She blushed and then glanced at Dominic. “I can run on rage,” she murmured, then took another bite with pointed defiance.
He was more attracted to her than was wise. It wasn’t just that she was smart. Or brave. It was that she had come through so much and still had sass. At some point, he wanted her to tell him the whole story about how she ended up in WitSec. He’d heard it from Jamie, but now he wanted to hear it from her.
The waiter arrived with a busboy in tow, polished and professional, taking their now-empty plates and handing them off, then placing a plate in front of Enzo and one in front of Kathleen. Enzo’s was something rich and French that wouldhave tasted better if his blood wasn’t still boiling. Kathleen’s was a simple pasta dish with herbs and olive oil.
The waiter asked if they wanted wine.
Kathleen answered before Enzo could. “No.”
Enzo’s eyes flicked to her.
She didn’t look away. “My judgment is already questionable today.” A ghost of a smile played on her lips.
A pulse of amusement hit him. He loved that she was teasing him back. “Fine,” he agreed reluctantly.
The waiter disappeared.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence Enzo used to live in. Strategic. Listening. Waiting. Letting time reveal intention.
Kathleen broke it first. “Do you think he enjoys this?” she asked quietly, not moving her lips much. “The… theater.”
Enzo kept his gaze on his plate. “Dominic enjoys power. He wouldn’t work for Vitale if he didn’t. His role gives him the power to do whatever is necessary to accomplish the goals set before him.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“This…theatre, as you call it, is part of accomplishing his goal. I doubt he sits there and thinks about it. It’s just ingrained at this point.”
She huffed softly, then continued eating, as if refusing to let the man across the dining car steal her appetite.
Enzo was watching Dominic through reflections more than directly. The man’s posture never changed, but his attention did. When someone laughed too loudly, Dominic’s gaze flicked up. When the door to the corridor opened, his body shifted a fraction. Always calculating.
Enzo wanted to punish the man for the discomfort he was causing Kathleen, but he also knew the truth; Dominic wasn’t the brains behind their predicament. He was Vitale’s right hand,the blade that carried out decisions made elsewhere. But blades still killed. And right now, Dominic was close enough that Enzo could imagine reaching across the aisle, grabbing him by the throat, and snapping his neck before anyone even understood what they were seeing. The image was vivid. Satisfying. And completely useless.
If he snapped Dominic’s neck in the dining car, he couldn’t escape. He died. Kathleen died. And Vitale and Rocco Rinaldi still got what they wanted. They would just take the map off his cold, dead body. And why didn’t they just do that? It was the question hovering in the back of his mind. Why not just kill him, take the map, and retrieve the treasure themselves? It gives both of them what they want. There was a missing piece of the puzzle, one he hoped Jamie or the Callahans could shed light on.
Enzo forced his attention back to Kathleen. She had sauce on the corner of her mouth. Barely visible. She was exhausted and still managing to look like she belonged here, like she owned the air around her. He wanted to reach across and wipe it away with his thumb. Or nibble it away with his own lips. Wanted to lean closer and tell her she was doing incredible. Wanted to tell her that in another life, he’d have taken her to dinner like this for real.
Instead, he said, “You’re doing good?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “At eating pasta?”
“At not panicking.”
Kathleen’s gaze slid toward Dominic, then back to Enzo. “I’m panicking on the inside.” She winked, and then her face went serious. “I’ve been through this before. After experiencing a degree of freedom, it’s harder this time.”
Icy fingers squeezed his heart. He hated that she was in the middle of this mess. Hated it. “Doesn’t show,” he offered, trying to support her any way he could.
She smiled faintly. “Good.”
The chair across the aisle scraped softly. Enzo’s hand tightened around his fork. He didn’t look up until he had to.
Dominic had risen from his table and walked toward them at an unhurried pace. He didn’t glance at other passengers. He didn’t check for permission. He moved as if the car belonged to him, and everyone else was simply allowed to exist in it. He stopped at their table, hands in his pockets, expression almost pleasant.
“Ciao,Enzo,” he said, like they were old friends. Then his gaze flicked to Kathleen. “Signora Drake.”
Kathleen wiped her mouth with her napkin, unbothered. “Dominic.”
Dominic’s mouth curved slightly. “I didn’t realize we were on a first-name basis.”
