Stepdaddy Savage (Savage People 1)

He chuckles softly next to me, and my body melts in my seat. His voice gives me chills.

“He’s not going to say a word.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he doesn’t have any teeth to say it with,” he deadpans dryly. I twist my head to look at him in shock, but his facial expression is still relaxed as he stares at the road ahead of us.

“I scare people, Dolly. And when people are scared, they lay low. Don’t worry about Shawn.”

This brings me to my next question, though to a slightly different subject.

“Are you a mobster?”

Deep down I already know the answer. The number of weapons he has in the safe in his office; I’d sneaked a peek a few months ago when his back was to me when he opened it. The cash, the car, our house, his shady joints. He’d been arrested twice before he married Annabelle and I’m not sure what for, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t for jaywalking while hurrying to save a puppy.

“Do you really wanna know?” His jaw clenches now, and I take a moment to admire his strong profile again. I nibble on my lower lip.

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He takes a sharp inhale of breath, throws me a glance and goes back to fixing his gaze on the road.

“I do what I have to do to take care of my family.”

“Do you even consider us that?” I snap at his vague answer. “Your family?”

“I consider you my family,” he says curtly and cocks his head to his window like he is trying to show me something. This is the first time I actually realize where I am. Deep in Brooklyn in front of a cemetery. Tombstones everywhere, and it’s not a pretty well-kept one either. My mouth goes dry instantly. “Your mother, not so much. But you? You’ll always be my family. But you’re not the only family I was referring to. Unbuckle yourself, Dolly. We’re going for a walk.”

When we get out of the car, I hug myself protectively. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s really cold and dry outside or because of the graveyard. I feel uncomfortable but strangely enough, I’m not scared. I should be. He’s told me what he did to Shawn, and even though he dodged my mobster question, I know it’s only because the truth is ugly. Now he brings me to a graveyard, but I’m still not terrified of this man. Eerily, I am intrigued.

Graham links his arm in mine and we start walking toward the black iron gate, which is spikey and scary, toward the cemetery. It’s open and with a light push, Graham opens the gate and tilts his chin toward the entrance. I walk in, and he does the same, closing the gate behind us.

It seems like he knows where he’s going while he strolls up the narrow path of a small hill, littered with tombstones. It looks like a regular Catholic graveyard, full of Irish names like Donovan, McDonnell, Murphy and O’Shea. We spend the walk to the mysterious destination in silence and my heart pounding so fast and loud I can feel it in my toes. I have a feeling he is about to share something important with me, and I don’t know what or how I’m going to react. We pass another chunk of tombstones until we get to a smaller lot, one that looks remarkably taken care of in comparison to the other rows of gravestones. These look bright and new, smaller and most of them have fresh flowers on top of the stones.

Children’s graves.

This is where children are buried.

Violent chills attack my spine and I hold back a sob. What’s going on? Graham stands above a small tombstone with pink flowers on top and points at it. It reads Kathleen O’Horn, so I know she is not a relative.

Then who is she?

“Kathleen was only twelve,” he starts, swallowing while staring at the tombstone. He looks so far away. Not physically, but mentally, he is not here. It scares me.

“Her mother worked at my strip club. She was addicted to blow, just like your mom. But unlike Annabelle…she went the extra mile to get her fix.”

I suck in a breath and close my eyes. Poor Kathleen.

“Chrissy pimped her daughter. Kathleen was manhandled and abused. It went on for months until I found out. This was before your mom even started working for me, and I wanted to save Kathleen, but I didn’t know how. I gave Chrissy money, I even threatened her, but she always resorted back to using her daughter to get her next fix, until…”

I touch his shoulder and even though he doesn’t shake me away, I know that he’s way too lost in his story, in his soul, to appreciate the human touch.

“Until one of Kathleen’s clients got too rough, and that’s how she ended up here.”

I close my eyes, feeling a fat tear rolling down my cheek. This makes sense. So much sense. Too much sense. Is this why Graham married my mother? So he can protect me the way he never could when Kathleen was alive? I open my mouth to say something, but he shuts me up by continuing his line of thought.

“I brought Chrissy here from Ireland. We grew up in the same neighborhood. She was poor and didn’t have a job. I thought it’d do her good. But the guilt….” He shakes his head, turning around to look at me. His eyes are sad. For the first time in my life, I see Graham Savage’s sensitive side, and I have a feeling this is not going to repeat itself anytime soon. “The guilt ate me alive, Dolly.”

“So you wanted to save me,” I finish softly, and he lifts his hand, caressing my cheek gently.