the table and grasped her hand. “No. I didn’t come back here to piss you off.”
She pulled her hand away. “You’re working pretty damn hard on it.”
He inhaled, blew it out. “There’s nothing to tell you. I saw a lot of the…country. I was restless. And I needed to get out of here.”
Escape would have been nice for her, too. But that hadn’t been an option. “You picked a hell of a time to just pick up and leave, Dante.”
He stared down at his coffee cup, then back up at her. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
That was it? She’d been attacked, had gone through the worst trauma of her life, and the one person she thought she could count on had abandoned her when she needed him the most. And all he had for her in the way of explanation was “sorry about that”?
She stared him down, refusing to let him run this time. “You know, that’s just not good enough.”
To his credit, he didn’t flinch, instead held her gaze. “I know it isn’t.”
“Pretty interesting coincidence that you show up and George is killed.”
He drained the last of the coffee in his cup. “Lousy coincidence. I wish I’d been back sooner.”
“How much sooner?”
“Soon enough that I could have prevented it.”
She leaned back in the booth. “How could you have prevented it?”
“I don’t know. Someone lured him to that alley and beat him to death. If I’d been here maybe I could have stopped it.”
“Roman was here. Gabe was here. Jeff was here. None of them stopped it.”
His gaze shifted to the window where morning traffic crowded the street. “I know. I still think I might have been able to do something.” He turned his attention back to her. “Someone else knows about that night—about what happened.”
She’d been avoiding thinking that. “Or it could be coincidence.”
“Oh, come on, Anna. You’re smarter than that. It’s no coincidence he was killed in that alley. There’s a connection.”
“He was found with drugs in his pocket. It could have been a drug deal gone bad.”
“Yeah, right. And then they beat him to death and carved a heart on his chest.”
She shrugged. “I’m just thinking of all angles.”
“There’s only one angle. Someone saw what happened twelve years ago.”
She looked around the restaurant. No one sat by them, but still she leaned forward. “But why George? He had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t know. He had no connection to that night. That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.”
To her, either. She had a lot of thinking to do, and she was too damn tired to do it clearly. She needed to recharge, then tackle it again once she’d had some sleep.
She picked up the bill and slid money to the waitress as she stood. “I need to go.”
As she headed out the door, awareness of Dante on her heels pricked at her as she pushed through the front door and toward the parking lot.
“I invited you to breakfast. I would have paid.”
She slid on her sunglasses and pulled her keys from her pocket. “I’m capable of paying for my meal. It was nice to catch up with you, but I’m tired and I’m going home.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“I don’t think so.”
He had the nerve to smile at her. “I’m following you anyway. I want to make sure you get home okay.”
“Are you serious? I’m armed. I’m a detective, for the love of God. And it’s broad daylight. I’ve been taking care of myself for a lot of damn years now, Dante. Just because you swept back into town thinking—I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking—doesn’t mean you need to start protecting me. My days of needing you as my bodyguard are over.”
She stopped just short of blurting out that he’d failed as a bodyguard the last time she’d seen him, but the words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.
Even she wasn’t that cruel.
He moved in closer. “I’m sure you don’t need someone to watch over you. I know you can take care of yourself. But I’m here and this is what I used to do. So I’m following you home.”
She hated that he was here, messing up her life, making her want things she’d wanted for a long time, then pushed to the back of her mind, forcing herself to forget.
She inhaled the scent of him. Big mistake, because God help her, she wanted to put her hands on him, and in that moment she realized the feelings she had for him weren’t dead.
More likely it was just that she hadn’t been laid in a really long time. Dante was still a prime specimen of male beauty. Which was the only reason he had this effect on her. She needed a fast release of tension and he was a man.
But she already knew he wouldn’t be a quick fuck and out the door. They had too much history.
And dammit, they’d never had sex.
That night twelve years ago had gotten in the way.
It still would.
She tilted her head back and offered up an uncaring shrug. “Do what you want. I’m going home.”
She got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot, refusing to check and see if he followed.
She already knew he would.
What would happen when they got to her house?
She’d turn him away. Or maybe he’d just drive right past when he saw she was fine, which of course she would be.
Just fucking fine.
Yeah, she was fine, all right. So fine she buried herself in her work to avoid alone time. Because alone time meant thinking about her life.
Or lack of one.
Wasn’t that why she worked her ass off, agreeing to pull extra shifts all the time? So many of the guys had families and commitments. She didn’t, so why not work?
Things might have been different for her if Dante hadn’t left.
Then again, maybe they wouldn’t have been different at all. Maybe their teen romance would have run its course and she would be right where she was now.
But she couldn’t change the attack, couldn’t change what had happened to her that night. And hadn’t she always wondered what it might have been like if Dante had stayed? If she’d had him to hold on to, would she still feel so lost, so empty inside?
Ugh. Could she be more dramatic?
Lost and empty. Please. Her life was just fine.
And there was that fine word again, that word that seemed so…inadequate and unfulfilling.
She pulled into the driveway and opened her car door, so deep in thought she startled when Dante appeared right next to her.
“Jesus. How did you sneak up on me?”
He smiled. “I guess you are tired.” He took the keys from her hand and headed toward her front door, making her run to catch up to him.
“Hey, I can do that,” she said, fighting him for the keys.
“I’m sure you can.”
He stepped up to the front door, twirling her keys.
And stopped