BODYGUARD

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MELANIE SHAWN

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 CONTENTS

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Epilogue

Panty Dropper
Also by Melanie Shawn
About the Author

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 "Hey, Bear!"

BODYGUARD
Melanie Shawn © 2021

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from Melanie Shawn.
Exceptions are limited to reviewers who may use brief quotations in connection with reviews. No
part of this book can be transmitted, scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any written or electronic
form without written permission from Melanie Shawn.
This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic content. It is
intended only for those aged 18 and older.

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 PROLOGUE

S avannah - 12 Y ears E arlier

G age pulled up in front of my house and turned off the car . M y

belly fluttered. It had been a magical night, and I knew that our goodnight
kiss would be the most magical part of all.
He turned toward me. “So? Did you have a good birthday?”
I shrugged with studied nonchalance. “I mean...ya know. Whatever. It
was fine.”
I couldn’t even keep a straight face through the entire sentence. The grin
that had been dying to burst out of me exploded onto my face, and I
laughed. “Come on, Gage! You made us a picnic. We had the entire
reservoir to ourselves because you sneaked us in. We ate under the stars, my
God! It was a dream. It was the perfect sixteenth birthday. You know that.”
He studied my face, his eyes soft. “Something’s wrong, though. I can
tell.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m worried about my dad. You
know that.”
He nodded. “His boss is bad news. I’ve heard rumors about him.”
“I know. Mitch Barlowe. Even his name is infamous around here. I
don’t know why my dad ever decided to start working for him, he’s always
been really stressed out anytime his name comes up. But lately it’s been
worse.”
“You think something’s going on?”
 “I do. I think...I don’t know. It just seems like it’s more than just
stressed out, like a normal work thing, you know? He almost
seems...scared.”
Gage nodded. That took me aback, made me wary. I’d been expecting
him to tell me that that was crazy. But he had nodded like it was entirely
reasonable. “Barlowe’s a scary guy.”
“Yeah,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It worries me. A lot.”
He took my hand. “You have a huge heart. He’s really lucky to have you
for a daughter.”
I closed my eyes and that heart he’d just been talking about fluttered.
Man. Whenever Gage gave me a compliment, I was putty in his hands.
He brushed a piece of hair off of my forehead. His eyes flickered as he
looked at my face, and he gave me the smallest smile imaginable. To
anyone else watching his face at that moment, it would have looked like
there was no change in his expression at all. But that was just how he was.
I could tell. I could see when he was happy, or sad. I could see when he
was laughing inside. And, like now, I could see when he was proud of
himself, and when he was looking at me with love.
I didn’t mind that he wasn’t the most expressive person. I liked it,
actually. That made it special that I could decipher his emotions when no
one else could. It made me part of the tiniest club on earth—the people that
Gage Crawford had let into his world, and had let see the most vulnerable
parts of himself.
Club Membership: one. President: Savannah Langley.
And vice-president. And treasurer, and secretary, and all the other
things, too. That whole one-person membership thing, after all.
He was also in a tiny club. People who held Savannah Langley’s heart
in their hands. He was also the president, vice-president, treasurer,
secretary, and entire membership. It was very exclusive.
He leaned forward and before his lips had even made contact with mine,
my entire body tingled, and my breath caught in my throat.
There was nothing better in this world than Gage Crawford’s kisses.
Nothing.
When we finally pulled apart, he leaned past me and pulled something
out of the glove compartment, then handed it to me. It was a card.
I looked back at him. “Gage, you already got me so much! The picnic.
My necklace.” I touched the heart locket that hung around my neck. “You
didn’t need to get me a card, too.”
He took my hand, squeezed it. “I know I’m not always the best with my
words. I thought it would be better if I could think about them first. Write
them down.”
My heart raced. My God. Gage had written a message to me inside the
card—one so special, so heartfelt, that he’d had to think about it. Things too
close to his heart to say. Things he had to craft to get them just right.
I started to tear it open, desperate to know what it said. He put a hand
out and stopped me. “Read it later,” he instructed me. “When you’re alone.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to wait. I was dying to know what he’d written.
But I could see on his face that it would be too much, too intense, for him to
have to sit there while I read words that exposed his soul.
I could sympathize with that. I’d probably feel the same way, as a
matter of fact.
That still didn’t make it any easier to wait. But I did. For him, I did.
He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and brushed his thumb across my
cheek. “You should probably get inside,” he said gently. “It’s your curfew,
and your dad will be worried.”
I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want the magical evening to end. I didn’t
want to leave Gage. But I knew he was right.
He hopped out of the car and came around to my side, opening the door
for me and taking my hand to help me out. He had established that very
early on. If I was with him, I did not open a door for myself. It was old-
fashioned, sure. Maybe even anti-feminist. But...I couldn’t help it. I liked it.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t take care of myself. I was very capable. But,
when I was with Gage, I enjoyed being taken care of, and I could tell he
enjoyed taking care of me. It made me feel special. Treasured. Cherished.
At my door, he gave me one last kiss, and we held each other for a long
moment. It was like that every time we said goodbye. We clung to each
other. It was so hard to break apart.
Even though I knew I’d be seeing him in just seven hours, when we sat
next to each other in homeroom, it was almost impossible to let him go.
Finally, we said our last goodbyes and he jogged back to his car. I
watched him until he climbed in, and then he watched me while I unlocked
my door and stepped into the enclosed porch, closing the door and locking
it behind me.
 I flicked the porch light a few times to let him know I was safe, and
only then did he pull away and continue down the street.
Gage never drove away until I was safely in the house, and had flicked
the porch light on and off to let him know everything was okay.
I didn’t know if I would ever know why he was so protective of me, but
I couldn’t lie—I loved it.
If he had been controlling, that would’ve been a different story. But he
never was. In fact, he wanted me to do whatever my heart desired. He
encouraged me to chase my passions and my dreams.
It was just that he was always there while I did, inconspicuously in the
background, making sure that I was safe, and happy. That I was okay.
I sat down on the patio furniture and opened up the card he had given
me. I needed to read it while I was still by myself, before I went into the
house and saw my father.
Of course, I could have waited until I got up to my room, but there was
no way I could hold out that long.
The front of the card had a beautiful watercolor scene of a meadow, and
trees, and a river running along the side. I smiled. Gage knew how much I
loved nature. As soon as he’d seen the card, he must have known how much
I would love it.
I opened it. There was no preprinted message, only the inscription that
Gage had written to me.
My Savannah. My heart. My angel. My girl.
Happy birthday. You have no idea how grateful I am that the Universe
brought you into this world, sixteen years ago today. What would my life be
like if that had never happened? I don’t even like to think about it.
You are everything to me. You know I will always be there for you.
Never doubt that. If you need me, I am right there. Because you are
everything to me, and I would give you anything, and do anything for you,
to show you that’s true.
I love you.
Gage

M y heart fluttered and my eyes teared up at the beautiful words .

It was so unlike him to be so forthcoming about his feelings. I could only
imagine how much time he must have spent writing this message, and how
nervous he must have felt, handing the card over to me.
I was completely blown away.
This was the real gift. The picnic had been beautiful. The necklace was
amazing, and I would treasure it forever. But, this? This was the real gift.
I stood, tucked the card into my purse, and walked into the house.
Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something
was off about the energy in the house. I couldn’t put my finger on it,
exactly, but I could feel it.
I wished Gage were standing beside me. But he wasn’t. I was going to
have to deal with this alone.
“Dad?” I called. I hated the hesitation I heard in my voice. I wanted to
be a badass, but I sounded like what I was—a scared kid.
“Back here, Savannah,” his voice floated in from the kitchen, and it also
sounded strained.
Don’t go back there. Turn around. Run. Don’t stop until you get to
Gage’s house.
The impulse flashed in my mind, and I almost acted on it.
Almost.
Instead, I ignored it and walked back into the kitchen.
My father was seated at the kitchen table, surrounded by three men in
suits.
The hairs on my arm stood up now. It wasn’t even the presence of the
men, so much. It was their demeanor. They were grim, and authoritative.
Also vaguely disapproving, in a way that made me feel like I’d been called
to the principal’s office. Involuntarily, my mind raced to figure out what I’d
done wrong. I came up empty.
“What’s going on?” Dang. If I had hated the hesitation in my voice a
minute ago, I detested the barely-controlled panic that was in it now.
One of the men held up his hand, palm up. I had the absurd urge to low-
five him, but I just stared. “I need your phone,” he said curtly.
“What? Why?”
He didn’t explain, just shook his hand a little, impatient. “Your phone,”
he repeated, his tone still just as clipped.
I took an instinctive step backward. “No,” I said, immediately
defensive. That was my lifeline to Gage. I wasn’t just going to hand it over.
 “Savannah, give the Marshal your phone,” my father said, his voice flat.
I looked at him closer. I hadn’t really looked at him at all since walking into
the room. I’d been distracted by the men in suits. That I now knew were,
apparently, Marshals.
My father looked haggard. My gut clenched. As worried as I’d been
about him, the way he looked now was terrifying.
I rushed to him, knelt down beside him. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
He looked at me, put a hand on my shoulder. He spoke softly, but
intently. “We’re in danger, Savannah. Because of the man I work for. The
Marshals are going to take us into protective custody. For our safety.”
My clenched gut turned to ice. “For how long?” I whispered.
My father looked at me, shook his head. Finally, he said, “I don’t
know.”
I snatched my phone out of my purse, my hands shaking, oblivious now
to the presence of the Marshals. “I have to call Gage,” I mumbled under my
breath as I tried to make my trembling fingers stop fumbling the phone.
It didn’t matter, though. The phone was unceremoniously snatched from
my hands and I looked up in shock. I’d already forgotten that this whole
exchange had started with the man asking for my phone.
I stood, my entire body shaking with fear and rage. “Give that back!” I
screamed. “I have to call Gage!”
The man just stared stoically ahead, the phone firmly in his grip.
My father took my hand. “Savannah, you can’t talk to Gage. No one can
know we’re leaving. And we can’t take anything personal with us. We’re in
danger, honey.” He took a deep breath. “Someone tried to kill me tonight.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“I’ll explain everything later. I promise. But right now, you need to go
upstairs and get enough clothes for a few days. Just clothes, honey. That’s
all.”
The man who’d taken my phone elaborated. “You have five minutes. No
photos, no computer, no tablets—no electronics of any kind. No keepsakes.
Nothing identifying. Only clothing. I’ll be searching your bag when you
come down.”
I wanted to argue some more, but all I could hear were my father’s
words ringing in my head. Someone tried to kill me tonight.
Without a word, I turned on my heel and silently trudged up the stairs,
feeling like a zombie.
 In my bedroom, I stood in the middle of the room for a moment, frozen.
Paralyzed.
Finally, I grabbed a duffel bag out of my closet and started shoving
clothes into it willy-nilly. I wasn’t putting together outfits. I wasn’t thinking
about making sure I had enough for a few days. I was just moving on
autopilot.
I shrugged the duffel over my shoulder. I looked around the room. This
place where I had grown up. How long would it be until I saw it again?
Would I ever see it again?
Panic rose in my belly. I wasn’t supposed to take anything personal, but
I knew in that moment that I could not walk out of this room without
something to remember Gage by. It just wasn’t possible. I wasn’t capable of
it.
A loud pounding sounded on my bedroom door, making me jump.
“Hurry up in there!” came a barked command.
I glanced frantically around the room. What could I take? What would
be small and unnoticeable?
My eyes fell on my purse, which I’d tossed on the bed when I’d walked
in. The corner of the birthday card Gage had given me stuck out of the
opening, and I reached out and snatched the card.
I held it in my trembling hands, tried to think about where I could hide
it. The idea of it being found and taken away from me...I just couldn’t
handle it.
But the card was too big. I knew there was nowhere I could hide it
where I could be certain it wouldn’t be found.
I opened the card and ripped out just one phrase. I love you.
Gage had written those words to me. His hand had held the pen that had
pressed the ink that formed them onto this paper, and he had been thinking
about me, loving me, while he did.
I shoved the tiny slip of paper into my bra. They wouldn’t find that.
They couldn’t.
My heart clenched as I turned to leave my room—my space, my
sanctuary—for maybe the last time in my life.
I pressed my hand to my chest. I had something, though. One thing. One
thing that really mattered. And that was going to have to be enough.

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 1

G age

I jolted awake , my senses on high alert . I wasn ’ t sure what had

woken me, but it had been something. The hairs standing up on the back of
my neck told me that.
Thunder roared in the distance, barely audible above the deluge of late
night rain.
That wasn’t it. The storm had been going on all night. That wouldn’t
have woken me up, let alone put me on edge.
Pounding sounded from the front door.
My alert level shot up to red.
As an elite freelance close protection agent—a bodyguard, basically—I
was used to action kicking off in the middle of the night. But I wasn’t on a
job. There was no client in potential danger.
I had no idea who was beating my door down at this hour, but I was
going to assume the worst. I always did.
Some people might think that was a sad way to live. But I was still
alive, and so was every client I’d ever been charged with guarding. I’d take
those odds.
I never went anywhere unarmed. Now was no exception. I had my piece
in my hand before my feet hit the floor.
You never knew what you were about to walk into, no matter what.
Even when you thought you did. Hell, especially when you thought you did.
Forget that just once and it was real easy to get dead.
I padded down the stairs without turning on any lights. I didn’t want my
unexpected visitor to be alerted to my approach.
When I reached the lower level, I slid over to a side window that had an
oblique view of the porch. I was moving stealthily. It was amazing what
tiny sounds and sights the subconscious could pick up without our mind
even being aware of it. I didn’t want whoever was on my porch to get a
“sense” I was there, even if they weren’t consciously aware of it.
I stood by the side of the window for a moment, entirely still, and let my
own subconscious scan the atmosphere for sounds or sights that were out of
place. When I was satisfied that there had been no change, no one was
creeping up on me, I moved the blinds aside just the smallest fraction of an
inch.
Most people would have looked out the peephole, but I liked my eyes
without bullet holes in them.
When I saw the figure standing on the porch, I froze.
It couldn’t be. But...was it?
There was something about how she stood, the way she held her
shoulders. It seemed impossible, but...
The woman at my door turned slightly, giving me a better view of her
face in the dim porch light.
Holy shit. It was.
“Savannah.” I growled the word like an accusation as I ripped the front
door open. I hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh. But it did.
Any animosity I might have felt, though—even deep down—
disappeared into thin air the minute I saw her. Really saw her.
She looked up at me, shivering, soaked to the bone, her jet black hair
clinging to her face. Her eyes were filled with anguish and desperation, and
dammit, every stone in the wall I’d spent twelve years building around my
heart washed away like they were made of sand, and she’d brought in high
tide.
She held my gaze and her lip trembled. “Gage,” she whispered. “Please
help me. You’re the only one who can save my life. I need you.”

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G age

I need you .
Fuck. How long had I waited to see her? To hear her say those words?
Hell, to find out if she was even alive or not.
The sound of them now hit me hard, in a way I couldn’t immediately
process. I stood there for a long moment before the rest of what she’d said
sunk in.
You’re the only one who can save my life.
She was in danger. My brain performed lightning-quick calculations,
aided by instincts that were so honed by experience they verged on muscle
memory. Before I had time to form a conscious thought, I’d grabbed her
arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her and bolting it,
automatically positioning my own body between her and the main points of
entry.
I did a quick visual check of the room’s perimeter in the dim moonlight
filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. Nothing was disturbed.
I made it a point never to leave my blinds open or any window or door
unlocked, but I decided it would be safest to check anyway. I opened the
coat closet and motioned her inside without a word.
“Why, is your wife coming home?” she joked as she stepped inside. The
tremor in her voice gave away her nerves, though.
 I wanted to let myself smile. Even a small one. Her ability to crack wise
even under the tensest circumstances had been one of the things I loved
most about her. But I had a job to do.
“Safety,” I said curtly, then closed the door.
In less than two minutes, I’d checked every entry point and found them
all secure. I opened the closet door and nodded to her, then stood aside to let
her step out.
I walked to the back of the house, putting a hand lightly on her back to
guide her ahead of me.
Fuck. I wasn’t prepared for the way electricity screamed up my arm as
soon as my fingertips came into contact with her back. And I wasn’t even
touching her skin. That was my damn traitor body’s reaction to my
fingertips just brushing her leather jacket.
My brain flashed on a quick image of her, naked in bed underneath me,
with my fingertips trailing down her bare belly as her back arched to meet
me.
Fuck! Knock it off, Crawford! She needs you to save her life. Not turn
her into the star at the X-rated movie theater in your head.
I sat her down at my dining room table. The dining room was the only
completely interior room in my house, so it was the safest. I turned on one
light, but used the dimmer switch to bring it down to just the duskiest glow.
I expected her to crack another joke, but when I looked over, I saw that
her leg was nervously twitching and she was gnawing at a thumbnail. Two
of her classic nervousness tells.
She was really scared.
I turned the chair next to her so that it was facing her and sat down in it,
looking her full in the face. I hoped that she could feel my strong protective
energy. I hoped that she could tell already that I’d fucking die before I let
anyone hurt her on my watch.
“Tell me what happened.”
She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Finally,
she buried her face in her hands, then threaded them back through her hair.
“I don’t know where to start.”
I reached out, put a hand on her shoulder. The same electricity I’d felt
before raced up my arm, and the surprised widening of her eyes when her
head snapped up to look at me told me she’d felt it, too.
I ignored it, though, as difficult as that was. I had a job to do.
 “Start at the beginning.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I guess that’s the last night I saw
you.”

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S avannah

I drew air deep into my lungs . B eing here with G age , it was the
first time in days I’d felt like I could breathe. In many ways, it was the first
time in years I felt like I could breathe.
“That night, my birthday...when I went home, there were U.S. Marshals
waiting for me in my house, with my father. You know how worried I’d
been. We’d talked about it.
“Well, as it turned out, that was well-founded. My dad’s boss was
crooked, and he’d suspected it for a long time. He’d been planning to blow
the whistle, and somehow his boss found out. I don’t know how. Hell, I
don’t even know what he was going to blow the whistle on. He refused to
ever talk about it with me, even after the trial.
“But that night, his boss tried to have him killed. The Marshals were
there to take us into protective custody.”
I breathed in again, a deep and shuddering breath that shook my
shoulders. My eyes filled with tears, even though I tried like hell to hold
them back. “They wouldn’t let me tell you anything, Gage. They wouldn’t
let me say goodbye.” She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “I begged, I
swear to you. But they wouldn’t let me.”
He drew his hand back. His face remained passive. “That doesn’t matter
now.”
 A stab of pain rocked my gut, so powerful it nearly doubled me over.
With all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and all of the
danger I was in, I wasn’t sure how I could feel anything about this rejection
from Gage. It was minor, in the scheme of things. But, damn. I sure did feel
it.
Then again, he had always had my heart. He always would. Nothing
about him would ever be minor to me. Nothing. No matter what.
I hung my head and took a few seconds to collect my thoughts, then
looked back at him, nodding decisively. “I had five minutes to grab a few
outfits and some toiletries. They wouldn’t let me keep any mementos, any
photos.”
“They could be used to identify you,” he said flatly.
“Yeah,” I replied, my voice weak and thready. “Exactly.”
He gestured toward my neck. “You kept the necklace.”
My fingers flew to it, rubbing it for comfort as they had a million times
before. “Yes,” I admitted, my voice little more than a whisper. “They didn’t
know it was a personal memento. So they didn’t take it away. And I’ve
never taken it off. Not ever.”
Silence hung between us for a moment, and I fought through the thick
fog of my complicated feelings to push on through the painful story. “We
pulled out of our driveway that night, sitting in the backseat of a
government-issued sedan driven by two strangers, less than ten minutes
after I’d left you at my front door. And that was the last time I saw my
house, or this town. Until tonight.”
I paused, looking down at my lap, my chest heaving, my mind swirling.
There were so many directions I could go next. So many things I wanted to
tell him. Where I’d been. What my life had been like.
How much I’d missed him.
All of those things bounced around in my brain, vying for position. The
result was that I said nothing.
Gage stepped in, though. He asked the one truly critical question. “What
changed?”
I looked up at him, my face crumpling, grief and terror volleying for
control.
“They found us,” I whispered. My voice had failed me. “Two days ago.
I barely escaped. But they killed my father.”
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G age

M y heart constricted at the sight of her trembling , and the way

her face collapsed when she told me about her father. The sound of her
shaky whisper when delivering the news almost undid me completely.
But I couldn’t give in to those feelings. Just like I couldn’t give in to the
desire to grab her and hold her that had filled me when she’d grasped my
hand.
I had a job to do, and her life depended on it. So I’d pulled my hand
back from her a minute ago, and I pulled my emotions back from the brink
now. I was no good to her if I let them take me over.
I stood. At the surprised widening of her eyes, I explained. “We’ve got
to get you out of here. You can’t be anywhere with a tie to you. Not to your
new identity, or to your old one. Come on.”
I turned slightly and waited for her to get up and move in front of me. I
couldn’t let her just follow. Until this whole thing was over, she would be in
my sights 24-7.
When she hadn’t moved after a few seconds, but was still sitting in the
chair, eyes wide and frozen with fear, I repeated the command in a more
clipped and authoritative tone. “Come on.”
“Do you...do you really think they’ll find me with you? Would they
really make that connection?”
 It was a complicated question, but at least it seemed like my forceful
tone had worked—she asked it on her feet and moving.
“I don’t know. I don’t have enough information yet. But we can’t just
hang around here like sitting ducks while I gather it.”
“Yeah,” she conceded. “Makes sense.”
I guided her up the stairs and to my bedroom.
My breath caught. Seeing her here, silhouetted in the moonlight in this
room where I slept. Where I got dressed. Where I made love...
Fuck!
It brought on another wave of feelings I had to push down.
I’d deal with them later. Or maybe I wouldn’t. But the one thing I knew
was that I couldn’t deal with them now.
“Strip down,” I commanded.
Her eyebrows shot up and I cringed inwardly. I didn’t let it show,
though. I’d trained myself not to let anything show. Ever.
“We don’t know what someone might have been able to plant on you. It
could be anywhere. Clothes. Shoes. Bag. Go in the bathroom. Strip down
completely. Everything. Underwear. Hair clips. Everything. I’ll hand you in
something to wear.”
She nodded and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door all but a
crack. I heard her moving in the small room and struggled to push aside the
mental image of her peeling off her clothes in there, only a few feet from
me, separated by nothing but a thin plywood door.
I moved to my dresser. Movement was key.
Damn. I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to give her to wear. I
finally settled on an old pair of sweats and a T-shirt and hoodie that I hadn’t
worn since I was a teenager. Before I’d built up muscles.
They were still going to be way too big on her, but at least they’d have
the best chance of actually staying on her slender frame. If I gave her any T-
shirts that fit me now, the neck hole would probably slide right down her
body.
Damn it, Crawford. Stop thinking things that lead straight to thoughts of
nudity and sex!
I couldn’t help it, though. I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted
her. She was my ideal.
Until tonight, I’d convinced myself that I’d just built up the memory of
her in my mind. It made sense. She was my first love. The first girl I’d ever
wanted...really wanted. Of course my mind was going to play tricks, turn
her into a goddess in hindsight.
Now I knew that wasn’t true. She was a goddess. In fact, if anything,
my memory hadn’t done her justice.
I pushed the clothes through the crack in the door and she took them.
A minute later, she stepped out of the bathroom.
I had to smile. Which for me, was just the most microscopic twitch at
the corner of my lips. But it was something that didn’t happen often.
She was swimming in the clothing, just like I’d predicted. And she’d
twisted her wet hair up into a loose bun on the top of her head, fastened
around itself and tied like a knot.
She was, in a word, fucking adorable.
Yeah, I knew that was two words. I didn’t care. She deserved two
words.
I gestured at her hair with my chin. “Any hair ties in there?”
She shook her head.
I moved into the bathroom and pulled a small plastic garbage bag out
from under the sink. “Fill it up with everything you just took off.”
She took the bag and had it full in less than fifteen seconds.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that everything?”
She gave the room one last glance and then nodded.
“Good. Let’s go.”
She nodded and stepped ahead of me. She was a quick learner.
When we got to the garage door, I put a hand on her shoulder, indicating
she should stand back. Following every protocol, I cleared the garage, and
then my SUV, before loading her into it. Then I exited out the side door and
cleared the driveway and yard before opening the garage door and climbing
into the driver’s seat.
I pulled out and pressed the clicker to close the garage door, and we
started down the street. Not too fast, not too slow. Attracting attention was
the biggest sin in the protection business.
No. That wasn’t exactly true. Letting down your guard was the biggest
sin. But that wasn’t in my DNA. It would never happen. It wasn’t
something I needed to consciously make part of my procedure.
She looked over at me. “Where are we going?”
I kept my eyes on the road, paying special attention to the periphery.
Anything out of the ordinary, anything that might indicate someone was
following us. I needed to see it immediately. Finally, I said, “I have a
place.”
She nodded. “That clears it up.” Her voice was sardonic.
“You have to trust me or this won’t work. I can’t keep you alive if you
don’t trust me.”
She nodded, looked at her lap. “I trust you. Believe me. You’re the only
person in the world I do trust. I just...I have this whole humor defense
mechanism thing...”
“I remember.” My voice was flat. It didn’t betray the tsunami of
emotions threatening to well up. I pushed the tide back, flattening out my
feelings until they matched my voice.
About a half a mile from my house, I turned into a fast food parking lot.
She barked out a laugh. “This is the place you have? A burger joint?”
I shook my head as I pulled into the drive through. “How long has it
been since you’ve eaten?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Her stomach growled immediately after the words escaped from her
lips, contradicting what she’d just said. She laughed a little and shook her
head. “Okay. Maybe I am. But I swear to God, Gage. If I ate anything right
now, I think I’d just throw it up.”
I looked over at her. “Try. You need the calories. I’m going to eat, too.
That’s the first rule. We eat when we can, whether we’re hungry or not. We
sleep when we can, whether we’re tired or not. We don’t know when we’ll
get another chance. And we need our bodies to be ready at all times.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ready? For what?”
I gave her a long look, then turned my gaze back to the windshield.
“Anything.”

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 5

S avannah

I finally felt safe . T he last two days had been a blur of terror
and suppressed grief. Now, at least the terror was lessening a little.
The bad news was, that left more room for the grief.
As much of a struggle as it was to push that down, I did it. Yes, I had
lost my father. But he had been the strongest person I’d ever known. He’d
been courageous in the face of evil, and stood up for good and right, even
when it was dangerous. Even when there were consequences. Even when it
was unbearably hard.
He’d expect me to follow in his footsteps. To be strong when it counted.
He wouldn’t want me to wilt when the pressure was on.
My survival was on the line, now. There would be time to grieve later, if
I survived this. But, I was still alive right now, and I wouldn’t dishonor him
by falling apart when everything was on the line.
I glanced over at Gage as he handed me the fragrant bag of fast food
burgers and fries. He snatched the garbage bag full of everything I had left
of my old life and stuffed it into the garbage can outside the window, and
then drove away into the night.
How many times in one person’s life could they be expected to leave
everything behind them and start over, with no notice, in the middle of the
night? Holy hell.
 I took a deep breath. Another question that would have to be pondered
at another time, after all of this was over. If I lived that long.
Hey, that would be one good thing about a bullet in the brain, anyway.
I’d never have to face the emotional fallout from all of this shit.
I shook my head. I’d always had a penchant for gallows humor. Most
people thought it was morbid, so I kept it to myself.
I looked back at Gage. Not him. He’d always reveled in it. He got me.
He got me in a way that no one ever had before him, and no one ever had
since.
Perhaps feeling my eyes on him, he gave me a quick glance. “Eat,” he
ordered.
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
The corner of his mouth gave a blink-and-you-would-miss-it twitch, and
I felt a deep down satisfaction. I’d seen that same twitch when I’d stepped
out of the bathroom in his ill-fitting sweats. It was his version of a belly
laugh, and drawing it out of him had always been both my biggest goal and
my proudest accomplishment whenever we’d been together.
I opened the bag and the smell of beef, cheese, potatoes, grease, and salt
hit me full force. I moaned at the aroma, and suddenly felt ravenous. My
hands shook. I was glad I was already sitting down, because I got so weak
that I thought my legs would likely have buckled if I’d been standing.
Only the fact that I was in front of Gage kept me from just shoving my
face in the paper sack and going to town like I was a horse and it was my
feedbag. Even in the state I was in, I wouldn’t let him see me like that.
I grabbed a handful of fries and put them in my mouth, then leaned back
against the headrest and chewed. I really thought I might be in danger of
passing out.
I heard another moan escape me. It was completely involuntary, but it
was long and loud.
And it sounded very sexual.
I sat up straight, cheeks burning.
I cast a subtle glance over at Gage to see if he had noticed. Not that it
would be easy to tell. And then I saw the tiny lip twitch again.
Well...at least I’d made him do his version of a belly laugh. Even if it
was by humiliating myself. There was always that.
I dug into my food, then, just concentrating on chewing and
swallowing. It wasn’t hard. My near-starving hunger level made laser-
focusing on the food a no-brainer.
The only thing that intruded on my food-trance altered state was Gage. I
couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of my eye as he ate his
burger. He held it in one hand and drove with the other, his attention fully
focused on the road, only raising the burger to his mouth periodically to
take a bite—but never tearing his eagle eyes away from the constant
rotation he had going, looking at all angles of the dash and then the
rearview mirror.
I knew he was keeping an eye out for anyone following us. He was in
his professional protection zone, and I definitely felt protected.
I felt something else, too, though. Lust. It was blossoming low in my
belly like a heavy cloud.
There was just something about seeing him in action—so strong, so
commanding, so hyper-aware.
It was sexy as hell.
Damn, Savannah—is this really the time to be indulging your Skinemax
fantasies? When you’ve just barely escaped an assassination attempt, and
have no idea if you’ll escape the next one?
I pondered that for a moment, then decided that my precarious situation
meant that there was no time like the present. After all, I might never get
another chance to indulge those fantasies. And if I had to go out, was there
really any better thing to be thinking about than quality naked time with
Gage Crawford?
I let out a snort of a laugh at the thought, and was immediately
mortified. It would have been unladylike under normal circumstances, but
while I was stuffing my face, it sounded like nothing so much as a pig snort.
My cheeks burned again.
First the moan, now this. I really needed to get my noises under control.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “The...burger. Funny...burger.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Convincing.”
Damn. Maybe I wasn’t the only master of the sardonic in this SUV.
When I had finally eaten the last bite of burger, sucked down the last
drop of soda, I turned in my seat to face him. Time to face what I’d been
avoiding.
“I guess...” I said hesitantly, then took a deep breath and started again,
stronger. “I guess you need more details. About when my father was killed.”
 He looked over at me, studied my face.
Finally, he looked forward again and replied, “How long has it been
since you’ve slept?”
I tried to think, to cast my mind back, but couldn’t. It should be so
simple. It was such a straightforward question. Why couldn’t I remember
something so basic?
“I...I don’t know...” I replied, sheer amazement at my inability to call it
up evident in my voice.
He nodded. “Yeah. Put your seat back and sleep. Your brain is no good
to me right now. You won’t be able to remember important details. And
things that you do think you remember might not be accurate. But if you tell
the story now, they’ll get cemented into your memory as the truth. So,
sleep.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t sleep, Gage. I’m way too wired.”
The lip twitch again. “Kind of like you couldn’t eat?”
I laughed. God. I’d forgotten. I’d actually forgotten that he was funny. It
was a dry humor. Dry as the Sahara. But he was funny.
“Seriously. I’m wide awake. There’s no way I could fall asleep right
now, even if I tried.”
He nodded. “Okay. Just put the seat back and close your eyes, then.
Even if you don’t sleep, you’ll rest. And you need it.”
I shrugged. “All right. Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m telling you, I’m not
tired.”
I pulled the lever and the seat reclined to a nearly flat position. I closed
my eyes and took a deep breath, and was asleep before I’d even exhaled.

