A Wicked Song - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,28
Or will you?”
“I’m far too old for that trip, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange. Do you have photos you could send me to show Kace?”
“Of course. Send me your email and I’ll have my attorney forward them.”
We chat a few more minutes and disconnect. I sit there a moment, pondering the conversation. He wants us to go to Italy. It feels all too convenient. But the Fetzer is a prize, a long-lost prize that I believe he undervalues. I consider calling Kace, but I know he’s with his donor. Instead, I wait for the photos but not without a glance at my ring and the pull of my homeland.
***
It’s nearly two when Nancy pokes her head in my door. “I’m headed out, but there’s a really big, hot man at the front for you.”
My first thought is Kace, but then she adds, “He’s also kind of scary. He has a scar down his face and he calls himself—”
“Savage,” I say, fairly certain he must be here to pick me up and take me to Kace’s place. “I know him. He’s a friend.”
Her eyes go wide and she steps into the doorway. “Wait. What? Are you dating him?”
“No,” I laugh. “Check his finger. He’s married. I’m not dating him.”
“He’s a friend? Do people have friends like that man? Do women?”
“Yes, Nancy, they do.”
“I guess,” she replies.
“You’re being silly,” I chide.
“Is it safe to leave you here with him?”
“Very,” I say, and there is only a tiny whisper of worry in my mind. I don’t know him well but Kace does, I remind myself. I push to my feet and round my desk. “I’ll walk you out.”
We exit my office together and walk toward the front. Savage is by the front door, leaning on the wall, casual in jeans and a T-shirt that accent bulging biceps and thighs. “He’s very big,” she whispers conspiratorially.
"Sometimes God makes ‘em that way,” I laugh.
“Actually, not often,” she says. “Too bad he’s married.”
Savage straightens upon our approach to a good six three-ish, by my estimate. “Aria,” he greets. “How’s it popping?”
“She’s not popcorn,” Nancy says. “Who says popping?”
Savage eyes her. “Mary Poppins for one.”
“That’s the corniest joke I’ve ever heard,” Nancy says.
Savage gives her a deadpan stare. “Who’s joking?”
I laugh, remembering his big personality to match his big everything else. I also now know why Nancy is single. “I’m popping just fine,” I say. “What’s up Savage?”
Nancy grimaces. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks me, glancing between me and Savage.
“I promise not to kill her,” Savage says dryly. “At least, not until I fatten her up for dinner.”
Her eyes go wide. “Kill her? Dinner? Who says something like that?”
“Someone who likes his dinner fatter,” Savage says.
I laugh. “Nancy, stop. He’s teasing you. He’s with Walker Security. He protects people.”
“And sometimes kills people,” Savage adds. “It’s part of the job.”
“Savage!” I chide. “Stop. She’s a worry-wart. Go home, Nancy.”
Nancy looks like she might argue and Savage adds, “I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt her.” He holds up three fingers. “Boy scout’s honor.”
Nancy finally heads for the door, mumbling, “He was never a boy scout,” under her breath. She opens the door to exit, but pauses, “I’ll call you when I get home, Aria,” she calls out, as if that tells Savage she’ll know if I’m dead so he better not kill me. She disappears outside and shuts the door.
I laugh, pointing at Savage. “You’re mean and bad.”
“Only on Wednesdays.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Well then, it’s the wrong kind of hump day.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a folder, motioning to a wooden table. “Kace wants you to see something. Let’s sit.”
My brows furrow. “See something?”
“Yeah. Something. Let’s sit.” He walks to the wooden table between a couple display shelves and sits.
“Why can’t Kace show me this ‘something’?” I ask, claiming the spot across from him.
He proceeds to set photos of Gio in front of me. My heart skips a beat, and previous question forgotten, I reach for them. “What are these?”
“The photos you saw in Kace’s apartment. We pulled them from your security footage because Gio’s driver’s license photo is horrible.”
“He doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
He slides another photo in front of me. And it’s Gio’s driver’s license. Apparently, my brother’s been living La Vida Loca a lot longer than I knew.
“Obviously, I was wrong.” I glance up at Savage. “So you hacked my security feed? That’s extreme.”
“Kace was insistent he wanted a photo of present-day Gio and he expressed some concern that you