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Newsflash.

She won’t find it.

I sold my soul long ago.

“Sure. Okay. I could use another cup.”

“Good.”

I wait while she starts two loads of laundry, and then she follows me a few doors down to our local coffee shop, Beans of Glory. Starbucks hasn’t made it into Summer Creek, Texas yet.

I open the door for her and she walks in.

“Is the coffee here good?” she asks. “I haven’t had the chance to do a lot of exploring yet.”

“You were at Mario’s the other night.”

“I had friends in town. To see Ashley.” She drops her gaze.

I can’t help myself. I tip her chin so she’s looking into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

“We weren’t that—”

“Close. I know. But you’re obviously upset. And to answer your question”—I lower my voice—“the coffee here used to suck, but it’s been a while, so maybe it’s better now.”

“You mean…”

“I mean I haven’t been here since I went to prison, Vannah. That’s what I mean.”

It never hurts to remind people of who I truly am.

The Falcon Bellamy who was on the fast track to become a Navy SEAL? He no longer exists.

He’s an ex-con.

An ex-con who ran his cell block.

An ex-con who did some shit he can’t even put into words these days.

He’s Savage.

She nods.

“Have a seat,” I say. “I’ll get us some coffees. How do you take it?”

“Black.”

“Okay. Or do you want a mocha or something?”

She shakes her head. “Just coffee.”

“Anything else? A cinnamon roll or anything?”

“No. Just coffee.”

Cheap date. Not a bad thing. Though I have money. I have lots of money.

Even my parents don’t know about all the money I have.

Damn.

I grab two coffees, adding a generous tip in cash, and bring them to the table by the window where Savannah is sitting.

“Here you go.” I slide one of the paper cups toward her.

“Thank you.” She puts it to her lips. “That’s hot!”

“Yeah.” I remove the plastic cap. “Best to let it cool a little first.”

And we’re talking about hot coffee.

But indeed, what do I expect? It’s not like we’re friends. She’s my parole officer. It’s not like I have friends anyway.

On the inside, I had minions. They weren’t my friends. They did my bidding because they were afraid of me.

Take Tommy Ortiz. A good guy, but we’re not friends. He probably thinks we are, but he’d be wrong.

I haven’t had a friend since…

Well, since Leif Ramsey.

Leif Ramsey, who, once I went on the inside, disappeared off the face of the fucking earth.

His father visited me several times. A good guy, Mr. Ramsey. He always told me to call him Krister, but he’ll always be Mr. Ramsey to me.

After college, Leif went off to join the Navy without me, got into SEAL training within a year, and then forgot all about me. Forgot all about his fucking blood brother.

“What are you doing today?”

Savannah’s voice knocks me out of my thoughts.

“I had some stuff to do here in town.”

“Like what?”

I pause. “Boring business stuff.”

“Oh.”

I take a sip of coffee. It’s still too hot. “Vannah…”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Oh, no. You were right.” She fiddles with the plastic coffee lid. “We can’t see each other. And I’m sorry Bridget—”

“Bridget?”

“My boss. I’m sorry she couldn’t get you reassigned as you requested. One of our officers was in a car accident right before I started, so we’re incredibly understaffed. In fact, I took over his cases. Once he’s back, you’ll be reassigned to him anyway.”

“Michael Barrett.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s the one I met with right before my release.”

She nods. “Right. I haven’t met him.”

“Because he was in an accident,” I say.

“Yeah.” She stares at her cup of coffee. “It may have been the same accident. The timing adds up, and the other guy is a parole officer. I haven’t had the heart to find out, and even though I was at the hospital to see Ashley, it didn’t feel right going to visit someone I’d never met.”

“How bad was his accident?” I ask.

“Pretty bad.” She gazes into my eyes. “I don’t know the details, but he’ll make it. He broke some bones.”

“Sounds like he’ll have some rehab.”

Not a bad thing. It’ll keep me with Vannah for a while. I know from experience how long rehab can take, though he’ll have better rehab than I got in fucking prison. Then again, he’s a government employee, so maybe not.

“Probably.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, this time only wincing a little.

“Still hot?”

She nods.

“So, Savannah Gallo…” I meet her gaze. “Tell me about yourself.”

29

SAVANNAH

Tell me about yourself.

Yeah. I don’t go there.

Even Gert doesn’t know the real reason why I left Austin and moved to such a podunk little town like Summer Creek.

“What do you want to know?”

He leans in. “Anything. You know all about me. At least as much as my parole file contains. I know nothing about you.” He lowers his voice. “Except how to make you come.”

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