Free Savage by Michelle St. James

hadn’t seen him in five years. I’m ashamed of that now.”
    “I’m sure you had a good reason.” There was understanding and not a bit of judgement in his voice.
    “I have a daughter,” she said suddenly, surprising herself with the disclosure. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to bring her back to London, and dad was always working so…”
    “He rarely took his paid days off,” Alexander said, looking down at his food as if the thought pained him. “From what I hear from the people who worked closely with him, he seemed happy, seemed to enjoy his job.” He met her eyes. “I don’t know if that helps.”
    She tried to smile. “It does. I often wonder if he was happy.”
    “I think for most people, happiness is something that comes and goes,” he said carefully. “Where we get into trouble is when we expect to be happy all of the time. That’s not how life works. I find I’m happier when I’m able to see the beauty in its unpredictability.”
    “A lofty goal,” she said.
    He smiled. “Yes.”
    A couple more minutes passed before he spoke again. “Forgive me for being indelicate, but have the police learned anything about the night he was killed?”
    “Not that I’m aware of, but his wallet was emptied, and his football ring was taken. The police have chalked it up to a random mugging.”
    Alexander put down his fork and shook his head. “I don't know what the world is coming to. Danger seems to be found in the most unexpected places.”
    She thought of Farrell, of his determination to make the world a safer place by heading violence off with more violence. It wasn’t difficult to see how he had come to the philosophy given the death of his own father, not dissimilar to the way Jenna’s father had been killed. Every day people were hurt and killed simply going about their business. It wasn’t fair.
    “I know what you mean,” she said, forcing Farrell from her mind.
    “And there was nothing else in his possession that would have made him a target?” Alexander said, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
    Jenna flashed to the passport and key card hidden in her father’s coat. Hardly sought after items for a thief. If he’d been hiding them, it had been for reasons of his own.
    “Nothing,” she said. “He was a simple man, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed, this isn’t the best neighborhood in London.”
    “Nor the worst,” he said.
    She smiled. “Now you sound like my sister.”
    He held her gaze, and for a moment, she thought she felt a current of something like attraction ripple between them. It was gone a split second later, replaced by an image of Farrell as he’d loomed over her at the wake, the feel of his erection pressing into her belly.
    “Well, I suppose I should be going,” Alexander said, standing.
    “I’ll walk you out.” She was glad for the distraction of walking to the front of the house, of the niceties involved with handing Alexander his coat and opening the door. He stepped over the threshold, then turned and looked into her eyes. “Thank you for sharing your dinner.”
    “Thank you for bringing it,” she said. “It was very kind.”
    “There was at least some part of it that was selfish, I assure you.” He smiled a little. “Goodnight, Jenna.”
    “Goodnight, Alexander.”
    He shook his head. “Alex, please.”
    She hesitated. “Alex.”
    The name felt strange and unfamiliar on her tongue. She watched him descend to the sidewalk and get into a sleek car parked at the curb. She closed the door before he’d driven away, feeling oddly guilty, as if she’d somehow betrayed Farrell when she owed him nothing. Certainly not the celibacy she’d maintained over the five years they’d been apart. She was willing to bet he hadn’t done the same.
    The idea turned her stomach. She couldn’t think about Farrell with anyone else. She assumed he’d been with other people — but it was one thing to know it and another entirely to imagine it.
    She went