Page 13 of Cruel Savior

"Of course. Top shelf of that cabinet." She pointed to the big one opposite of where I’d been looking, moved around the island and took a seat on one of the many leather chairs placed there. "What are you going to do?"

She looked skeptical and a little worried.

"Hopefully, Mexican depending on how well Turner stocks this place with spices and such." I grabbed a package of tortillas and added it to the mix before searching the rest of the pantry. "Aha," I withdrew a large can of enchilada sauce from the very back of the cabinet and held it up like a prize.

I thought I heard a laugh from her spot at the island, but by the time I turned to look at her, she'd gone back to looking serious.

"I take it we're having enchiladas."

"I assume you still like them. Mexican used to be your favorite." I froze, the minute the words came out, realizing too late what I'd said. Fuck. Apparently, not bringing the past into the present was going to be harder than I’d thought.

"Enchiladas are fine." She stood, looking as panicked as I felt. "I'm going to go move all the case files while you do whatever it is you are going to do."

I snorted."Cook, you mean?"

"Sure. Although I would be fine with just a sandwich. It's not necessary for you to cook for me."

"I'm not doing it for you," I said.

Her eyes widened, and that pang of regret went off in my gut again. Fuck if she didn't make me feel bad for—what? There was nothing to feel guilty about. Ever. If she didn't like it when I spoke the truth that was also her problem. She was all grown up and could figure out all on her own how to deal with my being here.

I had a job to do. And.Nothing.Else. Matters.

Reminder number nineteen. Check.

Chapter Eight

Amanda

By the timeI finished carrying all of the files into the dining room, and then dragged the white board across the cabin, the scents of Axel’s cooking had filled the rooms. My mouth salivated and hunger tugged at my gut. I'd lied about eating the day before. It had been at least two days, and likely would have been longer if not for him.

I'd grabbed food because I knew it was a necessity, but there was also a case of protein bars in the cabinet that would have sufficed. But now he was cooking for us...

I'm not doing it for you.

Those words had sliced deep. He’d made it crystal clear more than once that he didn’t want to be here. But I could read between the lines. He hated me.

As the tears I would never let fall burned at the back of my eyes, I pushed harder to get the whiteboard in place. Now more than ever, I needed to put all of my effort into the job. Except the sight of Axel, sleeves pushed up, leaning over the stove, made my heart skip a beat.

He was so much bigger than he'd been as a teenager. There was a lot more muscle, that was for sure. He'd removed his leather jacket and the heather-gray shirt with three-quarter sleeves beneath it clung to his body in a way that highlighted every cut plane.

There were also a lot more tattoos. I remembered his first. We’d been together at the tattoo shop, him getting the handlebars of his bike inked on his upper arm with a view of the mountains in the background, as if he was riding towards them. He'd said at the time that riding meant the ultimate freedom to him and that it was always going to be a part of him.

I'd had the silly teenage notion that we would get matching tattoos, but I wasn't a biker and had no intention of being anything other than a passenger on his. So, I'd opted for a small red heart with a thorned rose sticking out of one side. Since I was deathly afraid of getting caught, I'd had it placed on my hip, well inside my panty line.

Over the years I'd thought about getting it removed since seeing it every day reminded me of him, but I'd decided against it. I wanted to remember. If for no other reason than to remind myself that nothing would ever last forever. Teenage crush or not, he'd left a mark on me, and so far, it was the only one worth having.

"What's that look for? What's wrong?" Axel's question caught me off guard.

"What?" I shook my head. "Nothing."

His frown made it clear he didn't believe me, but he chose to drop it. "After we eat, I have a few questions about these cases. If we go over them, maybe we can knock something loose."

"Sure," I mumbled, turning my back to forget about looking at him by arranging all of the paperwork and information into organized stacks.

"Food's ready. Come and get it while it's hot."

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. Having him here was going to be a lot harder than I thought. Especially if he did things like cook dinner.

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