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 6

G age

I pulled up to the cabin and turned off the engine . I looked over at
Savannah, curled up in the reclined passenger seat and sleeping like a little
kitten.
Or an angel.
I pushed the thought aside. No time for that now.
I started to reach over to gently shake her awake but couldn’t bring
myself to do it.
She looked so peaceful, breathing in and out, unaware of the pain and
fear she was going to face the minute I woke her up. I could give her two
more minutes of sweet oblivion.
Or maybe you just like watching her sleep.
I couldn’t deny it. She was beautiful. She always was, no matter what.
But sleeping, like this—there was something about her that was extra
angelic when all of the worries of the world were lifted from her face.
She stirred, probably lifted from the deepest levels of sleep by the car
stopping. I hurried to wake her, not wanting to be caught watching her sleep
like some kind of creeper. With all she was going through, that wasn’t the
first image she needed when she opened her eyes.
I put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed lightly. “Savannah,” I said, my
voice soft to avoid startling her.
 Yeah. That was why my voice came out like that. To avoid startling her.
Not because all of the gentle affection I felt for her had bubbled up inside
me, and the only available release valve was my voice. It was to avoid
startling her.
She stirred again, and rolled toward me a little. I shook her shoulder and
repeated her name a little louder.
Her eyes fluttered open.
For one shining, perfect moment, I could tell that she didn’t remember
what was happening, or why we were together. She only saw my face.
The joy, the love, that flooded her eyes in that instant were enough to
make my heart explode. But it was fleeting. Just like everything good in my
life.
I saw reality flood in, and she sat up, her shoulders tense and jaw set.
“Where are we?”
“At a cabin I own. It’s through shell companies. For exactly this
purpose, laying low with a protectee.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Is that what I am? A protectee?”
I didn’t answer for a moment. Finally I said, “Yes.”
Was that all she was? Hell, no. But that wasn’t what she had asked.
I didn’t know what I would say if she did. And I didn’t know if I wanted
her to or not.
I climbed out of the car before she could follow up, cleared the area,
and hustled her inside. It was all but impossible that the people who were
after her could have followed us here, or found us here—especially this
quickly.
That didn’t matter, though. The less time we spent out in the open,
without cover, the better. That was procedure. That was best practice. And I
never deviated.
When we were safely inside, with the door closed and locked, I circled
the perimeter and made sure that all the blackout shades were fully closed,
the way I’d left them.
When I knew it was safe, I turned on the lights.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, God,” she said. “You kind of
undersold it when you called it a cabin.”
I looked around, trying to view it through her eyes. It was large, sure.
And nicely appointed. But it was still a cabin. “What would you call it?”
She shrugged. “A lodge. A retreat. I don’t know.”
 My lip twitched. “Retreat. I like that. Double meaning.”
She smiled. “Yeah. That’s true.”
I guided her back toward the bedroom. “Come on. You only got about
an hour’s sleep. And you were soaking wet and freezing when you showed
up at my door. I want you to soak in a hot bath. Raise your body temp. The
last thing I need is you getting sick. Then get a solid five or six hours of
sleep.”
“What about you?” she said, and my gut twitched at the genuine
concern in her voice. “When are you going to sleep?”
I shook my head. “I had a few hours in before you showed up. I’m
good.”
She nodded. She didn’t look quite convinced, but she nodded.
“You’ve gotta trust me, remember?” I reminded her. “That’s the only
way this works.”
She stopped in her tracks, put a hand on my arm, and looked intently
into my eyes. “Gage. I trust you. Believe me. I trust you. You’re the only
one I trust.”

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 7

S avannah

I sank into the hot water , another moan escaping my lips . D amn . I’ d
only been back in Gage’s presence for a few hours, and I just could not stop
moaning.
Of course, it wasn’t for the reasons that a person might hope you’d
moan when you were back with your long lost first love for a night. But,
still. Barring that, I’d take a burger and a bath in my state. Those might be
second choices, but they were still damn good ones.
As the heat penetrated my muscles, I really felt the effects of the last
two days. The cold, the wet. The hunger. The terror. The lack of sleep. The
uncomfortable position I’d sat in on the bus I’d taken back to my
hometown. The weariness in my legs from the miles I’d had to walk from
the bus station to Gage’s house.
Thank God he’d bought his parents’ place when they’d downsized.
Otherwise, I would have had no way to find him.
I had been forbidden to keep track of anyone from home. The
consequences of that were made very clear to me. I could never interact on
social media, even from a fake account. I couldn’t even look at their social
media pages. I could never google them. All of those things were trackable.
The dire nature of the warnings was hammered home to me again and
again.
But, fuck. I couldn’t help myself.
 Of course, now I was tortured by the thought that my need to keep track
of Gage, to make sure he was okay, was what had enabled the people after
my father to find us. That I had gotten my father killed.
But...I’d been so careful.
I’d only ever googled his name once a year, and looked at his parents’
social media accounts. I’d always done it from a library computer, always
in a town at least six hours from my new identity’s home.
And I hadn’t even picked the towns randomly. I knew that, with the
human brain, there was no such thing as truly random. I would end up
leaving some kind of pattern.
So, instead, I’d created a pattern. An intentional one. All of the towns
formed a loose circle around the Chicago metro area. Which was far from
where my father and I were.
I’d always taken a bus to the town, and always paid cash for the ticket.
No records.
I never stayed in a hotel. I rode the bus to a random city, then bought
another ticket to my destination, walked to the library, spent twenty minutes
or less on the computer, walked back to the bus station and rode the bus to
another random city, then bought a bus ticket home.
All cash. All of it.
So careful.
But still...the thoughts tortured me.
Even with the turmoil I was in, though—both in reality, and in my
emotions—I couldn’t really regret having done it. For one thing, if I hadn’t,
I would have had no idea that Gage was living in his parents’ old home. His
mother had posted about that on Facebook two years before.
For another thing, I would have had no idea that he was a bodyguard.
There had been an article in a security industry journal that had come up
when I’d googled him five years before.
But, the main thing—the only thing, really—was that I hadn’t had a
choice. Not truly. I couldn’t live without knowing he was okay. It just
wasn’t an option.
I closed my eyes.
Whatever had led to my dad and I being found, I couldn’t change it
now. I could only move forward. So I had to do what Gage told me to. That
was the only way.
 He had said to relax in the bath. To let it raise my body temperature so
that I wouldn’t get sick. Me being sick would only make his job more
difficult.
I knew that stress also destroyed immune responses. So I had to at least
try to relax. I didn’t know if it would be possible. But Gage was seriously
putting himself out for me. Potentially even putting his life on the line. The
least I could do was follow his instructions.
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. After only a
few seconds, though, they flew open again, and I sat up with a gasp.
The image of my father’s murder had flooded my mind. Horrible,
overwhelming—like I’d been there again. It had felt so real.
I struggled to get my breath under control and slow my heartbeat. It
wasn’t easy while also fighting tears.
I couldn’t do this. I knew that. This wasn’t the time. I had to be strong. I
owed it to my father. I owed it to Gage.
The last thing my father had said to me—yelled at me, really—was,
“Run!”
And I had. And he’d stayed behind. He hadn’t run. He’d provided
enough of a distraction for me to get away. He’d paid with his life.
I would never forget the sound of the shots that had filled the night air
behind me as I blindly fled. They would ring in my ears for the rest of my
life.
And now Gage was putting his life on the line for me, too. He hadn’t
even hesitated.
Yes. I definitely owed these two brave men. I owed them a lot more
than just keeping my shit together. But if that was the only thing I had to
offer at the moment, it would have to be enough.
I took another deep breath and leaned back into the hot water. I was
going to do my best to relax and rest my body. But I was going to have to
do it with my eyes open.
I focused my mind, intentionally blocking out everything but the heat of
the water, the way it penetrated my muscles, loosening them and making
me feel blissful. Physically, anyway, if not mentally, spiritually, and
emotionally.
When I had sat still in the water as long as I could stand it, I climbed out
of the tub and dried myself off, then wrapped up in the fluffy towel and
emerged into the bedroom.
 Gage was sitting in an armchair next to the bed, and his eyes widened at
the sight of me in the towel. It was just the tiniest of movements, and no
one that didn’t know him the way I did would ever have noticed it.
But I did. And it sent a flush of pride and pleasure through my body.
He nodded toward the bed, and my breath caught in my throat. Could he
really be asking me to—?
But, no. When I moved my gaze to follow the line of sight he’d
indicated, I saw a fresh pair of sweats and a T-shirt, folded neatly and sitting
on the edge of the king size bed.
I took them and ducked back into the bathroom, pulling them on over
my freshly-scrubbed body. My skin was still pink and warm and sensitive
from soaking in the heavenly hot water, and I felt the cotton fabric of the
sweats against me in a way I hadn’t before.
It occurred to me that the same sweats I was pulling on over my legs
right then had also touched Gage’s body. That the T-shirt I was about to pull
over my head had pressed against his chest.
I flushed, a heat filling me that was more dramatic than anything the
steaming bath water had been able to accomplish. Damn. Talk about
warmed up. I sure was.

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 8

G age

A s S avannah stepped out of the bathroom , I gritted my teeth . F uck .

With her dressed in my oversized sweats, it was easier for me to keep all the
blood in my body from rushing to the wrong head than it had been when
she’d been wearing only a towel. But just slightly.
And I needed my wits about me. She was the most important client I’d
ever had under my protection. By far. This wasn’t the time to get distracted.
This wasn’t the time for my first-ever fuck up. I wasn’t going to let that
happen.
Client. Yeah, right. That’s all she is. Keep telling yourself that.
And there were additional complications, as well. Things that made this
more involved than my run of the mill protection jobs.
Things besides our history. And besides the way her hips had gently
curved under that towel.
For one thing, I was a lone wolf on this job. I didn’t have the logistical
and operational support of any of the companies I freelanced for.
And for another—this was a two-pronged mission. Obviously, her
immediate safety was the primary objective. But the secondary, and still
vital, mission was to neutralize the threat altogether. After all, protecting her
for the night—or a week, or a month, or a year—would do no good if
dangerous men were still after her.
 No. I was going to need to find a way to end this, once and for all.
Because just like I had no intention of losing her to an assassin’s bullet, I
also had no intention of losing her to the bureaucratic bowels of WITSEC.
Not again. And fucking especially not after they’d proved themselves to be
incompetent.
I’d fucking use my underground connections to change our identities
and go into hiding with her myself before I let that happen.
But that wasn’t ideal. Living a life where we were looking over our
shoulders every minute of every day—yes, it was better than death. And it
was a helluva lot better than being apart. But it was still just surviving. Not
living.
My motto was—you want a job done right, do it yourself. And that was
exactly what I planned to do. I was going to finish this, or I was going to die
trying.
I gestured toward the bed. “Get in. Get some sleep. I’ll be sitting right
here.”
She nodded, but still looked worried. Hell, of course she looked
worried. Her whole world had fallen apart, and her life was in danger.
I wished I could take her in my arms. Tell her how much I’d missed her,
how I was going to protect her at all costs, that she should just let me take
all the worry, all the stress. That she had nothing to worry about because I
was going to take care of everything.
But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my chest. All I could do was give her
a stone-faced stare and tell her I’d be sitting in the armchair while she slept.
I hoped that was enough to give her at least a little relief.

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 9

S avannah

B acon .
The thought popped into my head even before consciousness fully
claimed me.
My eyes flew open as the events of the past few days flooded my mind.
I sat straight up, casting my gaze frantically around the room, grasping for
hints to show me where I was.
Gage’s cabin.
Okay. Yes. That’s right. I’d been so tired when we’d arrived the night
before that the events had taken a few minutes to flood back. The
hamburger. The nap. The bath. The sweats. And finally, the bed and blissful
oblivion.
But it hadn’t quite been oblivion. Even as I’d drifted off—and even in
my unconscious state, I thought—I’d been aware of Gage’s presence in the
chair next to the bed. It had comforted me, made me feel safe. Safe enough
to fall asleep...and for the second time that night.
Of course, I understood that exhaustion would eventually overtake a
human body. There was no such thing as putting off sleep forever. But, still.
I couldn’t help but believe it was significant that I’d stayed awake for over
two days—running on nothing but coffee, adrenaline, and sheer terror—and
had not felt safe enough to fall asleep until I’d been in Gage’s presence.
 I knew I was safe with him. My logical mind told me that was
ridiculous. That no matter how well-trained he was, no matter how good at
his job, he was just one man. Up against God only knew what kind of
organization, but definitely one powerful enough to find someone well-
hidden by the government, someone with an entirely new identity.
The odds were not in our favor.
But I didn’t care. I didn’t know why I didn’t, and I wasn’t about to
examine it too closely. I only knew that, deep down in a place beyond logic,
I absolutely, one hundred percent knew that Gage would keep me safe.
That was enough for me.
I climbed out of bed and smoothed down my hair. I was sure I looked
like a nightmare. No make-up, hair a tousled mess, drowning in Gage’s old
sweatpants and T-shirt.
But, God, the smell of that bacon made it hard to care.
I followed my nose down to the kitchen and saw Gage standing at the
stove, pushing slices of fragrant bacon around a cast iron skillet.
Damn. Was there anything sexier than the sight of a man cooking?
Yeah. Yeah, there is. The sight of this particular man cooking.
I took a deep breath and tied my rising feelings up in a knot, shoving
them down inside the same box deep in my consciousness that I’d been
shoving those particular feelings into since I was sixteen years old. It was
bursting at the seams by this point. I’d stuffed it to the breaking point over
the years. But now was no time to let it explode.
“Good morning,” he said, never turning around.
“Morning,” I replied.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I expected,” I said honestly. “How about you? Did you
manage to get any sleep?”
He gave a short nod. “I let myself sleep in the chair for an hour before I
came down here to cook breakfast. It was enough.”
I sat down at the kitchen table, curling my legs up under me. “Huh. I
must have really been out. I didn’t hear an alarm.”
He shrugged, an almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders. “I
have an internal alarm.”
Well, fuck. That’s about the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. And it’s
definitely not helping me keep those damn feelings locked away!
 He set a plate in front of me, loaded with slices of bacon, a pile of
scrambled eggs, and two slices of toast. Then he handed me a mug of
coffee.
Neither of those things did much to help keep my feelings under wraps,
either.
He sat down across from me with his own plate and cup of coffee.
I took a deep breath. Time to dive in, even if it was difficult. “So, I
guess you need to hear more details about the night my father died. Right?”
He shook his head. “Later. Just eat.”
I nodded. He was a man of few words, but I couldn’t deny it—I liked
the words he did say.
I picked up the fork that was sitting on the edge of the plate and dug it
into the pile of fluffy, yellow scrambled eggs. My stomach growled. Again,
I would've sworn that there was no way that I could be hungry under my
current circumstances. With everything going on, all of the insane stresses
and danger, who could think about something as inconsequential as food?
But, just like the night before with the hamburgers, my body had other
ideas. It needed fuel. And Gage had made sure that I would get that.
As I worked my way through the eggs, bacon, and toast, I was surprised
to discover that he was actually a good cook. I wasn't sure why that
surprised me—after all, he was ridiculously good at pretty much everything
he tried. But somehow it did.
When we had both finished our meals, he stood and took the plates to
the sink, then returned and sat down across from me. We stared at each
other in silence for a moment, sipping our coffee. Finally, he said flatly,
“Okay. Tell me what you remember. Start from the beginning. Don’t leave
anything out.”
I nodded, took a deep breath. “Okay. We were walking home. We’d
gone out to dinner. Out of nowhere, a black sedan screeched up to the curb.
Three men jumped out and ran toward us. I knew exactly what was
happening. I’d had nightmares about the possibility for years. But when it
actually, finally happened...I don’t know. I was frozen. Like my feet were
cemented in concrete.
“My father turned to me. He screamed, ‘Run!’ That snapped me out of
it. I whirled around and sprinted as fast as I could. I assumed he was
running with me. But...”
 I had to pause then, fighting against the lump that had formed in my
throat, blocking the words even if I’d wanted to say them. Which I didn’t.
Saying them out loud would make it real.
I shook my head to clear it, ran my hand over my face. I couldn’t afford
to give in to emotion. Not now.
I took another deep breath and forged ahead. “I had made it maybe a
block when I heard the shots. I froze again, but only for a second. I heard
my father’s voice in my head again, telling me to run. I knew I had to listen.
So I did. I ran straight to the bus station. I bought a ticket on the next bus
pulling out. And when that bus arrived at its destination, I bought a ticket
home.”
I stopped. Silence hung between us, the echo of the word ‘home’
hanging in the air. I hadn’t used the word intentionally, but of course that
was how I still thought of the town where I’d grown up. The town where I’d
met Gage, where we’d fallen in love. The town I’d been ripped from in the
middle of the night.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’m going to take you through it again. This
time, I’ll stop and ask you questions, though.”
I shrugged, feeling defeated. “I’ll go through it as many times as you
want. But I swear, that’s all I remember. I wasn’t like some badass heroine
of a movie. I didn’t get their license plate or anything like that.”
“You remember more than you realize. I promise you. Now, tell me
again. Start from the beginning.”
He took me through the story five or six more times, stopping to ask
specific questions. And to my amazement, he’d been right—I did remember
a lot more than I’d realized.
He asked me about things I never would have thought to include, like
what the reason for the dinner out was, the occasion. How long it had been
planned, who had chosen the restaurant. Whether we usually walked that
route at that time of night.
How our assailants were dressed, small physical details that I hadn’t
realized I’d noticed. The direction the sedan had been coming from when it
pulled up, the speed, the angle it had stopped at, which doors the three men
had exited the car from.
Even sounds in the night air that I hadn’t realized I’d heard. Gage pulled
it all out of me, gently, little by little.
 “Okay,” he said finally. “We’re going to do it one last time. This time,
though, I want you to close your eyes. Block out everything but the
memory. Picture it as clearly as you can. Place yourself back there. Relive
every moment as if it were happening right now. And describe what you
see.”
I closed my eyes. My stomach was on the verge of revolt. I wasn’t sure
I could do this.
Talking about the memory was one thing. Even focusing on clearly
remembering specific small details.
But closing my eyes and intentionally reliving those moments in all of
their horrible clarity? Putting myself back there as if it were actually
happening again?
God. I didn’t know if I was strong enough for that.
As soon as I did lean back in the kitchen chair and close my eyes,
though, the room exploded in flashing lights that drove my lids to
immediately open again.
My heart leapt into my throat, terror seizing me. Seeing the tense look
on Gage’s face did nothing to comfort me.
“What is it? What’s going on?” I gasped.
He stood and motioned for me to go with him down the hall. “It’s the
motion alarms I have installed on the perimeter of the property,” he
explained. “Someone’s here.”

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 10

G age

I ushered her into the command room , through the back of the
bedroom closet.
It was a combination panic room and control center for the security
system. One wall was covered in monitors, split into small squares of video
feed covering every inch of the house and property.
Savannah’s eyes widened as we stepped in. “Whoa,” she said. “You
actually have a Narnia at the back of your wardrobe.”
I stepped over to the monitors.
Shit.
“Car coming up the drive,” I stated. “That’s ballsy.”
She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my muscles. My gut
clenched. The urge to protect her at all costs, already so strong it was nearly
overwhelming, ratcheted up even a few more notches.
“How did they find us?” she said, her voice thin and reedy with fear. “I
don’t understand. You said that no one knew about this place.”
“No one does,” I confirmed.
The truth was, I wasn’t sure how men from Barlowe’s organization had
found us so quickly. I was no amateur. No one had been following us. My
vehicle was clear of tracking devices.
Fuck.
 Was this really it? Was this really going to be the first time I’d ever
fucked up on the job? Now, when the stakes were so high?
The car pulled up in front of the front door. Damn, that was even more
puzzling than how they’d found the cabin in the first place. That was
terrible craft. Hell, if I’d been a more ruthless operator, I could have picked
them off one by one from any window.
What the fuck were they thinking? It was almost like they weren’t even
professional hit men.
“Oh, fuck!” I groaned as three individuals climbed out of the car. “Are
you kidding me?”
Savannah leaned around me, staring at the monitors. “Um...Gage?” she
said, her voice every bit as puzzled as I felt. “Isn’t that...your parents? And
your grandma?”
I stormed down the hall, building up a head of steam as I went. I
recognized that my anger was taking over, and that was a dangerous thing
to let happen in a professional situation.
When you made split second calls based on emotion—any emotion—
rather than relying on training and intuition, that was when mistakes were
made. Mistakes that could cost lives.
Of course, if my parents knew about this place, which they clearly did,
mistakes had already been made. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I had
already fucked up. I hadn’t recognized it while it was happening, but the
fact that my mom, dad, and grandma were currently walking toward the
front door of my supposedly secret cabin was all the evidence I needed to
know that at some point, some way, I had screwed the pooch.
I yanked open the front door of the cabin before the three of them had
made it across the porch and growled, “Get in here.”
My mother’s eyes widened and her face lit up. “Honey! I didn’t know
you were going to be here! What a lovely surprise.”
My brain almost short circuited as all of the angry and disbelieving
responses I wanted to spit back bounced around in my head, lighting up my
synapses like a pinball machine. I settled for just repeating my growled
command, but slightly slowed and more authoritative. “Get. In. Here.”
My mom put her hands out in front of her in a “what’s your problem?”
gesture. She shrugged as the three of them filed into the house. “Sorry,
sorry,” she mumbled, in a tone that told me that she wasn’t all that sorry. “I
guess we should have called first.”
 I had no idea how to even respond to that. Called? How would she have
even gotten the number?
But I knew there was no time to dwell on details. If I survived this
ordeal with Savannah, there would be plenty of time to break down the
game footage later. Back trace this monumental fucking error and find out
exactly where the road had started to lead to hell. But as for right now,
while we were currently in hell, I was just going to have to deal with it.
“Were you followed?” I snapped. Even as I spit the words out, I knew
they were pointless. None of my hapless family had the kind of training to
know if they were being followed. Not even on the street. Not even if the
person were dressed head to toe in neon orange.
“Oh, Gagey, come on,” my mother said dismissively. “Now who would
be interested in following us?”
I bit back the impulse to correct the nickname. I had to focus on the task
at hand. “Someone who was trying to find me,” I explained, my voice tight
and controlled. “In this cabin. Which is supposed to be secret.”
My father turned to my mother, mild surprise animating his normally
placid face. “Marjorie, you didn’t tell me the cabin was secret. None of the
times we’ve come up here.”
It was all I could do not to scream in frustration. How many fucking
times had my parents decided to turn my secret fucking cabin into the site
of an impromptu weekend getaway?
“Well, I didn’t know it was a secret,” my mother said defensively. “A
messenger delivered a package with paperwork and a key while I was at our
old place watering the plants last year. It wasn’t like it was marked ‘secret
cabin.’”
My nostrils flared. “So let me get this straight,” I said, keeping my
voice measured. “You broke into my home. You opened my mail. You stole
a key so that you could break into my other property. Do I have that right?”
My mother shook her head. “Don’t be so dramatic. What should I have
done? Let the plants die?”
“Yes,” I retorted. “That would have been fine. Especially considering
that I don’t have any.”
My grandmother chimed in. “Well, he’s got your number there,
Marjorie.”
My mother flushed. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about, anyway,” she
protested. “Who on earth would ever follow us here? Who on earth would
ever be looking for you, Gage?”
“They wouldn’t be,” Savannah’s voice filled the room as she stepped
through the archway from the kitchen. “They’d be looking for me.”

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 11

S avannah

M y stomach clenched , seeing G age ’ s mother . M y own mother had

passed away when I was very small. I didn’t even remember her. I had
always looked at Gage’s mother as sort of a substitute mom of my own.
Just one more person, one more relationship, that had been ripped away
from me with no warning that night when I was sixteen.
Marjorie turned to me and her face showed no reaction for a moment.
Maybe she doesn’t remember me?
That seemed unlikely, but I had never seen the woman’s expressive face
go completely blank before in my entire life.
It was a little unnerving, honestly.
Silence hung in the air. There was a part of my brain that realized it
must’ve been only a moment, but the awkwardness made it feel like hours.
I was on the verge of cracking and giving in to the compulsion to say
something—anything—to break the torturous silence.
Damn, Langley, you would’ve made a really crappy CIA operative.
Just as I was about to open my mouth to speak, though, Gage’s mother
burst into tears, rushed over to me, and enfolded me in the tightest bear hug
I could ever remember experiencing.
It was heaven.
I didn’t realize how much I’d been craving—no, needing—physical
comfort since recent events.
 Hell, even since not-so-recent events.
My father had been awesome. Smart, brave, and a witty
conversationalist. I’d loved him, and admired him, and had fun spending
time with him.
And I’d never doubted that he loved me, even though he rarely said it.
He was more of a “show your devotion through actions” person. I never had
to worry that my car was in disrepair, or even in need of an oil change. He
took care of me in ways that were practical, if not affectionate, and I loved
him for it.
But, damn. Affectionate was pretty great, too.
I melted into Gage’s mother’s arms and absorbed the pure love radiating
from her. In a way, it fed me even more effectively than the bacon and eggs
had.
“Oh, honey!” Marjorie exclaimed. “I never gave up hoping and
believing you were okay. I prayed for you every night! Every night!”
“Mom, you don’t pray,” Gage argued gruffly.
His mother drew back from me and swatted Gage with her purse. “And
how do you know what I do? Maybe I just never had a good enough reason
before. Did you ever think of that?”
Gage rubbed his temple like he had a headache coming on. I had to give
a little smile.
The shock of me showing up on his doorstep. The knowledge that my
father had been killed by the criminal organization he’d testified against,
and that the same criminal organization was now likely coming after me.
The reality that he was my only hope of survival.
None of those things had penetrated his stoic facade enough to cause
him to show any reaction.
But less than five minutes with his mother and he was fighting off a
migraine.
“Mom, you really shouldn’t have come here,” Gage said, his voice tight.
“There are people after Savannah, and you might have led them here.”
“People? What people?” His father interjected.
I had always liked Gage’s father, too. He operated a lot more in the
background than Gage’s whirlwind of an extroverted mother, only speaking
when he had something to say. But when he did have something to say, it
was always worth hearing. It always cut right to the heart of the matter.
 Gage looked like he was considering how much to tell them. I said, “It’s
fine, Gage. I don’t mind.”
He nodded decisively. “Fine. We don’t have time for questions. But
Savannah’s father testified against some very bad people. They were taken
into witness protection. Three nights ago, those people—well, people that
work for them—found Savannah and her father. Savannah escaped, she
came to me for help. I brought her here.”
“Oh, honey! You poor thing!” Marjorie wrapped me up in her arms
again, as if her embrace might be enough to protect me from those very bad
people Gage had just told her about.
“I figured it must’a been somethin’ like that,” Gage’s grandmother said
matter-of-factly.
“You never said anything,” Gage’s father pointed out.
She shrugged. “Nobody ever asked.”
Gage said, “Look. This is a very heartwarming reunion, but we don’t
have much time. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Gage’s mother drew back, a horrified expression on her face. “Gage
Crawford. Do you really expect me to just turn around and drive back home
like nothing happened after I just found out that Savannah’s okay, and that
the both of you are in danger? Because that is not going to happen.”
Gage’s jaw twitched. “I don’t expect that, actually. You can’t go home.
Not until all of this is over.”
“What are you talking about?” His father asked.
The room erupted in flashing lights, and Gage tensed. “That. I’m talking
about that.”
“What in the Sam Hill?” His grandmother exclaimed.
“They’re here.” I said grimly. “The people that are after me. They’re
here.”

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 12

G age

I couldn ’ t believe my shitty luck . N ow , not only did I have four

protectees instead of just Savannah, but one of them was the most stubborn
person I’d ever met. And also the least likely person in the world to just do
what I told her to do without question.
Two very bad qualities in a protectee. Two qualities that were pretty
likely to get us all killed, actually.
This was going to be the biggest challenge of my career. If not my life. I
just hoped to God I was up for it.
“Come on,” I ordered, gesturing down the hall.
“Where are we going?” My mother blurted out, her eyes wide and
frightened, her voice thin and reedy with terror.
“Marjorie, he’ll explain it all later. For now, just listen to the boy!”
Damn. I had never heard my father raise his voice. Not once in my
entire life.
It was so shocking that it snapped my mother right out of the panic
spiral she’d clearly been about to enter.
She nodded. “Right. Of course you’re right,” she said, and started down
the hall. Savannah followed right behind her, and my father helped my
grandmother along.
I brought up the rear, hustling them all into the control room.
 I glanced at the monitors, saw where they stopped their car. It was a
spot about a half a mile from the cabin.
I was impressed. The spot had good cover and was far enough away
from the cabin that, if I hadn’t had all of the surveillance equipment
installed, I never would have suspected their arrival.
There were three of them, and they set off toward the cabin at a slow
and measured pace, heads on a swivel.
Judging by their shoes, they hadn’t been expecting to end up in the
wilderness approaching a remote cabin that day. I wondered if they were
keeping an eye out more for men with guns, or for bears.
Knowing I only had a few minutes to prepare, I armed myself heavily,
taking about half the armory with me.
I half expected my mother to protest, or my father to try to put a stop to
it, but all four of my charges just stood there silently, eyes wide, watching
me.
When I was ready, I faced them. “We don’t have much time, so listen
carefully. I’m not going to repeat myself. When I close this door, it can’t be
opened from the outside. You’ll be safe. No matter what you hear or see on
the monitors, do NOT come out. I don’t care what happens. If I’m killed—”
“Killed!” My mother cried, but I pressed on. There was just no time. As
I continued my speech, my father put a comforting arm around my mother.
She looked like she might pass out, but she stayed quiet.
“—then call the police. It will take them a while to get here. We’re
pretty far out. But don’t come out until they get here. Even if you think you
see those men leave. You stay in here until the police get here. Got it?”
They nodded, all four of them looking pale and shell-shocked. It tugged
briefly at my heartstrings, but I pushed away the pangs. I wanted to comfort
them. There was no time, though. I needed my head in the game.
Without another word, I stepped out of the control room and shut the
door behind me, relieved to hear the satisfying thunk of the lock’s tumblers
falling into place.
The minute the door closed, I put Savannah and my family out of my
mind. I had to. There was no way to approach going into battle while your
mind was partly taken up with other concerns. And make no mistake—
that’s what this was. A battle.
And not only that, it was a battle where I was seriously outmatched.
Three to one.
 I had two things working in my favor, though.
One—they didn’t realize I knew they were coming.
And two—they had no idea how good I was.
I positioned myself just on the other side of the hall corner from the
front door.
I could have gone upstairs and shot at them as they crossed the empty
expanse that led to the front door. They wouldn’t have any cover, I’d
designed it that way. And if there were only one assailant approaching, that
was definitely what I would have done.
The advantage of that tactic would be to minimize risk. Take the targets
out before they ever crossed the threshold.
There were disadvantages, too, though.
Having to cross a wide and empty swath of land would already have
them on guard. They would be ready to jump at the slightest sound. When I
took the first one out, the other two could scatter quickly, and I’d end up
having to chase them down through the woods. Not an ideal situation.
Once they breached the front door, ironically, their defenses would
come down a little. I knew guys like these—I knew their skillset, and I
knew their mentality.
Once they’d gained entry, they’d get cocky. They’d think they were in
control. They’d feel like they were right on the edge of obtaining their
objective, and they’d get overconfident. Adrenaline would flood their
system, and they’d lose their edge. Everything would start to blend into a
blur of action.
It was because there was a distinct blind spot in their mindset, because
of the situations they usually dealt with. They were used to being in charge,
to dealing with scared debtors or witnesses. They were intimidating men,
and they were used to dealing with people who were easily intimidated.
I could take advantage of that. They weren’t used to dealing with
trained operatives, and even if they’d been briefed on my skills, they didn’t
have the kind of experience to equip them to function at my level.
Still, even though my plan of attack was going to be based on that
knowledge, I wasn’t going to let my guard down. The biggest mistake you
could make was underestimating your opponent. So even though I was
prepared to seize the advantage when they did that, because that was what
my experience told me was the most likely scenario, I was not going to
assume it was true. I would stay loose and prepared for all eventualities.
 I took a deep breath. Readied myself.
I had a plan. Hopefully it would go smoothly. But, there was a saying:
no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. So if smoothly wasn’t
in the cards, I was ready.
The front door handle rattled.
Okay. Good piece of information. They hadn’t even tried to hide their
position, or test the door as silently as possible. They were closer to
amateurs than anything.
One of them started kicking at the door.
I could’ve locked all of the reinforced bolts that the door was equipped
with, but I hadn’t done that. If I made it impossible for them to enter
through the front door, they’d go searching for an alternate entry point.
Then things would become more unpredictable.
Of course, I hadn’t just left the door wide open, either. I hadn’t wanted
them to get suspicious.
No. Locked but not fortified. That’s what the types of people they
usually went after would do. So that’s what would put them least on their
guard.
I wanted them underestimating me up until the last possible second.
The door burst open, and they pushed through the threshold, their body
language bold and imposing.
They stood in the doorway in a triangle formation, one out front and
two trailing just behind. The one in front was the leader, I figured. Take him
out first. Cut off the head, and the chicken flops around aimlessly.
“Come on out, you miserable bit—”
Before he had even gotten the entire word out, I had put a bullet
between his eyes.
He crumpled to the ground, and the other two stared at him, mouths
agape.
I took advantage of their stunned inaction and took out the second
before they could get their wits about them.
I was hoping to take out the third before he sprang into action, as well,
but the second man going down lit a fire under third guy’s ass, and he
turned and sprinted out the door.
I stepped to the open doorway and took aim. The guy was down before
he’d even made it across the clearing.
 I holstered my weapon and dragged the body into the house. That was
the last thing I needed while I got my parents and Savannah squared away.
Some hobbyist with a drone spotting a dead body on my property and
calling in the authorities.
I laid the man’s body down next to the other two and quickly searched
all of their pockets.
Displaying a level of professionalism that their actions hadn’t hinted at,
none of them had any ID or personally identifying items on them. In fact,
none of them were carrying anything, with the exception of the leader, who
had a burner phone in his pocket.
I flipped it open and looked at the call log. There were five outgoing
calls, all at one hour intervals, to the same number. I quickly memorized it,
then replaced the phone in the dead man’s pocket.
I headed back to the bedroom and gestured at the security camera just
above the control room door, letting Savannah and my family know that all
was clear, and they could open it.
The door swung open, and the four of them stood there, pale and
shaken. None of them said anything for a moment, until my grandmother
broke the silence. “Well, hot damn, kid,” she said. “I guess you just saved
our asses.”

