Page 38 of Savage Seduction

Butcher.

I fight hard to keep my emotions in check as my heart races and stomach plummets through the floor.

“Everything okay?” Ben asks. “Max?”

Ignoring him, I stand, my eyes searching. Sitting at the far side of the bar, staring right at me, is the devil himself. The L.A. Butcher. I take a staggered step away from the seat but catch my balance and snatch the knife from the table. Without a word, I rush forward, eyes trained on the twisted smile, dark, deep-set eyes, and monstrous face of the man who changed my world—forever.

Suddenly, a table of ten or more people stand, preparing to leave and obstructing not only my visual line, but also my forward movement. Careful not to stab anyone with the knife I clench, I turn sideways to slide past and through the group.

When I pop out the other side, I stop dead. The seat where The Butcher had been sitting is now empty.

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath. Scanning my surroundings, I look for that damn white hat but realize The Butcher had been smart enough to remove it. Turning left, then right, the room begins to spin. Two quick steps and I’m at the seat where the madman had been. I begin looking for a clue, anything that’d been left behind. Had he left me another calling card? A message? I slap the knife on the bar top. “Where is he?”

The two closest people turn in my direction. Confusionon their faces, they shrug. The bartender comes over. “What can I get you?”

“Where is he?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “Who?” the bartender asks.

“The man with the white hat?” I huff. “Seriously? He was sitting right here. You can’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Max?” Ben says as he comes up beside me.

I flinch at the sound of Ben’s voice, every fiber of my being on high alert and agitated. That piece of shit was right there.

“Max, are you okay? What can I get you?” Ben asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” he asks.

“No… I mean, I’m okay.” I put both palms on the bar and hang my head for a second, taking a moment to breathe and reset. I straighten my back and let my arms fall to my sides. “I’m really sorry. I can explain.”

Ben offers his hand, and I take it. We walk hand-in-hand toward our table. “Only if you want to.”

We reach our table and sit. Silence falls between us, and the further my heart rate drops, the worse I feel about the scene I’d caused. Telling the first gorgeous guy you’ve been on a date with in forever, that you were held against your will by the notorious Los Angeles serial killer, only to escape after he’d carved you up like a piece of meat, wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have—not this soon in the relationship.

“Would you like some edamame?” Ben asks. “The waiter brought some to the table. Two different flavors from what I can tell.”

I shake my head and sigh. “I owe you an apology.”

“Not at all.” He reaches over and plucks a bean from the basket. “Oh, yum. This one’s garlic and butter flavoring.”

“It does look good.” I take a bean from the bowlbut stop short of eating it. I put a hand to my mouth, covering an embarrassed smile. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Not unless you tell me you saw a human-alien hybrid at the bar and wanted to catch him as part of a secret government organization,” Ben says with a smile. “Unless that’s exactly what you were going to tell me? And in that case, I will nod and pretend to have a good time until I can escape out the back.”

I laugh out loud. “I promise you I wasn’t chasing after aliens. Ghosts perhaps, but not aliens.”

Ben eats a couple more edamame before taking another sip of wine. “Ghosts, huh?”

I put the food down on the little black plate in front of me. “I wish it was that easy.”

Ben’s face falls as he homes in on my pain. Seeing Ben’s concern feels good in a way, but at the same time makes me upset. I hate feeling like a victim. I’d always told myself that if I could at all help it, once my injuries had healed, I wouldn’t fall back on them as an excuse. I sigh. The more I think about it, the more I realize, I’ve been using it as an excuse this entire time.

“I just need a minute,” I say as I stand and grab my drink. “I’m going to use the little boys’ room. I’ll be right back.” I chug the drink and set the glass back down.

“Take your time,” Ben says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

---