Salvation (5 page)

“What do you like about this?” I asked,
coming to stand beside him.

“The way he’s transformed common
household objects, elevated them into something of such raw beauty. Look at the
expression on that face. All Skye did was bend this knife, right here,” Vincent
touched a spot above the sculpture’s left eye, “which imbued it with so much
character. Both that and the way the hands are positioned convey a real sense
of longing. Don’t you agree?”

I looked closely at the statue, trying
to see what Vincent was seeing, and a cheerful voice behind us said, “I love it
when people get me.”

Skye was standing in the doorway,
positively beaming. His arrival snapped Vincent out of his reverie, who seemed
a little embarrassed as he said, “You’re exceptionally gifted. I have no doubt
you’ll go far in your art career.”

“Thanks, I hope you’re right,” Skye
said, retrieving a sandwich from the refrigerator. “Do you two want to stay for
dinner? We have plenty.”

“I actually have to be at work soon,” I
said. “What time is it, anyway?” Vincent glanced at the sleek silver watch on
his wrist and told me the time. “Crap, I’m going to be late! I’m supposed to
start work in fifteen minutes,” I exclaimed.

“I’ll drive you,” Vincent said. “You
won’t be late.”

After quick goodbyes to the brothers, I
jogged downstairs with Vincent right behind me and got back in his black Land
Rover. “Thank you,” I said, “both for taking me to work, and for helping us get
all our stuff back to River’s apartment. I don’t know why you’re going to all
this trouble, but I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, swinging the
SUV around in a big U-turn.

“How did you know to go this way?” I
asked.

“My grandmother told me you work at
Nolan’s.”

As we cut across town, I watched his
handsome profile and finally got up the courage to say, “Why did you ask about
me?”

He didn’t look at me as he replied, “I
find you...intriguing.”

That was more than a little surprising.
I just had to make a joke of it, I didn’t know what else to do with a statement
like that. “Because I’m so unbelievably awkward and clumsy?”

“Because you’re stunningly beautiful.”

That was the very last thing I’d
expected to hear from such a gorgeous guy. It was the last thing I’d expect to
hear from anyone, actually. I turned from him and stared unseeingly at the
passing cityscape.

It only took a few minutes to drive to
the bar and grill. Vincent pulled into the back alley and put the car in park.
As I unfastened my seatbelt, I murmured, “Thank you.” That was as much for the
ride as for calling me beautiful.

He turned his head to look at me, and
when I met his gaze there was something in his eyes, something that looked an
awful lot like longing. It was so compelling that I acted on impulse and leaned
in and kissed him, right on those full, sexy lips. I usually wasn’t that bold,
and about three seconds into it the real Trevor started screaming ‘
oh my
God, what are you doing!
’ in my head. I pulled back abruptly and mumbled,
“Thanks again.”

I bolted from the Land Rover and
launched myself through the service entrance. Once the door was shut behind me,
I leaned against the wall for a moment, catching my breath. Had I really just
done that? Had I planted a kiss on the sexiest man alive? And ugh, ‘thanks
again’ made it sound like I was thanking him for letting me kiss him. So
awkward!

He’d kissed me back, though. There’d
definitely been some reciprocating. His lips had parted slightly, and he’d
leaned forward a bit, instead of pulling away. I touched a fingertip to my
lower lip, remembering the sensation of my mouth on his....

“You okay, Trevor?”

I jumped at that and spun to face
Dmitri, co-owner of the bar along with his husband Jamie. “Yeah, fine,” I
mumbled, and started to hurry past him.

“Hang on a second.” Dmitri detained me
with a gentle touch on my upper arm. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“I’m not upset, just a little
flustered.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I looked closely at my employer. His
expression was sincere, his blue eyes sympathetic. He was a really nice guy,
and he and Jamie tried to make everyone that worked here feel like family, so I
knew his offer was genuine. Since I really did want someone to talk to right
then, I blurted, “I just kissed somebody. This is going to sound incredibly
stupid, because I’m twenty and not fourteen, but that was actually my first
real kiss. Well, except for playing truth or dare in grade school, but that
doesn’t really count, does it?”

Dmitri grinned at that. “There’s nothing
wrong with being a late bloomer, Trevor.”

“It’s embarrassing. And man, this guy –
he’s not exactly what you usually start with, you know? I mean, for most
people, their first kiss happens in their teens, with another equally
inexperienced, socially awkward teenager. But apparently I had to start with
the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“So, is this guy older than you? Is that
why you’re so thrown off?”

“Not by much. He’s just...he’s
everything I’m not. He’s sophisticated and mature, and seems to totally have
his act together. I must seem like such a disaster in his eyes.”

“Did he say that?”