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 13

G age

I didn ’ t even have time to be amused at my grandmother ’ s

bluntness the way I usually was. We had to get moving, we didn’t have
much time.
“I did,” I confirmed. “And I’m about to save them again. I’m going to
say this right up front—there is no time for long explanations, or for
arguing. I am going to give you instructions. Very specific instructions. And
you are going to follow them to the letter. That’s how you’ll stay alive. Are
we clear?”
I delivered the message to all three of my family members, but I put
special emphasis on the eye contact with my mom. And after I asked if they
were clear, I only looked at her for confirmation.
She didn’t say anything, just nodded weakly. It was so outside the norm
of her usual manner that I figured she must be sincere. That was good
enough for me.
I crossed to the safe embedded in the back wall of the control room and
let it scan my palm print and eye, then gave the password. The security
system compared my biometric markers with the ones it had on file and the
safe’s door swung open.
I pulled out a duffel bag. It was filled with cash. I took enough for me
and Savannah to stay in hiding long enough to get to one of my other
stashes, and handed the bag, still containing the rest of the cash, over to my
father.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my mother. It was just that she didn’t have
the best track record for accepting what I said without pushback. Although
she did seem to be doing a pretty good job of that at the moment, I couldn’t
trust that the streak would continue.
I was better off focusing on my father. I spoke firmly, hoping that my
point would get across. “You can’t go home. They’ll be sending people
there, looking for you, wanting you to lead them to us. Do you
understand?”
My father nodded, and I continued. “You can’t use your phones, you
can’t use your credit cards. Stay in places that don’t require ID, use that
cash to get by. If you haven’t heard from me in a month—”
“A month!” my mother exclaimed, but I pushed ahead.
“If you haven’t heard from me in a month, there’s contact information
for someone in the inside pocket of the duffel. Tell him I sent you. He’ll set
you up with fresh IDs. When you have them, get as far away as possible.
Leave the country, if you can. The same man who set up your IDs will
handle laundering your assets to your new identity, but that will take time.
You’ll have to make that cash last until then.”
My father nodded solemnly. I was relieved he was taking it so well, but
a little nervous that he might just be in shock.
I pulled another bag out of the safe and removed three burner phones.
“Only use these to communicate with each other. Don’t call anyone else.
Anyone. I’m serious. Do you understand?” All three nodded, and I
continued. “I have the numbers of these phones. I’ll call when the coast is
clear. If I don’t call, you know what to do.”
I handed a phone to my mother, who took it without comment, then one
to my father, who did the same. When I handed one to my grandmother, she
said, “I’ve never in my life used a cellular telephone, I don’t see why I’d
decide now was a good time to start.”
I sighed. “Take it anyway, Grandma. Just in case.” She shrugged and
took the phone from me.
“All right. One last thing. You can’t take anything that belongs to you.
You’ll need to change into sweats I’ll give you. They won’t fit well, but
they’ll have to do. You’ll need to leave your purses, your wallets.
Everything.”
 “What about the car?” my father asked.
“I’ve got a car in the garage out back. Too old to be equipped with GPS.
You’ll take that.”
We filed out of the control room and into the bedroom. I moved to the
dresser and pulled out three plain black sweats outfits. I shook my head as I
did. I never would have imagined a scenario where I’d need so many sets of
clothes. Especially with none of them actually being worn by me. But, that
just went to show why it paid to be prepared.
I handed out the clothes. My grandmother headed into the bathroom,
and Savannah and I stepped out to give my parents privacy.
As soon as I’d shut the door, she turned to me. “Do you think they’ll be
able to do it?” she asked.
“What?”
“Not contact anyone. It’s harder than you think. It eats at you. The
isolation. The loss of your identity. You’d be surprised, you know. How
much of who you feel you are in this world is based on who you are to other
people. It’s just...it’s not as easy as you might think.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t think it will be easy. But I
think they’ll do it. They won’t just be protecting themselves. They’ll be
protecting us, too. They get that now. They won’t knowingly put us in
danger.”
She nodded. “I think you’re right. I hope you are.”
My parents and grandmother stepped out of the bedroom, then. I put out
a hand to stop them before they walked down the hall. “When we pass the
bodies in the living room, just don’t look at them,” I advised.
“Oh, God,” my mother mumbled. Then, she looked shocked, as if
something had just occurred to her. “We need to call the police! What if
someone finds them here? The police will think you just...murdered three
people. We need to explain!”
I shook my head. “No one’s going to find them.”
“You can’t know that,” my mother protested.
“I do,” I said. “They’ve been checking in with their boss every hour.
When they miss a check-in, two at most, their boss will send a cleaner. By
the time night falls tonight, no one will ever know anyone was here.”
My mother’s face took on a bit of a green cast, but she didn’t say
anything.
 “Well, I think that sounds very efficient,” my grandmother piped up.
“But if they’re on their way, shouldn’t we skedaddle? I, for one, would
rather not be here when the cleaning man arrives.”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Absolutely.”
We filed out the front door, and I noticed that my parents resolutely
avoided looking in the direction of the three felled gunmen. Unlike my
grandmother, who stared hard at them as we walked past, and then
mumbled, “And good riddance to bad rubbish,” when we were out on the
porch.
“They were human beings,” my father protested weakly.
My grandmother snorted derisively. “Barely.”
My father looked like he wanted to respond, but didn’t say anything. I
was glad. I wasn’t in the mood to break up a philosophical debate by
reminding them that they needed to get out of the area before more of those
barely-human-being types showed up.
“Come on,” I instructed them, and led the group around back to the
detached garage. I opened the door and handed my father the keys to the
older model sedan inside.
My father embraced me in an awkward hug, complete with the three
back pats that all awkward hugs ended with. “Be safe,” he admonished.
“We will,” I promised, although I had no way of knowing if that were
true or not.
My father climbed into the driver’s seat and my grandmother hugged
me. I squeezed her frail frame. “Do good, kid,” she told me. “I know you’ve
got it in you.”
“I will, Grandma,” I said, and she got into the back seat.
My mother threw herself against me and squeezed my neck so tightly I
thought I might choke. “You keep our girl safe,” she whispered fiercely.
“And yourself, too. You two had better come back to me all in one piece.
Do you hear me?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She let go of me and then moved on to Savannah. She pulled her close,
held her just as tightly as she’d held me. She whispered something in
Savannah’s ear. I couldn’t hear what she’d said, but Savannah’s eyes welled
with tears, and her voice was hoarse when she said, “I will. I promise.”
My mother crossed to the passenger side and got in, not letting herself
look back at us. In fact, I noticed that even as my father pulled out and
drove away, waving at us along with my grandmother, my mother never
turned her eyes back to us again.
Savannah laid a hand on my back. Reading my mind, she said softly, “It
would have been too much for her. She couldn’t look at you and leave. She
could only do one. Not both.”

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S avannah

W e were silent as we drove away . I was bursting with questions .

What it meant that they’d found us so fast, how that affected our future
plans...hell, what our future plans even were.
I kept my mouth shut, though. As difficult as it was. Gage had just
watched his parents drive away. He’d possibly just seen them for the last
time. I didn’t like to think of that as a possibility, but it definitely was.
I figured he must be coming to terms with that, as well as formulating a
plan for what we were going to do next. Neither of those things would be
easy on their own, let alone doing them both at the same time.
And the really shitty part was...it was all because of me. The only
reason he was in this situation...that his family was in this situation...was
that he was protecting me.
If I’d stayed gone, he’d be living his life like normal. So would his
parents, and his grandmother.
I teared up a little again, remembering what Gage’s mom had whispered
in my ear when she’d hugged me goodbye. “You take good care of him,
sweetie. And you let him take good care of you, too. That’s all he’s ever
wanted to do.”
I had promised his mother that I would. And I planned on keeping both
of those promises. And right now, an important part of taking care of him—
not to mention letting him take care of me—was just sitting quietly and
letting him think.
But it wasn’t easy. Hell, no. It wasn’t easy.
Finally, he spoke. “I think we both need rest. We need fuel, we need
rest. Any plan we formulated now would be reactionary. And no war was
ever won by being reactionary.”
I nodded. “Good call.”
I had a lot more to say. But he’d given me a lot to chew on even with
those few words. First of all, there wasn’t a plan. Yet. But there would be.
And secondly, he viewed this as a war. He wasn’t just keeping me safe.
He was going to war.
That should probably have scared me, but it had the opposite effect.
After all, I’d already felt like I was in a war.
In truth, I’d felt that way since the night the Marshals had driven me
away. The years in WITSEC before the explosion of violence a few nights
before had never felt like peace. They’d only felt like an uneasy truce.
I would never feel true peace until this was all over. I’d never let myself
realize that before, because what was the point? It would never be over.
But, now...could it be? Was there a way?
I couldn’t think of one. But I did know one thing: I trusted Gage. I
trusted him with my entire heart, my soul. My being.
I always had, from the moment we’d met. Sitting in homeroom on the
first day of freshman year.
I’d been terrified. Looking back, I now realized that every kid in that
room must have been terrified. The first day of high school was a
universally terrifying experience.
But I couldn’t see that, then. To my eyes, every single kid in that room
had been cool and self-assured. Only I, the lone weirdo, had been shaking
in my boots.
The last bell had rung and the teacher stepped up to the front of the
class. He started passing out papers. Personal questionnaires for us to fill
out. Typical first day stuff.
I’d reached into my bag to pull out a pen and...nothing. My eyes
widened. Oh, God. Had I, in all of my careful backpack preparations, really
forgotten something as basic as pens or pencils?
Trying not to show the frantic panic building inside me so as not to out
myself on the very first day—hell, the very first period of the very first day
—as the class nerd, I forced myself to move my hand calmly through my
backpack. As opposed to tipping it over and shaking out all the contents
onto the floor of the classroom, which was what I really wanted to do.
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a gift from heaven appeared. A pen.
Floating in midair, right in front of my eyes.
Nope. Not floating. Attached to a hand, I saw, as my eyes traveled
down.
Then, I heard a whisper in my ear. “Looking for one of these? Take
mine.”
I was so grateful that I wasn’t going to be publicly humiliated that I
didn’t even stop to wonder who my benefactor was. I just snatched the pen
and whispered, “Thanks.”
The next words had been whispered closer to my ear. So close I could
feel the heat of the whisperer’s breath on my neck. And they had definitely
started me down the path of wondering who it was who had given me his
pen. And how I could get him to give me more. To give me everything. Just
like I’d be willing to give him.
“No problem,” he’d breathed. “I’m Gage.”
Those four words. No problem. I’m Gage. They’d changed my life.
They’d sent the first butterflies through my belly, of the millions he would
ultimately launch.
That simple action when we’d met, of giving me that pen when I’d
needed it—it had set the stage for our entire relationship. He was always
there to help, to bail me out, to protect me. To save me.
And now, he was doing that again.
He’d always been the person I felt safest with. The most capable person
I’d ever met.
I didn’t know if this war I’d been living in for nearly half my life was
winnable or not. But I did know that if anyone could win it, it was him.

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G age

I unlocked the motel room door and ushered S avannah in ahead of

me. I closed it behind us and cleared the room. It wasn’t that I thought there
was a serious possibility of someone lying in wait inside the room. I’d
chosen this fleabag establishment at random.
But those were the kinds of decisions I made it a habit never to consider.
I stuck with protocol. Best practices were considered best for a reason. If I
walked into a new room, I cleared it. Point blank. Period.
When I was satisfied we were alone, I took precautions. I made sure the
blackout shades were completely drawn. I moved the dresser in front of the
door.
That wouldn’t stop anyone from entering. It wasn’t a black and white
movie. But I needed to get some sleep tonight if I was going to keep firing
on all cylinders, and the dresser crashing to the ground would give me the
heads up that someone was breaching the door, as well as the few seconds I
would need to spring into action.
I checked out the bathroom. No windows. Good. That left only one
point of entry—the bathroom door. And someone would need to breach the
outer door before they reached it.
Not to mention make it through me.
All in all, I couldn’t have picked a better scenario for a motel room.
 I dropped my bag on the bed. It was my “go bag”—a duffel full of all
the essentials I’d need for up to a week that stayed in my car at all times.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have one of those, so we’d stopped at an older
department store in a small town and bought her some clothes and toiletries.
By choosing an older store, not part of a chain, there was a much better
chance that their security cameras—if there were any—wouldn’t be hooked
into any kind of network.
It was a risk. Sure. But we couldn’t keep going indefinitely with her
borrowing my far-too-big clothes. It was too awkward looking. It would
attract too much attention.
We needed to blend. And to blend, we needed clothes that fit.
“Do you want to shower first or second?” I looked at the bathroom. At
the mention of showers, I couldn’t help but picture her, naked under the
streaming water, steam rising up from the stall, the heat turning her skin
pink and supple.
I gulped, willing the mental pictures away, doing my best to stay
focused. It was no good, though. As soon as I pushed those away, new ones
popped in. This time featuring both of us. In the shower. Together.
My dick strained in my jeans.
“You go first,” she offered. “I had a shower at the cabin.”
I nodded, using every bit of will I possessed to push aside the porn
movie playing in my brain so that my voice wouldn’t come out raspy as
fuck when I spoke. “Fine. Come in the bathroom with me. Lock the door.
Sit on the toilet and wait for me. I won’t take long.”
Her eyebrows shot up, but before she could ask if that were really
necessary, I added, “It’s safer. One more barrier between you and the motel
room door. If I’m at a disadvantage, even for a few minutes, like I will be in
the shower, then I’ll feel better putting as many barriers between you and
the outside world as possible.”
She nodded. “Makes sense.”
She flushed, a deep red color that rose from her chest and spread all the
way up her neck to her cheeks.
I wondered if she were embarrassed about something she’d been about
to say...or if she had movies playing in her head that were similar to mine.
Movies of the X-rated variety.
I grabbed some clothes and my dopp kit from the duffel and we ducked
into the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet and drew her legs up, then
squeezed her eyes shut. “Go ahead. I won’t peek. I swear.”
I shook my head, a faint smile touching my lips. Maybe she had been
having the same kinds of thoughts. Either way, at least she still recognized
the concept of me being naked as a big deal. It wasn’t just an everyday
occurrence. It was something that made her feel the need to assure me that
her eyes would be closed.
I turned on the water, disrobed and climbed in the shower, all as quickly
as possible.
“You can open your eyes now,” I called, an almost imperceptible playful
undertone in my voice.
I realized this was no time for levity. But, damn. I liked thinking of her,
sitting less than two feet away from me, thinking about my naked body and
getting a flush that crept up her skin like a wandering vine.
I rushed through the shower, getting clean as quickly as possible, with
the water as cold as I could stand it. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. That
would be a disaster waiting to happen, in more ways than one.
When I shut the water off, she called in, “Don’t worry. My eyes are
closed again.”
I pushed aside the curtain and was almost disappointed to see that she’d
been telling the truth. I wouldn’t have minded her seeing my body. I would
have liked to see a slight widening of her eyes, or a spark of hunger behind
them.
But, no. She was true to her word. Not only were her eyelids pressed
firmly together, she’d actually turned around on the toilet seat so that she
was facing away from me. In fact, the only way I even knew that her eyes
were actually shut was that I could see her profile in the mirror.
I dried off and pulled on my clothes, unable to tear my eyes away from
the determined set of her shoulders, or the way tendrils of her hair curled
around her neck in the humid air of the enclosed space.
She was a goddess. But not a wispy one. A warrior. She was the
strongest woman I’d ever met. The strongest woman I could even imagine
existing.
All she’d been through—not only over the last few days, but over her
entire life—and she was still standing. Still fighting.
She wasn’t just a survivor. She was a kick-ass-and-take-names, take-no-
prisoners badass.
 And I still loved her. There was no doubt about that. I understood now
that I’d never stopped.
I also understood that I probably never would.

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S avannah

G age closed the bathroom door behind him , and I reached out and
locked it. There was no reason for him to stay in the room with me while I
took a shower. He could guard me just as effectively from the other side of
the door.
I was disappointed, somehow. It would have been nice to have him right
there while I showered. There was something so vulnerable about being
naked. Having him just a few feet away would have made me feel
protected.
Don’t kid yourself. That’s not all it would’ve made you feel.
I couldn’t deny it. He turned me on. He still did.
And it was more than that. So much more than that.
My feelings for him had never gone away. Hell, they’d never even
faded. If I had thought that being back in his physical presence was going to
change that, I’d been dead wrong. It had only intensified my longing for
him. My love.
I knew it was ridiculous to be wasting time and mental energy on this
when I had so much to worry about. And when I needed to remain sharp.
But I couldn’t help it. My emotions were too strong. And the terror and
exhaustion I was still feeling the effects of had sapped too much of my
strength to control it.
 I climbed into the shower, letting the hot water sluice over my body,
feeling the pulse of the spray massaging my scalp. I tried to let the tactile
sensations take me away, to focus my mind just on the heat and pressure
that the stream of water provided.
It was no good. The heat only made me think about what Gage’s hot
breath would feel like on my skin. The pressure only made me think of his
strong hands all over me.
Yeah. Not working. Not at all.
So, instead, I just focused on getting myself clean as efficiently as
possible. Having a task to concentrate my energy on—something that I had
to accomplish—it helped. Marginally.
I didn't truly think that anything was going to take my mind off of Gage.
That was like expecting a mint to distract you from being starving when
you hadn't eaten in three days. It might be better than nothing, but in the
grand scheme of things, it was a rain drop in the ocean.
I climbed out of the shower, dried off, brushed my hair, and dressed in
the tank top and sleep shorts I had bought at the small department store we
stopped at.
Well, that Gage had bought. Just one more way he was taking care of
me.
I stepped out of the bathroom to see him sitting on the edge of the bed.
On high alert, as always.
I could have sworn his eyes flickered as they swept over my body, but I
wasn’t sure if that was real, or if I just wanted that to be true so badly that I
saw things that weren’t there.
The one thing we know for sure is that you’re worrying about things
that don’t matter, I chided myself.
I crossed the room to the bed.
The only bed in the room.
“You take the bed,” I said. “You need the rest more than I do. I’m not
the one protecting you, after all.”
I had a small smile on my lips as I spoke, but I could hear the undertone
of fear and desperation even in my own ears. The danger I was in, the
incredibly recent loss of my father, the shock to my system of Gage’s
presence after so many years—it was all taking a toll.
“No,” Gage said. “You can sleep under the covers. I’ll be sleeping on
top. If I need to take action suddenly in the middle of the night, I can’t
waste time untangling myself from sheets.”
Or from me.
I nodded and tucked myself between the sheets. He laid down next to
me, on top of the covers as he’d promised. He closed his eyes. I noticed he
didn’t turn off the dim lamp. Not that it gave much light, anyway. But I
figured it was just one more precaution against being taken by surprise in
the middle of the night.
I closed my eyes, too, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time I started to
drift off, I’d jerk awake as the memory of something horrible flooded in.
Damn. It was going to be a long night.
Then, I felt something entirely unexpected. Gage’s large hand,
encircling my small one.
Immediately, an overwhelming sense of peace took me over. Gage was
here. Nothing was going to happen to me tonight.
In fact—and I had absolutely no basis for believing this, other than the
gut feeling that engulfed me whenever he was around—I thought that
maybe nothing bad was ever going to happen to me again.
Not on Gage’s watch.

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G age

M y eyes sprang open at six on the dot . I didn ’ t need to look at a

clock to know that it was six. I had an internal clock that I trusted far more
than any timepiece.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Quickly checked
over the room to make sure everything was in place and nothing had been
disturbed.
Nothing had. We were just as alone now as we’d been when we went to
sleep, and we had been the entire night.
“Savannah,” I said, “Wake up. We’ve got things to do.”
She stirred, but didn’t wake. I was glad in a way. That meant she was
deep asleep, and she truly needed the rest.
I gave her a short reprieve by going to the bathroom, washing my face,
brushing my teeth, and moving around the hotel room and gathering up
everything that we had left out the night before and putting it back into
either my duffel or the department store shopping bag, depending on what it
was.
Since that took less than five minutes, though, it wasn't much of a
reprieve. And, as much as I wanted to let her rest – in fact, as much as I
wanted to let her keep sleeping for the pure pleasure of watching her
beautiful face without all of the worry that was etched on it while she was
awake—we simply couldn't spare the time.
 I leaned down and shook her shoulder gently. "Come on, Savannah. It's
time. Wake up."
She stirred more that time, and her eyes opened as she stretched. They
lit on me, and I could tell from the pure, innocent joy that brightened her
face when they did that she was still in that half-asleep-half-awake no
man’s land where the realities of life had not yet settled into her
consciousness.
I saw the exact moment that they did. I saw the horror that flickered in
her eyes, and the way that her entire body tensed as if someone—or maybe
just life—was about to punch her.
I wished I could hold her, reassure her she was safe, that I would never
let anything happen to her. But not only did we not have time for that...it
would be a lie.
Of course, I was going to do my damnedest to keep her safe. But as to
whether or not my damnedest was going to be good enough, only time
would tell.
She sat up, ran her hand through her hair. “So. I take it we have a plan,
then?”
I nodded, a short and decisive movement. “Yes. Do what you need to do
in the bathroom. I want to be on the road in ten minutes.”
She sprang out of bed, a wry smile on her face. “Time me. I bet I can
halve that time.”
She was right. In only a little over four and half minutes, we were
stepping out of the motel room door and making our way to the SUV. I
checked the car for any foreign devices before unlocking it, and when I
looked back at her, I saw that she was pale.
“What were you looking for?” she asked. “Tracking devices?”
I thought about sparing her, but decided against it. This might be hard,
but she was tough. And she needed to know what she was up against.
“That,” I said solemnly, “or explosives.”
She breathed out slowly. “Well,” she said finally. “At least you know to
check.”
We climbed in and I started the engine.
As we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, she said, “So,
what is the plan?”
“First, I have a safe deposit box at a bank about three hours from here.
We’re going to need cash. Not just for survival, but for supplies. But I
realized last night that we need more than that.”
“What? What do we need?”
“Reinforcements.”
Her eyes widened and she gave a small gasp. “You can’t seriously be
thinking of telling someone where we are.”
“No. Not just someone. One particular person. I’d trust him with my
life. In fact, I have, on more than one occasion. But more importantly, I’d
trust him with yours.”
Her hands were balled up in fists in her lap. I didn’t blame her. But there
wasn’t much else I could say to convince her it was a good idea. She was
going to have to come to it on her own.
Finally, she whispered weakly, “Okay. I trust you.”
I nodded. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
“So, what’s the plan once the reinforcements arrive?”
“He’ll have a safe house. Somewhere completely unconnected to me.
Hell, somewhere completely unconnected to him, for that matter. Or at least
to the identity he was born with.
“He’ll tell us how to get there. He’ll meet us there. We’ll formulate a
long-term plan together.”
She cut her eyes to me. “Long-term?”
I nodded. “We’re going to war, Savannah. And we’re seriously
outgunned and outmanned. The only advantage we have is our brains. We
have to use them. We can’t give in to adrenaline and rush into this, as
tempting as that might feel. That would only benefit the bad guys.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
A small ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “See? Brains.”
It took the joke a moment to hit her, but when it did, she laughed much
harder than it deserved. I figured it must just be a release valve for all the
tension she was feeling, and I was more than happy to provide that.

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G age

“I feel like we ’ re going into a bomb shelter ,” S avannah mumbled ,

trepidation in her voice. “Like maybe we’re not coming out for twenty
years.”
“Yes to the first. No to the second.”
It was true, Bear’s safe house was nothing more than a door in the side
of a hill. From the outside, anyway. If I knew Bear, the inside was sure to be
a different story. She’d see in a minute.
I understood her hesitancy, though. So much had happened, and so
much was still ahead of us, and she had almost no control over any of it.
And probably didn’t even understand most of it. Anybody would be freaked
out.
She glanced up at me, her eyes soft, a small and regretful smile
flickering across her lips. “Part of me wouldn’t mind just holing up with
you for twenty years. Part of me thinks that would be a pretty nice life.”
My heart clenched in my chest. I’d had the same thought. It was
tempting. But, no. Running was no life. And besides—that’s not who I was.
“We can do better than nice. Trust me.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Good.”
A buzzer sounded and the door gave when I pushed it. Bear must have
seen us on his security screens.
 We stepped in and the heavy door clanged shut behind us. When it did,
the interior lights came on.
We were standing on a large, round metal platform, smooth concrete
walls to the sides. About ten feet ahead of us, a steep metal ladder
descended into darkness.
“I don’t know that I feel a lot better,” Savannah observed quietly.
We made our way down the ladder. It wasn’t a short climb. At the
bottom was a landing with another reinforced steel door, much like the one
we’d had to come through to enter from the outside.
Savannah may have felt nervous about this setup, but that was just
because it felt unfamiliar to her. I, on the other hand, was feeling more
confident by the minute.
The door buzzed like the one upstairs had, and then swung open on its
own. Bear stood there, his hulking frame clad in all black as usual.
“Nice set up you got here,” I greeted him.
He nodded in appreciation, then gestured with his chin at the ladder
behind us. “Check it out.”
He pressed a button and it retracted into the wall. I liked it. It was an
unsurvivable drop from the top platform, and there would be nothing to
attach any rappelling equipment to in the round smoothness of the floor or
walls.
I turned back to him. “Smart.”
He nodded and stepped aside, allowing us to enter.
Bear and I didn’t need small talk. Hell, the exchange we’d just engaged
in was practically flowery by our standards. The main thing was, we knew
we had each other’s backs. We knew that in a place much deeper than
words, and we had proved it over and over, not with words but with actions.
There was no one else in the world I would have entrusted Savannah’s
well-being to. He was not only the most capable person I knew, aside from
myself, he was also the only one I knew would take it as seriously as I
would.
Inside the interior door, the bunker opened up to a sprawling,
comfortable living space. In fact, it felt a little weird to even call it a bunker.
There was ample lighting, comfortable furnishings, and enough of a
“decorated” feel to make it seem like a regular home.
“Oh!” Savannah exclaimed. “This wasn’t what I was expecting
from...what we’d seen so far.”
 “No need to live like a heathen,” Bear explained.
Damn. That was maybe the most philosophical thing I’d ever heard him
say. He must’ve really taken a liking to Savannah.
“This place is untraceable?” I confirmed.
Bear looked at me like I’d lost whatever few marbles I’d had to begin
with. “You know I don’t do traceable. There’s no connection between me
and this place.”
Savannah looked around, clearly marveling at the homey atmosphere,
set so deep beneath the ground.
“I don’t get it, though,” she said. “I mean...obviously you had to hire
people to build this. It’s not like you found it on Zillow.”
Bear nodded. “Yeah. They never met me. We only communicated
through email. They got paid by wire from an untraceable account in the
Caymans. They think I’m a paranoid survivalist.”
I snorted. “Aren’t you?”
He smirked, the half-grin barely visible beneath his bushy beard. “Sure.
They just have the wrong idea about what I’m trying to survive.”
“Bear specializes in this kind of thing,” I explained. “Safe houses.
Identities. Complex plans. When protection needs go beyond bodyguarding,
Bear is your man.”
Savannah shook her head wryly. “Well, then I think it’s safe to say that
Bear is my man.”
Even though the dry tone in her voice told me that she was joking—or,
if not quite joking, then at least not quite serious—it irked me to hear her
calling anyone else, “her man.”
I shoved that down. It was unprofessional, and petty. I was neither of
those things, and didn’t plan on starting now.
“So, tell me,” Bear said. “What are you in the market for? Safe house,
identities, or complex plan?”
I considered. “I guess I’d go with complex plan. Safe house while we
work it out. And identities if it fails.”
He nodded, like the answer was nothing out of the ordinary. Which, to
him, it wasn’t.
“Then we’d better get down to work.”

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S avannah

I followed the guys into a room in the back of the house . I t felt
weird mentally calling it a house, but I couldn’t think of a better name, and
it really did feel like a house, so that’s what I’d settled on.
The room we entered was significantly less homey, though. It reminded
me of the space at the back of Gage’s closet at the cabin. The one he’d
called the “control room.”
This was bigger, though, and brighter. There was a long, oval table in
the middle of the room. One entire wall was filled with banks of monitors,
and there was an extensive computer system at the desk in front of it.
Another wall was completely covered in white board material. There
were some notes already jotted on it, which Bear promptly erased. He
turned to Gage and nodded. “Fill me in.”
Gage related the facts of my situation. Which honestly sounded even
more hopeless and depressing when broken down into stark, factual
statements than if I’d actually tried to dress them up in the most dramatic
language possible.
Listening to Gage, each sentence seemed like a new bar on the window
of my prison. How could there possibly be any way out?
Bear listened intently, never interrupting, only occasionally nodding.
When Gage finished, he said, “We can work with that.”
My eyebrows shot up. “We can?”
 He nodded. “We can.”
Gage nodded in agreement. “It won’t be easy, though.”
Bear smirked. I was starting to really like his smirk. “Nothing fun ever
is.”
“These are my thoughts so far,” Gage started, and I was shocked to find
out that he actually had any thoughts, so far or otherwise. He certainly
hadn’t shared them with me. “First off, we need more information. A lot
more. We need to know about Mitch Barlowe’s operation. We need to know
what Savannah’s father’s role was, what he testified about. We need to
know how it operates today, and we need to know what his weaknesses
are.”
“Agreed.”
“And we need to know how they infiltrated WITSEC. That’s not easy.
Finding that out will let us know what we’re up against.”
My head spun. “I don’t understand...how will any of this help?”
“The only way to get Mitch Barlowe to stop coming after you, for good,
is to make him understand that it would be far more painful to continue than
to stop,” Gage explained.
“And not just a little more painful,” Bear added. “Magnitudes. Life and
death difference.”
“Right. But to do that, we have to take the fight to him. We can’t keep
playing defense. And we only have one shot. We have to hit him where it
hurts.”
“And for that to happen,” Bear finished, “we have to know where it
would hurt.”
My gaze ping-ponged back and forth between them as they spoke,
trading off sentences like a well-oiled machine. It was oddly comforting,
how well they worked together. It gave me confidence that, should the shit
hit the fan, they’d already have a plan in place, one that involved throwing
up a shit shield to protect me from the flying feces.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But how will we find that out? I mean...I don’t even
know what my father’s relationship to Barlowe’s organization was. I guess
we could look up the trial transcripts—” I mused, but Bear cut me off.
“That’ll take too long. We don’t want to rush, but we’re not gonna drag
this out for months, either.”
“Agreed,” Gage said.
 I smiled weakly. It was hard to keep up with the way the landscape of
my future was shifting before my eyes. “You guys clearly know what
you’re doing. I’ll stop pestering you with questions.”
“It’s not pestering,” Gage insisted. “It’s your life at stake. Your freedom,
your future.”
“Not to mention,” Bear added pragmatically, “you don’t really know
what you know or don’t know. Details that you never thought were
significant could bust this thing wide open. Chime in whenever you have
something to say.”
I nodded, but I knew I wouldn’t. I just needed to listen for a while. I
needed to let all of this sink in.
Everything was changing. Until about five minutes ago, my best hope
for the outcome of this nightmare had been survival. I’d assumed that, if I
did survive, I’d be swept up into WITSEC again. Another new identity.
Another anonymous city.
Another start at a lifetime of the sharp ache of missing Gage. Of
grieving the life we could have had together.
But now, there was a new possibility. A new hope. One of a life where
Barlowe was no longer after me. Where I could live where I wanted. As
who I wanted.
I looked at Gage. With who I wanted.
It seemed too good to be true. It seemed like too much to hope for. In
fact, just the act of hoping felt scary. Like maybe I could jinx it with
nothing but the strength of my own stupidity...because, after all these years,
hoping felt like a lot of things. Futile. Dangerous. But, most of all, it felt
stupid.
But, as I listened to Gage and Bear talk and plan, I had to admit—they
seemed confident. And it was clear they had engaged in these kinds of
missions many times before. And they were both still standing. And, as far
as I knew, so were all of the people they’d been protecting, or rescuing.
So maybe their judgement about how futile, or dangerous, or stupid it
was to indulge in a little bit of hope was slightly more dependable than
mine.
I sure as hell hoped so. As ironic as that was, it was still true. I sure as
hell hoped so.

