So, I had done a little research. I knew I probably shouldn’t have, but I had to know that she was okay. I was being forward, I got that, but she was hanging out at the back of my head as I lay in bed after I got home that evening, and I needed to convince myself that she was as fine as she had seemed when I left her. I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know how long those guys had her pinned against that wall, how far they’d gone with her. She looked in okay shape when I left, but you could never be sure - and fuck it, she was probably pretty shaken up by what happened. Who wouldn’t be?

 

Plus, I had to admit that our kiss was playing at the back of my mind perhaps more than it should have been. Not that I was complaining.

 

It didn’t take long to find out who she was. She had a distinctive beauty mark above her lip, and I noticed that she was wearing some kind of uniform. A few minutes of internet research later, and I had found a picture of her standing, beaming, outside her first restaurant when it opened. It was only a few blocks away from where the attack had happened- she must have been coming home from work. I waited until the lunch rush was over, and made my way down, putting on a shirt and tie so I wouldn’t look too out of place in such a classy establishment. Well, I didn’t know anything about it, if I was being honest, but I wanted her to think of me as classy, and that was what mattered. If I had done my job properly, it would be as if we were meeting for the first time. My mind jumped ahead, and I wondered when was the appropriate time on the dating scale to bring that up. And then I had to scold myself for getting pathetically ahead of myself.

 

It had been a while since I’d last dated seriously. Who was it? Saffron? No, it couldn’t be her - there had to be someone else. I racked my brains. I could remember hook-ups fine, but no one I’d been in anything close to love with. But then, I wasn’t really the dating type. My past pretty much precluded me from that, after all. What woman wanted to end up with a guy who couldn’t ever tell her what he used to do for a living? That was all this was, I told myself - I was getting all puppy love with this woman because I could project all those unrealized romantic encounters on to her because I hadn’t fucked anything up with her yet.

 

It was a nice place; rustic Italian décor that didn’t feel too forced, a pretty maître’ d’ who sat me down only a few minutes after I arrived, and a menu oozing with classic Italian cuisine that made my mouth water. I ordered a Caprese salad to start along with a glass of wine and sat back in my seat to take the place in.

 

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Was she just going to wander out, spot me, come over and tell me everything that had happened the night before? I knew I was being more than a little ridiculous. But still, if the restaurant was up and running, that suggested that she had come in, which was a relief.

 

Because, as I’d laid in bed and thought about what had happened the night before, I couldn’t shake one thought in particular. Those two men - they hadn’t just been normal pieces of shit. I could smell one of them a mile off. They weren’t just opportunists who saw a woman walking home alone and decided to take advantage of it in the worst way they could possibly think off. No, there were knives, there were masks - this was something specific, I was sure of it. They had chosen her for a reason, and I was determined to find out why. Because, if I didn’t know better, I would say they were from the Marinos’, one of the crime families I used to do a lot of work for. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why they might be interested in a woman like her.

 

I was snapped out of my reverie when I saw someone approaching with my food out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and froze. It was her. Fucking hell, I wasn’t prepared for this.

 

She offered me a dazzling smile as she came out, and I had to admit she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a well-fitted pale blue blouse and pants that hugged her generous hips in just the right way. Her dark brown hair was swept off her face and into a bun, and her light blue eyes were outlined with a hint of kohl. I blinked at her for a moment, dumbstruck, before I was able to pull myself together. I sat up straight and smiled back at her. But as she approached, her facial expression changed.

 

The smile wilted on her face, and her eyes glazed over as if she was groping around in her memory for something she couldn’t quite remember. She placed the plate down in front of me, and briskly stood back up.

 

“Looks good,” I commented, picking up my knife and fork. I wasn’t sure whether I was directing the comment at the food or at her. It was meant to be an offhand remark, but she continued to linger over me. Shit, had she recognized me? I glanced up at her again briefly, trying to read for a reaction, but came up blank. She was keeping her emotions carefully in check - impressive, considering what had happened the night before.

