Chapter 6

Salvatore

She makes quiet noises beside me and I have no idea what words would comfort her. My father died by my own hands and I was glad to do it. He was a rapist and a sadistic son of a bitch. He never cared for me and I sure as hell never cared for him. This woman who appears so unprepared for this life as she blunders through it, almost getting herself killed—twice—has no place in my world. My enemies would eat her alive.

She seems to have no sense of self‐preservation. She’s lucky I was the one to find her both times, that I have a sense of honor and that I am not a rapist.

In the distance, I see a diner and my stomach reminds me I am hungry. “Are you hungry? Do you think you could eat something?”

I glance at her and she nods. “I don’t remember when I last ate. Food would be good.” She smiles at me and then attempts to fix her appearance in the visor mirror.

I chuckle. “Amare, I don’t think there will be anyone in there at this time of night to notice or to care.

Anyway, you are beautiful just as you are.”

She goes silent and stops fussing. When I pull into the parking lot, I turn off the car and turn to look at her.

She stares at me with big doe eyes and her mouth is slightly open.

I sigh. “You should not look at me like that. An innocent would not fit into my life, nor would I want you to.” As a blush creeps its way up her neck, he quickly looks away and opens the door. Curious, surely she knows how beautiful she is.

She stumbles through the door of the diner. I expected her to take a seat but she waits for me. When I join her, she looks to me and I motion for her to sit in the back so that I can face the front of the diner to see my enemies approach. Old habits die hard. I know that there is no one out here who would hurt me or even try but you can never be too careful.

A sleepy, old waitress approaches. “What brings you young people out in the middle of the night?” She stops in front of us and looks from me to my companion and back again; her eyes widen.

“I was in a car accident and this kind gentleman stopped to help me. I hit my head.” My companion stares at the woman and waves her hands around as she speaks. She’d make a good Italian; we gesture with our hands and we talk all at once when we are in the same room together.

“Menus, do you have menus?” I ask as I stare at our waitress who nods and walks away. “Why did you find it necessary to explain to the waitress?”

“To be polite. I must look a state. Can you see a restroom?”

I nod at her and motion to the other side of the room. “Don’t go outside, yes? Saving you twice in a night is enough.” She halfheartedly smiles at me, stands up and makes her way to the bathroom.

The waitress comes back with some menus and behind her is a man, who I assume is the cook. He looks to be in his late fifties, heavyset with salt and pepper hair. He is visibly uncomfortable as he shifts from foot to foot. As they come closer, I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly.

“Evening, Josie here mentioned that the young lady might be in some trouble and that I should ask you about that.”

“Trouble?” I ask in a mocking tone.

“Her face is all banged up and she felt the need to explain that very quickly. It’s been my observation that a woman only does that if she’s covering for someone,” says the waitress.

I sigh inwardly and start to think this woman is nothing but bad luck. Outwardly, I fix the waitress with a tight smile and try to explain the situation. “It happened like she said. I do not know her; I picked her up a few miles down the road. She had run into a tree and hit her head on the steering wheel.” I stand, keeping my hands by my sides, palms up. “I don’t harm women.” I lean closer to the waitress and continue, “No matter their age or circumstance.”

She takes two paces back.

“See, I told you, Josie, just a misunderstanding.” The cook smiles at me and says, “Of course, we will need to confirm that with the lady.”

It’s been a long time since someone hasn’t taken my word for something and I am about to explain to the cook that I am not a man to be fucked with when my Amare comes back from the restroom.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, looking from me to the waitress to the cook. I can feel the tension beginning to build. I take a step towards her but the waitress blocks my path. I pin her with my steely gaze, but she doesn’t shy away. She outstretches her arms and moves into the space between us, trying to shield my traveling companion, as though she can protect her from me.

The cook clears his throat. “Lady, we just need to hear what happened to you?” he says.

“Didn’t Salvatore tell you?” she asks.

The old waitress turns her back on me and says, “We just need to hear your side, honey.”

I stare at the waitress blankly, in complete disbelief that the she doubts my word. I shake my head and let out an exasperated breath. I’ve really had enough of this bullshit and I am ready to say ‘fuck this’ when I notice she’s close to tears and her bottom lip trembles. I push past the waitress and embrace her, lightly stroking her hair so I don’t scare her. I whisper in her ear in Italian.

“E ' l'amore bene, si sono protetti, sei al sicuro.” It’s alright love, you are protected, you are safe.

The pull to protect her and take care of her washes over me. I tighten my hold on her, letting her know that no harm will come to her.

“It’s okay.” She takes a shaky breath and begins her story. “I was in a car accident, but I shouldn’t have been driving; I was so tired. Something...an animal, ran across the road and I swerved to miss it. I hit a tree, and my airbag exploded. I was a mess. I am blessed that Salvatore came along when he did. He saved me.” She pushes away from me and looks at the cook. “I’m not sure why you would doubt him; he really is my knight in shining armor.”

The cook nods and walks away. The waitress stands there and looks at her for a moment, then she says, “Sweet or savory, sweetheart? What tempts you? We can do you both up a meal or just get you pie?”

She smiles at the waitress and says, “Eggs over easy, toast and pie to finish, please.”

The waitress smiles and looks at me. “You, sir?” Her distrust of me has apparently vanished.

“I’ll have the same but I’d like bacon as well and coffee, lots of coffee.” She nods at me, pats me on the arm then heads for the kitchen and yells out instructions to the cook.

I look at my companion and the words she said to them are reverberating within me: blessed, knight in shining armor. No one has ever described me this way. Strong, feared, ruthless, killer, these are the words that describe me. I am no one’s safe haven, no one’s salvation.

Her eyes lock with mine and the air between us shifts quickly as she says, “Shall we sit? I am so sorry I cried; it’s a bit embarrassing really.”

As she goes to move past me, I reach up and brush a tear off her cheek. “Do not be embarrassed. You are tired and overwhelmed with your situation. Once you’ve eaten you’ll feel better.” We both turn and sit down.

“Relax, breathe,” I tell her.

“You really are very kind.”

Kind, there she goes again with complimentary words. Words that do not describe the man I really am. “Thank you, but ‘kind’ is not a word that usually describes me.”

Her eyebrows pull together, confusion marking her features. “Really? Then how would you describe yourself, Salvatore? I’ve seen nothing but good from you.”

I shoot her a smile. “That’s a story for another day.”