Page 78 of Savagely Scarred

A statement I don’t even believe myself.

“True, but did you even tell Sage where we were going?”

“No,” I say flatly.

“Liv!”

I ignore his reprimand and continue, “Roberts says the Commissioner won’t let SWAT help with the investigation because we’re involved.”

“I’m still pissed he didn’t tell me about the murders.”

I scoff. “You’re not the only one.” I spin the ring on my middle finger and watch a few boats glide down the river. “But I think the Commissioner is wrong. I think they could use me as a decoy.”

Enzo turns his head and stares at me. “Like bait?”

I lock eyes with him. “Yes. Whoever is doing this is killing women who look like me. So, what better way to lure him out than with the real thing? It could save another woman’s life.”

With his tongue in his cheek, he nods in understanding. “You would have a lot more people watching you than at that Gala.”

“Exactly!” I’m both excited and relieved to hear him say the same thing I did in Roberts’ office earlier.

“But that wasn’t even high risk.” He places a gentle hand on my arm. “This is a lot more dangerous, Liv.”

“Yes, but like you said, there would be a lot more trained men guarding me. At least three times as many.”

Enzo places his forearms back onto the railing, clasping his hands together. “Let me guess. Sage said no.”

“Yeah, I was hoping if I could get you on my side again, you could reason with him.” I shrug.

He drops his head and stays silent for a few minutes. Finally, he looks at me. “I think you’re right. It’s a good plan. But convincing Sage won’t be easy. And even if I do, there’s no guarantee the Commissioner will.”

Smiling, I throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

Enzo hugs me back. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” My stomach growls in agreement.

I glance over to the food carts that sit along the street a couple hundred feet away.

“Street meat?”

He laughs. “Hotdog?”

“Two please.” I grin.

Walking away, Enzo mumbles, “Sage is going to kill me.”

I turn around and my clammy palms grip the railing. The breeze coming off the river blows my ponytail across my back. A ferry leaves Ellis Island, blaring its horn. My focus zeros in on the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

I’ve never felt less free in my entire life.

Someone bumps into me and apologizes, and I glance over my shoulder to see a teenager walking away from me. His clothes are tattered and his shoes are worn. I reach into my back pocket to make sure my wallet is still there. My fingers graze something behind the leather billfold.

A chill runs through me, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. I run my finger along the torn edge of the picture. Sage dressed in a black tux, smiling down at what should be me. But the other half of that picture is on my mantel.

My pulse races and I whip my head around the park, scanning for him. He must have given it to the boy to put in my pocket. I flip the picture over and my heart jumps into my throat.

I wipe the condensation off the mirror with my hand. The bathroom feels like a sauna because I took the hottest shower known to man, trying to relieve the ice that has fused to my bones.