I smiled shyly, looking down at my
shoes, and said, “Well, no. He actually called me beautiful.”

Dmitri chuckled at that. “So, why are
you stressing? A hot guy thinks you’re beautiful, and you kissed him. That’s
awesome.”

“What if he didn’t want me to plant one
on him? What if I totally overstepped and made him feel uncomfortable?”

“Did he
seem
uncomfortable?”

“Well, no.”

“I think you should call him and ask him
out.”

I grinned and said, “Because that
wouldn’t be terrifying.”

“What’s the worst thing that could
happen?”

“He could laugh in my face.”

“Do you really think he’d do that?”
Dmitri asked.

I grinned and said, “Stop making this
sound so easy.”

He smiled at me, which brought out a
perfect set of dimples. “Go on, take a chance.”

“I’m not going to call him, I don’t even
have his number. But I’ll probably run into him again since Nana, his
grandmother, is helping my friend and me with our catering business.
Maybe
I’ll ask him out next time I see him.”

In an instant, Dmitri’s expression went
from cheerful to dead serious. “Trevor...are we talking about Vincent Dombruso?”

That really surprised me. “Yeah. Do you
know him?”

“His brother Dante is a close friend of
mine, and I’ve known the Dombruso family for years.”

“Okay. So, why do you look like I kissed
the devil himself?”

“Because Trevor,” Dmitri said, “you kind
of did.”

Before I could ask what he meant by
that, there was some kind of commotion in the kitchen. We both began moving
toward the sound. Suddenly, Jamie rounded the corner with two of the cooks, one
of which had his hand wrapped in a dishtowel and was raising it up over his
head.

“What happened?” Dmitri asked.

Jamie told him, “Raffi cut himself
pretty deeply and I need to take him to the hospital. Leah wants to go along,
she’s worried.” The two chefs were a couple.

“Text me when you get there and let me know
how he’s doing,” Dmitri said.

“Will do.”

“Can you help out in the kitchen?”
Dmitri asked me once the trio left through the back door. “I can fill in for
Leah, but I need a sous chef.”

“Sure, but what about the front of the
house?”

“The wait staff will have to bus their
own stations, it’s more important that we get the orders filled.”

The next couple hours passed quickly.
Between Dmitri’s instructions and what I’d observed about how the kitchen was
run, I was able to get the job done. When Jamie and Leah returned and took over
(after dropping a stitched-up Raffi back at his apartment), Dmitri told me, “We
really need to move you into the kitchen the minute a position opens up. Your
skills are going to waste bussing tables.” He pulled off his apron and tossed
it in the laundry bin.

“I’d love that.” I too removed the big
white apron I’d been wearing and replaced it with a short black one, which I
tied around my hips. As I grabbed a clean dishcloth, I changed the subject by
saying, “So, sometime when we’re not busy, I’d like to continue our
conversation about Vincent Dombruso.” His earlier comment had been eating away
at me all evening.

“Sure, but the main thing you need to
know is that he’s a very dangerous individual. I was raised in the Russian
mafia, by the way, so it takes a lot for me to think of someone as dangerous.”

“I’ve met a surprising number of people
in the mob since I moved to San Francisco. I never realized it was so prevalent
here.”

“It isn’t. There are just a few
contingents, and you happen to have landed right in the midst of them.” Dmitri
flashed me a smile, dimples and all, and added, “I’m not in that line of work
anymore, in case you were wondering.”

Chapter
Three

I ended up closing out both the dining
room and bar that night, because Nolan’s was particularly busy and the wait
staff needed help. It was a little after two a.m. when I finally buttoned up my
old navy blue cardigan and exited the restaurant through the service entrance.
I usually didn’t work that late, and hoped the buses were still running.

Even though it was June, the night was
cool and foggy. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and started down the alley.
Since I had a lot of cash on me, both from my earlier catering job and because
the wait staff had tipped out generously tonight, I was worried about getting
mugged on the way home. Actually, I worried about that every night, but more so
now that I had something worth stealing.

When a tall figure stepped out from
behind a parked SUV, backlit by a distant streetlamp, I gasped and froze in my
tracks. “Trevor, it’s me,” a familiar voice said. “I didn’t mean to startle
you.”

“Vincent.” Without thinking, I took a
step back from him.

I couldn’t see his face, but I saw what
that did to his body language, his shoulders slumping and his silhouette
folding in on itself ever-so-slightly. “Well, that was fast,” he said quietly.

“What was?”

“You’ve already learned to fear me. I
figured it was just a matter of time before your employer warned you away from
me, but I’d hoped....”

“What?”

“I’d hoped by then you would have gotten
to know me a little, so you’d make up your own mind.”