 

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” she said, with an edge of coolness. It was clear that she was doing her best to hold back on giving anything away, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. She’d been through some shit the night before, and frankly, I was stunned that she was back at work already. Had to respect her for that. Getting up this morning had been tough for me, and I used to do shit like that for a living.

 

“Yeah, I don’t come around this part of town much.” I shrugged. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Hell, I had only seen her last night because I had been picking up a bottle of whiskey from a special place I liked to get it from. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been there at all. “Saw this place and thought, why not?”

 

“Well, enjoy your meal,” she replied, eyeing me for another second before she backed away. I tucked in but kept half an eye on her as she went behind the bar and started sorting glasses. She would shoot occasional looks over at me, clearly trying to figure out what had triggered her memory like that.

 

I felt like I was playing with fire here. She seemed perceptive, and she definitely recognized me. How long would it be until she figured out where she knew me from? I knew that I should be getting out of there as soon as I could, that I shouldn’t be pushing my luck by hanging around. Who knew what she had told the cops last night? Maybe they’d predicted that I would come back to check on her, thought I would play the hero and take advantage of my good deed. Maybe she had them on speed dial, and they were on their way over here as I ate. But even though I understood that I should have done nothing more than check in on her and then get out, something was compelling me to stay - and it wasn’t just my lunch.

 

The food was good, and I finished it off in no time, along with my wine. I savored the last drop, deliberately not looking at her too closely. I didn’t want her to think that I was here for her; she was smart, and it wouldn’t take her long to put the pieces together if she thought I was stopping by to see her. But still, I wasn’t quite ready to go yet, so I wandered back over to the bar and caught her eye. She jumped a little when she turned around and saw me standing there, but quickly smoothed out her shocked expression and offered me a smile.

 

“How can I help you?” she asked.

 

“Another glass of Sancerre, please.” I leaned up against the polished wood countertop. She nodded and went to pour from the bottle under the counter, but as she did so, I noticed that her hands were shaking. I felt a lance of sadness at the sight of it. I had forgotten just how bad normal people took attacks like the one she had experienced last night. For me, and people in my line of work, that kind of thing was just another day on the job. But despite her calm exterior, it was clear that this had really affected her.

 

“Are you okay?” I asked gently. She finished pouring and set the glass down in front of me, meeting my gaze with her chin slightly lifted as if she was challenging me.

 

“I’m fine, just had a bit of a run-in last night with some guys,” she replied. Her eyes were still fixed on mine, waiting for me to react. She was playing me, trying to figure out what I knew.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered, being careful. I took a sip of my wine before continuing. “What happened?”

 

“A couple of guys attacked me, tried to assault me, but then some guy appeared out of nowhere and killed them both,” she shot back. Her tone was measured and calm, despite what she was saying. I cocked an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

 

“That’s terrible.”

 

“Sorry for being so forward, you just looked like someone who could handle news like that.” Her gaze didn’t falter as she spoke, leaning up on the counter so we were only a matter of inches apart. She really was beautiful - the kind of aloof, devastating gorgeousness that men would battle for. I shrugged.

 

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” I replied. She was right; that kind of news really didn’t upset me much. Generally, a story about how someone had died usually ended with me being handed an envelope of money, so my response was at worst neutral. After standing there for another few seconds, examining me, she stood back up and seemed to have snapped out of her reverie.

 

“I’ll get you some appetizers, on the house,” she offered. “Something to go with your wine.”

 

“Sounds good.” I watched as she made her way into the kitchen, vanishing from sight and leaving me alone at the bar. Well, I was glad to see that she was okay, but I couldn’t help but wonder if she was telling me everything that had happened because she had figured out who I was. She seemed clever and brazen, and there was no reason to think that she wouldn’t have picked up on something about me - the tone of my voice, the little bit of my face she could make out between the mask and the darkness that surrounded us. Was she testing me with all her questions and comments? Probably. But until she came out and asked me outright, I would keep my mouth shut, and maybe sneak in a few more visits to her restaurant to enjoy the delicious food. I took another sip of my wine, savoring the clean taste as it hit my tongue, and stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I wondered what this face meant to her… if it meant anything at all.