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 20

G age

A fter a day of making plans with B ear , I was tired . I couldn ’ t deny
it. And now, secured in Bear’s fortress, I could really rest. I didn’t have to
be quite as on guard.
Although I knew in my heart that a big part of me was not going to
relax until this situation was resolved and Savannah was safe, here in the
bunker I didn’t have to dial it up to eleven.
Still. That didn’t mean we’d be sleeping in separate rooms. I wasn’t
letting her out of my sight. Even if that sight was temporarily blocked by
closed eyelids because I was sleeping.
Savannah ducked into the bathroom and changed into the tank top and
shorts she’d bought as pajamas.
While she was in there, I pulled off my jeans, leaving me in my boxer
briefs and T-shirt. I still laid on top of the covers. Some habits weren’t
breakable, and there was no way I’d be able to get to sleep under the
oppression of the sheets and blankets. My brain would be consumed with
all the scenarios that could end in disaster. All the ways things could go
wrong.
The same reason I didn’t turn out the lights. Darkness put us in a
position that was too vulnerable. Even in Bear’s impenetrable fortress, I
wouldn’t risk it. Nothing was truly impenetrable.
 Savannah stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in the shorts and tank,
her hair in a braid down her back.
Damn. She didn't look much older than she had when we were
teenagers.
My chest constricted and for a long moment, I could barely breathe.
She crossed to the bed and tucked herself between the covers. A repeat
of our positions at the motel.
Like at the motel, she didn’t drift off to sleep. She was restless. Finally,
she turned over toward me and opened her eyes. She stared at me with that
laser stare she’d always had. The one that always made me melt. The one
that always made me do whatever she asked.
“Can I ask you a favor?” she said softly, then laughed. “I mean, I get
that we’re in the middle of you doing me the hugest favor in the history of
the world. But can I ask you for another one?”
“You can ask me for anything,” I said honestly.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she cast her gaze down quickly. She
obviously didn’t want me to see that my words had made her emotional, so
I didn’t say anything.
She took a moment to compose herself, then continued. “Okay. Thanks.
It’s just...at the motel, it helped me sleep so much when you held my hand.
Would you—”
“You want me to hold your hand?” I’d already done that the night
before, I couldn’t see why she was having such a hard time working up to
asking me.
“No,” she whispered. “I was thinking more along the lines of...would
you hold me? I just...that would feel really nice. If you would hold me.”
My throat closed. I had to swallow hard before I could get the words
out. Well, word, anyway. “Yes.”
She exhaled hard, and I was surprised to realize she must have been
holding her breath, waiting on my answer.
She scrambled out from beneath the covers and snuggled up to me,
fitting herself against my body and nestling her head in the crook of my
neck. I wrapped my arms around her and held her to me.
Fuck. There’d been so many nights when we were kids that we’d held
each other just like this. In my car, on her couch...and we’d talked for hours
about what the future held for us.
 All of the wild guesses we’d tossed out, and we’d never even once
come close to what reality would actually bring.
Having her back in my arms now...it felt like home.
I rubbed little circles into the small of her back with my thumb. I
remembered how much she loved that. She sighed contentedly and
snuggled in even closer.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, and her voice was companionable.
It held an old intimacy that I recognized from our history, but hadn’t heard
again until now.
“Of course.”
“Why did you become a bodyguard? Most people, from what I gather,
get into the profession after a career in the military or law enforcement. Not
you. You started building your skills and training immediately out of high
school.”
I knew where she’d gotten that information. That goddamn interview. I
hadn’t wanted to give it, but the company I was working for at the time had
insisted. It never even occurred to me that Savannah might see it.
I thought about giving her a bullshit answer. One that would satisfy the
question but not give away the real truth of the matter.
But I was done with that. I was done with pretending, done with
running. We were in a precarious situation. Our odds of survival were
tenuous at best. If I couldn’t be honest with her now, when would I be?
“Because when you needed me to protect you most, I wasn’t capable. I
wasn’t even there. I swore that I would never be caught off-guard again.
That no one who needed me, needed my protection, would ever be unsafe
on my watch. And they haven’t.”
“Oh,” she breathed. I could feel her heart beating fast in her chest,
fluttering against my side.
Then, her touch so light I could barely feel it at first, she slid her hand
under my T-shirt, her fingers exploring the ridges of my abs as she softly
kissed my neck.
My dick hardened instantly. I thought about pushing her away. Telling
her that I needed to stay alert in case there was a threat. But we would both
know that was bullshit. No one was getting past Bear’s defenses, and
definitely not without some serious warning.
The real truth was, I didn’t want to risk my heart. It had been all but
destroyed when I’d lost her the first time. What if I lost her again? What
would that do to me?
Then I realized—that wasn’t going to happen. Because I was going to
fucking well die before I let it. So it really and truly didn’t matter. In the
future, I was either going to be with Savannah, or I was going to be dead. In
either scenario, there would be no adverse consequences for making love to
Savannah tonight. There was only upside.
With that thought fresh in my mind, I leaned down and pressed my lips
to hers, moving them gently at first, then with increased passion as my heart
rate sped up.
She moaned low in her throat. My dick twitched at the sound.
I needed her. I knew that now. I wasn't sure how I had thought that I was
going to get through this without ever kissing her, or touching her, or being
inside her. That had been insanity. Or at least denial.
I slid my hand up under her tank top, feeling the warm silky smoothness
of her skin.
My head spun. This felt like a dream. Far too surreal and amazing to be
real.
Hell, for all I knew, maybe this was a dream. Maybe it all was,
everything that had happened since that knock had woken me up in the
middle of the night. Maybe I’d gotten shot while protecting someone, and I
was in a coma, or this was all some kind of fevered Jacob’s Ladder
scenario.
There was nothing I could do about it if that were the case, though.
Nothing but enjoy it, anyway. And that was exactly what I planned to do.

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 21

S avannah

F eeling G age ’ s hands on my body , everything in me was on fire . I

couldn’t even slow the blood racing through my body down enough to
savor the sensations. I just let them crash through me, one after the other,
and did my best to stay conscious.
And that wasn’t metaphorical. I really did worry I was in danger of
passing out. That’s how lightheaded I was.
“Oh, God, Gage,” I breathed, my lips against his neck.
This didn’t feel real. I was so scared that I was going to wake up at any
moment, just like I’d done so many times before when I’d had dreams that
started out like this—that I’d be alone. No glorious hands on my body, no
warm skin under my lips. No Gage.
I pushed the fear aside. This was real, even if it didn’t feel that way,
entirely. There were a lot of other harsh realities that were also real, and if I
had to face those head on, then damn it, I was going to enjoy this one
beautiful reality I’d been given!
Gage kissed his way down my neck, his hands still moving over my
belly. His lips pressed to the pounding pulse there, then moved onto my
shoulders, my chest, and finally the sensitive skin at my cleavage.
I arched my back, pressing myself harder into his mouth.
I needed him. I needed to feel him against me, every inch of his skin on
every inch of mine. I needed his mouth on my nipples, his fingers between
my legs. I needed all of him, everywhere.
“Please, yes,” I breathed. “Touch me. Please.”
He pulled my tank top down over my breasts, and I gasped as the hem
of the neckline raked over my sensitive nipples. He kissed his way down,
taking one of them in his mouth and suckling it, swirling his tongue around
the swollen nub until I thought I would explode, and then moving to the
other and doing the same.
He drew back and started to kiss his way further down, but stopped
abruptly.
When I looked down to see what was wrong, I saw him staring at it.
My tattoo.
God...I’d forgotten. It had been a part of me for so long, and in all the
confusion and chaos of the past couple of days, I had just forgotten about it.
“What is this?” he said, his voice low and raspy.
“It’s...” I trailed off. I wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. “It’s a tattoo,”
I tried again. Lamely.
“I can see that,” he said. “It’s my handwriting.”
“It is,” I admitted, and decided to start from the beginning. I ran my
fingers through his hair while I talked, reminding myself that he was here. I
was here. We were together. The pain of being ripped apart was done. I
could tell this story, now. It was painful, but it was the past.
“On the night the Marshals came and took us, they gave me five
minutes in my room to throw some clothes together. I was forbidden to take
anything sentimental. But...God, Gage. I knew I could never leave without
something of you. I wasn’t physically capable of walking out of that house,
out of my life, without taking at least some part of you with me.
“But it had to be something small enough that they wouldn’t find it if
they searched me. So I ripped out this one sentence from the birthday card
you gave me. ‘I love you.’ And I shoved it into my bra. I knew they
wouldn’t search there.
“I kept that little scrap of paper. I looked at it, and I thought about you. I
put my finger to it, and I felt connected to you. I put it in here, in the locket
that you gave me—” I touched my hand to the heart-shaped necklace, the
one that never left my neck. “—but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t close
enough to my heart.
So, when I turned eighteen, I had it tattooed onto me. On my breast, on
the same place that the paper had touched when I’d smuggled it out two
years before. The place on my body that had made it possible for me to take
just that one tiny piece of you with me.”
I stopped talking. I couldn’t think of what else to say.
He was unnervingly still and silent, and for once, I couldn’t quite read
his expression.
Finally, he asked, “You have the words ‘I love you’ tattooed on your
body in another man’s handwriting. What do people say when they see it?
Men?”
His shoulders tensed when he asked the question, and his eyes and voice
were hard as steel.
I thought about brushing the question off, making something up, but
then decided against that. This was Gage. I didn’t lie to him. I just didn’t.
“I don’t know what they would say. No one’s ever seen it.”
He looked up at me, the question burning in his eyes.
“I...I’ve never been with anyone,” I admitted. “Every time I thought
about it, it just made me sick. To think about anyone but you touching me,
kissing me...it just hurt too much.”
The last few words came out in a strangled gasp. I hadn’t meant them
to, but I thought it was actually a pretty decent representation of how I was
feeling.
He stared at me for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, I couldn’t take
it anymore. “Gage,” I whispered, “please say something. Anything.”
His hands were still at my waist and he pushed me onto my side of the
bed. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said shortly.
My eyes widened, shock and humiliation washing over me. “What are
you talking about?” I whispered, my voice nothing but a sandpaper rasp.
He didn’t answer directly, and didn’t look at me at all when he said,
“It’s for the best. Trust me. I make a much better friend than a lover.”
I stared at him, willing him to turn and look at me, to talk to me.
Anything. But it didn’t work. He just lay flat on his back and stared at the
ceiling.
I shook my head and swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing
up, holding myself as erect as possible, maintaining what little dignity I
could. “Well,” I said, my voice aloof. “After the way you just acted, it takes
a lot of balls to call yourself either.”

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 22

G age

F uck .
I couldn’t believe what a gigantic asshole I was. Truly monumental.
I’d listened to Savannah pour out her heart to me, tell me how much she
loved me—so much that she’d had it permanently imprinted on her body—
tell me that I was the only man she’d ever loved. That she’d never been
with anyone else.
And my reaction had been to push her away.
She was right. I was a shitty lover, and an even shittier friend.
I listened to the steady, watery beat of the shower. She’d retreated there
after her scathing indictment. Which was also, I had to admit, a pretty great
line. Even when she was furious, she still had a way with words.
I wasn’t sure why I’d pushed her off of me. I especially wasn’t sure why
I’d done it so abruptly and coldly.
She didn’t deserve that. She just didn’t.
Fuck, she hadn’t had a choice about leaving me. She hadn’t done it on
purpose. In fact, it was pretty clear that she hadn’t wanted to.
So why was I being such a dick about it?
The only thing I could think of was that it was my heart’s way of
protecting itself. The moment had gotten a little too real, and I just couldn’t
take it.
 It didn’t make sense. Hell, if this whole situation we were in wasn’t ‘a
little too real’ then I didn’t know what was.
But, that story that she’d told...it hit different. There was something
about it.
She was showing you her heart. And you were afraid to show her yours.
Yeah. I had to admit, as cowardly as that made me come off, it rang
true.
Damn it.
I just hoped I hadn’t ruined things forever.
Realizing she had been in the shower for way too long, I got up and
crossed to the bathroom door. I was just about to knock lightly and
apologize when I heard another sound underneath the roar of the spray.
I leaned closer, pressed my ear to the door.
Shit. Yep. It was crying. Savannah was crying.
Damn it. Her father’s death hadn’t been enough to make her break
down. The danger she was in from the men who’d killed him also hadn’t
been enough.
No. The thing that finally pushed her over the edge was...me. My
dickhead behavior. My casual coldness. That was what had done it.
Fuck.
I turned around without knocking and laid back down on top of the
covers.
When she finally came out of the bathroom and slid back between the
sheets on the other side of the bed, I pretended to be asleep.
I knew it was cowardly, but, hell. Apparently that’s what I was now. At
least when it came to being real with Savannah.

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 23

S avannah

I opened my eyes to a blank slate . T hat instant in the morning when

you’re only consciousness, no form or context yet, was starting to be my
favorite part of the day. As soon as that bloody context started filtering in, it
all went to shit from there.
The first thing I noticed was the pounding in my temple. Fuck, it
hurt...then I remembered all the crying I’d done the night before, in the
shower.
Oh, right. Mr. “Better Friend Than a Lover” had rejected me.
I felt like an ingrate even being mad at him, or hurt. After all, he was
risking his damn life just to save mine. If that wasn’t a friend...hell, if that
wasn’t a lover, if not in the romantic sense...I didn’t know what was.
But I couldn’t help it. The visceral memory of his hands pushing me off
of him...it sent daggers through my heart, and ice through my soul.
I was in love with him. I’d never stopped being in love with him. So
much so that I’d had his handwriting permanently etched on my body. So
much so that I’d never been able to tolerate the touch of another man. Even
the thought of another man’s touch made me queasy.
And that was what had been too much for him. He would protect me.
He might even die for me. But he wouldn’t love me. Or he couldn’t.
And as grateful as I knew I should be for the first two...as grateful as I,
in fact, was for the first two...that third one hurt like fucking hell.
 I shook my head. Just one more trauma, one more loss, to shove down
and save to deal with another day. One more sacrifice on the altar of
keeping my wits about me for the sake of survival.
I could do it. It hurt like hell to do it, but I knew I was capable. After all,
I’d done it often enough before.
Gage knocked lightly and then stepped into the room. Although it
wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to read his always-stony expression,
I’d had lots of practice. The stare he was giving me was wary.
I decided to break the tension right away. All he was doing for me, I
owed him that. Not to mention, we had work to do. Making things tense and
awkward between us would not only be unfair and counterproductive—it
could potentially be fatal.
I smiled brightly. “Morning, boss. What’s on the agenda for today?”
He studied my face for a moment, likely trying to figure out if I was
being sincere. I held my expression and, after just a moment, he was
apparently satisfied. He gave a quick nod. “Come on. We’ve got work to
do.”
I nodded and climbed out of bed. I went into the bathroom, brushed my
hair and teeth, and brushed aside thoughts of the night before. I couldn’t
just pretend. I actually had to put it aside, otherwise it would impact Gage’s
ability to protect me.
After dressing quickly, I stepped back out into the bedroom and then
followed Gage out to the main living area.
Bear was waiting there, and coffee and pastries were sitting on the
counter. My stomach growled. As had become my habit, I hadn’t realized
how hungry I was—or even that I was hungry at all—until I’d seen and
smelled the food.
“Dig in,” Bear encouraged in response to the loud growl of my stomach.
“We’ve got a big day ahead. You’ll need the sustenance.”
I did what he said, pouring myself a cup of strong-smelling coffee and
piling both an apple and a cherry pastry onto a napkin.
Hey, the man had said I was going to need sustenance.
I wondered what the day ahead held. It must be really something, I
reasoned, for someone of Bear’s vast experience to refer to it as “big.”
I didn’t have to wonder long. “We need intel,” Gage began. “We can’t
get that from you. You just don’t know enough.”
 Insulting. But, no argument from me. It was true, when it came to my
father’s affairs, I’d been blissfully ignorant. The truth was, I hadn’t wanted
to know.
“So, we’re going to need more reinforcements,” Bear continued. “This
time of the more technically-inclined variety.”
My skin went cold. Even more people were going to know my
whereabouts? That seemed like a terrible idea. “Don’t worry,” Gage said
quickly. “I trust him like I trust Bear.”
Damn. He could read me like a book. It had always been that way. Since
the very first day, when he’d known that me subtly searching in my bag and
my air of quiet panic meant that I didn’t have a pen and was afraid of being
embarrassed. And, just like then, he was jumping in immediately to set my
mind at ease.
“Hey,” Bear said with what I was coming to recognize as his trademark
smirk. “I’m not crazy about that characterization. But I do agree. Crypt is
trustworthy, and capable.”
I cringed. “Crypt? That doesn’t give me much confidence. You know.
About survival?”
“It’s short for encryption,” Gage clarified. “Because he says that none is
a match for him. I don’t know how much of that is bragging and how much
is true, but I do know that he’s never let me down.”
“Me either,” Bear agreed.
“But we can’t just be out and about looking like this.”
I looked down at myself. Jeans. T-shirt. Flats. I didn’t know what he
meant, I thought I looked pretty normal.
“Looking like ourselves,” Gage clarified. “It’s not like I advertise my
connection with Crypt. Or with Bear, for that matter. But I also haven’t kept
it secret. There’s a chance, no matter how small, that Barlowe could have
eyes on his place.”
“Oh. Got it,” I replied, my belly fluttering.
“There are three of us. That will throw them off to start with. But we
need to disguise ourselves so they don’t recognize us even if they have
photos.”
My brows drew together. “Like...ball caps? Sunglasses?”
“We’re not Julia Roberts going to the grocery store,” Bear chuckled.
“No. Something a little more subtle.”
 “What you’re thinking of would look too much like a disguise,” Gage
clarified. “It would draw attention rather than deflect it. We need to look
like normal people on the street. Just not like us.”
I nodded. “Okay. How do we do that?”
Bear moved to a closet, shuffled around in there for a minute, and
returned with a medium-sized bin full of supplies. I glanced in. Fake
tattoos, silver body mod jewelry, cat-eye glasses, make-up. “We’ll wear all
black, and boots. We’ll put on these tattoos and fake piercings. You’ll do
your make-up. We’ll wear glasses.” He paused and gave the smirk. “I’ll
wax my mustache out to resemble a handlebar.”
I laughed. “Are we going to be hipsters?”
“Exactly,” Gage said. “The key to a good disguise isn’t not being
noticed at all. It’s giving them something else to notice. When we are
looking in a crowd for someone we recognize, we think we’re matching
every face we see against the picture we have in our head of the person
we’re looking for.
“But that’s not how our brains actually work. That would be too much
processing, it would slow down the circuits. So what our brains are actually
doing, without us ever noticing, is broad pre-categorization. We’re
discarding people of the wrong gender, wrong height, and wrong type. We
don’t do it consciously. It happens in a split second.”
“Got it,” I said. “So it’s not like we really have to totally disguise our
features. We just make ourselves the wrong type. They’re looking for two
people, mainstream clothes and appearance. We’re three people, clearly
with a long-term commitment to alternative style choices. Right down to
tattoos and piercings.”
“Exactly,” Bear confirmed. “They miscategorize us right away. Go on to
the next faces in the crowd.”
Gage added, “The other benefit is that when you give people something
extremely noticeable for their brains to focus on, that will likely be all they
retain. So if something does pop off, if we end up having to leave some
bodies in the street—”
My eyes widened but I didn’t interrupt.
“—then, chances are that all the witnesses will be able to describe later
is tattoos and a handlebar mustache. Things like height, weight, eye
color...their brains won’t have kept processing past the tattoos.”
I nodded. “That all makes sense. I wish it made me less nervous.”
 Gage flashed me a tight smile. “No. Stay nervous. Terror will paralyze
you. But nervous keeps you on your toes.”

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 24

G age

I hadn ’ t seen C rypt in a while , but he hadn ’ t changed much in all

the years that I’d known him, and—much like my grandmother with the cell
phone—I didn’t see any reason why he’d think now was a good time to
start.
Bear pulled his black SUV, which was pretty similar to mine, up to the
unassuming roll-up door in what looked like any other decaying brick
warehouse in the slightly-run-down section of any urban sprawl.
We sat for a moment. Much like at Bear’s place, there was no buzzer to
press. There wasn’t even a visible security camera. In fact, if you didn’t
know what you were looking for, you would have sworn the place was
deserted.
That was exactly how Crypt wanted it.
After just a few seconds, the door rolled up and we pulled inside. Bear
stopped the SUV just a few feet inside the building and we climbed out.
“Back here!” came a thin, reedy voice from the cavernous recesses of
the echoey space. We started walking toward it without a word.
Well inside the space, where no light from the monitors could have
reached any of the barred windows placed high on the three-story-high
walls even if they hadn’t been blacked out, Crypt had a setup unlike any I’d
ever seen.
 I didn’t understand any of his equipment, and I’d never asked him to
explain. Not that he would’ve. Trying to dumb his genius down to my level
would be, in his opinion, a waste of precious time and energy.
Crypt sat in front of a bank of monitors, the artificial light giving his
sallow skin an even more unhealthy glow.
In some ways, he was like the typical nerd-hacker you’d see in a movie.
He had a non-descript face, was in indeterminate early-to-mid-adulthood,
wore glasses, and a perpetual uniform of ill-fitting jeans and a hoodie.
In other ways, though, he was anything but typical. He was almost
seven feet tall, and lanky. Really lanky. So much so that I’d sometimes
wondered how his wrists didn’t snap when he slammed them down on the
melamine counter that his keyboard rested on when he was particularly
fired up about a problem he was trying to solve.
Despite his skinny frame, though, I’d never seen the guy when he
wasn’t stuffing his face with junk food. Salty, sweet, savory—it didn’t
matter. The only requirement seemed to be that it was unhealthy. Snacks
were chips, soda, candy. Meals were burgers, microwave burritos, pizza
pockets. He was probably only in his late twenties or early thirties, but I
still wasn’t quite sure how he hadn’t dropped dead of a heart attack yet.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled.
There was also the stress that being a grumpy bastard a hundred and ten
percent of the time must have caused on his ticker. Yeah. I was mystified
how he was still walking around.
“We have a bit of a tough one for you,” I said. I had no idea if that were
true. There was no scale I could understand that would measure how tough
or easy something was to him. But I knew that he loved to show off. If I
could get him interested in showing me how easy something was for him
when I had thought it would be difficult, he’d do it twice as fast just to be
able to sneer at me.
And if it actually was tough, then accomplishing it would give him
bragging rights. Which he’d take full advantage of.
“Hit me,” he said, and then popped a Bagel Bite mini-pizza in his
mouth.
I swear, I’d never seen anything go down his gullet where the
demographic the commercial would be aimed at was anyone over ten years
old.
 “We’ve got a breach in WITSEC. My protectee was in for the last
twelve years. Her father went up against Mitch Barlowe. Three nights ago,
her father was assassinated. She escaped. We need to know how the breach
went down. We also need details on Barlowe. Anything you can give us.
And we need to know the details of how the father pissed off Barlowe, and
if he might have still had anything on him.”
“The daughter doesn’t know?”
I glanced at Savannah. I knew it must be excruciating to hear the details
of her personal tragedy played out in such a cold, matter-of-fact recitation.
But she was stone-faced. Crypt hadn’t even guessed that she was the
protectee. That’s how much strong, capable energy she gave off.
I was about to answer when she chimed in.
“No,” she said evenly. “He never wanted to talk about it.”
Crypt looked up at her. The first time he’d taken his eyes from his
monitors the entire time we’d been here. He stared at her for a long
moment. I thought he must be realizing that she’d just lost her father. I
thought I might witness the first kind words I’d ever heard come out of his
mouth.
Finally, he mumbled, “That was dumb,” and looked back at his monitor.
Should’ve known better.
I took an involuntary step forward, body tensing, brows drawn together.
I don’t know what I’d been planning on doing. Hell, there wasn’t a plan.
But it never got that far. Savannah put her hand on my wrist and, when I
looked at her, shook her head.
I took a deep breath. She was right. We needed Crypt. I couldn’t kick
his fucking ass because he was an asshole. Besides. He’d always been an
asshole. So, basically, he was just being himself.
“Names.”
He spat the command, and I complied, listing off the names of everyone
involved and what their role in the situation was. He typed furiously as I did
so.
We stood, waiting as he continued to pound the keyboard. After a few
minutes, he looked up, face crinkled in an expression of bewilderment, as if
he hadn’t expected to see us there. “It’s gonna take a while. Go...sit...or
something.”
Immediately, he was immersed in his work again. We made our way
over to a couch that sat off to the side, like an afterthought. We sat in tense
silence, no one wanting to disturb the charged atmosphere, in which only
the sound of clicking keys and the occasional beep sounded.
Savannah reached over and took my hand. It wasn’t romantic. It was to
steady herself. I could tell the difference. Even Bear didn’t raise an
eyebrow. Although I wasn’t sure he would’ve either way. He could
probably sense the history between us. And he was never one for personal
talk.
Finally Crypt said, “Yeah. Okay. Got something.”
We stood and walked over. Savannah never let go of my hand. Hers was
trembling a little now.
We circled around behind Crypt so we could see his monitors.
There wasn’t much to see. Scanned documents covered the screen, but
they overlapped and weren’t laid out in any kind of intelligible way so that
they formed a coherent narrative.
“What’s the upshot?” Bear asked.
I was glad. I felt like Crypt was already annoyed enough with me based
on the minimal things I’d already said. That only slowed him down.
Just one more example of the way Bear and I functioned like a well-
oiled machine. I was relieved to have him on Savannah’s team.
Crypt shrugged. “There was something they were looking for.
Something her father had that they wanted back.”
“What was it?” Savannah asked. It seemed like the obvious question.
Crypt looked at her like she was crazy, though. “If I knew that, I
wouldn’t have said ‘something.’”
He wasn’t wrong. But he was also wearing down my patience.
Normally, I was able to put up with his eccentricities. I didn’t really have a
choice, if I wanted to avail myself of his talent. They were a package deal.
But with Savannah, it was different. With Savannah, I wanted fucking
results, and I wanted them fucking now.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Savannah placed another restraining
hand on my wrist. I snapped my mouth shut. Fuck. She was probably right.
She’d always been better than I was at saying the right things to people.
I seethed. Fucking Crypt. Why couldn’t he just be a genius and a
normal person?
“Can you give us any clues? Bigger than a breadbox?” Bear asked
dryly.
 Probably best to let him do the talking for a while. He didn’t have the
kind of personal skin in the game that I did, so there was a lot less of a
chance that he would snap Crypt’s head off and burn our best tech contact.
Or knock his fucking teeth in. Which I’d never been tempted to do
before, no matter how much of a jackass he’d been.
FUCK. As much as I loved having Savannah back, the raging
protectiveness I felt for her, twenty-four hours a day since the moment I’d
seen her soaking wet and shivering on my porch, was burning a hole in my
gut. I was going to have to get it under control if I were going to keep
operating at peak levels.
The only question was: how?

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 25

S avannah

M y head was spinning with the knowledge that my father had

something that Barlowe wanted.
No. Not wanted. Wanted back.
It made sense, in a weird way. Twelve years was a long time to harbor a
revenge plot. Especially when it involved infiltrating WITSEC, no easy
feat.
In fact, now that I knew about it, I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to
me before. Of course, it’s not like I’d had a ton of time to just relax and
ruminate.
Also, I had to admit, I’d been blocked by something else. By the idea
that my father had just been an unwitting victim in Barlowe’s web.
He’d never wanted to talk about his role in the events that led to us
getting put into WITSEC, or even the events themselves. I’d never pushed.
It felt too precarious, and my entire life felt precarious. My father was the
one constant. I couldn’t afford to rock that boat, emotionally or otherwise.
Now I wondered if there was more to it, though.
Had I known? Had I actually known, deep down, that he was not just an
innocent bystander? That he was more involved than that?
Maybe. The last few days had been so emotional, such a rollercoaster,
and my head was still spinning. It was hard to look back on it with any
objectivity.
 But...Gage had said something to me. Later, Bear had said essentially
the same thing. That I knew things I didn’t even know that I knew. That I
remembered things that I wasn’t even aware that I remembered.
Now, that rang in my head. What did I know? What was it?
I closed my eyes in frustration. I knew that the worst way to get yourself
to bring something up from the recesses of your mind was to try to force it,
but it was hard to resist. After all, this was my father we were talking about.
And this was my life!
It didn’t matter, though. Even with the stakes so high, my traitorous
brain remained completely blank, refusing to cough up the goods.
I tuned back into the conversation between the guys.
“What can you infer from context?” Bear was asking. “Is it
information? Are we looking for a drive, or something encrypted on the
cloud? Or is it something physical? Some kind of evidence, or blackmail?”
Those were good questions.
Crypt considered. “It seems more like information, from what I
scanned. But I don’t know. I’m dumping all of this into both of your
encrypted buckets on the server. You can go through it on your own time. I
find this stuff. I don’t interpret it.”
Gage nodded and we headed back over to the couch. In a moment, both
he and Bear opened up apps on their phones and started swiping through
pages. They paused to read from time to time, even pinched and expanded
to zoom in.
Finally, Bear looked up. “I don’t think it’s about blackmail or anything
incriminating. It seems to be some kind of proprietary process.”
“Agreed,” Gage said.
“Process for what?” I asked.
Gage shook his head. “A lot of this is in coded language. I’m guessing it
has to do with drugs. That’s the only thing that would make sense.”
“Yeah,” Bear said. “When you think about the kinds of things Barlowe
is into—drugs, pros, guns—nothing requires any sort of processing but the
drugs.”
Queasiness threatened to overtake me but I fought it.
Hey, Savannah. Don’t worry. It’s not like your father was a drug dealer.
He just worked for one.
Making the drugs.
Which his boss then dealt.
 Much better.
Right?
Good old gallows humor. It could always be counted on when I was
about to go over the edge.
“So...I guess we need to find it,” I said. “This...thing, this process that
they’re looking for.”
“Seems like a logical next step,” Gage agreed.
“What would it look like?”
“It would likely be stored on a removable drive. That should make it
easier. They were bigger a dozen years ago. Clunkier. And if I were your
father, once I had it hidden, I wouldn’t touch it. I certainly wouldn’t be
pulling it out just to transfer it onto sleeker technology.”
“Right,” I agreed.
Gage stood. Bear and I followed suit. He called over to Crypt, “We’re
heading out, unless you need us for anything.”
Crypt looked up, brows drawn together, a distracted air enveloping him.
“What? I didn’t even know you were still here. What would I need you
for?”
Gage nodded. “Fine. Drop anything you get in our buckets on the
server.”
Crypt just waved his hand in annoyance to show that he’d heard Gage’s
instructions. Or maybe it was to tell us to go away.
Either way, the three of us piled back into Bear’s SUV. We were on the
move again.

