The knock comes at precisely six o'clock.

Punctual.

I hide my grin as I walk towards the cafe door, knowing he can see me through the clear glass, his eyes dipping down my figure almost hungrily.

I stop, part of me wanting to make the man wait, just a bit.

I open the door slowly, checking over my shoulder to make sure everything is in its place before stepping out into the warm night air, daylight still soaking the skies.

Vincent smiles at me, "you look gorgeous."

I glance down at the dress I'd chosen, one I'd had in my closet for a while but never wore, never having an occasion.

It's a cream shade, halter neck with a frilly, feminine bust, cinched at my waist and flowing out into a sunny midis dress, sandals on my feet and silver jewellery.

I let my eyes sweep down Vincent, taking in the dark button up he wears, and dark jeans, the steel cap boots a finishing touch that I'm not used to on the buttoned up detective.

"You don't look so bad yourself." I hum, hooking my hand through his arm as he begins to lead us down the street.

He smells like smoke and pear, a slightly peppery tone to the scent.

The afternoon is still bright, most of the shops along the strip had closed, just like me, but some still stayed open. Like the gelato shop that had just opened, a teenager manning the counter with her phone in hand.

People roamed the streets, families out and about and Vincent led us through all of them, until finally he stopped at a car.

He opened the door for me, waving me in.

"My mother taught me never to get in a car with a stranger." I look up at him through my lashes, smiling when he narrows his.

"I wouldn't call us strangers, Dani." He steps closer, lifting a hand to swipe the corner of my lips. "Not when I've had these."

I suck in a loose breath and Vincent steps back, motioning me inside, waiting until I'm buckled to shut the door and round the car.

He slips inside and starts the car and I watch out of the corner of my eyes as one hand moves to the steering wheel and the other to the gear stick before he directs us out of the parking spot and towards the outskirts of town.

Music thrums happily from the speaker, and my shoulders relax, glancing out the window at the passing view, seeing the movie theatre Paisley and I used to visit when we were children. The park where I first met Johnny as a teenager.

"How are you liking living in Keller Bay?"

I blink, pulling my attention away from the town that took too much from me towards the man beside me and I shrug.

"Feels like home." I quip Vincent grins,

"You ever visited Levan?"

"That's the next town over right?" I shake my head, "I haven't done much exploring."

Vincent nods, "yeah, it's the next town. It's where I grew up actually."

"Really, what made you move?"

"Work. What about you? Where'd you grow up?"

"In the city," I say with little explanation, "threw a dart at the map and ended up here. It hasn't been too bad."

He laughs and I glance out the window for a second. "So, is Levan where you're taking us?"

He glances to me with a smile and a nod and I narrow my eyes. "And where exactly are you taking me?" I tilt my head. "You're not a murderer are you?"

He throws his head back in. Laugh but doesn't really answer either question, only giving me look. "You'll see."

• • •

The lady that greets us at the diner is what I can only describe as sunshine and moonlight personified.

Her hair is dark and flowing in waves down her back, wrinkles forming little crescents under her eyes from what I can only assume is years of laughter.

Dark as high eyes peer at Vincent like a mother would an unruly child and judging by his sheepish look, it is exactly that.

"Vinnie, you haven visited for month and now all of a sudden you visit with no notice. And with a girl?!"

Her eyes come to settle on me and for the briefest of second I feel like a deer caught in headlights and then I remember I'm a murderer.

"Madre."  Vincent muses and I blink, hearing the accent that was buried under Vincent's polished detective facade.

His mother's eyes only narrow, "don't use that on me." She shakes her head before waving us in and towards a booth towards the back of the quaint restaurant, the smell of authentic Italian food wafting through the air.

She waves us in before walking off, muttering about ungrateful man children.

I lift a brow at Vincent with a smile and he rubs the back of his neck, "Mia hasn't seen me in while, I've been a bit too busy for family night."

I lean across the table like I'm sharing a secret. "Maybe you need to make yourself less busy for your family. They won't be around forever."

He rolls his eyes playfully, "I know, I will. I'll make more of an effort."

"So your mother owns this place?"

