Page 75 of Savagely Scarred

Maybe the one behind you. I won’t know til he turns his head

She purses her lips and gives me a mischievous smile before texting me again.

play along

Raising a questioning brow, I lower my phone and look at her. She dips her finger in her water glass and runs it along her lower lashes. The fake tears trail down her cheeks. Before I can ask her what she’s planning, she lets out a high-pitched squeal and fans her hands frantically in front of her face.

“Oh my God! I cannot believe you are breaking up with me right now!”

My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open. I don’t know what I was expecting her to do, but it wasn’t this. She’s going to make a scene at the expense of my ego. The people at the table next to us start staring and whispering to each other.

“We were supposed to go to Paris, Michael! PARIS!” her voice grows louder and she throws her hands up dramatically.

More people turn to look in our direction, and it’s taking all of my willpower not to crack a smile. But the one person I need to give us his attention is still engrossed in his own conversation. Liv tilts her head slightly, questioning if he’s watching and I shake my head. She mouths “I’m sorry” before she stands abruptly, picks up her water and tosses it all over me.

“I guess you can take that bitch Stacy that you cheated on me with!” She slams the glass down and snatches up her purse before storming off to the bathroom.

I sit there in utter dismay—water dripping off my hair and face. Chuckling to myself, I pick up the napkin and shake my head, wiping my face off.

“Tough break, kid,” a gruff voice says.

The man rises from his seat and turns to face me, buttoning up his grey suit jacket. All I see is his mugshot. Brown eyes. Thick mustache. Scar below his lower lip.

Victor Parelli.

“Yeah,” I sigh and shake the water off the menu. “Serves me right I guess.”

His tongue slides over his upper teeth, the glint from the gold canine catches my eye. “Better luck with the next one.”

Victor and his companion stride to the back of the restaurant and slip through a door that’s labeled ‘Staff Only.’ Two well-dressed Italian men employed at a Chinese restaurant. What could be more obvious than that?

“Suspect identified,” I say quiet enough that only my team can hear it.

I catch sight of Liv in my peripheral coming out of the bathroom. She gives me a smirk before she follows them through the door.

What the fuck is she doing?

I stand from my chair and chase after her, ignoring all the deaths stares from patrons as I pass them. I open the door wide enough to slip inside the dimly lit room. As soon as I enter, my back hits the wall and Liv presses her finger to my lips.

Glancing around, it looks like any other storage room. Tall metal shelves are filled with pantry and cleaning products. But then I hear voices. Liv motions for me to follow, and we creep down the aisle until we reach the end. I lower my head and look through the shelves into a side room that branches off from this one.

Victor and his friend are barking orders, overseeing a group of other men loading up takeout containers with bricks of cocaine. Then, they place them into large cardboard boxes with the restaurant’s logo stamped on the side.

Gotcha motherfucker.

Liv peers around the corner of the shelf. I hook my finger into her back pocket and tug her toward me to get her out of their line of sight. In the process, she knocks a tin of cashews off, and it clangs loudly onto the floor. Everyone’s heads turn in our direction and I freeze. Victor draws his gun and slinks our way.

I shove Liv up against the shelf and start kissing her. She follows my train of thought and grabs my hair, messing it up. Holding her one leg around my waist, I grope her breast with the other. Our panting breaths fill the small space.

"This is not safe for work," Dorian remarks in my ear.

"Dorian! Shut the fuck up," Dylan snaps.

“What the fuck are you doing back here?” Victor snarls.

Feeling the barrel of his gun press against the back of my head, I raise my arms in the air. Liv does her best impression of a terrified female, and I turn around slowly to face him.

“Hey, man. I’m just trying to make up with my girlfriend,” I say, glancing at his glock. “Is there really a need for the gun?”