Page 89 of Savage Saint
"You'll be safe here," he says, like he's trying to convince himself more than me.
"I know how to handle myself." I don't mean to sound so sharp, but being dropped off like a child at daycare grates on my nerves.
He turns to look at me, his dark eyes burning with something fierce. "That's what worries me."
Before I can ask what the hell that means, he's out of the car and opening my door. His hand finds the small of my back as we walk to the entrance, a possessive touch that sends little sparks shooting up my spine.
The massive front door swings open before we reach it. Alessa stands there, her green eyes wide with worry, hair pulled back in a messy bun. She's wearing jeans and a baggy jumper, so different from her usual polished look.
"Thank God you're here." She pulls me into a hug that catches me off guard. I stand stiffly for a moment before awkwardly patting her back. Physical affection is still new territory for me, even more so now my memories are coming back.
When she releases me, I see the fear etched on her face. "Dante's in his study," she tells Angelo.
The tension in the air is thick enough to slice. I can practically taste it, metallic and sharp like blood, on my tongue.
"Where's Marco?" Angelo asks as we step inside.
"Kitchen with Antonio." Alessa locks the door behind us, checking it twice. "They've been arguing about whether to make pasta or risotto for lunch, like that's our biggest problem right now."
The sound of raised voices drifts from somewhere down the hall, Dante's study, I'm guessing. Angelo's hand drops from my back, and I immediately miss its warmth.
"Stay with Alessa," he says, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that means business.
"Angelo—" I start to protest.
"Please." The word is so soft, I barely hear it. Then he's striding away, leaving me with Alessa in the vast foyer.
I follow the direction of his footsteps, Alessa trailing behind me. The study door is ajar, and through the gap, I can see Dante pacing, phone pressed to his ear. His face is a storm cloud about to break.
Angelo slips inside, closing the door partially, but not before I catch a glimpse of maps spread across a massive desk.
"Let's get you settled," Alessa says, tugging gently at my arm.
I ignore her, moving closer to the door, straining to hear the conversation inside.
"—pulled two more bodies from the wreckage," Dante's saying. "One of them was Joey Falcone."
"Fuck." Angelo's voice is tight. "He was supposed to be off today."
"Wrong place, wrong time. Luca's already there, keeping the Feds from trampling all over our operation."
"And the other body?"
"Female. Early twenties. Branded."
My stomach drops. Another girl. Just like me, except she didn't get lucky enough to be found by Angelo.
"They're setting us up," Angelo growls. "Making it look like we're eliminating witnesses."
"We need to move. Now. Before they pin this on us."
I push the door open wider, unable to stay silent any longer. "I'll come with you."
Both men turn to look at me, identical expressions of surprise and irritation on their faces. The family resemblance has never been more obvious.
"No," they say in unison.
Dante recovers first. "This isn't your fight."