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 26

G age

A s B ear ’ s SUV moved steadily down the highway toward the city
Savannah had called home for the last dozen years, my head spun.
Twelve hours. That’s all it would take to drive there.
That wasn’t exactly a short distance by any means, but in some ways it
was.
You could drive it in one day.
You could do the entire thing with only one stop for gas.
That’s how close Savannah had been all these years. I could have driven
to her and only stopped once for gas. That was how close.
I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about that. It brought up complicated
feelings, and those were the last thing I needed clogging up my thought
process. I needed to stay sharp.
However, with the endless highway flashing by, the sameness of it all,
there was very little to distract me. Normally, I would just discipline myself
to mentally set the subject aside. But it seemed like discipline was just one
of the many things that flew out the window when Savannah was around.
So, my brain turned it over and over in my head. Twelve hours. A
dozen. Half of one day.
My logical brain realized it didn’t mean anything. It’s not like it meant
she would have been easier for me to find, if I’d somehow tried. There were
a million places she could have been, even if I’d known that a twelve-hour
drive radius was the bounding factor.
It wasn’t my head that thought it was significant. It was my heart.
Just the idea that she’d been so close to me. All those years. So fucking
close.
It was hard to process.
Bear and I took shifts driving, with the other one napping while not on
their shift. It wasn’t that we were tired. It was that, when you were unsure
what was ahead of you, you slept when the opportunity presented itself. Just
like with eating. You never knew when you were going to get another
chance, so you took the chances you got.
I was driving when we pulled into Savannah’s...God, what should I even
call it? New hometown? That felt wrong. In fact, I felt a little sick just using
the word “home” in connection to her being separated from me.
Not the time to go down that particular rabbit hole. I didn’t know if
there ever would be a time. But I did know that now was not it.
I shook my head a little to clear the queasy feeling away and decided to
just call it our destination. And we’d arrived.
She gave me directions, quietly, so as not to wake Bear.
The minute we pulled to a stop on the side of the street two blocks away
from Savannah’s house, Bear sat up in the backseat, as instantly alert as if
he’d been awake twenty minutes and was on his second cup of coffee.
I saw the surprise in Savannah’s eyes and raised brows when she saw
this, but I was used to it. Hell, I could do the same thing. It was a learned
skill. And being constantly on guard was something I’d learned.
We sat in the car for a moment while Bear and I surveyed our
surroundings. Finally, we looked at each other and nodded. We might not
have any way to know if it was a hundred percent safe, but it was as safe as
we could reasonably determine. And we couldn’t just hang out in the SUV
forever. Not only was it something suspicious that could draw the attention
of the neighbors, we were sitting ducks if there was danger. Best to be on
the move.
We hopped out and quietly closed the doors behind us.
We’d gone over the best approach with Savannah in the car. There’d
been plenty of time to hash and rehash it. She’d described the geography of
her neighborhood in excruciating detail, and we formulated a plan of attack.
 After all, it wasn’t like we could just pull up in her driveway and pile
out of the car like we were kids getting dropped off after carpool. Barlowe
could have men watching the house. Hell, he could have shooters watching
the house for all I knew. We could be dead before we hit the front porch,
our heads reduced to nothing but red mist.
So, instead, we figured out the most inconspicuous place to park, which
would still be relatively easy and fast to get back to if things went sideways.
And we figured out the approach to her house that would be least likely to
be surveilled—through her neighbor’s backyard. Savannah knew that the
family would be visiting friends in Florida for at least a few more days, so
that lowered the risk further.
When we stepped up to her back door, she pulled out her key and
opened it, then disarmed the alarm.
The timing was perfect. We’d arrived in the early dawn hours—still
dark enough outside to give us a little cover as we made our way to the
door, but light enough that we could just make out the interior of the house,
and didn’t have to worry about lights or flashlight beams giving us away.
As soon as she had closed and locked the door behind us, I turned to
her. “Did your father have an office?”
She nodded and pointed to a door that led off the kitchen. “A small one,
over there. Originally built as a den, I think.”
I looked at Bear. “I’ll take the office. You take the bedroom upstairs.
We’ll meet back here, and if neither of us found anything, we’ll tackle the
rest of the house together.”
He nodded and headed upstairs. Savannah looked at me. “I still don’t
understand what we’re looking for.”
“I don’t know, exactly. But it will be something that could hold
information. Probably in a secure or encrypted way. So, a flash drive or
external hard drive. Or maybe he went analog. Maybe it’s a notebook filled
with code. Something like that.”
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “How will you know it when
you see it?”
“I won’t. Not for sure. But we’ll take all the likely suspects with us.
Basically, if it can hold information and it seemed to be hidden, it’s coming
with us.”
She still looked defeated, and I continued, “Savannah, this is the
process. It’s not always a straight path from A to B.”
 She tried to muster a smile. “No, I know. I get that. It’s not about
finding the drive. I just…it’s not easy being back here. You know, with my
father…” she trailed off, then said, “with what happened to my father.”
Fuck. I was an idiot. Of course it was heart-wrenching for her to be
back in this house she’d shared with her father. That would have been true
even if she had gotten the opportunity to grieve properly—or even grieve at
all. The fact that she hadn’t must have made it all the more excruciating.
I should have told her that. I should have taken her in my arms, or at
least laid a hand on her shoulder. But I couldn’t. Just like continuing to
touch her after seeing that tattoo of my handwriting—I just couldn’t bring
myself to do it, to let myself be vulnerable.
And just like in bed, she was the one who paid the price for me
protecting my heart.
I nodded curtly, then walked into her father’s office without a word.
I walked around behind the desk and started looking through papers that
were sitting on top of it. I didn’t think that he would have left a super-secret
hard drive that he was trying to hide from the mob just sitting out on his
desk, obviously—but I knew that sometimes answers are in places that
seem too obvious, and so they get missed. I never made that mistake,
because I searched everywhere. I never overlooked anything because it was
too ridiculous.
That was how important pieces of lifesaving information got
overlooked, so I had made that a part of my protocol from day one. And I
never deviated from my protocol.
The papers out on the desk seemed to be regular household management
paperwork—bank statements, invoices, bills.
I picked up a stack of mail, both opened and unopened, and started
looking through it.
I stopped cold, staring at one envelope. It didn’t have anything to do
with what I was looking for. That wasn’t what had stopped me in my tracks.
It was the name of the addressee.
Samantha Long.
Shit.
That must have been Savannah’s name the entire time she’d lived here. I
hadn’t thought about that enough to wonder what her new name had been.
There had been so many other things to think about.
Samantha Long.
 I turned the name over and over in my head, trying to make it seem real.
It didn’t. There wasn’t anything about it that screamed pseudonym or
anything. No one else would have thought it sounded fake. It was a
perfectly normal name.
It just wasn’t Savannah’s. And it never would be.
“They try to keep it as close to your own name as possible. Even the
same initials. They think it makes for an easier transition.”
I looked up at the sound of her voice. She was standing in the doorway,
watching me stare at the piece of mail. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been
standing there, holding it, frozen.
I nodded and set it aside, then got back to searching.
After tearing apart everything in the office, looking in every single place
that something could be hidden, I was as certain as I could possibly be that
there was nothing to find in the office.
I went back out to the kitchen to connect up with Bear, who said there
had also been nothing to find in the bedroom.
Savannah, who was sitting at the kitchen table and fidgeting, said,
“What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer right away, and Bear interjected, “You know, there’s
something else I noticed. Something that doesn’t sit right.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m pretty sure I noticed the same thing.”
“What?” Savannah asked, tension in her voice. “What did you notice?”
I looked down at her. “This place is pristine.”
Her brows drew together and she tilted her head to the side. “I mean…
yeah. I keep a neat house…”
“That’s not what I mean. Barlowe’s men haven’t been here. Whatever
they’re looking for, they didn’t come look for it here.”
Savannah looked from me to Bear, who nodded. She shook her head.
“But…I mean…how do you know that? They might have been here.”
“They weren’t,” Bear confirmed.
Savannah looked back to me. “But, at the cabin, you said that they
would send a cleaning crew. You said that by the time night fell, no one
would ever be able to tell someone was there.”
“Right. Because they care about bodies being found. Murder
investigations draw too much attention. They wouldn’t give a shit about
tossing your house. No one would care about that. And they wouldn’t clean
it up. Especially not this well.”
 Savannah nodded. “Oh. That makes sense.”
Bear added, “And you know who else hasn’t been here.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “The police. The Marshals.”
“Right.”
Savannah ran her hands through her long, dark hair. “I don’t get it,” she
said, frustration in her voice so thick it almost verged on tears. “What does
that mean?”
Bear and I looked at each other for a long moment, until finally I said,
“I don’t know, Savannah. But it means something.”

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 27

S avannah

W e were quiet on the drive back from my house . W ell …S amantha

Long’s house. Not mine. It had never been mine.
I laid down across the back seat and closed my eyes. I hadn’t been able
to sleep at all on the long drive through the night, as we made our way to
my adopted hometown. I tried. I was exhausted. But it hadn’t worked.
I wasn’t sure why I’d been so on edge. It wasn’t that I thought we were
headed into danger. I’d felt the sting of imminent danger every second since
I’d seen that black sedan screeching to a stop at the curb in front of us. And,
honestly, to a lesser extent, since the night the Marshals took us away when
I was sixteen.
In many ways, the low-grade dread that accompanied the threat of
danger was like an old friend, now. It was like fuel. I wouldn’t know what
to do without that hum in the back of my mind.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was the idea of
being in my “new” town, in my “new” house, where my “new” identity
lived—with Gage.
He was part of my real town, my real home. The real me. He was the
part that I’d hung onto all these years, so tightly that sometimes I thought
I’d break my fingers from clenching them so hard.
He was how I had kept some part of Savannah alive, and not completely
lost myself to Samantha.
 But, now Gage had entered Samantha’s world. He had seen the streets
she lived on, driven past the store where she grocery shopped, stood in her
house.
That made “Samantha” real to me in a way she never had been before. I
think on some level, I must’ve known that would happen. That was why I
had been so scared to go there, and to take Gage.
I didn’t want her to be real. I didn’t want that life to be real. I wanted to
keep thinking of it the same way I had for the last dozen years—as an
interlude. A bad dream that, if I just waited long enough, I would wake up
from.
But now, I was facing the truth. That life had been real. That life had
stolen more than a decade from me. It had stolen my father.
I tried to shove that knowledge down the same way I’d been shoving
everything else down for so long. But it wasn’t working.
There was no imminent threat. There were a dozen hours in the car
stretching ahead of me, where I had no responsibilities except to…exist.
That was a perfect time to think, and thinking was the last thing I wanted to
do.
I closed my eyes, tried to lose myself in the sweet oblivion of sleep. If I
was lucky, maybe I could sleep for the entire twelve hour drive. Not wake
up until we were back at Bear’s fortress of solitude. Then, maybe there
would be some kind of distracting action to take. Or, if the plan was just to
shower and go to bed—at least Gage would be lying next to me.
Even if he didn’t want me anymore—wouldn’t touch me, even to hold
my hand like he’d done in the motel—at least I would feel the weight of
him on the other side of the bed. Would hear his steady breathing. Would
feel the heat coming off of his body, warming me even across the expanse
of mattress.
That would be comforting. And maybe it would help me feel more like
Savannah again. Because as of right now, I was feeling a hell of a lot like
Samantha, and I hated it.

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 28

G age

W hen we pulled up to B ear ’ s place , I got out of the car and

stretched. I was stiff and sore after the punishing twenty-four hour round-
trip drive. Except for the time we’d spent in the house searching for
whatever it was that held the information we were after, we had taken only
the shortest breaks to refuel and use the restroom. Our meals had been from
drive-throughs.
Any time we spent out on the open road was time we were exposed, and
we didn’t want to waste any time getting back to the relative safety of
Bear’s place.
Savannah climbed out from the back seat. She stretched, too. I noticed
she looked haggard. For the first time, the toll that the past few days must
be taking on her was very visible.
Not to mention, though Bear and I had switched off driving and
sleeping, I hadn’t seen her sleeping once. Not on the way there, not on the
way back.
She’d lain down on the seat a few times. Closed her eyes. But each of
those attempts had only lasted a few minutes before she was sitting up and
staring pensively out the window again.
I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t wish what she was going through on my
worst enemy. And I didn’t try to insist she get rest because I knew that we
were coming back here to Bear’s, and that I could make sure she got a good
night’s sleep. After a hot shower, and in a safe bed, with me there to guard
her—she would sleep. I was sure of it.
Are you sure, though, Crawford? Are you sure she’s even going to want
you in the room after the last time?
I wasn’t sure. But it also wasn’t up for debate. I wasn’t leaving her side.
Not until all of this was over. And that was final.
She looked over at me and her head tilted to the side, a puzzled smile
lighting her face. “What?”
I realized I’d been staring at her intently, a glowering scowl on my face
at the prospect of not being in the room to protect her. I shook my head.
“Nothing. Let’s get inside.”
When we were safely ensconced inside the safe house, Bear said, “Get a
good night’s sleep, kids. Tomorrow, we regroup.”
I nodded. “Right. And hopefully we’ll have something from Crypt by
then.”
Bear chuckled. “Yeah. A little information to give some direction to the
regrouping would be helpful. But we can worry about that tomorrow.”
Savannah and I stepped into the bedroom. I suddenly felt awkward.
Fuck. I’d felt a lot of things since Savannah Langley had walked back into
my life. Protectiveness. Confusion. Bliss. Pain. But awkwardness was new.
I cleared my throat, hoping to get the upper hand back. “So. Do you
want the first shower, or the second?”
She cast her eyes to the floor and smiled a little, but it wasn’t a happy
smile. It took me a minute to place it before I realized what it was.
She was feeling awkward, too.
“I’ll go first, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I feel super scroungy and
gross. I need to get under that hot water and wash the road off of me.”
The words were innocent enough, but my dick immediately got hard
when I heard them. The thought of her in the shower. Naked. Water running
over her skin. Over her breasts, down her belly. Fuck. It just got to me.
I clenched my jaw. When I looked over at her, I saw that she was staring
at the part of my body that her words had affected, and she had a part
amused, part melancholy smile on her face.
She looked up and met my eyes. “Well,” she said, her voice infused
with that same part teasing, part sad energy, “I guess we know that wasn’t
the problem. I guess it was just me.”
 With those words, she disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the water
of the shower come on almost immediately.
God damn it. The look in her eyes when she’d said those words had
been so despairing. She’d been teasing, sure. But there was a lot of truth
behind the joke. And that truth had been really difficult for her. Really sad.
And I was the one who had put that look in her eyes, and on her face. I
was the one who put that tone in her voice, and that pain in her heart.
Because I was a cowardly asshole who couldn’t face his own feelings. No
other reason.
Face a bullet? Sure. That was no problem. Especially for her. I’d take a
bullet for her in a hot second, it wouldn’t even be a consideration. But let
myself be vulnerable? Let myself touch her, and kiss her, and hold her? Let
myself be inside her, and by doing that, let her get inside me—into my soul
and my heart?
No. Apparently all of that was beyond me.
As I stood in the middle of the room and listened to the water beating
down on the fiberglass shell of the shower, I flashed back to the last time
I’d listened to that shower. To when I’d almost knocked on the door, but
stopped because I heard her crying.
My heart squeezed in my chest, and just like that, I’d had enough.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled under my breath as I stripped off my clothes.
“This ends. This fucking ends right now.”

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S avannah

I tilted my head back , rinsing out the shampoo that I had massaged
into my scalp. I couldn’t help but imagine that the water was washing all of
my problems off of me and right down the drain along with the spent suds.
It was a really nice fantasy. Too bad it wasn’t real.
I sensed movement and my head snapped up. Gage was standing there,
in the shower with me, looking at me intently.
Completely naked.
What the—?
Was I still fantasizing? But, no. I had recognized the “wash all my
problems down the drain” thing as a fantasy while it was happening. This
felt real. This was real.
I looked down, lust firing in my belly.
As real as the steel-hard erection Gage was sporting. Damn. My mouth
watered at the sight. My body was suddenly in flames. I wanted him.
Needed him.
I needed to touch him everywhere. I needed to take him in my mouth,
and take him inside me. I needed to dig my nails into his skin. I needed to
look into his eyes while he thrust into me again and again.
And I needed to feel his hands on me. His mouth. I needed everything
about him.
I just needed him.
 I decided to tell him. After all, despite everything that had happened
both to us and between us over the years, the foundation of our relationship
was still the same. It always has been. We told each other everything.
I took a step closer to him, reached out and took his hand in mine. With
my other hand, I pressed my palm flat against his chest. I wanted to feel his
heartbeat.
"I need you," I whispered, looking into his eyes. There was an intense,
desperate quality to the whisper. I could hear it, as I was sure he could.
Even that, though, didn't come close to expressing what I felt inside. I didn't
know if mere words ever could. "I never stopped needing you. All these
years – you were my air, Gage. All these years. I haven't been able to
breathe."
He grabbed me to him, pressing his lips against mine in a kiss that was
every bit as desperate as the tone in my voice had been just a second ago.
He wrapped his arms around me, crushed me to his chest in the most
passionate embrace I had ever felt.
And it did inspire passion in me. It set my body on fire. But it was more
than that. So much more. It was deeper than that. So much deeper.
I felt home again. At last. There, in Gage’s arms, everything was finally
right in a way that it hadn't been… Well, since the last time I had been in his
arms. On my porch step, that night of my sixteenth birthday.
He pulled back, looked into my eyes and ran his fingers down the side
of my face, burying them in my hair as he caressed my cheek with his
thumb.
It was like he was trying to memorize my features. Hell, maybe he was.
We, more than anyone, knew that anything could be ripped from you at any
moment. Anyone could be ripped from you at any moment.
How certain was I that, come tomorrow or the day after, or the day after
that, I wouldn't be left with only my memories of Gage again?
The answer was: not certain at all. In fact, the only thing I was certain
about, based on my own experiences, was that you couldn't count on
anything in this life. The only thing that you had – that you knew you had
for sure – was the moment.
So I resolved to make this moment count.
I slid my hand in between our bodies, wrapped my fingers around his
thick and throbbing shaft. I drew in a sharp breath when I felt it in my hand.
It was so big, so hard, so hot. So demanding.
 I couldn’t help but imagine him inside me as I squeezed lightly and then
started to move my hand rhythmically up and down on him. My mind was
flooded with images of him pounding me, and my head thrown back in
ecstasy.
In fact, I had to consciously push those images aside. They were making
me so lightheaded and weak in the knees that I feared for my ability to stay
on my feet.
Yeah, that’s all we need, I thought wryly. Gage goes to all this trouble to
protect me, only to have me taken out by a slip and fall in the shower like a
little old lady.
I should have known better than to worry about that, though. Gage
would never let me fall, either metaphorically or literally.
He swept me up in his arms, and my legs snapped up instinctually to
wrap around his waist, and my arms snaked around his neck.
His strong arms held me as effortlessly as if I weighed almost nothing.
It wasn’t completely terrible for my self-esteem I had to admit, although I
knew it was 95% about Gage’s strength and not my intermittent fasting
regimen.
I mean…fine. 99.9%.
His muscular forearm pressed against my lower back as he cradled me,
and I swear, even that was hot as hell. My pussy ached more and more with
each passing second, my inner walls tightening as juices flooded me.
God. I couldn’t remember ever being this turned on. Somewhere in the
back of my mind, I acknowledged that it was partially about the fact that we
hadn’t seen each other in so long, about the danger we faced, about the fact
that this was a welcome distraction from my grief and fear.
But, deep inside, I knew none of that was true. Not really. The truth of
the matter was…it was Gage. He was my ultimate aphrodisiac. Nothing and
no one turned me on but him, and he could turn me on by doing almost
nothing. A glance, the brush of a hand. A single word spoken in just the
right tone.
And now, with his arms around me, his mouth on mine, my legs around
his waist…both of us naked, our bodies pressed to one another—the arousal
was almost more than I could take.
“I need you,” I whimpered in his ear, and I meant something entirely
different this time than I had the last time I’d said it, only moments ago.
Gage knew, though. He understood. And he gave me what I needed.
 Reaching just outside the shower door, he grabbed a condom and ripped
the wrapper with his teeth. My eyes widened in shocked and aroused
surprise. Damn. I would have never guessed that watching someone open a
package with their teeth could be sexy as hell…but, then again, I’d never
imagined the “someone” in that scenario as Gage.
Pretty much everything he did was sexy as hell.
He set me gently back on my feet for a moment, then slid the thin latex
tube over his rock-hard dick.
My core tightened as I watched the procedure, in anticipation of being
stretched out and filled up in the way I knew only Gage could.
He got the condom fully unrolled, and looked up at me, meeting my
eyes. “Are you ready?” he growled.
Fuck. It sounded more like a command than a question.
My throat was closed. I knew there was no way I could squeeze any
words out, so I simply settled for nodding, hoping that the fire in my eyes
would tell him how much I truly meant it.
He wrapped his arm around my waist again. I hadn’t realized how much
I’d missed it in those short moments until I felt it there again, with that iron
strength he used to hold me up.
My nipples grazed his chest hair when he drew me to him, and I cried
out. They were so hard and sensitive that even that slight touch sent earth-
shattering sensations rocketing through my body.
While I was still reeling from that intense and unexpected pleasure,
Gage thrust into me, drawing a cry from deep in my throat that sounded like
an animal to my ears. God. I felt like an animal, honestly. Operating on
nothing but pure instinct. No past, no future. Just the here and now. Just
Gage’s body, and mine, and the way we were coming together and giving
each other pleasure.
I buried my head in his neck as he pushed himself into me again and
again, deepening the sensations that rocked me with every stroke of his
cock. I clung to him. In a weird way that I barely understood, clinging to
him was kind of the best part. It was satisfying, and it filled an emptiness
that had gnawed at me for every moment of my life that I hadn’t had him
with me to cling to.
I drew back and looked into his bottomless dark eyes. Just like his facial
expressions, those eyes were impossible for most people to read. But I
wasn’t most people.
 What I saw in them melted me.
Hunger, yes. But also affection, and care, and protective energy. It made
me feel cherished in a way that even his touch couldn’t. Because they
showed me his soul, and as wonderful as touching was, it could never
accomplish that.
An orgasm hit me unexpectedly in a wave of sensation. Every muscle in
my body clenched and trembled, and I threw my head back and groaned
long and hard.
“Fuck, yes, Savannah,” he breathed, never stopping the steady yet
frantic rhythm of his thrusts. “Come for me, baby. That’s right. Come for
me, Savannah.”
Even after the peak energy of the orgasm had passed, as I was just
breathing hard and coming back down to earth, I couldn’t stop the way that
every muscle in my body—hell, every cell—trembled at his touch.
He was magic. He could take away all of my strength with one look, or
one touch—but he also was my strength. I didn’t understand it. But I knew
that it was true. In fact, I knew that nothing else in this world was as true for
me as that.

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G age

I held S avannah in my arms as she trembled , and her pussy

clenched around my cock. It felt good, sure—it felt amazing—but it was so
much more than that. It was transcendent. It was like a religious experience.
It transported me to realms beyond this earthly one.
I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to kiss her forehead and stroke her
hair and whisper to her what this meant to me.
But I couldn’t. I held it back. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything,
actually. So I just held her, and then kept thrusting into her when her
powerful climax had passed.
She clung to me, kissed my neck, moaned against my skin, ran her
fingers through my hair. God, it felt amazing…but it also felt really
intimate. Too intimate, as a matter of fact. And, suddenly, I knew I couldn’t
stand that anymore.
But the sound of her tears after I had pushed her off of me last time
were still fresh in my mind. I also knew I couldn’t put her through that
again. I was going to have to make this less personal, but never let her know
that that’s what I was doing.
I dipped my head and growled in her ear, “I want to take you from
behind.”
With that, I pulled back, grabbed her hips and spun her around like a
ragdoll, and then thrust into her again. Her palms slapped against the
shower wall and she moaned.
“God, Gage, it’s good…it’s so good.” Her voice rose on the last word,
turning the moan into a whimper.
That was fine. I could handle that. It turned me on, even. I just needed
that little bit of distance, that little bit of being removed. My heart just
wasn’t ready to go all the way in.
I slid one hand around her waist and up her belly, still gripping her hip
firmly with the other one so that she wouldn’t slip. With the hand that was
exploring her body, I cupped her breast and flicked her nipple with my
thumb. God, even with the hot water sluicing over our bodies and making
our skin slick and wet, her nipples were so hard that I felt the distinct
scraping against the pad of my thumb as it passed over the stiff nub.
Judging by the way she cried out when I did it, and the way her pussy
tightened on my cock again, I guessed that she felt it, too.
Pride bloomed in my chest. This had always been my mission in life—
protecting Savannah, serving her. Giving her safety and comfort, tenderness
and pleasure. I had been adrift those dozen years we’d been apart. I had no
mission.
Actually, no, that wasn’t true. It was worse than that. I’d had a mission.
I just hadn’t been allowed to complete it. And that was torture.
I leaned forward, pressing my chest against her back. It felt so good just
to hold her in my arms, feel her skin against my skin. I was fulfilling my
mission again. This was what I’d been born for, I was sure of it. To hold
Savannah, to care for her, to protect her.
To love her.
My gut clenched at that last thought. I loved Savannah. I knew I did. It
was just a lot to deal with. Especially with the physical closeness we were
sharing making my emotions so much more intense.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Better to just focus on my body. On one part
of it, in particular. I pounded into her harder, hearing our skin slap together
with every bone-shaking thrust, the sound mixing with the steady stream of
the water to form a syncopated beat.
“Fuck, your pussy’s so good,” I rasped in her ear. “I’m gonna come,
Savannah. Fuck, I’m gonna come right now.”
She tilted her head back, nestling into my shoulder. “Yes, baby,” she
whispered. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want you to feel good.”
That was all I could take. It put me over the edge.
 I pulled out of her and whipped off my condom lightning quick. I
wanted to shoot my load all over her. Like marking my territory. I didn’t
care that we were in the shower and it was going to wash off of her and
down the drain almost immediately. That was beside the point.
She would know. And I would know. And that was enough.
With a loud grunt, I came, covering her lower back and ass with my
ejaculate. Even at that intense moment, I couldn’t help but marvel at how
beautiful she was…the curve of her lower back, the way her waist nipped
in. The shape of her, the feel of her skin, the way she moved—she was
intoxicating.
She was my dream woman. For so many years, in fact, that had been
literally true. The only place I could see her, could be with her, was in my
dreams.
But now she was here, she was real, she was in my arms. She was
naked, pressed against me.
It was almost too good to be true.
With a flash, I realized that that was what all of my fear had been about.
Not wanting to get too close, or give my whole heart. It wasn’t that I was
afraid to love Savannah. Hell, I did love Savannah. That ship had sailed.
It was that I was afraid this was all too good to be true. That I was going
to wake up tomorrow and find out that all of this had been a dream.
Or, worse, that this was reality—but I was going to fuck it up somehow.
That I wouldn’t survive long enough to get to enjoy love, and life, with her.
Or, the worst possibility of all—the one that I almost couldn’t even
think about, it was so horrible—that she wouldn’t survive this.
And that it would be all my fault.

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S avannah

“W ake up , sleepyhead .”
Gage’s voice intruded on my consciousness, dragging me from sleep to
wakefulness. I opened my eyes. He was sitting next to me on the bed,
looking down at me affectionately. He reached out and brushed the hair
back from my forehead.
At his touch, all of the memories from the night before came flooding
back to me.
His sudden appearance in the shower. The passionate quickie. Falling
asleep in his arms.
A smile spread over my face, so wide I couldn’t contain it.
Even though I knew it was bordering on insane to be happy with
everything that was going on, I couldn't help it. Gage was happiness. He
just was.
And making love with Gage? Well, that went beyond happiness territory
straight into pure bliss.
“What time is it?” I asked, stretching my arms above me like a cat.
“It’s 7:30. And we have work to do. So, come on. Get your cute butt up
and dressed. Bear has bagels.”
I hopped out of bed and crossed to where my bag was sitting in the
corner of the room. I pulled clean clothes out.
 I was about to step into the bathroom to change when I thought — what
would be the point of that? After the shower the night before, it was pretty
safe to say that we had seen each other from every angle.
I smiled a little to myself. We had touched each other from every angle,
too, for that matter. We were, you could say, officially well–reacquainted.
Instead, I walked back over to the bed and casually dropped the pile of
clean clothes onto the edge of it, then stripped out of the shorts and tank top
I had slept in. I pulled on the new outfit, keeping my movements efficient
and casual.
I wasn't trying to turn Gage on. This wasn't a striptease. This was just
me changing my clothes.
But when I looked over at him, I saw that there was animalistic hunger
burning in his eyes, and when I glanced down I could see that he was at
least half mast.
I grinned a little and winked at him. “I still got it,” I teased.
He met my eyes. He didn’t return the grin, and there was nothing
playful in his voice when he said, “You’ll always have it.”
I flushed. I had been joking around, but shit had just gotten real.
Tingles erupted on my skin and I wished with everything in me that we
weren’t in the middle of this insane situation. That we were just together,
just spending time on some kind of survivalist vacation where we were
staying in an underground bunker for some reason.
I mean…it could happen.
Then we would be free to jump each other any time our heart desired.
Any time either one of us got a little turned on. Any time he looked at me in
that way that made every cell in my body tingle.
Any time like right now.
I shook my head.
I could wish that all I wanted, but that wouldn’t make it true. I had to
accept reality—we were in this insane and dangerous situation. This wasn’t
a romantic getaway, this was a protection mission.
And since I was the one being protected, the least I could do was get on
board.
I spun on my heel and headed into the bathroom.
After I’d brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth out, I started running
the brush through my hair and called back to him, “So, what’s on the
agenda for today?”
 Personally, I was stumped when it came to how we were going to move
forward. But I wasn’t the professional. Gage was. So I assumed he had a
plan.
He was silent for a few moments. In fact, I had smoothed my hair down
completely and was pulling it through an elastic hair tie the final necessary
time to form a ponytail when he finally spoke.
“We’re going to your house.”
I froze. The shock of his words completely paralyzed me, as well as the
futility they sent roiling through my gut. Finally, I stepped out of the
bathroom and spluttered, “What? Why? We searched that place from top to
bottom. There is no way that anything was there and we didn’t find it. What
could possibly be worth driving another twelve hours back for?”
He shook his head. “No. Not that house. Your house. The house you
grew up in.”
I exhaled involuntarily, and couldn’t seem to draw any air back in.
Which was just as well, in a way, because I was somewhat afraid that I
would start hyperventilating.
When I finally was able to draw a breath, I stepped over to the side of
the bed and sat down. My head spun. I couldn’t seem to get ahold of any
one thought long enough to see it through.
What--?
Why--?
When--?
How--?
Out of the five basic journalistic questions, I only knew the answer to
one. “Where.” The rest were all a mystery.
I didn’t really know why this was upsetting me so much. It was out of
proportion to the event. All of the crazy things that had happened, and it
was the idea of going to my childhood home that was going to take me out?
It made no sense.
Finally, I managed to spit out the most pressing question. “Why?
“Bear and I were talking. We realized that your father might have had
whatever it was Barlowe wants back hidden at your house twelve years ago.
Then, on the night of your sixteenth birthday, the attempt on his life and the
Marshals swooping in may have made it so that he never had an opportunity
to access it.
 “Maybe he thought it was too dangerous to go back for it. Maybe he
thought it was safer just to let it lie. Or maybe he always intended to sneak
back and retrieve it one day, when the opportunity presented itself, but it
just never did.”
Gage shrugged.
“Or maybe it’s not there. But we’ll never know if we don’t look.”
I nodded, slowly getting a hold of myself. What he was saying made
sense. I knew that. I understood it.
That did nothing, however, to ease the gigantic pit that had formed in
my stomach.
“Don’t…I mean…don’t other people live there, now?”
“Yes,” Gage replied. “A married couple. Both teachers. They leave the
house at 7:45. They don’t have an alarm.”
I looked up, puzzled. “How could you possibly know that?”
The side of his eye twitched, ever so slightly. That was one of his
minute tells. I recognized it. It meant that whatever he was about to say, he
didn’t want to tell me about it.
“I used to sit outside your house. After you first disappeared. Just
waiting. I’m not sure for what. Especially as time went on, I knew you
weren’t just going to show up. But I had to be there. It was like a magnet.
“Then, these new people moved in. I made it my business to learn
everything about them. It was, in a way, my first investigation. And I’ve
kept up with it. It—I don’t know. It felt important.”
I breathed out slowly. “Well,” I said finally. “I guess it turned out to
actually be important, after all.”

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G age

I pulled the SUV to the curb at a spot two blocks away from
Savannah’s old house. Just like we’d done at her WITSEC house, we had
chosen a spot strategically to be far enough away to avoid detection by
anyone watching the house, but close enough to run to easily should trouble
kick off.
We walked purposefully down the side alley that backed up against her
yard. The mistake most people made when they were sneaking around was
looking like they were sneaking. They just couldn’t resist the furtive looks
around to see if anyone was watching them.
That attracted attention, though. It activated peoples’ spidey senses. The
key to going unnoticed was to act like you knew where you were going and
what you were doing, and you had every right to go there and do that.
The key was to act like this was any other day, and you were doing any
other thing.
I was more successful at that than Savannah. I’d had more practice. But
I had to hand it to her, she was also pretty good.
When we drew even with the portion of the back fence that separated
her yard from the alley, we paused, and I gave her an encouraging nod. This
was the most vulnerable point in our plan. Hopping the fence was the one
thing that we had to do in the public view, and there was no way to make it
look normal just by adopting a cavalier attitude. If anyone happened to be
looking our direction at the moment either one of us was going over that
fence, there would be no question we were doing something wrong.
The only thing we could do to lessen our chances of detection was get it
over with as quickly as possible.
She returned my nod and placed her hands on my shoulders. I leaned
down and laced my fingers together, and she put her foot onto the makeshift
step I’d created for her. I gave her a boost and she was up and over the
fence in just a few seconds.
A few seconds later, and I was landing on my feet on the grass of her
childhood backyard, standing right next to her.
She was frozen, staring at the façade of the back of the house. She
looked like she’d seen a ghost, and in a way, I guessed she had. I looked at
it through her eyes.
It was achingly familiar. The new owners had painted it and added an
awning, but other than that it was exactly the same. The siding, the patio,
the sliding glass door, the placement of all the windows. Exactly the same.
I put a hand on her arm. “Come on,” I said, gently but firmly. “We’ve
got to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

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S avannah

W alking through the rooms and halls of my childhood home , I

understood why I’d been so reluctant to come back here. Why the thought
of it had literally taken my breath and stolen my ability to stand.
It wasn’t because I was afraid it would be the same. It was because I
was afraid it would be different.
And it was. And, again, I couldn’t breathe, and I was finding it hard to
stay upright.
They had changed everything about the house. Every single thing.
Of course there was all new furniture, but it was more than that. The
walls were painted different colors. There was new cabinetry in the kitchen,
and all new appliances. The carpet was gone, replaced with vinyl
woodgrain flooring.
Objectively, it looked great. I couldn’t quibble with their taste. The only
issue I had with it was that, in modernizing the house, they had bulldozed
my childhood.
Yeah. That was what my nervous system knew enough to be afraid of
seeing, even before my brain had gotten there. That the place I revisited so
often in my memories now only existed there—in my memory.
You really couldn’t go home again. At least not if you were me.
I hung back and let Gage do all of the searching. He knew what he was
looking for, and he knew proper search technique. It made sense.
 Back at the safe house, he had told me he only needed me to come
along in case he had a question about the layout of the house, or the
construction. I knew that was crap. First of all, I knew nothing about the
construction of the house. Secondly, as far as layout went—he’d spent
almost as many waking hours there as I had during the two years before the
Marshals had taken us. He knew that layout like the back of his hand. He
must’ve.
No, I suspected his real reason for bringing me along had been that he
was scared to leave me. And it wasn’t just his protective instincts. I would
have been objectively safer back with Bear, who had stayed behind to start
sifting through a massive data dump that Crypt had delivered overnight.
My suspicion was that he had driven off and left me once before, and I
had disappeared on him like a thief in the night. I had been snatched away. I
thought that he must have a deep-seated fear, and potentially a realistic one,
of that happening again. The stakes were just too high. So he didn’t let me
out of his sight.
I couldn’t blame him, really. I sure didn’t want him out of mine.
In fact, I was trailing him around the house like a little duckling, so lost
in thought that, when he stopped abruptly in the upstairs hallway, I didn’t
even notice at first that the door we were standing outside was the one that
led into my former bedroom.
He looked at me long and hard, searching my face.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “It’s fine. I swear.”
He gave a decisive nod and we walked in.
It wasn’t the gut punch I expected it to be. Maybe all the rooms that had
come before it had smoothed the way, worn off the sharp edges.
Or maybe it was that it looked so completely different now that I barely
even recognized it as having once been mine. It wasn’t even a bedroom
anymore, it was a home office.
When Gage had finished his search, he turned to me. “Did you have any
typical kid hiding places? Loose floorboard? Vent with a loose screw? That
kind of thing?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Even if I had, it would have been dumb for my
dad to hide something in a place I accessed all the time. But, no. Nothing
like that.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then we’re done here. Let’s go.”
 We left the house the way we came, and just after we’d climbed back in
the SUV, Gage’s phone chimed. He pulled it out and tapped on the screen.
“Bear found some photos in the data dump he thinks look significant.”
He studied the phone screen for another moment, then turned it to face
me, asking, “What do you think?”
There were photos covering the breadth of the phone. The phone was
small and the picture quality wasn’t great. They looked like stills from a
security camera feed. I could see, though, that they showed two men on the
street, talking intently.
Gage slowly swiped through several in the series. In two of the last
images in the series, an envelope changed hands.
When he’d stopped on the last pic, I reached forward to pinch and
expand so I could see the faces better.
“Oh...my God,” I breathed, my hand flying up and pressing against my
forehead.
“What?” Gage asked. “I recognize Barlowe. Who’s the other man?”
“That’s Marshal Woodward,” I answered, my voice shaky. “He’s our
handler.”
Shit.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at on Gage’s phone screen. They
say a picture’s worth a thousand words. Well, I had at least that many for
Marshal Woodward.
I couldn’t believe he’d sold out my father. For what? For money? It
was...unfathomable. Disgusting.
In fact, as the shock wore off a little and the reality sunk in, I really
thought I might vomit. Or maybe pass out. All I knew was that the world
was spinning and so was my stomach. My knees were trembling and I
really didn’t think I’d be able to stay conscious much longer.
Just as my field of vision started to darken around the edges, I felt
Gage’s strong arm encircling my shoulder, pulling me to him as he kissed
the top of my head. “You’re okay, Savannah,” he soothed in a low, even
voice. “Just breathe. Just breathe.”
I took his advice and sucked in a long, deep breath. Then another, and
another. I had to admit, it helped. My vision cleared and I sat up. “Okay,” I
said, nodding. “I’m okay.”
He returned my nod with a clipped one of his own. “Good. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
 “First, back to the safe house to get an update from Bear and regroup.”
“And then?”
His lips narrowed into a grim line. “And then to get some answers from
fucking Marshal Woodward.”