I circled around him and he turned
toward me, so his face was now partially lit by the streetlamp. “If you don’t
want people to be afraid of you, maybe consider not hanging out in dark
alleys,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “What are you doing here,
anyway?”

“I came to offer you a ride home. It
isn’t safe to be out by yourself at this hour.”

“Why didn’t you come inside? You could
have had a drink at the bar while I finished my shift.”

“Given what your employer probably had
to say about me, do you really think I would have been welcome in there?”

I slowly walked toward him. “I doubt
they’d throw you out. Jamie and Dmitri are nice people.” I stopped right in
front of him and looked up. Even though I was just under six feet tall, he had
a good four inches on me.

“I don’t go places I’m not wanted.”

I watched him for a few moments. In the
dim light, his eyes were black behind his glasses, his expression totally
unreadable. “You only met me a few hours ago,” I said. “Why would you want to
give me a ride home?”

“I was concerned for your safety.”

“Is that the only reason you’re here?”

After a moment, he admitted, “I kept
thinking about the way we left it when I dropped you off.”

“I don’t know what came over me. I
really don’t make a habit of kissing people I barely know, and—”

Vincent cut off my awkward explanation
by gently taking hold of my upper arms and brushing his lips to mine. My hands
came up and gripped the lapels of his suit jacket as I sank into that kiss,
every part of my body stirring to life.

When I finally pulled back from him, my
voice was a little rough as I asked, “How did you know I’d be off at two? I was
actually only scheduled to work until ten, not that you would have known that
either.”

“I’ve been out here a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he said with just the
faintest grin, “it’d sound ridiculous if I admitted I’ve been out here for the
last three hours.”

“Have you really?”

“No. It was a little over four, but that
sounds completely crazy and desperate, so I rounded it down to three.” That
grin still tugged at the corner of his lips.

I smiled at that. “What have you been
doing to pass the time?”

“Reading.”

“Good answer.”

His grin got just a bit bigger. “Is it?”

I nodded and told him, “It shows we have
something in common. I love reading.”

“We have something else in common, too.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” He tilted my chin up with a
gentle touch, his lips meeting mine again. I put my arms around him this time
and held him to me as we kissed, letting my eyes slide shut, sinking into it.

“Oh yeah,” I murmured when we broke
apart. “That too.”

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand.
“It’s really late, let me get you home.”

“Okay.”

But then I pulled him to me and kissed
him again as he tangled his fingers in my hair. When I slid my tongue between
his lips, he sucked it gently and a little moan escaped me. I wrapped my arms
around him again, holding him tightly, my hands splayed out on his broad back.
God he felt good, so strong and solid. I slid my hands down to his narrow
waist, but then something at his lower back made me hesitate.

I looked up at him. “Is that a gun in
your waistband?” His expression was grave as he nodded, just once. “Why are you
armed, Vincent?”

“I always carry a gun,” he said,
“because I never know when I might have to protect myself or someone I care
about.”

When I took a step back from him, his
body language changed again, just like it had when I’d first found him in the
alley. It was really subtle, but I could see him withdrawing into himself, some
part of him shutting down as his expression became guarded.

“I have no idea what’s going on in your
life that makes you think that’s necessary,” I told him, “and I probably don’t
want to know. But I hate guns, for reasons I’m really not going to go into
right now. I can’t be around you as long as you’re carrying a weapon.” I turned
and started walking down the alley, away from him.

“Wait.” When I didn’t stop, he said,
“Trevor, public transit isn’t running this late and you’ll never find a cab.
Please just let me drive you home. It’s dangerous out there.”

I turned and looked at him. “It’s dangerous
here too, apparently.”

He reached behind him and pulled the gun
from his waistband. A cold trickle of fear ran down my spine at the sight of
it. He ejected the clip into his hand and removed a bullet from the chamber,
then walked toward me slowly, holding the gun by the barrel. “Would you rather
hold the gun or the bullets?” he asked. “If you keep one and I keep the other,
maybe that’ll make you feel better about being in the car with it while I drive
you home.”

“Neither,” I said, my hands balling up into
fists at my sides.

Vincent dropped the clip and ammunition
into a nearby dumpster. “I’d throw the gun out, too,” he said, “but then I’d be
concerned about someone finding it in the trash and using it.” He walked back
to his SUV and opened the rear hatch, put the gun inside and closed it again.
“That’s the best I can do.”

I hesitated for a long moment before
slowly walking to the Land Rover and climbing in the passenger seat. When he
got behind the wheel, I recited my address, then turned my head to look out the
window. “I would never hurt you, Trevor,” he said softly as he started the
engine and pulled out of the alley. “Not in a million years.”

“I believe you,” I said. “I just really
have to wonder what you’re involved in that makes you think you need to be
armed.”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You should, though. Maybe if you
explained it to me....”

