I lean back against the cushioned seat, putting my arm behind Valentine, as King hands the stack of menus to the server.
“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow.” Savannah sighs.
“I know,” Payton agrees from her seat across from Savannah. “It was fun to spend New Year’s down here. We should make Chicago a tradition.”
Nero grunts, and I don’t know if it’s in agreement or annoyance, but I’ve seen them together enough over the last few days to know he’ll do whatever she wants.
Val takes a sip of her root beer and leans into my side.
Since it is our last night all together, we decided to do a dinner out. And when Val requested Thai food, I knew this would be the perfect place.
We’re near the back of the dining room, in a large U-shaped booth, with me and Val along the back. Usually, I wouldn’t let myself be trapped like this, but with Nero and King on the two outer spots, I’m not worried. Those dickheads can handle whatever might happen.
A different server, this one wearing a full suit, stops at the end of our table, straight across from me, and sets a tray of spring rolls down.
“A gift.” His head is tipped down, and his voice is low.
I sit up straighter.
Something is off.
Then the man lifts his head, looking straight at me. “Evening.”
“The fuck—” I start to get up, forgetting that I have nowhere to go.
King and Nero snap their gazes to our server.
They both start to move, but Hans uses his empty hand to pull his jacket back, showing his other hand tucked under the fabric, holding a live grenade.
A mother fucking grenade.
He takes a small step back, wisely putting himself out of Nero’s reach.
I move my arm from behind Val to in front of her. Blocking as much of her as I can from this monster. “What do you want?”
His eyes meet mine. “Just a quick chat.”
“Could’ve called,” Nero growls.
Hans shakes his head, his long hair shifting against his shoulders. “This is more of a face-to-face thing.”
Val’s indrawn breath pulls Hans’s gaze to her.
“Don’t fucking look at her,” I snap.
But it’s not Hans who speaks next. It’s Valentine.
“It’s you,” she breathes, then turns to me. “It’s him.”
“Him who?” King asks, and I notice him trying to inch out of the booth.
Hans holds his jacket open farther, for only our table to see, showing us three more grenades hanging from inside his shirt.
King stills his movement.
“That’s the man who saved us.” Val tugs on my arm.
All eyes turn to her.
She doesn’t look scared of him at all. Doesn’t look the least bit nervous that he’s covered in explosives.
“What are you talking about?” I ask her.
She points to Hans. “That’s the man who treated your bullet wounds. He’s the one who saved our lives.”
Now all eyes turn to Hans.
He dips his chin to my wife. “It was my pleasure.”
“What do you want?” I grit out. If this is true, and I know it is, I owe this man.
And I don’t want to owe this man.
“Like I said, I just want a chat.” His stance is casual. “It’s come to my attention that you’re all under the false assumption that I do bad things.” He tips his head. “Okay, well, I do some bad things, but only to bad people. I’m not the man you’re looking for.”
“No?” I ask, because he’s right. We all do believe that he’s the man behind the new human trafficking ring. Because his name always comes up. “Then who the fuck are you?”
“I’m no one.” He takes a step back. “Just a man seeking vengeance.”
He takes another step back, lowering his jacket to hide his collection of grenades before he turns and disappears through the kitchen.
Silence reigns over the table until Savannah breaks it. “Uh, who the hell was that?”
I relax against the seat, putting my arm back around Valentine’s shoulders. “Apparently, no one.” Then I point to the plate of spring rolls Hans left on the table. “Someone pass that here. My wife is eating for two, and I mean to feed her.”