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G age

R age filled me as we drove , and I had to make a point to calm

down. I didn’t want us to get into a car accident. Not only would that attract
attention, the exact opposite of what we were trying to do, there was no way
I was going to take the risk of dying before I could wring that weasel
Woodward’s neck with my bare hands.
That motherfucker had taken money in exchange for Savannah’s life.
He didn’t deserve to live, and if I had anything to say about, he wouldn’t for
much longer.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
Savannah laid a hand on my arm and I glanced over at her. She was
giving me a sad, sweet smile. Not one that said she was happy, but one that
said she was grateful.
“What?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “I’m just…it’s…I feel…so lucky to have you.
That’s all.”
My blood pressure instantly lowered. I was still enraged at the crooked,
asshole Marshal I’d never met. But I wasn’t consumed by it. It burned hot,
like a roasting lump of coal in my gut, but at least I could think clearly. I
was spinning out a minute ago. I could see that now.
Don’t make any plans or decisions until you talk it through with Bear,
my inner voice advised. Plan it out with Bear.
 It was a good call. Bear had just as intensive a training background as I
did, and his instincts were just as good. But his main asset in this operation
was his objectivity. He had no skin in this game.
I cared more about saving Savannah, but operationally, that could
actually be a detriment. It could cloud my judgement.
Bear had no such blinders. He could be clear-headed, consider only
operational objectives.
And, hell. If he didn’t consider erasing that fucking asshole Woodward
from the face of the earth to be a valid operational objective, then we would
just have to fucking discuss it.
When we walked into the safe house, I brought Bear up to speed
immediately. I hadn’t wanted to send information over the phone, either by
voice or text. Too easily intercepted. And now that we knew we weren’t just
dealing with an underworld figure but also with a government agent, we
were going to have to be twice as careful when it came to evading
surveillance and utilizing electronic communication devices.
When I’d downloaded everything that Savannah had told me to Bear, he
just nodded. “Yeah. I thought it might be something like that.”
Savannah laughed bitterly, her voice shaky. “That’s weird. I never did.
Where were you when my father was still alive? I could have used that
perspective.”
Bear looked at her, and I could see compassion in his eyes. But also
concern. And for more than just her emotional state.
If she were starting to come undone, that would make her hard to
protect. Her actions could be unpredictable. She might have a hard time
controlling her impulses. All of those were nightmare qualities in
protectees.
Not to mention, if she wasn’t in a fit state of mind to assist in the
investigation, it could potentially hamper it and make it go much slower.
The longer this dragged on, the more time the other side had to prepare for
an attack. Which meant the more danger Savannah was in. And that was
unacceptable.
I looked at her. I needed to get her back on track. I was confident I
could, though.
“Don’t worry, man,” I said to Bear, quietly. “I’ll talk to her. I’ve got
this.”
 He didn’t look entirely convinced, but apparently he decided that the
only thing he could do was move on.
“I’ll tell Crypt to dig into Woodward’s bank accounts, emails…anything
he can access. We’re going to need ammunition when we question him,”
Bear continued.
Savannah’s head snapped up, her eyebrows raised. “Question him?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I realize it’s—unconventional. But we’re going to have
to snatch him. Bring him here. Question him. There’s just no other way. We
need answers, and we can’t risk him contacting Barlowe after we get them.”
Instead of protesting, though, she just nodded, her lips pressed tightly
together. “Good,” she said flatly. “I’ve got a few questions for him myself.”

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 35

S avannah

I t had been a few days since the M arshal W oodward discovery ,

and I couldn’t help but feel like everything had ground to a halt.
Of course, I realized that was only a feeling. It wasn’t real. I knew that
Gage and Bear were spending every waking hour going over the reams of
data that Crypt had sent, and kept sending. And that Bear had been out
every night, tailing Woodward and formulating a strategy for snatching him
in the smoothest and most efficient way possible.
All of this background work had to be done. I understood that. It was
imperative to the success of the final outcome. It was also necessary from a
safety perspective. If this was going to go off without a hitch—a potentially
deadly hitch—we needed to know exactly what we were getting ourselves
in for.
My impatience stemmed entirely from the fact that, now that I knew
what a cockroach Woodward was, I really wanted him sitting in front of me,
tied to a chair, so that I could be the one to spray Raid in his face.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I thought that was bullshit.
What I was hungry for—the only thing I was hungry for—was some piping
hot revenge, served while the steam was still rising.
I came out of the bathroom, having just brushed my teeth and put my
hair in a braid. I was wearing the tank and shorts I usually wore to sleep in.
I was headed to bed, and in the morning I’d probably find I was facing
another long day, stretching out in front of me exactly like the last, and the
one before that.
Inaction had put me in a foul mood.
I climbed between the sheets and Gage came into the room. I instantly
felt a little better. Not completely, but quite a bit. His presence always did
that for me.
”Are you coming to bed?” I asked hopefully. The last few nights I had
fallen asleep before he ever hit the mattress, he and Bear were staying up so
late into the night, poring over digitized documents. I really wanted to fall
asleep in his arms.
He shook his head, though, and my heart sank.
“More docs?” I asked glumly.
He shook his head again, though, and I perked up at the departure.
“No,” he said. “Tonight’s the night. We’re grabbing Woodward.”
I leapt out of bed. “Great! Give me five minutes. No, give me two. I’m
ready!”
He put his hand out to stop me. “You’re not coming. Just me and Bear.”
My heart was pounding. I hadn’t anticipated this. “What are you talking
about?”
“It wouldn’t be safe. For you, or us. First of all, this is an operation that
takes training. Not only do Bear and I have that training and you don’t,
we’ve actually been on ops like this before. We’re a well-oiled machine.”
“And I guess in this scenario, I’m the ungreased wrench in the works?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but sure. Your
inexperience would slow us down at best. Put us in danger at worst.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but I obviously couldn’t. He was right.
Everything he said was exactly right. The only reason I wanted to go was
because I wanted to be one of the people who actually snatched Woodward.
I wanted him to see my face the instant he understood what was happening,
to know exactly why it was happening. To know that he had put himself in
the position that he was in.
And, above everything, to know that I knew what he had done to my
father. How he had sworn to protect him out of one side of his mouth while
negotiating the price he’d take to betray him out of the other side.
I wanted him to know that I knew exactly how much of a Judas he was,
and that it was disgusting.
But Gage was right. None of those were good reasons.
 He took a step forward. “I don’t like leaving you here alone,” he said,
his voice a low growl. I don’t want to let you out of my sight. Not for one
instant. But you’ll be safest here. I promise. And we’ll be back before you
know it.”
I took his hand and nodded miserably. It was all I could manage. I didn’t
want him hearing the whining tone that was sure to infiltrate my voice if I
spoke.
He’s doing all of this for me, I reminded myself. All of it. For me.
Everything he’s risking, it’s all for me. I can’t pay him back by being
ungrateful.
Gage took both of my hands in his. “We’ll be back before you know it,”
he assured me again.
I nodded with a little more enthusiasm. His words had made me feel
better, although probably not in the way he had meant them. He likely
thought that the comforting thing about the idea of them being back ‘before
I knew it’ was that I wouldn’t be alone, wouldn’t feel unprotected. And,
sure, that was part of it.
But the thing that made me feel good about that more than anything was
the idea of getting to look Woodward in the eye, make him face me, see his
reaction. I needed that. And the idea that it would be happening before I
knew it was very encouraging.

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G age

B ear and I sat in the vehicle he used for hauling equipment , a

small cargo van, watching the storefront window and door of the restaurant
where Woodward was having dinner alone. The same restaurant he ate at,
alone, every single week on the same night.
We knew he was alone, as usual, because we could see him plain as day,
sitting right in front of the window like he was a damn mannequin in a
department store display.
I swear to God, the guy had no sense of trade craft. A regular routine,
everything in plain sight, no apparent sense at all that he was being
surveilled…
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. There was always the
possibility that he was being intentionally stupid to draw us out. That we
were about to walk into an ambush. If things went south in the worst way
possible, at least Savannah knew all of Bear’s codes. He’d showed her how
to get out of the safe house if we never came back. I couldn’t bring myself
to be there for that conversation.
But, as much as it was theoretically possible that Woodward was faking
his obliviousness, I didn’t think that was the case. The idiot had let himself
be photographed taking an envelope of cash from a known bad guy. He’d
fucking opened the envelope and riffled through it, for fuck’s sake. Just in
case whoever was looking at the pictures had any doubt what was in it.
 Still. My training, not to mention my natural instincts, would never
allow me to let my guard down. And I liked it that way.
I mentioned the possibility to Bear, and he nodded. “Thought of that.”
“You think we need to change the plan?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Still the best plan. We’ll just keep an extra eye
out.”
I nodded in response.
That was what I liked about conversations with Bear. We said
everything that needed to be said, and nothing more. It was straightforward.
Simple.
It was what just about nothing else in my life was at the moment, and I
liked it.
Woodward put a few bills on the table and stood to leave. Bear fired up
the engine and we both tensed, readying ourselves for action. If we were
sprinters, we would have been on the “Get Set” portion of the On Your
Mark, Get Set, Go sequence that started races.
Woodward stepped out of the front door of the restaurant and strolled
down the street, for all appearances like he didn’t have a care in the world.
When he’d made it almost to the end of the block, Bear pulled away
from the curb and we glided down the street after him.
We had now officially moved to “Go” status.
If Woodward stayed true to form, he would make a left at the end of the
block, onto a much darker and more deserted street. A much better location
to snatch him.
When he turned, we circled around the block so that we would come up
on him from the ideal angle. We turned onto the street, pulling down our
balaclavas, and saw that he was about ten steps away from the optimal point
of action that Bear and I had identified earlier. Bear sped up and pulled to
the curb, the vehicle angled to shield the action from the most vantage
points possible.
It wasn’t lost on me that we were snatching him using essentially the
same ambush technique that Barlowe’s men had used to roll up on
Savannah and her father.
Of course, based on Savannah’s retelling, which included screeching
tires and multiple men jumping out of the vehicle simultaneously like it was
some kind of menacing clown car, their technique was shoddy at best. Not
surprising. If things went according to plan, our operation was going to be
nothing like that.
Nevertheless. Pulling up on someone as they were walking home from
dinner—it was the same foundational concept.
I knew that the only likely significance was that it was the most logical
move. They had probably settled on it for the same reason Bear and I had—
it made the most sense.
Still. The coincidence felt significant, somehow.
When the vehicle had stopped completely, I jumped out. Woodward—
whose technique was also shoddy at best—didn’t even take notice of me,
and just kept walking. I opened the back slider and, when he was within a
foot of my grasp, lunged forward, grabbed him, and tossed him in the back.
I shut the slider and was back in the passenger seat before he had even
uttered a sound. He’d been too shocked to yell. Which worked out perfectly.
Bear pulled away from the curb and drove away, driving at a moderate
pace, obeying the traffic laws.
It was amazing how much of our job basically consisted of not drawing
attention to yourself in situations where your adrenaline is screaming at you
to do something that would draw attention.
“What…what the fuck?” Woodward finally spluttered.
Bear and I were silent. We’d already planned to say nothing on the way
back to the safe house.
Silence and non-engagement are two of the most difficult things for the
human psyche to handle. That’s what made them such an effective
interrogation technique.
And while we weren’t technically interrogating Woodward yet, in a
sense we were—everything we did from this point until we actually started
asking the questions was part of preparing him to break down,
psychologically. Softening him up. Setting the scene.
I imagined the scenario from his point of view.
Bear’s van was used for hauling supplies. Bear knew that. I knew that.
Woodward didn’t know that.
From his perspective, it probably looked like a serial killer van from
back there. Bare metal from floor to ceiling. Metal grating forming a cage
between the cockpit and the cargo space. Tie down points on the walls and
floors with metal chains attached to them.
 I smirked a little. Then again, Bear had modified the locks and door
latches to be inaccessible from the interior. So maybe this wasn’t this van’s
first rodeo, after all.
Bear and I stared silently ahead as he drove, and it wasn’t long before
Woodward started babbling in a high-pitched, frantic voice.
“Guys, listen. Listen, guys. I know Barlowe sent you. I get that
everything went pear shaped. But you can’t blame me for that! I didn’t run
the operation. He did! All I did was give him the intel. And it was good
intel. Right? Right? I mean, you found them, didn’t you? Right where I said
they’d be? It’s not my fault if his guys can’t handle a simple operation.”
Damn. That hadn’t taken as long as I’d thought.
His voice had devolved into petulant whining by the end of the diatribe.
The more I found out about this guy, the more I couldn’t stand him. But
more than that, the more I was fucking livid that he’d been the one in
charge of Savannah’s safety all these years.
I doubled down on my determination that she was never going back into
WITSEC. Fuck. If this was the kind of clown they were going to entrust her
safety to, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
The way he kept babbling and begging all the way back to the safe
house, I would have expected more information to be forthcoming, but it
was just more of the same. Every piece of useful information had come out
in the first few sentences: namely, that he thought Barlowe had sent us, and
that he definitely had been the one to give up Savannah and her father.
Not that there had been much doubt about that. But it was always
convenient when they confessed within the first two minutes. It saved time,
and bullshit.
I pulled out the secure phone I’d brought with me and texted the number
of the phone I’d left Savannah.
“Package acquired. Thinks B sent us. Stay in bedroom until I get you.
Your presence could be useful tool.”
She sent back a thumbs up, and I let another flicker of a smirk cross my
face.
Only Savannah would reply to a coded operational message with a
freaking emoji.

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S avannah

S itting in the bedroom , perched on the edge of the bed , I couldn ’ t

stop my foot from tapping up and down. My nerves were right on the edge
of fraying. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having been so on edge.
It was just the…sitting and doing nothing. No responsibilities. No tasks
to take my mind off of the torturously slow passage of each millisecond.
Hell, I didn’t even have any old People magazines so that I could figure
out what the Kardashians had been up to.
All I could do was sit. And wait. That sounded simple enough in theory,
but in practice, it was the hardest thing in the world to do.
Finally, Gage came into the bedroom. His face was worried, and that
sent a flash of fear through me, as well. “What is it? What happened?”
He shook his head. “It went fine. Bear has Woodward handcuffed to a
chair that’s welded to the floor in his secure interrogation room.”
I laughed, a note of hysteria infiltrating the sound. “Bear has a secure
interrogation room? Complete with a chair welded to the floor, and
handcuffs? Wait…what am I saying? Of course Bear has a secure
interrogation room complete with a chair welded to the floor and
handcuffs.”
I realized I was babbling. It was a release valve for all of the pressure
that had built up inside me like steam while I’d been waiting.
 I took a deep breath, steadied myself. Tried again. “Why did you look
so worried when you came in just now, then?”
He hesitated for a second, then said, “I was worried about you.”
I closed my eyes and my heart filled with warmth. He cared about me.
He might not love me like I loved him. There was no real way to know, he
wasn’t exactly a Chatty Cathy when it came to his feelings. Or anything
else, for that matter. But he did care about me.
“So, how’s it going? With Woodward, I mean.”
He nodded. “He’s singing like a bird.”
I returned the nod. “Good. That’s good.”
A sudden thought struck me then, though, and my eyes narrowed.
“Wait…that doesn’t mean that you’re not going to let me see him, though,
right? Just because I won’t be needed as a ‘useful tool.’ I still want to see
him. I deserve it.”
My voice was strident, and choked. Much more intense than I’d
anticipated sounding, but my emotions got away from me.
Gage nodded. “Yeah. You’ll get to see him. We don’t know what other
information he might have. Things that we don’t know to even ask about.
There’s a chance that seeing you will surprise him enough to make him
blurt something out.”
A whisper of a grin touched Gage’s lips. “Besides. We’ve been asking
him so many questions about Barlowe that he’s figured out we weren’t sent
by Barlowe. He’s sharp, that one. So, once he’s not as afraid of us, he might
clam up. You’d be a good lever to pry his mouth open again.”
I nodded grimly, my jaw set, eyes narrowing. “I have some things I’d
like to pry out of him. Believe me. Not so much information, though. More
like internal organs.”
Gage nodded. “Understood. I’ll come get you when we’re ready for
you.”
I nodded. “Believe me. It can’t come soon enough.”
There was that ghost of a smile again. “Understood.”

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G age

“Y ou may as well just kill me . I f you don ’ t , B arlowe will ,”

Woodward said. He was slumped over, his voice the picture of misery. I
thought it was nothing but self-pity. Which I had zero patience for. But, like
most things, it could be a useful tool.
If I gave him a ray of hope, a way that he could potentially get out of
this mess he’d gotten himself into, then he just might grab onto that with
both hands. He was nothing if not self-interested.
“Not necessarily,” I said stonily. “You have a go kit? Money, new
identity? You help us out, we take you to get it and put you on a plane. You
don’t help us…”
I trailed off and shrugged. Especially with weaklings like him, the
threats you didn’t utter were often even more powerful than the ones you
did. Their imaginations were boundless. Much stronger than their integrity
ever was.
Like I’d predicted, his interest piqued. He sat up straighter, and looked
thoughtful. After a moment, he said, “Fine. I’ll help you.”
I nodded, looked at Bear. He nodded back.
It was time to bring in Savannah.
I went to the bedroom, told her to follow me. As we made our way
down the hall, she was almost bouncing more than walking, like a prize
fighter on his way to the ring. She was pumping up her energy. Or maybe
reigning it in. Maybe both, depending on the exact moment.
I had her stand on the other side of the doorway opening, so that he
wouldn’t be able to see her until she decided to step into view. With a
stronger man who had a stronger will, all of the theatrics would fall flat. For
Woodward, they were critical.
I stepped back into the room. Woodward was jumping out of his skin
almost as much as Savannah had been when I’d walked into the bedroom
the first time, after she’d been waiting the whole time we’d been gone.
“Where’d you go? I said I’d help you! I’ll give you what you need! I
just want to get this over with!”
I wanted to punch him in his whiny mouth and tell him that it wasn’t
about what he wanted. But I couldn’t do that. If we were going to get all of
the information we could out of him, I had to let it actually be about what
he wanted. At least for a while longer.
I nodded at Savannah. She stepped forward and, in two long and
lightning-fast strides, she was across the room and leaning down over him.
She grabbed his tie and twisted it in her fist, yanked it up so that his face
was less than an inch from hers.
“It’s not about what they need, you piece of shit. It’s about what I need.”

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S avannah

I hadn ’ t intended to lay hands on W oodward . E specially not

within less than three seconds of stepping into the room. But the sound of
his voice had put me over the edge, and I just couldn’t help myself.
I’d always thought he had kind of a punchable face. Of course, I’d never
imagined anything like this. Anything like him betraying us. I’d just thought
he was a pompous asshole.
Nothing I’d seen or heard in the short time I’d been in the room had
done anything to disabuse me of that notion. In fact, I believed it now more
than ever. It was just that there was so much more to hate about him than
I’d ever suspected.
I felt Gage’s strong hands on my upper arms, pulling me back and off of
Woodward. Even through the red haze of my rage, I could see that was
probably for the best. I could have killed the man. Which, while it would
have been satisfying, would have been counter to our mission with him—
get any information he might have that would give us a direction for
moving forward, or help us achieve our ultimate objective—somehow
solving the Barlowe situation so that I was out of danger.
There were a lot of question marks when it came to that last part. As
much as I hated to admit it, we actually needed Woodward, and any light he
might be able to shed on the problem. We didn’t have a whole lot of other
options. I couldn’t afford to strangle the one we had sitting in front of us.
No matter how good my hands would’ve felt wrapped around his neck.
I stood in the corner of the room, breathing hard, trying to pull my rage
down from the stratosphere.
I’d thought I couldn’t feel any angrier or more betrayed than I had when
I’d seen Woodward’s picture on Gage’s phone. But that had only been an
appetizer. What I felt when I was actually in the same room with him—
seeing his pasty, arrogant face…hearing his whiny, high-pitched voice—
that was the main fucking course.
But I knew I needed to calm down. If I couldn’t get myself under
control, I’d be a detriment, and Gage would have to send me out. And I
wouldn’t blame him.
But getting myself under control was one of those things that was a lot
easier said than done.

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G age

A s S avannah trembled with visible rage in the corner of the room

and I did my best to resist picking up where she’d left off wringing the
weasel’s neck for the obvious pain he had put my girl in, Woodward piped
up.
“This wasn’t part of the deal. You guys never said she would be here.
This wasn’t part of the deal.”
He was back to being a self-pitying little ass again. Time to get him
back on track. I thought that, this time around, we’d try less carrot and more
stick.
I stepped closer to him. Leaned down, menacing. He cowered away
from me, which was a good indication I had him where I wanted him.
“The deal was that you help us, and we let you live. So, the deal is
whatever I say the deal is. Are we clear?”
He nodded, face drawn together in a scowl. Even in a spineless jellyfish,
the will to live is strong. He didn’t like it, but he’d go along with it. Which
was fine by me. I didn’t give much of a fuck what he liked or didn’t like.
“How long have you been in Barlowe’s pocket?” Savannah’s voice still
trembled with barely-controlled emotion as she spoke, but she stayed where
she was standing.
“Not long,” Woodward grumbled.
“Not an answer,” Savanna snapped back.
 I was impressed. She was taking charge of the exchange like a pro.
The man sighed. “I’m not in his pocket. I just sold him some
information. One time.”
Savannah barked out a bitter laugh. “You have an interesting definition
of ‘not in his pocket.’ But let’s not quibble over semantics. Pocket or no
pocket—how long have you been…okay, let’s say…in contact with
Barlowe?”
He shook his head. “I’m telling you, it was just the once. He got in
touch with me and we worked out a deal.”
I jumped in. “How did he get in touch with you?”
“He messengered a secure cell to my house with a note that said to keep
it on me. Pretty ingenious, actually. And pretty ballsy.”
“You sound like you look up to him,” Savannah whispered, incredulity
obvious even in her strangled voice. “You were supposed to be protecting
us from him. And you sold us out. And now, you sit here talking about him
like he’s the…I don’t know…the star quarterback on your high school
fucking football team.”
Woodward had the grace to at least look abashed at her words. Or
maybe he was just afraid it would sour the deal. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“How much did he pay you?” she continued. “How much were we
worth?”
Woodward clamped his mouth shut and sat still, probably intuiting that
there was no possible answer he could give that would guarantee she
wouldn’t come flying across the room and go to work on his neck again.
After a long moment of silence, I said, “I believe the lady asked you a
question.”
He looked down at his lap and remained silent.
Bear reached behind him to where his piece was holstered and pulled it
out, making a big noisy show of cocking it. I had to admit, it was an
impressive sound in the small, echoey room.
Woodward’s head snapped up, eyes wild with terror. “Okay! God! I was
just getting my thoughts together! Twenty thousand, okay? He paid me
twenty thousand dollars.”
“That’s what our lives were worth? Less than…I don’t know…less than
a minivan?”
“They weren’t supposed to kill him, okay? God. I never would have
handed over the info for that. Not for twenty grand. God!”
 She shook her head. “How much would it have taken? How much
would my life have been worth? My father’s?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he protested weakly.
“That’s not what you meant to say. But it is what you meant,” Savannah
asserted. Correctly, was my guess. “Now, how much?”
We were getting a little off track with this line of questioning when it
came to procuring useful information, but I let it continue for a couple of
reasons.
One, because she needed this. She needed answers. And she deserved
them.
And two, because it ratcheted up the emotional pressure on Woodward.
It was a useful technique for sending him off-balance, wearing him down.
He thought for a long moment. His body language said he was taking
the question seriously instead of just deflecting, which I thought was
interesting. Savannah had clearly hit on something, touched a nerve.
Finally, he looked up, and there was more steel in his eyes than I’d seen
there at any time in our admittedly short acquaintance.
He looked Savannah directly in the eyes and said, “For you, there
wouldn’t have been a price. I would have told Barlowe to go fuck himself.
For your old man? I would have taken a tuna sandwich.”

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S avannah

I trembled with rage . W ho did this jackass think he was ? “W hat

the hell are you talking about? What did my father ever do to you? Besides
blow the whistle on a corrupt organization, and testify in court despite the
danger to himself. And to me. Besides be a hero.”
Woodward sneered. “Your father was no hero. You think he was a
whistleblower? Like, he just happened to stumble on some shady activity
and approached the authorities? No. Your father was in it up to his neck.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “What? What are you talking about?”
Woodward stopped and looked at me curiously, like I was some kind of
science experiment or alien life form. Then he laughed. “Oh, shit. You
really don’t know anything, do you? About what your father did for
Barlowe…about the trial. Anything.”
It felt too humiliating to shake my head, confirming my ignorance, so I
just stood stock-still and stony-faced instead.
Woodward grinned and shook his head, his old arrogance back in full
effect. “Wow. You’re in for a real shock then. I hate to have to be the one to
tell you this—”
He didn’t really look like he hated it all that much.
“—but your father wasn’t some innocent bystander. He was Barlowe’s
best cooker. Not only that, but he developed a formula for a new kind of
drug. Intense high. Cheap ingredients. People on the street couldn’t get
enough. Barlowe was raking in money hand over fist.”
“What was the catch?” Bear asked. “There’s always a catch.”
“There sure as hell is,” Woodward said, getting into the rhythm of his
story and picking up momentum. “Teenagers started dying. Almost right
away. Two or three a week. Spread over a few states, so the authorities
didn’t put it together right away. But your father did.”
“See?” I said weakly. “He might have had a…bad job, but he didn’t
want anyone to get hurt.”
Woodward shook his head. “Maybe. Or maybe he just didn’t want the
heat the investigations would bring down. Either way, Barlowe got wind of
his reservations and decided your father was no good to him anymore. That
was when he tried to have him taken out. But it backfired. In more ways
than one. It was what landed him in our laps, first of all. And got us his
testimony. Which, granted, only got Barlowe a five-year stretch. But, still.”
“What other way did it backfire?” Bear asked.
“Your father was clever. I’ll give him that. When he wrote down the
formula, he changed it a little. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to
change the end result. Barlowe was never able to find anybody that could
replicate it. That’s why he was looking for your father so hard. That’s why
he came after him. Not to kill him. To get him back.”

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G age

S hit .
Pieces started falling into place at lightning speed. I met Bear’s eyes and
I could see that the same pieces were coming together for him, as well.
He nodded and I turned and opened the door to the interrogation room.
Savannah and Bear filed out ahead of me. I slammed the heavy door, the
sound of Woodward’s whines echoing in the corridor even after that thick
barrier had been engaged.
I led the way down the hall. None of us spoke until we’d settled into
chairs in the living space.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Bear asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, confident it was true. “I first suspected it back at the
WITSEC house.”
“No one had been there.”
“Right.”
“Anyone care to fill me in on what we’re all thinking?” Savannah asked.
I looked at her, long and hard. Then at Bear. He nodded. “She should
know. Even if it’s only a possibility. She’s tough. She can handle it.”
I knew he was right. But it still yanked at my gut to think about putting
her onto the emotional roller coaster that this theory could set off.
Especially since it was only a theory.
 But, I thought it was a pretty damn plausible one. And so did Bear,
which confirmed it even further.
I took a deep breath. “You need to brace yourself, Savannah. And
remember that what I’m about to tell you isn’t a fact. It’s a theory. It might
not be true.”
The vulnerable puzzlement on her face made me want to take her in my
arms, hold her, comfort her. But I pressed ahead. “I don’t think your father
was killed that night. I think he was taken.”
Savannah’s face drained of color. “Wha…what?”
She looked at Bear. He nodded.
“I…I don’t understand. What makes you think that?”
She was looking at me intently as she asked that question, so I gave her
the complete answer, rather than engaging with Bear in our usual tag team.
“First off, you only heard gunshots. You didn’t see him get hit. Second, the
way they showed up at the cabin so quickly. The fact that they already had
people on my parents. That’s a really wide net to cast, and really fast. That
doesn’t make sense for revenge, once removed. That’s only if there’s an
upside—which, in this case, was keeping you from going to the authorities.
“Next, no one had been at your WITSEC house to search it. Not
Barlowe’s people, and not the law. If your father had been a murder victim,
killed right there on the street, they would have been through that place
with a fine tooth comb. There would have been ample evidence of their
presence. There was none.
“As far as why Barlowe’s men hadn’t been there to search, and hadn’t
been to your childhood home, either—that makes sense now, too. There was
no mysterious removable drive. There was no notebook. The information
they were trying to retrieve was in your father’s head. If they had him, his
brain, back in their possession, there would be no reason to keep searching.
“And the last thing that makes me think that—the most convincing fact
of all, actually—is finding out that killing him was never the operational
objective. Snatching him was. So, those gunshots were likely just a scare
tactic. They probably just shoved him in the car and drove off.”
“Oh…God. Do you…do you think he’s still alive?” she whispered, her
palm pressed flat to her belly. Most likely to keep herself from throwing up.
I shrugged. “We have no way of knowing that. But we do know one
thing—our operational clock just sped up. Any chance we have of bringing
him in alive diminishes with every day that passes.”
 She nodded, but I didn’t know how much she was really absorbing. She
looked pretty shell-shocked.
“We know one more thing,” Bear interjected. “That our situation
actually got easier, in some ways.”
I considered that for a moment. “That’s true,” I agreed. “Yeah. True.”
“Easier how?” Savannah asked.
“Negotiating, trading—that’s something that men like Barlowe
understand. Just convincing him to stop coming after you would assault his
ego, no matter how it was presented. But a trade? That’s something he
could wrap his mind around.”
“But…but…what do we have to trade?” Savannah’s voice had taken on
an almost manic quality. Now that she knew her father’s life was likely on
the line, her emotions were even more involved than when she had thought
it was just hers.
I grinned, but it was grim and ruthless. “That information is exactly
what I’m about to have the distinct pleasure of extracting from Marshal
Woodward.”

