“When I was discharged from the military. I knew my only hope of getting away from him would be to enlist in the military. After we graduated high school, I enlisted. I’d hoped that during my service I would heal some and maybe not want to kill him so much. As soon as I was trained with a gun, every target to me was him. I had so many years of pent-up anger stored, and I put it all into carrying out every task with precision. I excelled and received awards and decorations for my skills with weaponry. By the time I was discharged, I had several high-level security assignments under my belt. I returned with discipline and the ability to torture and kill.
“Those years that I was in the service hadn’t made the anger go away. It only numbed things and trained me to kill. I killed him the night I returned from the military, and afterward I contacted Michael to say goodbye. I knew I was going to go away for the rest of my life. But he came to me and helped me get rid of the body. He covered everything up for me.”
“That’s why you and he have an unbreakable bond.”
“Yes. I owe my life to Michael.”
Taylor and I had talked the entire way to Aspen about her foster father and her connection with Michael. By the time I pulled up to the valet of my family’s restaurant, I was tense with anger over what had happened to her. Despite feeling like I needed to beat the shit out of something, I understood Taylor better.
“Let’s go celebrate your promotion,” I said as two valet attendants approached the SUV.
“Good evening, Mr. Lombardi,” one of the attendants said as I got out.
“Evening.” I returned the greeting and walked around to where Taylor stood. My eyes fell on her, and I realized I saw her in a different light, as if our connection had strengthened in a short amount of time. “Ready?” I asked her as she admired the Tuscan architecture on the exterior.
“Yes, I’m hungry.”
“Well, that’s understandable since you talked my ear off for the past hour and forty minutes,” I teased, but then quickly backpedaled as we walked inside the doors that were opened for us. “Just kidding. I appreciate that you trusted me enough to share secrets of your past with me.”
I motioned toward the coat check. I helped Taylor out of her coat and handed it to the woman at the counter before I shrugged out of my own. I handed it over and then took the ticket from the woman. This was the first time I was catching the full view of what Taylor was wearing. She wore a black cocktail dress with a subtle V-neckline and a black cropped cardigan.
“Thank you, Mr. Lombardi,” the woman said.
I nodded and then placed my hand at the small of Taylor’s back and guided her toward the podium.
“Mr. Lombardi, welcome!” The maître d’ looked at Taylor and smiled broadly at her. “Welcome to Lombardi’s in Aspen, ma’am. Your table is ready whenever you are, or you’re welcome to enjoy a drink at the bar first.”
After everything Taylor had shared on the ride over, I thought she might like a drink before sitting down to dinner.
“Would you like to go into the bar for a few minutes?” I asked her.
Her quick nod was enough of a confirmation that she was feeling a bit raw. Michael used to nod fast without verbally answering when he was shaken. I put my hand on the small of her back and spread my fingers to provide some extra warmth.
“We’re going to step into the bar for a few minutes,” I told the maître d’ and then guided Taylor toward the bar.
I led us to a small area at the end of the bar that was big enough for us to stand and be a bit secluded, and I gestured for her to walk in front of me. Taylor stood at the bar closest to the wall, then I stood beside her, cutting off the route for anyone to stand by her or bump into her.
“Mr. Lombardi, welcome. Ma’am, welcome. May I interest you in something to drink?” the bartender asked.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” Taylor said.
“Whiskey, please. Label doesn’t matter,” I ordered.
Taylor faced me and put her forearm on the edge of the bar as the bartender walked away. I stood sideways and put my arm on the bar beside hers and loosely curled my hand around the back of her elbow. She started talking, and I slowly moved my thumb up and down over her soft sweater.
“After seeing what you did to those men in Solsidan and listening to Michael, I knew I could trust you. I know what you do for Michael, and I imagine each time you do… certain things, that you think of it as Michael’s dad.”
The “certain things” she was talking about was killing. I smiled at her choice of words and continued stroking her arm. I reached for her glass of wine the bartender had just set down and handed it to her. She took a sip, and I picked up my glass and also took a sip, then looked into her eyes.
“Every time I do thosecertain things,I think of his father. I hated him so much.” I took another sip and set the glass down. “I hated everything that man robbed Michael of. He was a drunk prick. If I was over at Michael’s and his dad came home and started in, I dragged Michael away. I took him home with me and kept him away.”
“You were very good with Jensen when we left with him.”
“I understood he was hurting. He was embarrassed at how I found him. Michael was so ashamed when I found out he was being molested. I kept telling him not to look down or hide in shame. Told him to only look up. Eventually he got there.” I took two more sips from my glass, emptying it. “I knew no one had ever told Jensen that. When we went across the bridge, I wanted him to leave the shame behind and in the fucking shed. Yesterday at the doctor’s, Jensen kept his head up.”
“That’s good. He’ll make progress.”
“They all will. Just takes time and reassurance. Michael didn’t have anything positive unless he was at our house.”
