He grabs a cup of coffee and takes a loud gulp to keep from answering the question that’s burning my tongue. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I turn first to Aurora, cutting up her syrup-covered pancakes before she can get the sticky food all over her face—though that doesn’t stop her—then do the same for Lia, much to Damien’s amusement.
“Logan!” she complains. “I’m not even hungry!”
“Remember what you said yesterday,” I tease her. “Prisoners are supposed to get regular meals. Just doing my job as a jailor.”
“Jailor, huh?” smirks Damien.
“Well, isn’t that what I am?” I turn my attention back to him. “Isn’t that what Moretti expects of me?”
Lia tenses beside me, and I place a soothing hand on her back.
“It sure is,” Damien agrees, taking another gulp of coffee. “He expects you to keep her from running this time. So you’d better not let her out of your sight again.”
“Not planning to,” I murmur, wrapping my arm back around her waist. “But how do I know they won’t come find us?”
“They don’t know where you are. I insisted on that.”
I frown in suspicion. “And they trust you?”
“The don does. The don trusts that I’m not going anywhere, and the minute he tells me to go fetch your girl, he trusts that I will. Carmelo’s being a whiny little bitch, but he has no real power. He has to do what his daddy says, if he doesn’t want to end up like his mommy.”
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, Lia snaps, “His mother died in a car accident.”
“Uh huh.” Another loud gulp of coffee.
“I know that,” she insists. “Anna Moretti died when we were in high school. My father was in the car right behind her. He witnessed it. I went to her funeral. You’re full of shit.”
“Lia!” I growl, as Damien’s eyes flit over to her in amusement.
“Your girl’s got a real foul mouth,” he chuckles. “Sorry—what is it you call her? Your prisoner?”
“My girl,” I mutter, taking a sip from my coffee to avoid looking at Lia. Though I can just make out her surprised, happy expression in my peripheral vision.
“Your girl. Right.” Damien turns appraising eyes toward Lia. “D’you see that trash can in the corner, Lia? Hmm? Reminds me of you.”
Her happiness dies down at once, replaced by fury, edged with more than a little anxiety, judging by the way she swallows audibly.
But that anxiety doesn’t prevent her from lashing out, “Fuck you, asshole.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “You got a real brat on your hands, Logan, don’t you?” He leans toward her, all humor gone from his eyes, and whispers, “You know, Lia, we may all be three years older, but I still have it in me tomake you eat trash.”
She edges back in her seat, visibly shaking. Though by the sight of her two balled-up fists, I can tell she really hasn’t changed all that much since high school.
She’s not one to go down without a fight.
I guessI’vechanged though, because I stand up abruptly, anger flaring in my throat.
“Get the fuck up, Damien,” I growl.
“What? I’m just saying…”
“Getup.”
Shrugging, he stands up, facing me. “What now? You gonna punch me? Just last month you were happily bringing her back to her abusive husband, and now, you’re gonna hit me for mentioning Lia and trash in the same sentence?”
SLAM.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, my fist cracks into his face, sending him careening backward. I stare at my hand, then at him, realizing I’ve just punched him for the first time in my life.