"Kinda." Vincent shrugs and I look to him with a raised brow. "Mia is my mother, but she might as well be. She raised me and a few other boys from young children, sometimes I wish she was my mother."

I smile, glancing over his shoulder at the woman who has to not be in her fifties, her youth still very much apart of her complexion even if the wrinkles show the life she'd lived. To do that for a strangers children was another thing entirely.

"Is she a foster parent?"

He winces. "Hmm, yes. But no."

I raise a brow, curious. "Not legally." He whispers, she takes in children of her own accord who come from background of . . . Poverty and violence in the town. She raises them and receives nothing for it. She's a saintly woman."

"She sounds like it." I him, watching as the other woman begins brining over focaccia and other items to fill the table, a bottle of wine in hand that she refuses to take away when Vincent says we don't need it, saying it'll pair perfectly with the meal she's preparing and for him to shut his mouth and take it.

He does.

Then she turns to me and makes sure I'm okay with the wine option and asks me if I have dietary restrictions or things I don't like.

I tell her I'll eat anything and she smiles back before bustling off.

• • •

When dinner is done, Vincent takes my hand in his after a hushed conversation with his madre and leads me out of the restaurant and towards the pier, asking if I'd like to walk along the bay.

I do.

The simplicity of the date tugs something inside me, the way everything has just felt so normal and like something a normal twenty-six year old would do. Hell, a teenager would've been doing this but I was hiding and lying. Surviving for Paisley.

She would've gone on dates like this with one of the many boys at the fancy art college I went to and probably married one of them and had a few babies with a white picket fence and a smile.

They were exactly her type.

They weren't mine. I wasn't sure what my type was anymore.

I guess I'd always been attracted to dangerous men growing up, it was the whole reason I was in the mess. But maybe Vincent was going to break that cycle.

It's a sudden realisation that the jackals took more from me than just my sister, but also any future I might have had, they stole my twenties from me.

If I'm being honest, everything from here on out until I die, will never be what it was meant to be.

They are the catalyst of every decision I make and a part of me hates that.

Vincent's hand curls around mine, the both of us walking in comfortable silence, before steering me towards the car.

I look up, realising we'd walked the whole bay while I'd been in my head. I startle slightly and look towards Vincent, feeling like a weirdo for making him walk in silence.

"You have to get up early, figured I wouldn't monopolise all your time." He says and my heart does a weird thump.

It's sweet, the way he thinks of me.

He opens the door and I slide in, the buttery leather of the seats engulfing me before Vincent hips in, starting the car with a purr.

The silence continues to consume us but I don't have the need to break it, feeling comfortable in safe even if Vincent is technically a stranger to me.

I am definitely a stranger to him. He doesn't know anything about me, not the truthful parts anyway.

I glance to the side, out the window.

"He has no idea he just took a murderer on a date.

A murderer he's meant to be apprehending.

Just the image of him handcuffing me conjures feelings I shouldn't have. Especially since that image doesn't lead towards a prison cell but more like a four poster bed.

I blink at the image, forcing myself out of it which doesn't take much once my eyes latch onto a person walking down the road we currently travel down, their familiar swagger causing my heart to climb its way up my throat until I feel like I could vomit.

My hands clench in my lap and I track the movements of the man.

Leroy. He was always by Johnnys side, his right hand man without any of the perks.

Just the reminder of him had my hands wanting to fight him off. Remembering how he used to try and ply me with drugs and lead me away from Johnny.

I should've known then that Johnny wasn't a good guy.

But fuck it, I was in love.

Down bad for a guy who would always go down in history as the bad guy.

I guess that was teenage petulance and rebellion for you, leading you astray and right into the arms of a man who was too old to be playing with a teenager.

He would never get jail time for what he did to Paisley. I would never get justice unless I took it myself.

"You okay?" Vincent's voice pulls me out of my own head and I glance away from where Leroy disappeared into an apartment building and at Vincent, who looks at me with concern shining in his eyes. "You went really quiet for a moment."

I blink and nod, "yeah, just tired. Have to wake up early tomorrow, like you said."

He doesn't look like he fully believes me but he doesn't push the issue and I go back to planning a murder that will keep Vincent busy for a few days.

Maybe it's for the best, I really shouldn't be getting close the detective on my case.