Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(7)

Something in him deflated and died. He sat back as she stood. “I understand.”

“I’m sure you’re a good person, you have to be to come all this way and try to make things right. But you can’t right now.”

“I’m a f*cking horrible person.”

That froze her in the middle of shouldering her purse strap. “Why? Did you kill my brother on purpose?”

“No.”

“You said some really shitty things before the fight.”

“So did he.”

“But he’s the one who died.”

“I’m not going to make you believe what kind of person I am by telling you. So I might as well give you what you and your family want to hear. I’m an evil, inhuman bastard. Go ahead and tell them.”

“Are you actually pissed at me right now?”

“Not at all.” He stood from his own chair, towering over her. “I just know I’ll never convince you of how sorry I am, since you’re not giving me any way of doing so.”

“I hear you. That’s enough. If you want to convince me that you’re sorry . . . go back to Houston, let us grieve my brother, and try not to put another family in our situation the next time you fight.” She turned to go.

“There might not be a next time,” he said to her back. She stopped after two steps, looking back over her shoulder at him.

He shrugged, glancing away under the weight of her heavy gaze. “Thinking about retiring. I don’t know yet.” After a moment, he reconnected with those assessing dark eyes. “What do you think Tommy would do? If I was the one going in the ground right now instead of him, would he quit? Would he keep going?”

To his amazement, she let her purse slip from her shoulder and reclaimed her seat. He took his own. “Tommy wouldn’t quit,” she admitted. “He was never in a situation like that, but I knew him. He would never quit. He loved it too much.” Sighing, she finally pulled apart one of her beignets and took a bite, licking the powdered sugar from her fingers with a swipe of her pink tongue.

And that unleashed all kinds of inappropriate images in his head.

Evil, inhuman bastard. She probably thought you were joking but little does she know. Her brother’s not yet cold in his grave because of you, and you’re thinking of f*cking her.

“I love it too,” he said, diverting his attention back to his coffee. “It was the only thing I was ever good at, but I had to be. My brothers depended on me for it. My mother did too, more than once. So I decided I might as well make a living at it.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to tell her about the rotted skeletons in his closet. Maybe to make her see, make her understand that he knew pain, too.

“Protector of your family?” she said, sounding a little too close to sympathetic for his liking. Her sympathy was one thing he didn’t want.

“Something like that. Somebody had to, and I was pushing six feet and putting on muscle by the time I was fourteen.” He shrugged. “Might as well be me.”

“It was nothing like that for our family,” she said. “My parents are old money. Tommy was always a star athlete and they were proud of that while he was in school, but when he decided to go into MMA as a career, they nearly had a stroke. But he kept winning, so they came around. ‘Whatever you do,’ they always used to tell us, ‘be the best at it.’” Her gaze became distant. “I’ll miss him.”

“I know you will. I can’t imagine. My brothers . . . sometimes I want to strangle them, but I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to one of them.”

“Yes, well, I used to think the same, but I guess I’ll find out now.” She sighed, and this time when she stood, he knew it was to leave for good. “Whatever the circumstances, Michael . . . it’s been nice meeting you. I need to get back to the family. They’ll be wondering about me.”

As far as it being nice to meet her, he could agree wholeheartedly. But he wanted to see her again. If only it were another time, another place, another reason. He had no way to express his wishes without coming off as a total scumbag. For all he knew, she had a man to see to all of her needs, though any man who let her try get through today on her own was a cruel son of a bitch. Still, he went for it. “Savannah, can I give you my number? If you need anything, anything, even if it’s only to call me in the middle of the night and cuss me out, I want you to call me. Please.”

She wet her lips and he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes again. Without a word, she nodded and dug in her purse for her cell phone, handing it to him once she fished it out. He couldn’t help noticing the lock screen was a picture of her and her brother, arm in arm, all smiles. With the two of them side by side, the resemblance was even more apparent. The photo looked recent, and he’d been correct in his earlier assessment: she had a beautiful smile. “This is a nice picture,” he told her. “I’m sure he misses you too.” He navigated to her contacts and input his information.

“I’ll probably change your name,” she told him when he handed the device back to her. “If anyone sees your number in my phone, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Whatever you have to do.”

She held his gaze for a moment and her breathing seemed to quicken. All of the noise and activity and street music around them faded into nothing. He noticed a tiny mole above her upper lip. The sultry length of her eyelashes. The flush creeping up her neck. “Will you go right back home?”