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G age

W hen I went back into the room with W oodward , I went in alone .
It was a tactic. I wanted Woodward to think there was nothing I wasn’t
crazy enough to do, and with no one there to hold me back, I was a lot
likelier to do it.
That wasn’t the only reason, though. I couldn’t have Savannah in here.
With what she’d just learned, I couldn’t trust her to keep her shit together. It
was no slight against her. She’d kept her shit together through more high-
pressure situations than anyone could reasonably be expected to. But this
was too much, even for her.
And I couldn’t walk back in that room with Bear. If Savannah was the
only one of us missing, then fucking Woodward would know that
something he’d said had affected her too much to go on. And that was a
satisfaction I would never give that asshole.
He had hurt my girl enough. He wasn’t going to get another chance.
Woodward's head snapped up as I came through the door, his eyes
frantic. "What were you guys talking about? I swear, I can tell you more.
I'm not sure what – just tell me what you want to know. We'll work
something out, Okay? Okay?"
I had no intention of killing the guy. Not unless he made it unavoidable.
I had said that if he helped us, I would take him to his go kit and put him on
a plane, and that was exactly what I planned to do. I may have wanted him
dead for the way he’d endangered Savannah, but I was a man of my word.
The fact that he thought we were going back on the deal every two
seconds was more indicative of his character than mine. Untrustworthy
people had a hard time believing that anyone was more trustworthy than
they were. They always thought that other people were looking to take
advantage of them. And, with the kind of characters they usually dealt with,
that probably wasn't a bad assumption.
But, damn. Even if I had been planning to put a bullet in his brain—had
he never heard of the idea of dying with a little dignity? With a little honor?
Nah. We die how we live. And this asshole had never lived with honor.
Not for one day in his miserable little life.
"What happens to you next depends on you," I assured him in a calm,
steely voice. Best not to let him get too comfortable.
"Okay, okay! I said I would help you. And I will. I just don't know what
else I can do."
I grabbed a chair that was sitting against the wall, spun it around so that
I was facing the back of it, and straddled it. "That's what we're going to find
out, Woodward. What do you know that might be useful?" I shrugged. "I
hope there's something. For your sake. I definitely hope there's something."
His eyes widened, and his chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths. He
tilted his head back, obviously searching his memory for anything he might
know that would be useful.
It was clear from the expression on his face that he was racking every
corner of his mind for information. Unfortunately, there apparently weren't
many corners to rack.
I decided to start him out on the right track. After all, we were on a
clock now. As much as I enjoyed watching him squirm, it wasn't a good use
of time. "Start here. How did Barlowe know that you were the person to
contact?"
His face lit up. "Yeah! That's true! I mean, I don't know exactly. But I
can take a guess. He has a ton of law enforcement, from all different
branches, in his pocket. As I'm sure you can imagine. But not just for the
purposes of looking the other way, or covering up for, his criminal
activities. He's also had to take care of a lot of the trouble his dumbass son
has gotten into. And, trust me — getting some of that shit swept under the
rug has been more expensive than covering up for his own enterprise. And
that's saying a lot. So, I don't know, but I would imagine one of those
contacts put him on to me."
The idiot had no idea that he had already given me gold. In just one
short paragraph’s worth of nervous babbling, he had told me that Barlowe
had a son.
There was no public record of that son. I was sure of that, or Crypt
would've found it. I could feel in my gut that this "dumbass son" was going
to be the key to unlocking Savannah's future. I just had to figure out how.
And in order to do that, I needed details. Lots of details.
"Start talking," I growled. "Everything you know about the son. Who is
his mother? How did he keep them under wraps? Where does he live? What
kind trouble has he gotten into? Everything. Now."
"Fine," Woodward agreed. "I don't know what good you think it's going
to do you, though. It's not like the son knows anything about Barlowe's
organization. All he does is play video games and smoke weed."
"Perfect. We're off to a great start. Now tell me everything else you
know. "
"I don't understand –"
"You don't need to," I snapped. "Just talk. Now."
Woodward spent the next several hours spilling his guts about Barlowe's
kid. Everything he knew, and everything he had heard. I took the gossip
with a grain of salt, but it was still useful to have. A lot of times, there is
more truth in rumors than fact, if you just knew which rumors to listen to.
When I had finally gotten every last piece of data out of him, and was
completely satisfied that he had told me everything he knew or suspected, I
left him in the interrogation room and went back out to join Bear and
Savannah.
"Well," I started, and then proceeded to fill them in. “Barlowe has a son.
He’s in his early twenties. A real fuck-up. He’s managed to keep their
connection off the radar by only paying the mother in cash, and never
spending time with the kid. But apparently, he still cares about him, at least
a little. He keeps buying off LEOs to get the kid out of trouble.”
Bear grinned. Not his usual smirk. A full-on grin. “Well,” he said. “This
just got interesting.”

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S avannah

“S o , what does that mean ? H ow are we going to use that

information?” A lot of the time, I felt at a disadvantage around Gage and
Bear. They spoke a different language. Not in the vocabulary they used. I
understood all the words they said. But they had a whole unspoken subtext,
like a conversation below the conversation, and I had no clue about that.
While part of that made me feel like I was in good, capable hands—
another part of me felt frustrated that I had no way of keeping up on what
was coming next. And now that I knew the possibility of reuniting with my
father—my alive father—was on the table, knowing what was coming next,
felt more critical than ever.
“I’m thinking trade,” Gage said, looking to Bear, presumably to ensure
that they were, in fact, on the same page.
Not that it was a question that even needed to be asked. They were
pretty much always on the same page.
“Yep,” Bear agreed. “Straight trade. Her father for his son. Kind of
poetic, if you think about it.”
“Oh. Wow. I never would have guessed that was the plan. But, then
again, I guess that’s why I’m not the professional and you guys are. It’s
kind of brilliant, really.”
“Thanks,” Gage said, and flashed me one of his not-quite-a-smile
smiles.
 “But what is there to stop him from just, like…killing us the minute we
walk out the door?”
“See?” Bear said, showing off his smirk. “I said on the very first night
she had smart questions. Didn’t I say that?”
Gage nodded. “Yeah, Savannah, it is a good point. And we’re going to
have to strategize a plan for that. But, first, we need to figure out what the
plan is for snatching the son. That’s job one.”
“Okay. When are we going to do that?”
Gage hesitated. Then he said, “I know that it’s hard to wait, especially
now that you know what you do about your father. But, you have to
understand—rushing now could get us hurt. Get us killed. Get your father
killed.
“We have to approach the end of this the same way we approached the
beginning. Carefully.”
I dropped my head into my hands. More waiting was the last thing that I
wanted.
“Savannah,” Gage said quietly. “Do you remember the three men at the
cabin? Do you remember how easily I took them out? Well, a big part of
that was because they were overconfident, and they rushed. Do you
remember their bodies? What they looked like, laying there on the cabin
floor? Lifeless? That could be us. Unless you trust me. I’m going to do
everything I can to make sure we stay safe. But, Savannah—you have to
trust me.”
I was paralyzed by his words. The image of Gage lying lifeless on the
floor in some anonymous warehouse, a red hole in his forehead, his eyes
wide open, lifeless, staring…it was too much for me.
I doubled over, breathing hard, trying to keep the contents of my
stomach in my stomach, where they belonged. It was a struggle.
Gage put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I sat back up, my
breathing under better control. It was easier with his hand on my shoulder,
the heat and pressure reassuring me that the vision that had popped into my
mind was just that—a product of my imagination.
Gage was still here, still next to me, still alive and well. And I knew that
if trusting him gave me the best chance to keep it that way, then I would
damn well trust him.
I nodded. “I do trust you, Gage. I do. It’s hard to trust you blindly when
my father’s in the mix. You must get that. But I definitely recognize that
you know everything about how to do this kind of thing. I know nothing.
So, of course I trust you.”
Bear let out a short laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t say everything. But don’t
worry. What he doesn’t know, I can fill in.”
I laughed. It was the perfect break in the tension that I needed. I smiled
at them. “Well, then I’m really happy that you’re on my side. Both of you,”
I hurried to add.
Bear smirked, shook his head. “Don’t worry. I know you mostly mean
him. No accounting for taste.”

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G age

I tucked S avannah into bed and went back out to get into the
planning phase deeper with Bear. She hadn’t been comfortable with me
leaving her. I could see it in her eyes, even though she put on a brave face.
I wasn’t sure if it had been the right move to remind her of those dead
assholes at the cabin. But she needed to know how serious things were, and
they were a good shorthand lesson.
Bear was deep in thought when I sat back down on the couch, his brow
furrowed, and his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward.
As soon as my ass hit the couch cushion, he looked up. “You’re gonna
wanna be real careful there.”
I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head to the side, a ‘give me a small break’ look on his face.
"Come on, man. I'm not an idiot. It's not like I didn't realize that you and
Savannah had history. But I didn't think that you would be reckless enough
– hell, dumb enough — to start things up again when we're in the middle of
a situation like this. "
I opened my mouth, ready to protest that I hadn't started anything up –
but then I realized that, of course, that would be a lie. I had started up with
Savannah again. I hadn't thought of it as reckless, at least not operationally.
I had only thought about the risks to my heart. Not my safety.
And more to the point, not her safety. Or even Bear’s.
 A wave of shame passed over me as I realized how selfish and
shortsighted I had been. It wasn't like me at all. My feelings had blinded me
to the dangers involved, and I had put all of us at risk.
Bear shook his head. “Oh, brother. You don’t need to get all martyr-y
about it. I’m just saying be careful, Okay? Don’t make decisions with your
dick or your heart that you should be making with your head.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a promise.”
He studied my face, then gave a curt nod. Just once. Decisive.
One of the things I’d always really liked about Bear. When he moved on
from something, he really moved on.
Unless I fucked up—and I wouldn’t—we had talked about this for the
last time.
“So, you know the kid’s name? The mother? Where they live? Any
other pertinent details?”
I shook my head. “I know that the mother was one of Barlowe’s stable.”
“She was a pro?”
“Yeah. And I know the kid has a history of arrests that were quietly
dropped. And I know he’s in his early twenties. And that his main hobbies
are playing video games and smoking weed. That’s the only information of
any substance Woodward knew.”
“You sure?”
I let a small, quick smile flash on my lips. “Trust me. I came at it from
all angles. And I was very persuasive.”
Bear smirked. “I know you can be. Well, that’s probably enough for
Crypt to get started on. I’m going to text him now.”
I stood. “Good. There’s not a whole lot else we can do tonight. I guess
I’ll head to bed.”
Bear raised an eyebrow. I put my hands out in front of me. “I know,
man. I’m watching it. I swear.”
He nodded, but reluctantly. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

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S avannah

I opened my eyes and saw G age through the open door of the
bathroom, brushing his teeth. I’d been asleep by the time he came to bed,
and he was still up before me.
And he never set an alarm. He had a weird internal sense of time that he
trusted to wake him up. The crazy thing was, it did. It always did. At
exactly the time he wanted it to.
I smiled to myself. He was amazing. It seemed insane to consider
myself “lucky” for any part of this utter shitshow of a situation, but I did.
For one part and one part only. Gage. I was lucky that he was on my side.
Without him, everything would be immeasurably worse.
“Good morning,” I called, sleep still present in my raspy voice as it
traveled across the room and into the bathroom.
He turned and looked at me, toothbrush still in his mouth, and said,
"Good morning," in response.
Well, technically that wasn't true. What he said was more like, “Goo Mo
Nee,” as he tried to maneuver his lips and tongue around the toothbrush at
the same time that he kept all of the toothpaste suds from falling out of his
mouth…but I knew exactly what he meant.
I sat up in bed and pulled my legs under me, sitting cross-legged as I
watched him go through the rest of his morning routine.
 If he felt uncomfortable under the weight of my gaze, he never
mentioned it. Or even slowed down.
When he was finished, he turned to me. “Okay. Go ahead and get ready.
We’ve got work to do. We have information from Crypt, and it’s going to
take all three of us to sift through it.”
I stepped into the bathroom, pulling my hair up and wrapping it around
itself to form a loose bun as I did. I pulled out my toothbrush and some
toothpaste and got ready to brush my teeth. The back of my neck was
tingling, and I turned around to see Gage sitting on the edge of the foot of
the bed, staring at me intently. "Are you just gonna sit there and watch me
the whole time?" I asked.
He did his famous almost-smile thing, the one that I found so sexy.
"Yeah, probably. Is that not what we’re doing?”
I blushed and had to laugh, then turned around and finished getting
ready, struggling to make all of my movements smooth and graceful. I
didn’t need Gage to see me looking awkward and uncoordinated.
We walked out to the living room, and Bear was there, munching on a
croissant. He gestured at the pink bakery box on the counter, and I made a
beeline toward it.
I knew that Bear had brought a lot of assets, not to mention a lot of
skills, to the table. First and foremost, the safe house we were currently
standing in, as a matter of fact. But, in my book, the baked goods he
provided every morning were right up there with all of his bodyguarding
skills. His skills were awesome, don't get me wrong – it's just that so were
the baked goods.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” I asked. I wanted to hear the answer
as much to assure myself that progress was being made as to hear the actual
specific information.
“We’ve got a crap-ton of data from Crypt to go through. He has a pretty
good candidate in mind for who the son is, and I don’t think he’s wrong, but
we need to be sure.”
Gage added, “Have you heard that saying, ‘if you shoot at the king,
don’t miss’?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I don’t think so.”
“It basically means, if you attempt to assassinate the king, the
repercussions will be swift and fatal. The only way to avoid that fate is if
he’s dead, himself. So you can shoot at the king if you want to—but you
only get one shot. And it better be dead fucking accurate.”
I paled, my gut roiling. “Oh, God. Right. What if we show up there to
trade my father, only…we want to trade him for some kid Barlowe’s never
even heard of.”
“Right. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen. And I know it’s not
sexy, but the way we do that is research.”
I nodded, and moved to sit down on the couch. “I get it. I’m ready,
coach. Put me in.”
Bear started down the hallway that led to the interrogation room.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He held up a wrapped bar. “Take Woodward his breakfast.”
I let out a short bark of a laugh. “Oh, right. It didn’t even occur to me
that he’d need to eat. It’s probably for the best that I’m not preparing his
meals. It would be hard to resist putting a little anti-freeze in them. Not
enough to kill him, mind you. Just enough to make him really sick.”
Gage looked at me and I could swear I saw fresh admiration in his eyes.
Bear smirked. “He can survive a few days on granola bars. He’ll
probably start complaining at one point. But he’ll have no idea how lucky
he really is.”

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G age

I sat in the van with B ear , staring at the window of the apartment
that we were pretty sure belonged to our target.
It had been a long couple days of research, but we had gone through
every single piece of digital paper that Crypt had sent over. I was convinced
that crypt had identified the correct kid. So was Bear. So was Savannah, for
that matter. She didn't have the kind of training that Bear and I had, but she
had damn good instincts, and I trusted them.
When we’d seen him for the first time through the window of the
apartment, Bear and I agreed that that cinched the deal. The kid had
Barlowe’s olive skin, his pinched eyes, and long, narrow, beak-like nose.
The magic of genetics.
His name was Liam “Mac” Macintosh.
His mother had been one of Barlowe's whores, just like Woodward had
said. Not only that, he was the right age, and he had the history of
mysteriously disappearing arrests that we were looking for.
The clincher was that his mother’s solicitation busts had stopped right
around the time the kid was born. Of course, it was completely
understandable – maybe even predictable — that someone would want to
stop hooking when they had a baby.
But, you would be surprised. That didn't always happen. In fact, it didn't
even happen very often. When someone is trapped in the life… Well, they
didn’t call it ‘trapped’ for no reason.
But, regardless of her professional aspirations, the one thing that was
clear was that she never had a traceable source of income again after that.
Yet, she was able to upgrade to a comfortable apartment in a nice
neighborhood, where she had raised the kid in what looked, from every
outside perspective, to be, if not luxury, then at least ease.
And even now, the kid himself lived in an apartment of his own, and
survived with no visible means of support. He definitely didn't have a job.
Not only had he never filed a tax return and had never had any income
attributed to his Social Security number – thanks, Crypt – Bear and I had
been watching him intermittently throughout both the day and night for the
past couple of days.
Not only did he never leave the apartment, he never even left his couch
and his gaming console. He had only gone to answer the door once. For a
delivery from his hook up –of what looked like a pretty copious amount of
weed.
From the looks of it, this wasn't some sort of staycation. This was his
life.
This was Barlowe’s kid. No doubt about it.
His couch-bound lifestyle would make him easier to snatch in some
ways. He clearly had no situational awareness. No awareness at all, really.
We would have him in the van and be halfway back to the safe house before
he even knew what was happening.
And that was another benefit — all of the weed in his system from long-
term use would have slowed his reactions considerably. Even if he had had
the requisite training to fight back against two trained operatives like Bear
and me, he wouldn't have had the reflexes.
His lifestyle also presented significant challenges, though.
First of all, it wasn’t that he rarely left his apartment. He never left his
apartment. The weed delivery had been the only time he’d even gone close
to the door.
We had never seen him get a food delivery, but judging by the large
number of empty pizza boxes strewn around his coffee table and the parts
of the couch he wasn't sitting on, they did happen.
The kid was a literal couch potato.
What that meant was, if we were going to snatch him, we were either
going to have to breach the perimeter of his apartment and grab him from
inside, or we were going to have to lure him out.
Both scenarios presented problems. Serious ones.
Snatching him from inside his apartment was dangerous. After all, even
if he had no sense of the world his father was involved in, his father did.
And since his father was obviously paying for the apartment, he might have
had it outfitted with security cameras so he could keep an eye on the kid. If
I had been in Barlowe's position — a sentence that honestly made me sick
to even think— that's what I would've done.
After all, considering the kid’s record and what Barlowe’d had to do to
get it erased piece by piece, Mac had no talent for keeping himself out of
trouble. I was sure that Barlowe must have taken steps to proactively keep
him on the straight and narrow, since he clearly couldn't do it for himself.
And even setting that aside, there were practical concerns. Factors that
made it more risky. Just the amount of time in exposure inherent in getting
him from his apartment’s front door down to the van was a factor for
consideration. There were ways around that, but no good ones.
Then there was the tactic of luring him out. That also came with issues.
First of all, what would be a good enough lure? Just like with his father, we
also only had one shot, most likely. No matter how dim a bulb he was, he
was pretty likely to get suspicious if he was suddenly getting a lot of
random invitations from Internet strangers.
And the other issue – there would be traces left. Digital traces of our
presence.
If everything went well, that wouldn't matter. But you could never count
on everything going well. Never. So it mattered.
"He's in for the night," Bear said. "We can probably head out."
I looked over at Bear and saw that his always-present smirk was in full
effect. I got the joke. The kid was always in for the night. And the day. He
was never out.
But, I couldn't really find it funny. Nothing against Bear, or his sense of
humor. It was just that the problem was so complicated, the timeline was so
short, and the stakes were so high. Nothing would be funny to me until
Savannah was safe.
I nodded. "Yeah. Let's head back."
Hopefully, something brilliant would occur to me on the drive back to
the safe house. Was it likely? No. But was it critical? Yes.
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 48

S avannah

T he outer door opened and the guys stepped through . I breathed a

sigh of relief.
It wasn't that I genuinely thought anything was going to happen to them.
Not on a surveillance mission.
And it wasn't that I genuinely thought anything was going to happen to
me. Not in Bear's impenetrable safe house.
It was just that I didn't feel safe without Gage in my vicinity. If I
couldn't feel his presence, I was on edge.
This wasn't something new. It wasn't a phenomenon that had developed
since the night I escaped what I thought was an assassination attempt. It had
been true since I was sixteen and the Marshals took us away. Hell, it had
been true since I was fourteen and the two of us had met, if I were being
honest.
When we weren't together, I wasn't settled. Point blank. Period.
"How did it go?"
Gage grimaced. "Same."
I turned to Bear. "Okay. Since you are a man of not quite as few words,
can I get the download from you?"
Bear smirked. "Well, he just played video games again all night. There
wasn't even a visit from his weed dealer to break it up."
"So where does that leave us?"
 "We're either going to grab him in his place, or we're going to get him to
come out." Gage’s words were not a huge surprise. We had gone over those
options a couple of times.
To be frank, they were both shitty fucking options.
I breathed in deeply. I knew that I might not have been seeing the
situation as clearly as they were, seeing all of the nuances and angles, but I
did know one thing. And I decided to voice it. "Well, grabbing him from
inside his place is not an option, "I said flatly. I'm not going to have you
putting yourself in that kind of danger. Not for me." I swallowed hard. "Not
even for my father. It's just way too risky."
I expected Gage to argue, but instead he nodded. "Yeah, I had pretty
much decided the same thing. That's the riskier option, and just because it's
the simpler one doesn't make it better. Luring him out has risk involved, but
it's a risk that only comes to the surface if this whole thing goes pear
shaped. So, it's a chance of risk – but not actual risk. Grabbing him from
inside his place involves a 100% chance of a very high level of risk. That
just wouldn't be smart."
Bear’s smirk widened. "Now we just have to figure out what that gamer
pothead cares enough about to venture outside the four walls of his smoke
shack."
I laughed. I couldn't believe that was the part they thought was hard.
"Yeah, I think I have that part covered," I said wryly.
Gage’s brows drew together, and he tilted his head to the side. I
continued, "Unless he is celibate — and I mean voluntarily, not an incel —
then I think that a beautiful woman showing interest will lure him out. Hell,
I probably wouldn't even have to be beautiful. Just the prospect of getting
his dick wet will be enough to get him off of that couch."
Gage’s and Bear’s eyebrows both shot up, making them look like they
were part of some kind of choreographed face dance. I laughed. It felt nice
to have something to laugh about, something genuinely funny. It was a
good distraction.
The past few days — hell, the past few decades — had been pretty
stressful. And, if we were going to put this plan into effect, the next few
days to come were going to be equally stressful. It felt really good to have
all of that stress punctuated by one short moment of levity.
Gage didn't look pleased at my laughter. Or maybe it was the idea of
Barlowe's son leaving the apartment for the purpose of having sex with me
that had such a massive scowl covering his face.
Either way, he clearly didn't like it.
"No," he growled.
I was taken aback at his flat refusal. He didn't even bother to say he was
uncomfortable with the Idea, or express why he thought it wouldn't work.
He just growled the word no at me like it was a command, like the fact that
he said it was no, meant that it was no. Like he was God, and his word was
the eleventh commandment.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I said no," he responded, his eyes growing even more steely.
Irritation bubbled up in my gut. I knew that I had said I would trust him.
And I did trust him. But this didn't feel like an operational decision. This
didn't feel like he was refusing based on it being a bad idea, or too risky. It
felt personal.
Bear tilted his head to the side, his expression far more open. Clearly, he
was not writing off the idea. "How would you get in contact with him?" he
asked.
Good. At least someone wanted a little more information. And, since I
had actually thought it through, I was excited to share.
"Well, since it doesn't seem like he goes on dating apps or even social
media, I think the only way is through the video game."
Gage and Bear both stared at me like I was from another planet. Man,
they really had been ensconced in their insular worlds. No wonder they had
needed Crypt even for the simple task of letting them know whether or not
Barlowe's kid was on social media — which he wasn't.
At the time, I had wondered if they had had Crypt looking for
something deep, something hidden, in the social media sites. Now, I thought
that they were probably just looking for public profiles, and I wondered if
they even knew that a simple Google search would've given them that
answer.
"Most video games — in fact, every popular video game I can think of,
and almost certainly whatever game he is playing — have a chat feature.
Many of them involve players grouping themselves into teams. They band
together, like forming alliances. And while they are playing, they can chat
through their headsets. Text or voice, I'm pretty sure."
Bear still looked interested. "Yeah, that makes perfect sense. But what if
whatever game he's playing isn't one you know how to play? If you join his
team and then you screw things up, he'll just be annoyed with you. It doesn't
matter how hot you sound. Or how hot your avatar is."
I glanced at Gage. He was still scowling like he thought the only
problem with his face was that his features hadn't been placed close enough
to each other at birth and he was determined to rectify that.
I sighed and shook my head. Well, I would just direct my speech to
Bear. At least he was interested. "I thought of that. And we do know
someone who seems like he is probably pretty good at video games."
Bear grinned. "Crypt."
"Yeah. And with his skills, it probably won't be that difficult to figure
out which game this kid is currently playing at any given time. I figure we
can just create an account for me — Crypt might even be able to make it
look aged, so that it's not suspicious — and then we can let him handle all
the gameplay. He will know the social expectations within the community
of the game. He'll know how to approach Mac. He'll know how to not make
it weird.
"The only part that I will handle is the actual chatting. Crypt may know
how to talk to players in the game. But I know how to talk to men. Every
woman does," I hurried to add, noticing that Gage’s expression had grown
even darker.
Hell, if it got any darker than it was now, it would be a virtual blackout.
Bear nodded. "Yeah. We're doing it."
Gage's head whipped around and he turned his iron scowl on Bear. "No,
we fucking are not."
Bear glared right back at him. It was the angriest, heaviest look I'd ever
seen on his amiable face. "Yes, we are," he said flatly. "It's the best plan. By
fucking far. It's not even close. And the only reason you don't want to use it
is because it makes Savannah the bait. I get why you would feel that way.
But it's a feeling. And you promised me. You swore. That you wouldn't
allow your feelings to put us in danger. So, get your shit together, and get
on board. We are fucking doing this."
With that, Bear exited the living room, down the hallway that led to the
living quarters.
Gage stared at me.
Shit.
So...apparently he and Bear had been talking. About me. About Gage's
feelings for me.
 I thought that maybe I should be...I wasn't sure. Embarrassed?
Awkward? ...Something?
But I wasn't. If anything, it made me feel warm inside, and happy.
Bear's speech had told me something that Gage had yet to say to me—
that he had feelings. Real feelings for me, that affected him, and his actions.
And, damn, knowing that felt freaking amazing.
I didn't let any of that show on my face, though. Somehow I knew that
would be a terrible idea. Gage was clearly still furious, and I could sense
that any sign of happiness—or, God forbid, self-satisfaction—from me
would only make things ten times worse. In fact, that could potentially
cause a huge eruption.
So, as he stared at me blankly, I just returned the stare. Past the point
where it felt comfortable. Past the point where it felt reasonable. But I
wasn't going to back down first.
Finally, he shrugged. The international symbol of 'I definitely still care a
lot about this thing but I'd like to give the impression that I don't care at all.'
And then, he said, "Fine. Fine, then," and walked off down the same
corridor Bear had just gone down. The one that led to the bedrooms. The
one that led to our bedroom.
Our bedroom.
God, I liked that phrase.
I didn't follow him, though. Instead, I went to the refrigerator and pulled
out a bottled water, then seated myself on the couch.
I wasn't doing anything specific. Just waiting. Just waiting for him to
fall asleep.
For once, he was going to be the one lying in bed waiting for me.
I liked that. It made things feel more even.

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S avannah

W e were back in C rypt ' s warehouse , and I had to admit , it felt

weird. Not to be back there, so much. We had just been there a few days
before — damn, time was starting to blend together in a major way — but
the fact that Crypt was no longer ignoring us. Ignoring me, specifically.
In fact, now that we were working on the gaming project together, he
was laser focused on me in a way that felt almost uncomfortable. Because
of his naturally curmudgeonly personality, I couldn't shake the feeling that
he was always looking for an opportunity to bite my head off over the
slightest little misstep.
Not that I cared about that for my sake. Obviously, it was never pleasant
to get chewed out, but it was Crypt. I'd take any criticism he sent my way
with a grain of salt.
No, I was worried that, if Crypt laid into me, then things would pop off
with Gage.
I turned to look at the object of my concern. Yep. No change. He was
still standing off to the side like a coiled snake, every cell in his body tensed
to spring into action, incipient violent energy radiating off of him like heat
waves.
Super comfortable for me.
But, even though it was distracting and nerve-racking...I couldn't help
but admit that it was also kind of comforting. Kind of sweet, in a super
overly-protective kinda way.
I wasn't going to let him get away with controlling my actions when
what he wanted to control wasn't necessary to keep me safe. That was some
bullshit. But...I liked that he wanted to.
I knew that was fucked up of me. I didn't care. I'd suffered for too many
years without him, the ache of missing him eating me up inside like an acid
slowly corroding my organs. If there was a little bit of pleasure to be taken
now from his 'Me Tarzan, You Jane' attitude, then damn it, I was going to
take that pleasure and not feel the least bit guilty or regressive about it.
"Okay, almost done," Crypt said. He was building my avatar.
We hadn't come here today in the hipster gear we'd worn the last time.
In fact, we had tossed all of that the minute we'd walked into the safe house
with it. One of the keys to being unnoticeable, Bear had emphasized, was to
never repeat. Never let yourself be imprinted onto someone's brain because
the image of you draws up a memory, so that even if they wouldn't have
remembered you before, the very act of being reminded of seeing you by
the repeat appearance makes you stand out as significant.
So, today, we were business people. Bear and Gage both had on dark
suits. I was in a pencil skirt and silk button-down, with high-heeled pumps.
Crypt had taken one look at me and nodded decisively. "Yep. That'll
do," he said, and went to work building my avatar.
"Are gamers really into businesswomen?" I'd asked incredulously.
He'd looked up, confused. "Aren't you supposed to be a sexy librarian?"
That had been the first time during our visit that I'd thought he was in
danger of being punched in the mouth by Gage. It hadn't been the last.
Crypt looked at me now. "Big tits or small?"
"Big," Bear and I answered together, at the same time Gage growled,
"Small, God damn it."
Crypt shook his head. "Yeah. Big. Stupid question. It's gamers. Fuck
sake."
With just a few more keystrokes, he was finished. He hit the last key
with a flourish, clearly proud of himself.
When he turned the monitor to face us, I could see that he had plenty of
reason to be.
The avatar looked like me — but also not like me. Her eyes were over-
exaggerated, her hair was darker, her lips were brighter. Her cheeks had a
rosy glow. And, yes — her tits were about triple my size.
 But, all in all, it looked like the kind of avatar that a lonely gamer kid
whose most recent human interaction had been with his stoner pot dealer
would find very appealing.
"Damn," I said, not even bothering to hide how impressed I was. "I'd hit
on her."
"Great," Crypt said, cheeks flushing with pleasure at the compliment.
"Then let's get started."
I allowed myself a small, secret smile. If my charms, rudimentary as
they were, had that kind of effect on someone as grumpy and easily
annoyed as Crypt, then I figured putting the moves on Barlowe's kid would
be, if not easy, then at least completely possible.

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G age

I didn ' t like this . I didn ' t like it one fucking little bit . W atching
Savannah flirt — even though I knew it was fake – was plain and simple
torture.
It had been one thing watching that perv Crypt build a cartoon version
of her that was basically her as a porn star. That had been hard enough to
just stand there and take without saying anything. Or putting a damn stop to
it. But I just kept reminding myself that, as torturous as this was in the
moment, it was going to serve the greater good. Her safety. That was the
ultimate goal, and if this was the best way to accomplish it, I couldn't get in
the way of that.
But now, watching her with a headset on making suggestive comments
to Barlowe's little prick of a son – I didn't think I was going to be able to
stomach it much longer.
I had thought that I was hiding my feelings pretty well, but apparently
not, because Bear turned to me and said under his breath, his voice tense
and angry, "Do you need to go wait in the car?"
Fuck. That was the kind of thing that a mom said to a toddler having a
tantrum in Walmart. Not the kind of thing that one trained operative was
supposed to have to say to another. I needed to get it together. And fast.
I shook my head, and apparently that was pretty convincing, because he
nodded and turned back to the monitor.
 I tuned back into the conversation, determined that I was going to listen
to it through the lens of the operation, and not the lens of what I felt for
Savannah.
"Okay, baby. That sounds great," Savannah was saying. "I'll see you at
ten o'clock tonight. And, baby?"
She paused, apparently waiting for some kind of response. When she
spoke again, her voice was lower and even sultrier. "I can't wait."
Crypt hit a few keystrokes and the gameplay disappeared from the
monitor. "We're clear," he said.
Savannah turned to me. "Okay," she confirmed. "Ten tonight. It's on."
I nodded.
This whole thing would be over soon. One way or another. Either we
would both be dead, or we'd be free. Free to be together, and free to live our
lives however we wanted.
But one thing was for damn sure—whichever way the ball bounced, I
was never...never...going to just stand by quietly and listen to her flirt with
another man again. I didn't give a fuck if he was the punk son of a gangster
that I was about to kidnap. It was never going to fucking happen again.

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S avannah

I stood nervously on the street corner , waiting for M ac to appear .

