Jame was studying the menu, his eyes bright with laughter, but also very focused. I wasn’t surprised to see him staring at the steak section like maybe he was going to order one of everything.
“I didn’t like the ribs, right?”
“Too much sauce,” Ben affirmed. “Do the porter steak. Extra pepper, extra rare.”
It was cute how they’d been a couple long enough to know each other’s preferences. It made something in the center of my chest sort of ache. I’d never really had someone in my life who knew me well enough to order off the menu for me.
Well, except my sisters.
But the connection between these two men wasn’t at all on the same level as a sibling tie. They were part of each other’s lives because they chose to be.
Despite all the outside pressure that seemed more than willing to keep them apart.
I scanned the menu. #5 was the soup and sandwich. Piper had already written that down on the pad before I ordered. The T-sour, I assumed was the turkey on sourdough bread that went with my soup.
So Piper definitely had an ability she wasn’t talking about. I’d have to find a way to bring it up to her. Let her know she was safe here. Let her know she wasn’t the only person who had some kind of skill, power, magic.
Ben pushed the condiment carrier against the wall, and leaned back, one arm draped behind Jame, hand dropping to his boyfriend’s back pocket. “Have you made any progress on the case?”
“Which one?” I put the menu down and Jame set his on top of mine, lining up the corners.
“The murder.”
I inhaled, nodded as I released the air slowly through my nose. “We still don’t have the murderer pinned down, but we’re getting closer. Do you know anything about his death?”
Ben narrowed his eyes as if fighting off a flash of a headache. “Sven was...private.”
Jame chuffed again and Ben grimaced. “Even more private than most of us Rossis. But he was the newest here in town. And I think...I think he came here to get away from something.”
“And you think that something was what caught up to him?”
He frowned and dragged his fingertip in looping circles on the Linoleum table top. “He had scars. I saw him without his shirt once.”
Jame raised an eyebrow, his nostrils going wide. Ben immediately responded to that slight shift in his partner’s body language. “Please. He was so not my type. It was at the bar where he worked. Someone barfed nachos with extra cheese all over him while he was trying to get them into a cab. It was dark, but he took off his shirt to change into a clean one he had in the trunk of his car.”
“What kind of scars? Where were they?”
“Across his back, shoulder-to-shoulder. It was writing. Carved into his flesh, and whip marks all the way down to his belt line.”
I didn’t know if vampires could heal scars they received before they were turned. “Were they uh...recent?”
“We don’t scar,” he said, answering my unasked question.
“So before he was turned. Okay. Do you know what the writing said?”
“It was a little hard to see, and I’m rusty on my Latin...but yeah. I’m pretty sure it said: Divide and Rule.”
I let the words settle in my brain, trying to make a connection. “In Latin?”
“Yes.” His eyes flicked up to mine, as if that should mean something more to me.
“Rossi was Roman,” I finally said.
Ben nodded slowly. “Yes.”
Okay, but that still didn’t do me a lot of good. “Do you think those words have something to do with Rossi?”
Ben chewed on the corner of his lip, the razor tip of his incisor briefly denting the soft flesh of his mouth.
