I was busy summarizing the depositions for work. Being a new associate essentially means being a partner's bitch. They don't really tell you that in school. A cruel reality you figure out after countless skipped meals and endless hours of overtime to make everything perfect while your boss sips fancy wine at meetings with executives or doing whatever overpaid partners do.
The waiter returns a moment later, sliding my debit card toward me and leaving without another word.
I finish chewing the juicy piece of steak and swallow before saying, “I’m paying for my meal.”
Savini shakes his head and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Not necessary.”
“I insist.” Scoring free food might be a perk to my normal relationship situations, but that isn’t what this is about with Savini. Being frugal has nothing to do with getting revenge.
“Listen, fawn.” Savini takes another swig of his rye. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the company I’ve kept during a meal. You’re doing me a favor, really. Please don’t ruin it by bringing up the patriarchy.”
“The patriarchy?” I grin and sip my own drink. “You almost murdered a guy for touching me. That has male dominance written all over it.”
“Times are changing, but some things should remain the same.”
“Are you about to mansplain this to me?”
"Would you prefer another form of communication?" Savini winks and manages to completely throw me off-kilter.
A million dirty thoughts run through my mind but I follow each of them up with the reminder that this strangely charismatic man is the same one who killed my brother.
I shouldn’t, but I find myself wanting to tell him the real reason why I’m here. If him attacking Colton was any indication, he could probably kill me right here and now and get away with it, every person in this place looking the other way as my death is covered up just like Jared’s was. Only no one will look into my death the way I did his.
The way I found out that Jared was working for some man named Franklin—that he was an errand boy for a criminal mastermind, and his death was ordered by Franklin and executed by the man sitting in front of me. I might not be able to take down Franklin, but Savini is another story.
It's amazing what information a pretty face and showing some skin can get you. It wasn't long before I weaseled my way into Axel's life, the closest connection I had found to Savini was eating out of the palm of my hand. I just had to listen closely and pay attention to figure out where Savini would be and when. This place was the most public of them all, although I didn't expect to get a private audience the first time I crossed paths with the mercenary who murdered my brother.
