There had to be someone here who knew more about his father's death-someone who was placing frequent calls to Gordy. And he intended to find out who.
"I have a booth," Maxim said. "There. In the back."
"It's occupied," Savannah noticed with wry amusement. She was right in her observation: a young man Maxim didn't recognize reclined in the booth with a scantily-clad woman on each arm. The women Maxim did recognize, and potentially not to his credit. He made no remark in response, just moved off into the dark recesses of the club. Savannah followed, threading her arm once more through his.
Maxim may not have recognized the man, but he knew when he was recognized in turn. They approached at a stroll, and he watched the other man's alcohol-flushed face drain of color at the sight of him. He had often been on the receiving end of a visible fear response when he was head of security; now, he had a feeling the widely-exaggerated reports of his involvement in his own father's murder probably had something to do with it.
"Move." He considered it more an offering of advice than an order. The younger man hastened to comply, banging his knees conspicuously on the underside of the table as he got out. The two women lingered longer, as if uncertain whether Maxim's cool dismissal applied to them. One shared look at Savannah, and they slid out after their date, both tossing their hair and casting hopeful glances over their shoulders to see if Maxim would change his mind and invite them back. There was a time, not far removed from the present, when he wouldn't have ignored them the way he did now.
Still, their coquettish departure did provide some inspiration. "There are people who will want to come by and pay their respects to me," he commented as they slid into the newly vacated booth. "Well, they won't necessarily want to pay their respects, so much as ingratiate themselves with a Karev." The idea of brownnosers had always tasted bitter on his tongue. He signaled a passing waitress for two shots, hoping to erase the sensation in his mouth. He knew of another way he could erase it, but the pair of lips he might have lost himself in were too busy currently forming clever retorts.
"Who are you, the godfather? And scoot over," Savannah instructed as she attempted to muscle her way into the seat beside him.
The fact that she still thought she was calling the shots on his home turf amused Maxim. She jabbed with the sharp corner of one elbow, and he caught her arm, fingers wrapping around the toned bicep and yanking everything else attached down onto his knee. Savannah exhaled a startled gasp as she fell into his lap; his hands came up the next instant to hold her hips in place and ensure that she didn't move away and break the illusion.
"My woman wouldn't sit anywhere else," Maxim whispered, lips near enough to almost graze the shell of her ear. Savannah shivered against him. He drew back when the server returned and placed a row of shots in front of them.
"This is kind of surreal to see," Savannah murmured as the waitress retreated hastily. She shifted in his lap as she reached for a drink, and Maxim stifled a groan in his throat. "Everyone we've encountered so far is either terrified of you, or trying to get in your pants-and usually it feels like a little bit of both. Clearly they know something I don't."
"You know enough," Maxim said as Savannah plucked up another shot and ferried it his way. It felt like more than half the eyes in the club were currently trained on them, even though he had always favored this particular booth due to its darkness and privacy. "You know what I was in a past life."
"Who you were," she corrected him. "And I know who you are now, Max. I can't imagine the man who made all these people afraid of him is any different than the one I've come to know."
Maxim shifted her closer, until she was sitting sidesaddle across his legs. He could feel the swell of her hip and breast pressing in against him. He tried to burn the moment, the sensation, into his mind, knowing he might never get her this close again. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured.
Was it his imagination, or did Savannah seem suddenly nervous to find herself in his arms? He watched the shallow rise and fall of her cleavage and had trouble pulling himself away from his consideration of her breasts.
"What I mean is, I get why you did what you did for so long," she said hastily. "You were protecting your family. Protecting your own. It might surprise you to hear it, but I can understand that sort of motivation. I can respect it. I can even admire … " Her breath caught when she noticed the direction of his gaze, and Maxim watched as Savannah pulled her lower lip in between her teeth. "I can admire a man like you," she finished. "Things aren't black and white anymore. I wish they were. I-"