“I really can’t.”

We wound through the quiet streets of
San Francisco. Most of the city was asleep at this time of night, and the thin
layer of fog made everything look hazy and dreamlike. “Shit,” Vincent muttered
under his breath, and abruptly turned right.

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” I
told him.

“I know. I just need to see something.”
He was watching his rearview mirror, and swore again before murmuring, “Christ,
why now?”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re being followed.”

“Seriously?” He took a left turn, eyes
still on the rearview mirror, and I pivoted in my seat and looked behind us. A
big, black Escalade made the same left, then hung about half a block back. “Why
would someone be following you?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Who are they?”

“Any one of a number of people.”

“Like?”

Instead of answering, he turned to look
at me. “I’m really sorry you got caught in the middle of this. They must have
stumbled across my SUV through sheer dumb luck, and now there’s only one thing
I can do. I need to outrun them.”

“Um, or you could just drive to a police
station and go inside with me.”

“I can’t involve the police.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. Hang on, Trevor. This
might get kind of scary, and I apologize for that.”

Vincent wrenched the stick shift and
slammed on the gas, and the Land Rover took off so fast that I was pressed
against my seat. We’d just rounded the crest of a hill and were momentarily out
of sight of the Escalade, so Vincent took a wild left turn, then an immediate
right. I could hear brakes squealing somewhere behind us.

He lowered his speed slightly, though it
was still way too fast for city streets, and wove through a quiet neighborhood.
My heart was pounding. I braced my feet against the dashboard, both hands
white-knuckling the little grab bar above the door.

“You really shouldn’t put your feet up
like that,” he said, his tone surprisingly calm and conversational. “If the
airbag goes off, it’ll break your legs.”

“So don’t crash into anything. Then the
airbag won’t be a problem.” I kept my feet right where they were.

He glanced over at me and said, “You’re
surprisingly calm. I expected you to start screaming.”

“I still might, if you don’t keep your
eyes on the road.”

Vincent grinned just a little and took
another sharp left. Though he was driving fast, he kept it below the point
where the tires would squeal and give away our location. The Escalade, on the
other hand, was loudly laying down rubber around every corner, so I could tell
they were about a block over. “You’re weirdly good at this,” I said.

“It’s not my first rodeo.”

“So, you routinely terrorize the streets
of San Francisco while outrunning random thugs. If we live to tell about this,
we’re going to have a long talk about your lifestyle choices.”

“You’re even being funny,” he said,
flying around another corner. “That’s absolutely extraordinary.”

“I’m really good in a crisis. Instead of
panicking, I use humor as a coping mechanism. At least, that’s how my shrink
explained it to me when I was a kid.”

“Why were you in therapy as a child?”

“It was court-ordered, and part of a
long, ugly story that I’m not about to share with you right now. Holy crap,
look out!” We’d just cut across a major intersection on a red light, and
Vincent had to swerve wildly to avoid an oncoming vehicle. It was pure luck
that we made it through unscathed.

Just then, the Escalade shot out of a
side street and made a wide turn, so they were now directly behind us. “Shit,”
Vincent muttered, changing gears and stomping on the accelerator. “I really
thought I could shake them back there.” He got quiet then, his brows knit in
concentration.

After a few moments, I said, “I can’t
believe there aren’t fifty police cars chasing us right now. Surely someone
must have reported this.”

“If this goes on another few minutes, I
guarantee there will be.”

The Land Rover must have had an
incredibly powerful engine, because we climbed a big hill without slowing down
in the slightest. When we reached the top, we shot across an intersection and
actually became airborne as we took the slope on the other side. Despite
myself, I let out a whoop, adrenaline coursing through my system. The SUV
landed with a sharp jolt, and Vincent glanced at me. “I always wanted to do
that,” I told him. “But that doesn’t mean I think this is okay.”

I braced myself as we took another wild
turn. We were headed south now, toward the outskirts of the city, and I said,
“Please tell me you have a plan, other than driving like a maniac until either
you or the people chasing us run out of gas.”

“I do have a plan, but it’ll never work
unless I can widen the gap between us.” He took a couple more turns in rapid
succession, and I twisted around again and watched as the bigger SUV behind us
swung wide, very nearly hitting a parked car. They straightened out though and
just kept coming.

Vincent continued weaving through
streets narrowed by parked cars on both sides. With every turn we gained just a
bit of ground, since our vehicle cornered slightly better than theirs did.
Finally, when we lost sight of them for a few moments, he took a sharp right
into an apartment complex’s tiny parking lot, pulled into a space beside a van,
and cut the engine. “Get down,” he said, releasing his seatbelt and ducking
below the line of the dashboard. I did the same, my face inches from his.