Page 211 of Saving Her

“Because you don’t need to worry about things like this. We’re taking care of it.”

“Tell me.” He turns savage. Fisted hands. Red face. A true fucking Torian. “Is Robert here? Has he come back for her?”

I attempt to ignore the icy chill shuddering through me, but it hits hard. The assumption that Robert would be back for Penny… The instinctive response…

“We don’t know.” I retrieve the paper from my pocket and unfold the image for him to see. “Do you know who this is?”

Recognition sparks in his eyes.

“Who is it, Tobias?”

“It’s him.” He stares, transfixed or maybe frightened. “It’s Robert. He grows his beard like that sometimes.” He points to the blurred mouth of the man in the photo. “See the patch of missing hair right below his lip? It’s from a scar. It always made him look stupid.”

I don’t know whether to be relieved or livid at the confirmation that the fucker is here. On one hand, I’ll have the opportunity to kill him like he deserves. On the other, the news will only spike Penny’s fear.

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.” I refold the paper and shove it back into my pocket. “Can you do me a favor and keep this between me and you for now? I don’t want Pen getting upset.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“I don’t think she’s one hundred percent certain, which is allowing her to sleep at night. If she knows for sure—”

“She’ll be scared,” he cuts me off. “He did horrible things to her. He hurt—”

“I know.” I clench my teeth against the knowledge. “And I want to save her from the fear for as long as possible. That’s why I asked.”

He pauses a long while as he swallows. “Will you find him?”

“Yes.” I fucking vow it.

“Will you hurt him?”

This time I’m not as quick to reply. Like Luther, Robert meant something to this boy. He was raised to look up to his father’s right-hand man.

“Luca, will you hurt him?”

“Yes.” I keep my teeth clenched. “I’ll fucking hurt him. Because of what he did to Penny and all the other women. I’ll kill him for what he’s done.”

Heartbeats of silence follow where I question giving him more details. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. I bet he’s one breath away from squealing like a pig when he gives a succinct nod.

“I won’t tell… if you don’t tell on me.”

I frown. “What would I tell on you for?”

His attention turns to the tray of food. “I don’t think lunch is very nice today.”

I follow his gaze, narrowing my attention to the tiny pieces of fluff and hair sticking out from the side of one of the sandwiches.

He backtracks. “Maybe you shouldn’t eat it.” He shrugs and continues his retreat to the door. “And I don’t think the orange juice is any good either.”

I hold in a laugh and lean forward, looking into the glass to find tiny white bubbles in the sea of orange.

The little shit corrupted my lunch and spat in my OJ. “I guess I’ll hold out for dinner.”

He nods and turns for the door.

“Hold up, Toby. I’m not finished with you yet.”

He freezes, like a criminal caught in the act.

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