Dion

She had an appetite, that I had to give her. But then, given her current status, I guess you could blame it on eating for two. That, and the fact she looked like she hadn't eaten properly for weeks.

As I dug into my stack of pancakes and Belgian waffles, I watched her, discreetly, devouring the big plate of food that Penny had cooked for her. Seeing the full English spread out on her plate, it made me wish I'd ordered one too.

Even before she finished eating, her cheeks looked like they gained some more colour and her eyes seemed to gain another level of life.

"Are you enjoying it?" I said, in between mouthfuls of food.

"It's delicious," she said. "I haven't tasted food this good."

"Didn't Santini have food like this?"

Her smile dropped from her face. The bright spark in her eyes dulled over with a hard stare. "Yes. But it wasn't as well cooked."

I mentally kicked myself for mentioning her psychotic husband. Why did I have to go and put my fucking foot in it?

"I'm sorry," I said, wanting to repair the giant hole I'd dug in a matter of seconds. "It just kinda came out."

"It's fine."

Her sharp tone of voice told me otherwise. I guessed her stay with us would be shorter rather than longer. Well done, Dion. Bravo.

"Orange juice?" I said, motioning towards the jug and two glasses Penny had set on the table.

"Sure."

Fuck. It was like she'd flipped a switch. How the hell was I going to fix this? I poured us a glass of orange juice each and downed mine in three gulps as I frantically thought of a way to lighten her mood.

After a good minute or more of tense silence, I decided being direct was the best option. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I honestly didn't mean to."

She scooped the last of her baked beans onto her fork and popped them into her mouth. When she finished chewing and swallowed them, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"I'm sorry for getting uptight. I just don't like talking about him."

I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. "It's ok. I understand. Sometimes, you know, talking about things can help."

"I know, I just...I don't even know where to start with it all. It's all such a huge, horrible mess. I hate him." She glared at me with such malice, a shiver ran down my spine. "I hate him with everything that I am. I can't believe I didn't kill him." She lowered her eye contact and shook her head. "I thought I'd done it, I honestly did. I thought stabbing him three times in his kidneys would be enough to finish anyone off." She sighed and looked back up at me. "Apparently not."

Looking at the meek, mild mannered, petite woman in front of me, it was hard to imagine her capable of such violence. Stabbing someone was very personal, very up close and violent. How had she managed to carry out such a thing? She looked like she couldn't harm a fly even if she wanted to, yet she'd attempted to murder one of the most prolific mobsters in the United States, probably the world.

"I will do it. I will finish him off," she said, lowering her voice and leaning forwards. "That asshole will die at my hands if it's the last thing I do."

The conviction in her voice told me she was being deadly serious. This woman was not going to rest until she'd obliterated her arch enemy; her husband. Was this something I really wanted to get caught up in?

"Are you sure this is really what you want to be thinking about whilst you're pregnant? Maybe it's just your hormones making everything seem so much worse?"

Fuck, if looks could kill, I'd have been hung, drawn, and quartered. Jeez. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Her entire face creased into distaste. Her eyes glazed over with a hardened stare that would have most people quivering in an instant.

"It is not my damn hormones."

"Sorry," I said, pouring myself another glass of orange juice; just for a distraction more than anything.

"Do you really think I married him out of choice?"

I sat back and held my hands up in a surrender sign. "I wasn't assuming anything."

"That man has taken everything from me. EVERYTHING. I had to witness him killing my father. On my eighteenth birthday." Tears formed a hazy film over her eyes, blurring the hatred oozing from their sky-blue depths. "Then four years later, to the day, he killed my sister. And made me watch. Do you understand now why I am determined to end the piece of shit that has plagued me for six years?"

Stunned, I didn't know what to say. Hearing her swear seemed almost as strange as the thought of her frantically stabbing someone on a fury ridden ride of revenge. I was lost for words. What could I possibly even say after that emotional confession?

After several strained seconds passed, I reached over the table and wrapped my hands over hers. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. No one should have to see such things, let alone a young girl."

Her anger seemed to simmer down a notch or two. She let out another breath and seemed to deflate, like a cobra backing down from the fight. "Thank you," she said. "For killing Slim Jim and saving me. I'm sorry I haven't said it sooner."

I rubbed my thumb over the back of her hand and gave her the warmest smile I could muster. "It's ok. My pleasure. I've been wanting to end that slimy bastard for years."

A small smile tweaked at her lips, creasing her face into happiness once more. "I do think a bit of torture before he died wouldn't have been a bad thing, but hey, I'll take what I can get."

I chuckled. "I'm starting to think there's a sadistic side to you."

"When you live in nothing but hatred, bitterness, and violence, it tends to affect you after a while."

"Well you're away from it all now."

She blushed and smiled, dropping her eye contact. "I still don't know how Slim Jim found me. I need to know because the others will come for me, too."

Guilt tugged at my insides. I could give her no answers for how he found her. "You'll be fine. Slim Jim probably just got lucky. You know what a wily old fox he was. He probably struck gold showing your photo around."

"But how did he know I'd travelled this far? I'm nearly five hundred miles away, Dion. I could have gone in any direction. How did he know I'd come down here?"

The desperation in her voice bit at me. "I don't know. Maybe he guessed you were running for the border?"

"Maybe." She let out a sigh. "It just seems a bit too coincidental or maybe I'm just paranoid. I don't know."

"You've been through a lot. It would be perfectly understandable to be paranoid. I think you're overthinking things and giving Slim Jim far too much credit. He really wasn't that intelligent."

"That's what worries me."