Page 21 of Savior
“Well, he has employees, of course.” Vanna chimes in for me again. “And the land is leased to a farmer. Thank God,” she forces a little laugh. “Dean is a hard worker. I’d never see him if he still did everything on his own.”
“He’s also the President of a motorcycle gang.” Giuliana tilts her dainty chin towards the patch on my cut.
“Club.” Vanna corrects her. “Which by the way, does amazing volunteer work and fundraising for multiple charities.” Her other hand reaches across her lap to supportively grip my forearm, as if she’s proud of me. I force a tight-lipped smile at her.
I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take. Part of me wants them to know Vanna isn’t with a fucking dreg. The other part wants to puke every time she attempts to sell me to them. I’m beginning to loathe myself for even giving a fuck.
“Fascinating.” Her mother speaks up. She’s barely said a word since they arrived. Hasn’t touched any of the food Vanna busted her ass preparing for them, either. “What type of volunteer work? I can’t imagine you have the time to volunteer, what with all your other endeavors!”
I can’t even tell anymore if she’s being sincere or sarcastic. But thank you, Madame Priss, for the opening I’ve been waiting for…
“Domestic abuse shelters.” That ought to get this conversation rolling in the direction it really should. Some fucking apologies owed to Vanna. Though I have a feeling, it’s hoping for too much.
As the room falls to complete silence upon my reply, Vanna jumps to her feet immediately, left hand behind her own back this time. Offering them refills of either coffee or mimosas, the level of anxiety in her tone grates my nerves. I decide here and now, that these people aren’t leaving, until Jack Nero is addressed.
Vanna excuses herself to the kitchen to fetch their requests, while her parents shuffle uncomfortably in their seats. Her sister, the only one who insisted I actually call her by her first name, softly clears her throat, pulling my attention back in her direction.
“How noble of you.” Giuliana remarks, though her tone is quieter now, as if speaking so that Vanna won’t be able to discern her words from the kitchen. I simply force another smile, glancing briefly at her parents. They seem oblivious to her shift in demeanor. I’m not surprised. Giuliana is clearly the golden child. “And what might that entail?”
“Mostly fund raising to cover the expenses of safe houses, now. I hope to involve the MC in further efforts of support in the future, like we have in the past.”
“Such as?” she persists. I try to ignore the way her eyes drift over me. Her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, the way Vanna bites hers when she wants me. When she wants to turn me on.
Fuck... Why?
I pretend not to notice the way she crosses her legs and shifts herself more directly towards me, either. The way her fingers gently stroke her own knee, subtly. I know she means for me to notice. To think of that hand stroking other things.
“We volunteer our time to guard safe houses. We escort the victims to trials and act as a support, as well as a deterrent, to keep them safe. To give them strength in those stressful times.” I explain.
“Oh. Like BACA?” She smiles.
“I’m surprised you’re familiar with Bikers Against Child Abuse.” I admit. She shrugs. “Yes. Similar to BACA.”
“Similar?”
“BACA is an international, law-abiding organization.” I state. “I don’t object to crossing legal lines, on occasion.” Every occasion, if I could have my way. Her parents seem to tense a little more, but Giuliana’s gaze shifts to my cut again.
“The Saviors.” She says. “Established thirty-five years ago. That’s an impressive run.” I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. “I imagine such dedication would be inspired by something in your life?”
“My uncle founded the MC in honor of my mother.”
“Oh, does she reside in this quaint little town as well, Mr. Keegan?” Mrs. Vettriano speaks once again.
“Dean.” I insist. “And I suppose you could say that.” She looks perplexed by my response. I’m all too happy to clear things up for her. “My father beat the shit out of my mother on a regular basis. Because of situations stemming from that, she now resides in the local cemetery. As do my father and uncle.”
Taken aback by my reply, she stammers, “I’m so sorry… I apologize...”
“To the wrong person.” I say, shifting my attention to Vanna’s father now. He’s glaring at me.
“Why don’t you just say what you want to say?” He challenges.
I’m glad he’s perceptive enough to pick up on the subtle digs I’ve been making at them this whole time. He knows damn well this family failed Vanna. I can see it in their faces. His arrogance has thus far prevented them from making things right with her. Not that they ever really could, in my eyes. However, I will make a valiant effort to settle for whatever Vanna accepts.
“Because I care deeply for your daughter, sir.” I try not to glare back at him. “And we would not be parting ways… amicably, if I were to do that.”
“You think I knew what was going on?” I can tell he’s fighting not to raise his voice to me. I don’t give a fuck if he does or not. He knows what I think. I don’t have to spell it out for him.
A simple question will drive my point home. “Why did she feel she had to come looking for someone like me?”