I had to admit, a street corner was exactly where I looked like I
belonged.
I was dressed in the same outfit as earlier, with the exception of the skirt
having been traded out for something much shorter, and several more
buttons being undone on the blouse.
My make-up was dialed up to eleven, as well. I didn't feel like myself at
all. Which was, all things considered, fine by me. I was about to do
something that was very out of character. So I might as well look the part.
I saw Mac round the corner up ahead and settled even further into
character. When he drew close to me, I gave him a shy smile and a
coquettish wave.
That was the key to reeling him in, I knew. I'd been bold and sensual in
the chat. That was what had drawn him out—the promise of things to come.
Now that we were together, though, I had to play a little hard to get.
Men need to work for it. If I came on strong, it might spook him.
I ran my fingers lightly over his upper arm. "Oooo..." I said, my voice
breathy. "I didn't know you were going to have muscles."
He didn't have muscles. But he flexed like he did.
Men were predictable.
"Yeah, I work out," he said, barely-disguised pride filling his voice.
 I started to feel a little guilty. This kid might be a directionless nobody,
but he hadn't asked to get caught up in his father's dirty dealings any more
than I had. Yet, here we both were.
And I was about to facilitate his kidnapping.
Just think about getting your dad back, I admonished myself, pushing
down the guilt. This will all be over soon. Just think about getting your dad
back.
I stepped in closer to him, laid a hand lightly on his chest. Then I looked
up at him through the lacy lash extensions I'd glued on, putting on a shy
demeanor like a winter coat. "I never do this," I breathed, as if I couldn't
quite believe I was. Which was true enough, so hopefully it would read as
genuine in my voice. "But your skills in the game...oh my God...they were
such a turn on."
He grinned, and his chest puffed out a little under my hand. "Yeah. I
mean, don't feel bad. I'm kind of a badass. You're not the first girl to lose her
shit over it."
I would've bet money that I was.
"Oh, I can imagine!" I lied.
I might have been trying to reel him in, but I needed to wrap this up.
Every second that I stood out here on the street with him, exposed—even
though Bear and Gage had thoroughly vetted this corner and knew there
were no security cameras—was one extra second of risk and danger that we
just didn't need.
I moved my wandering fingers up to his face, ran them down his
jawline. His pupils flared, and I knew I had him. I leaned in closer. "I have a
place," I whispered.
He gulped and nodded, and I took his hand and led him down the alley
behind us.
The van was parked at the end of the alley, and I opened the back door
that led to the cargo area.
I'd made it look kind of cozy, with a mattress and bedding on the floor,
and gauzy blankets draping the walls. I'd strung fairy lights around the
ceiling.
I had to admit, it did look kind of romantic.
I'd had a whole story prepared about my place being off-limits because
of roommates, and this being my brother's van, and I hoped he didn't
mind...but none of that ended up being necessary. He climbed in the back of
the van without a word, turned and plopped himself right down on the
mattress.
I felt another sick, sinking wave of guilt wash over me, but I pushed it
down just like I had the first time.
This wasn't even just for me. This was for my father. This was for Gage,
so we could live a normal life.
This was for the future, and to escape the past.
I slammed the back door on Mac's surprised face, and locked it
immediately. I hated to do it, but I did it anyway.
I climbed in the passenger side of the cockpit. Gage was in the middle,
Bear in the driver's seat.
And, just like that, we were off.
We had officially kidnapped an innocent person. Who was, even now,
yelling from the back of the van, trying to get us to tell him what was going
on.
I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Yes, he would probably be fine. In
fact, out of the four people in this van right now, he had the best chance of
surviving the upcoming events of any of us.
But, still. Without our intervention—without my intervention—he'd still
be sitting on his couch. Eating pizza, smoking pot, playing video games.
Maybe lying to some other girl about his prowess. Some girl that he might
actually have had a chance with.
I didn't know how I felt about any of it.
Gage took my hand and I looked over at him, expecting to see anger and
judgement. After all, he hadn't been behind this plan to begin with, and he
had made his feelings utterly clear throughout the bait game at Crypt's.
But that wasn't what I saw at all.
His eyes were soft and compassionate, and he kissed my forehead.
"That can't have been easy," he whispered to me, and part of me
crumbled inside.
"It wasn't," I whispered back, and a lone tear ran down my cheek.
He wiped it away, kissed the streaky track that it had left in my pancake
make-up.
"This is all going to be okay," he whispered in my ear. "I promise you,
Savannah. It's all going to be okay."
I searched his eyes, looking for...something. I didn't even know what.
"How do you know?" I whispered, my voice stretched taut with tension,
even at whisper level. "How can you possibly know that?"
He gave me another kiss on the forehead and said, "Because it's you and
me. And I will protect you. And I will make sure it's okay. Because our
story doesn't end like this. It just doesn't."
I knew that wasn't really an answer. I knew there was no real evidence
or proof in it. But I didn't care. As I settled my head onto his shoulder, and
he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close, I believed him. Even if
it was only because I wanted to. Because it felt so good. I didn't care. I
believed him.

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G age

I stepped out of the shower and didn ' t know if I wanted S avannah
to be asleep or not. There was something I wanted to tell her. No, needed to
tell her. But it would change everything. And I had decided while I was
scrubbing my body that I wouldn't wake her up to tell her.
That would be the test. If she were awake, we would go there. If not,
then I would take that as a sign.
She was sitting up in bed, cross-legged, looking as alert as if it were the
middle of the afternoon when I stepped back into the room. I almost smiled.
I should've known that there was no way she would be asleep when,
knowing her, she had a ton of questions about how things were going to go
down tomorrow.
I also knew that the deal I had made with myself in the shower was
bullshit. I was going to say what I needed to say, and nothing was going to
stop me.
“So, run it down for me,” she said.
I could see she’d been waiting with bated breath. We hadn’t been able to
talk in the van, obviously. And then, when we’d gotten back to the safe
house and secured the kid, and Bear had agreed to take the first six hour
watch, I’d needed to shower and clear my head. Badly.
I think Savannah could sense that. Which was probably why she’d
waited until now to start pressing me for details. Which I appreciated.
 "Well, the first step is to call the number I saw in the burner call log,
from the guys at the cabin. Hopefully, that will go through.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Worry was etched on her eyes and her brow.
“If not, we’ll put Crypt on finding another way to get in touch with
Barlowe. It’ll slow us down but it’s definitely not a deal-breaker.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. What then?”
“Then we’ll set up the trade. Bear and I have an ideal plan in mind, and
I’m sure Barlowe will, too. We’ll negotiate.”
I glanced at the door. “Damn. I just hope he cares about that kid as
much as we’re betting he must.”
She nodded. “Yeah. That’s definitely the question mark. But…I mean,
he kept paying for him to live, to get out of trouble. That must mean
something. Even if he only cares about the abstract concept of his lineage,
his heir. His blood. Maybe that will be enough. I think it will be.”
She shrugged. “It has to be.” She said the sentence simply, like it was
just a fact.
I understood what she meant. The alternative was just too terrible to
contemplate.
But I had been contemplating it. In fact, it was about all I’d been
contemplating.
I took a deep breath and dove in. “Savannah, I know I said in the car
that I was going to make sure everything turned out okay.”
She nodded, a look of wariness creeping into her beautiful eyes. I
rushed on, hoping to head off total panic.
"I am absolutely going to do everything in my power to keep that
promise to you," I said solemnly. "But, you have to know that there is a
chance that things are going to go sideways tomorrow. There's always that
chance. The situation we are walking into is dangerous. You know that,
right?"
As a matter of fact, I knew for sure that she was aware of the intense
danger of the situation. I had tried everything in my power to get her to stay
here at the safe house while Bear and I went and completed the trade. She
had flatly refused, in fact she wouldn't even hear any of my reasoning. I had
tried to remind her that she had said she would trust me, completely. That
that was the only way I could protect her.
She, in turn, had reminded me that she had made that promise before
her father was involved. I had to admit that was a fair point.
 Besides, I knew she wouldn't let me walk into danger alone. That much
was obvious in her eyes and the steely set of her jaw and shoulders when
she had shut down the idea of sitting back here and waiting.
For better or worse—and I could only hope to God that it was for better
—we were in this thing together. Till the bitter end, or the beautiful new
beginning. Whichever it was going to be.
She swallowed hard. “I know that, Gage.”
I expected her to say more, but she let the sentence hang in the air. It
was far more powerful than anything else she could have said.
I stepped close to her, reached out and ran my fingers over her hair. Her
soft, silky hair. The feel of it under my fingertips was like home. She closed
her eyes at my touch and leaned into my hand.
The pulse in her neck was throbbing like crazy. God, I loved that I had
that kind of immediate and intense effect on her.
“Savannah,” I whispered, my voice a sandpaper rasp. “If tonight is my
last night on earth, I want to spend it making love to you.”
She looked up at me, held my gaze. There were tears shining in her
eyes. “Yes,” she breathed. “Me, too.”
“Not just have sex,” I clarified, running my thumb along her jaw. “Make
love. Because I love you. With everything in me. I never stopped. And I
want to spend tonight showing you how much.”
The tears that had been glittering in her eyes slid down her cheeks, two
shimmering drops of moisture that made my heart constrict in a way that
made it hard to breathe. In fact, in a way that made me wonder if I’d ever be
able to breathe again.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, gently. I refused to lose
myself in urgency or pleasure. Tonight was about expressing my feelings
for her.
After all—for over a decade, I had thought that I would never again be
able to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her that I loved her. To keep her warm,
and keep her safe. And now, tonight might be my last chance. There was
every reason to believe that we might never see another night together. So I
planned to make this one count.

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M y heart raced in my chest as G age pressed his lips to mine . I

couldn’t believe what he had just said to me. It was like he had taken
everything that was in my heart and translated it into words.
But what was even better was that he was describing his feelings. Not
mine.
After all of these years of unfulfilled longing, it felt too good to be true
to think that Gage might still feel the same way, just like I did.
But he did. He had just said that he did. And that was the most amazing
thing I could imagine.
He leaned in further, and I reclined back on the bed, sliding my fingers
around his waist to press my palms flat against his back and pull him down
with me.
I wanted to feel the weight of him on top of me, pressed against me,
moving against my skin. It was almost too much to bear that he was this
close to me, but not as close as I wanted him to be. Needed him to be.
I wanted us to be as close as two human beings could possibly get. Not
just body. Also heart. Also soul.
I wanted us to intertwine. I wanted us to be so intermingled that we
couldn't tell where one person left off and the other began. I wanted him on
top of me, yes. But I also wanted him around me, and inside me. I wanted
him to be part of me, just like I wanted to be part of him.
 He slid his strong arms around me, crushing me to his chest.
I scrambled to pull off the tank top I was wearing. My fingers were
trembling with lust, and I couldn't seem to grab a hold of the hem. It kept
slipping right out of my grasp just as I tried to yank the fabric up and over
my head.
Damn it! It was like the tank top had a mind of its own. And that mind
was a real cock blocker.
Or, ya know. Coochie blocker, as the case may be.
Gage slid his strong capable hand up under the tank top, running his
palm all the way up my belly and taking my breast firmly in his grasp. His
forehead collapsed to my shoulder and he groaned from deep in his chest.
“Damn, you feel good,” he moaned, and my pussy clenched at his words. I
was even more desperate than I had been before to feel him against me with
nothing in between us. Nothing to block the heat of his skin against mine.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and tilted my head up until my
lips were pressed against his ear. “Undress me, Gage,” I whispered. “Take
my clothes off. Please. I need to feel you. I need to be with you. Really with
you. I need to be naked with you.”
He groaned again, but didn’t reply except for immediately sitting up and
stripping the tank top off of my body. He whipped it off smoothly, in one
fluid motion, like a magician yanking a table cloth out from under
carefully-arranged place settings.
My eyes widened. God, it was sexy, the way he handled my shirt so
effortlessly. The same way he handled me—with assured and skilled hands.
It made me hungry to feel those hands all over me.
It wasn’t lost on me that in this, as in all things, Gage was coming to my
rescue. Whether it was something as big as saving my life or as small as
taking a tank top off of my body, he was my hero.
God. Yes. He was my hero.
He climbed up onto the bed, just on the other side of me, and bent down
to kiss and lick my nipples, taking one at a time in his mouth, swirling and
flicking them with the hard tip of his tongue.
I closed my eyes, did my best to just settle in and enjoy the experience. I
wanted to savor every single second of this night. Every single movement,
every single shared glance, every single touch, every single kiss, every
single sensation. Every single emotion.
 Even if I was only going to get to hold those things in my memory, and
in my heart, for less than a day–if things tomorrow didn't go as we hoped–
then I would hold them as tightly, treasure them as fiercely, as I possibly
could.
Because Gage was my hero. And he deserved to be cherished, to be
honored. It was my privilege to do so—and I was very clear on what a
gigantic privilege that was, too, after having it denied to me for so long.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”
It felt urgent to say it in that moment. Like if I stayed quiet even an
instant longer, the opportunity would be stolen from me, the same way so
many other things had been. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not ever
again. I was taking every chance I was given, now—living life to the
fullest.
Loving Gage to the fullest.
And if tonight was the last time I ever got to do that, well, that would be
tragic. And unfair. But at least I would be able to die knowing that I had
said everything that was in my heart, and so had he.

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I kissed my way down her body , reveling in the creamy , warm feel
of her skin under my lips, and my hands. She was silky and smooth. But it
was more than that. She was solid. Real. And here. With me. That was the
best part of all. That she was here with me.
She hadn't been for so many years, and after tomorrow we might never
be together again. Tonight might be the last time I would ever kiss her like
this, hold her like this, feel her against me.
And I needed it. I needed her. More than air. More than food, or water.
She was mine. I could live on nothing but her sweet kisses, her citrusy
smell, and the feel of her body and her skin against mine.
It wouldn't even be hard. Certainly not as hard as living without her.
The muscles of her belly rippled under my lips. God, her reactions to
me were so immediate, and so strong. It filled me with pride, and it also
made me feel damn lucky. That when Savannah had needed someone or
something to hold onto for all of those years, to love, to keep her sane—she
had chosen me. She had held onto me. She had loved me.
It was an honor. An honor that I had no doubt I was not worthy of. But
an honor that I would fucking work to be worthy of.
W hen I finally reached the sweet vee between her legs , I pushed
her thighs further apart.
God, I couldn’t stop staring at her pussy. It was so beautiful. So delicate,
like a flower. But I knew that it held so much strength and power. Just like
Savannah herself—delicate as a swan on the outside, strong as a bull on the
inside.
I traced my tongue up her seam, and felt her muscles tremble under my
hand, pressed flat against her belly.
I took her completely in my mouth, then, covering her mound and
sucking gently on her clit. It was hard and engorged under my tongue, and I
flicked it a few times with the tip, just like I’d done with her nipples.
She writhed under my mouth’s attention, gasping, moaning, and
whimpering in turn.
Damn. She tasted so good. Her citrusy aroma translated to the sweetness
of her juices, and I drank her in, all of her. I couldn’t imagine anything more
delicious.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, and after only a few moments of my
mouth’s attention, her hips bucked, pushing her even tighter to my mouth. I
sped up the passionate pace of my tongue against the sensitive folds of her
flesh, willing her to come in my mouth.
When she did, the fingers that had been tangled in my hair balled into
fists. I didn’t mind that little bit of pain. Not when I was giving her such
pleasure.
“Oh, Gage…God, Gage! Yes! Yes! Yes, baby, please!”
Her desperate words turned me on even more than I already had been,
and made me proud of myself. I’d made Savannah feel that good. I had
done that. That was something to be proud of.
When her hips stopped bucking, she lifted her head and looked at me
with wild and hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” she gasped. “I need to
taste you. Now.”
With that, she sat up and pushed my shoulder to roll me over. She didn’t
have to push very hard. The thought of her sexy mouth on my cock…fuck,
it did things to me.
When I was settled on my back, she lowered her head and swirled her
tongue around the tip of my dick. The sensation that hit me when her sweet
tongue touched the sensitive head of my cock almost took me out.
 “Fuck, Savannah. Yeah, baby, that’s it,” I encouraged her. “Damn, that
feels good.”
She paused and looked up into my eyes, then, an earnestness on her face
that fucking melted me. “Good, Gage,” she said, her voice intense. “Good. I
want you to feel good. That’s all I want.”
Without waiting for a response, she dipped her head again, taking my
dick in her mouth and sliding it all the way down to the base. She kept it
there, applying gentle suction, and tilted her head a little so that she was
looking right into my eyes.
She lifted her mouth, slowly, her lips firmly locked onto my shaft as she
moved. When she was at the top, she moved back down again, just as
torturously slowly, never breaking eye contact with me for even a second.
She increased the speed of her mouth’s silky strokes as she went, and it
wasn’t long until I knew I was in danger of blowing my load right down the
back of her gulping throat if I wasn’t careful. It felt just that damn amazing.
I sat up, then, and put my hands under her arms, pulling her up to the
top of the bed with me. She giggled and I kissed her. The giggle
disappeared under my lips, and when she pulled back, she was glassy-eyed
and breathless.
“God, Gage,” she whispered. “I can taste myself on your mouth.”
I groaned. That was it. That was all I could take. I had to be inside her.
I reached into the drawer of the bedside table, where I’d stashed a box
of condoms, and had one on me as quick as I could. I grasped her by the
shoulders and flipped her onto her back, rolling with her so that I was on
top of her.
I used my knees to spread her legs apart and positioned myself at her
entrance. I didn’t go inside her, though. Not yet. I leaned down and kissed
her. Sweetly. Softly. I wrapped her up in my arms. And only then did I let
myself push into her.
She arched her back and cried out against my mouth, which only
intensified my pleasure. I went slow. I wanted to draw it out, and her
amazing mouth had already had me on the verge of coming, even before I
was pumping in and out of her.
As I thrust in and out of her, again and again, I brushed her hair back
from her face. Kissed her forehead, kissed her lips, kissed her neck.
Whispered in her ear how much I loved her, and drank in the moans she
gave me in response.
 “God, Savannah, it’s so good,” I gasped, after what seemed like both an
eternity and an instant, simultaneously. “It’s so good.”
She took my face in her hands, looked into my eyes, and smiled. “Come
for me, baby,” she whispered back. “I want you to come.”
I groaned again. Buried my face in her neck. Whether she wanted it or
not—hell, whether I wanted it or not—it was going to happen. And fast. I
couldn’t hold back much longer.
I drew back and looked at her beautiful face. “Where do you want me to
come, sweet girl?”
Her eyes widened. “Where do you want to come?”
I hesitated. I wanted this to be so sweet, so tender, so loving. I didn’t
want to tell her what I really wanted. I didn’t want to make her feel
objectified.
She smirked at me. “Is it my tits, Gage? Do you want to come on my
tits?”
Fuck. She could read me like a book. I was breathing too hard now to
answer, so I just nodded.
The smirk grew into a full-blown smile and she moved her hands to the
sides of her breasts, lifting them and pressing them together. “You should
do that, then, baby,” she breathed. “They’re right here for you. All for you.”
Fuuuuuuuuuck. That put me over the edge. I pulled out of her and
whipped the condom off, emptying myself all over her beautiful breasts.
God, they were always amazing, but they looked even more spectacular
covered in my come.
When I had spilled every last drop onto her, she smiled. “Wow,” she
said. “I think it’s pretty clear what we need to do now.”
“What?’
She winked. “Shower.”
With that, she got up and took my hand, leading me into the bathroom,
turning on the water, and starting us off on round two.

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G age , B ear , and I stood around the kitchen island , staring at the
encrypted satellite phone that Bear had set in the middle of it.
I could feel the tension in the room.
It was no surprise that I would feel tense. After all, Gage was about to
make a call that would start us down the path to either saving my father and
setting me free, or to all of us likely dying by the end of the day.
Not to mention, at that very moment we did have two kidnapped people
secured in various places in the safe house.
So, yeah. All in all, a pretty stressful situation.
But Bear and Gage never hesitated. They were always confident, always
decisive.
I didn't know if I felt comforted not to be alone in my tension, or
freaked the fuck out that the two people who had led us this far—and with
such impressive command presence—were now hesitating.
I mean, obviously, 'freaked the fuck out' was winning that race. No
question.
Gage looked at me and we locked eyes.
That's when I saw it. The root of his hesitation. It wasn't about any
trepidation he felt. He was waiting to see if I was ready.
I wasn't. Clearly. Who could be? But it wasn't like that was going to
change in the next five minutes, or the next five hours. So there was nothing
to do but just dive right in.
I put my hand over his and squeezed, then gave him a small smile and a
little nod.
He searched my eyes deeply. "You're sure?"
I swallowed. I knew I wouldn't be able to speak over the gigantic lump
in my throat—not to mention through the Sahara Desert of dryness that had
suddenly overtaken my mouth—so I settled for repeating the nod.
Apparently that was good enough, though, because he picked up the
phone and punched in the digits he'd memorized from the would-be cabin
assassin's burner phone.
"Here goes," he murmured, putting the phone up to his ear.
"Who the fuck is this, and what makes you think you get to call this
number and live, motherfucker?"
The phone wasn't on speaker but I could hear Barlowe's voice loud and
clear on the other end. Apparently no one had ever told him about the 'speak
softly' part of 'speak softly and carry a big stick.' He thought the phrase was
'shout loudly and be a huge prick.'
It had worked for him pretty well up until now. I could see from the
look on Gage's face that it was about to get a whole lot less effective.
"Mac."
That was all Gage said. But it was enough. As opposed to the bluster
that had come through from Barlowe's end before, now there was only
strained silence.
Gage did the thing that was both hardest and most effective in situations
like this. Nothing. Said nothing, explained nothing. Just waited.
Finally, Barlowe exploded. "Listen to me, you asshole. I don't know
what you're thinking calling this number and saying that name—"
"I have him." Gage cut Barlowe off mid-rant. I admired the tactic.
Saved time and established dominance, all in one fell swoop. Sort of a two
birds, one stone move.
Gage rattled off some of the particulars about the kid. Things that
wouldn't have been in the public record. Things that Mac had let slip when
he was babbling incoherently while Gage and Bear were securing him the
night before.
I felt another stab of guilt at what we were doing to Barlowe’s son, but
again I pushed it down by remembering what Barlowe was doing to my
father. This wasn't for revenge. This was to rescue my father. It was the only
reason that I would have been a part of something like this—and it was a
damn good one.
Silence again, then, "How do I even know he’s still alive?"
His tone could best be described as sullen, at this point. I took that as a
good sign. Gage was wearing him down.
Gage’s jaw tensed. I felt a stab of fear in my gut. I recognized that as
one of his tells, going all the way back to when we were teenagers.
He was losing patience.
I really didn't think that he would do anything rash, though. Not with
the stakes as high as they were.
But I was still nervous.
When Gage spoke, his voice was low and tight. "I tell you what," he
said flatly. "Ask me something that only you and he would know. I'll ask
him and tell you the answer."
I had to give a small smile. It was a clever tactic, not to mention a way
to tweak Barlowe. Gage must've known that there would be nothing like
that. If the kid had no relationship at all with his father—which, by all
outward indications, he didn't—then there wouldn't be any shared
information there. There would be no way to form a question like that.
I wondered how Barlowe would respond, though. Would he explode?
Was what Gage had just done been tantamount to poking the bear?
Shit. Was this something that would end up getting taken out on my
father?
I wondered vaguely, in the back of my mind, if it wouldn't be better for
me to just go back to the bedroom. To sit and wait for Gage to come in and
tell me the result of the conversation, and not to have to suffer through my
heart jumping into my throat at every tiny twist and turn.
But, realistically, I knew that there was no way that was going to
happen. Even if I had wanted to—even if I had thought it was the best idea
in the world—there was simply no way that I would be able to force my
feet to move, to put one in front of the other and make them carry me back
to the room.
I was here for this conversation, for better or worse.
I just hoped to God that it wasn't for worse.
"Fine, God damn it. What the fuck do you want?"
Apparently Barlowe had decided to cut to the chase. The only thing that
I thought I would ever agree with him on.
 "You snatched a cooker off the street about a week ago. I want him, and
I want you to stop coming after him and his daughter. Forget they ever
existed. If you do that, I'll forget your son ever existed. Simple as that."
I was going to throw up. This was the moment of truth.
Of course, Barlowe could always agree to the switch, even if my father
were dead already, with the idea that he would be able to take control of the
situation, get his son back, and kill all of us. And, hell—maybe he would be
able to do that. How could I know?
But, if he spit out that my father was dead, then I would know it was
really over. That the short window of hope I had enjoyed was just a
delusion, and I would be plunged right back into the unbearable grief I had
been trying unsuccessfully to push aside before I found out there was a
chance he might still be alive.
The suspense was almost too much to take. My body literally could not
hold still under the weight of the immense pressure. My hands were
trembling, so were my knees. I wondered vaguely if I would pass out when
I heard whatever words came out of Barlowe’s mouth next.
I hoped not. That would just be a distraction. But I wasn't entirely sure
that I could stop it.
"Fine. Name your terms."
I was so lightheaded with relief at the response that it was hard to
concentrate on the rest of the conversation. After that, it was really just terse
negotiations over where the swap would take place, when, and who would
be there.
Finally, Gage put the phone down and looked at me, then Bear, his face
blank and steely. "It's on," he said. "We've got seven hours to prep. And you
can bet your ass his side is doing the same."
Bear grinned. "Well, then. We'd better get to work."

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E very muscle in my body was tensed and ready for action . H ell ,
every cell.
Barlowe and I had ultimately settled on the middle of a little-trafficked
bridge outside of town as the spot for the exchange. I knew for a fact that it
wasn’t the first dirty deal that had gone down on that bridge, because of all
of the tactical advantages it provided.
It was in the middle of nowhere, so no security cameras. Also, because
of its relatively remote location, the police weren’t going to be doing an
unexpected random drive-by.
Lastly, because of the restricted geography inherent in the lone strip of
asphalt that comprised the bridge, it would be almost impossible for either
side to stage an ambush.
Of course, Barlowe had started off by demanding the exchange go down
at his warehouse.
Yeah, right. That was never going to fucking happen.
I’d suggested a very public courtyard. Just so that nobody could get
ideas.
We’d settled on the bridge.
The truth was, I hadn’t really wanted the public courtyard any more
than Barlowe had ever thought his warehouse was a viable possibility. We’d
probably both wanted the bridge to begin with.
 But that was how those sorts of negotiations went. We both knew the
other party couldn’t agree to the first proposal. We both had to reject
something, to save face. It was a dominance thing.
It might be fucked, but it was a dance we all knew the steps to, so we
followed the choreography.
I sat in the driver’s seat of one cargo van, Savannah in the passenger
seat. The kid was in the back, along with six of Bear’s and my colleagues
who’d been available for a favor on short notice.
Bear was at the wheel of another cargo van, ten more of our friends in
there.
We’d called in every favor we could. Hopefully things would go
smoothly and none of these guys would be necessary. But we obviously
couldn’t count on that.
The one thing I felt pretty good about was the relative disparity in skill
level, judging by the jokers Barlowe had sent to follow my parents to the
cabin.
Of course, we couldn’t count on the fact that those three were
representative of the entire organization, but it wasn’t a bad bet. And the
idea that Barlowe had staffed up in the past three days after his lackeys’
grisly failure…well, that just wasn’t how these guys operated. It wasn’t
how they thought.
He might be pissed at me for besting him. He might even be pissed at
the dead guys for letting me get the drop on him. But he would never view
it as an organizational failure. His ego would never allow that.
And Bear and I had called in the best of the best from our contacts.
Guys we had been in tight situations with. We’d saved their asses before,
and they’d saved ours.
And these were highly skilled individuals. Former SWAT team leaders,
former members of elite military units. Not anyone you’d want to fuck
with.
Barlowe’s guys were flies. Ours were the flyswatters.
Even still. Rule number one. Never let your guard down.
Overconfidence kills. I was poised and ready to strike.
The only problem was that Barlowe wasn’t here yet.
He wasn’t very late. Only ten minutes so far.
It was likely just a dick power move. To show that he was the one in
charge, and set our nerves on edge.
 I wasn’t worried about anything more than that. There was certainly
nothing dramatic like explosives on the bridge piling, the whole thing
rigged to go down at the press of a button. As soon as we’d formed the
team, we’d sent two of the best guys out to ensure that nothing like that was
in place, and keep watch to see if any of Barlowe’s guys did show up during
the day to try to cause trouble.
No one had.
I could tell that Savannah was getting antsy, though. She was fidgeting
in her seat, gnawing on her lip.
I wanted to talk to her, to calm her, but now wasn’t the time. I needed to
keep my head in the game, and so did the six guys in the back. A heart to
heart with Savannah would only be a distraction.
“We’ve got movement,” came Bear’s voice, scratchy over the frequency
of the walkie-talkie.
Because of the angle his van was stopped at, he could see the headlights
rounding the bend up ahead a second or two before Savannah and I could.
She let out a huge sigh of relief, but there was still a tension in her
shoulders that I knew wouldn’t disappear until she saw her father again,
alive and well.
Hell, the tension in my shoulders wasn’t going anywhere until I got the
two of them out of here, safe and sound, with an agreement in place with
Barlowe that he’d stop coming after them.
Three dark-colored sedans pulled to a stop facing us. Barlowe and his
men piled out. I paid attention to their body language, to where their
weapons were placed, to where their eyes darted.
I felt a small measure of relief. These were not professionally trained
operatives. They were “tough guys.” Who, in the face of actual tough guys,
would turn out not to be so tough.
Obviously, I had no intention of abandoning my personal credo of never
letting my guard down. But I felt a little better.
One of Barlowe’s men pulled open the back door of the middle sedan
and roughly dragged a figure out.
My eyes widened when I recognized him—which hadn’t happened
immediately. It was Savannah’s father, all right, but he looked like a frail
old man.
“Oh my God,” Savannah groaned. “What did they do to him?”
 It was true, he looked worse for wear. His skin was sallow, his cheeks
sunken. He had a cut on his lip that hadn’t healed, and a bruise above his
right eye.
I wrapped her forearm in my hand to steady her. The last thing I needed
was for her to get fired up and go rushing out of the van. No sudden
movements. There was too much adrenaline on Barlowe’s side of the line,
and that was a bad combination with ‘heavily armed.’
“Savannah,” I murmured urgently under my breath. “He’s alive. And if
you want him to stay that way, you’ll let me take the lead.”
She dug her fingernails into her thighs. Maybe using the sensation to try
to center herself. She took a deep breath and nodded. “I trust you, Gage.
You know I trust you. But…”
She trailed off, my gut clenched wondering what the ‘but’ would be.
“Bring my father back to me alive. Please, Gage. Whatever else
happens. Bring him back alive.”
I nodded.
Fuck, I had no idea if that were going to be possible or not. But I didn’t
feel like the nod was a lie. Because I was going to fulfil that promise, or die
trying.

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M y gut twisted as I stepped out of the van and stood behind the
open door of the passenger side. The cool night air hit me in the face like a
cup of ice water and I realized how hot my face was. Damn. My blood
pressure had to be through the roof.
It did make me feel a lot better to see Gage and Bear, not to mention the
entire crew they’d been able to put together on short notice, pile out of the
vans, as well.
Gage hadn’t wanted me to get out at all. He’d wanted me to stay put in
the passenger seat through the entire exchange, protected behind the bullet-
proof windshield that Bear had the van outfitted with.
I’d convinced him, though, that I would be just as protected standing
behind the open passenger door, which Bear had also retrofitted to be able
to stop all but the rarest armor piercing bullets.
And the advantage of me being on the ground just outside the cab would
be that, when my father came over to the open door, I would be able to
hustle him into the cab and climb in after him, helping him to slide over to
the middle of the bench seat that Bear had also had installed.
I had to smile just a little thinking about it. It was almost like he handled
situations like this for a living.
The fact that Gage was so amazingly capable, and the fact that he had
people on his team like Bear, who were clearly also incredibly capable,
made me feel a little better.
Just a little, though. I wouldn’t feel entirely better until we were driving
away. With my father.
“I brought the old man,” Barlowe yelled. “Where’s my kid?”
Gage looked back at one of the black-clad men and nodded. The man
circled around to the back of the cargo area and returned a moment later,
leading Mac by the arm.
Mac looked over at me, sullen. “Knew it was too good to be true,” he
grumbled.
“Send the kid over,” Barlowe ordered, but Gage shook his head.
“Nope. Not how this works. We’re gonna arrive at some terms first.”
Barlowe sneered. “What the fuck gives you the right to dictate terms?”
Gage didn’t answer, just pulled out his gun and pointed it at Mac’s head.
The kid’s eyes widened, and so did mine. We’d never discussed this. It
was improvised. Fuck. I hoped to hell that Gage knew what he was doing.
Which was a freaking ridiculous thought…of course he did. But, I
couldn’t help it. Looking at Mac’s frantic eyes, it was impossible not to feel
sorry for him.
“Fuck! God damn it, you motherfucking asshole. Give me your God
damn terms. Just point that thing away from the kid.”
I grimaced. “The” kid. Not even “my” kid. Damn. No wonder Mac had
issues.
Gage lowered his weapon, but kept it at the ready. “The terms are
simple. The cook and his daughter are off limits. Non-negotiable. You
forget they exist, I forget your son exists.”
Barlowe’s eyes narrowed. “And how do I know I can trust you?”
Gage had predicted he would say something like that. The fact that he’d
had such a good handle on what would probably happen that he’d predicted
most of it so far—gun to Mac’s head notwithstanding—was comforting.
Gage had explained that Barlowe would know that he himself could not
be trusted to hold up his end of the deal, and so he would question whether
Gage would, either. And this would be his chance to show Barlowe the lay
of the land.
“You don’t. But you do know that it took you twelve years of searching
to find who you were looking for. I found your son inside a week. And you
do know that if I can get to him, I can get to anybody you care about, even
with only a few hours’ notice. And you do know that I took out three of
your guys without breaking a sweat.
“And what you might not know, but I’m telling you now, is that if
anything—anything—happens to Savannah or her father, I will make it my
life’s mission to destroy yours. I will kill everything and everyone you love,
in front of you, piece by piece. And only when you’ve suffered through all
of that will I show you the mercy of putting a bullet in your brain.
“And in case you’re getting any bright ideas about killing me…well,
let’s just say this was the crew I was able to put together with two hours’
notice. Any of them would do the same for me as what I just described.”
With that, all sixteen men, plus Bear, lifted their weapons and pointed
them at Barlowe.
Not Barlowe’s side of the bridge. Not at Barlowe and his crew in
general. At Barlowe, specifically.
If that was obvious to me from my vantage point, I could only imagine
what it looked like to him, staring down the barrels of all those guns.
His face lost color, but his voice still maintained all of its bravado when
he said, “Fuck it. The old man was useless anyway. Fuckin’ rotting away
with dementia or some shit. What do I care?”
Wait…what? My father didn’t have dementia. I had no idea what he was
talking about.
One thing I did recognize, though, was the sincerity in his voice,
beneath the bluster. He’d done the mental calculations, and the risk-benefit
analysis didn’t come down in favor of continuing to come after us.
From his perspective, he had nothing to gain but hollow revenge, and he
ran the risk—the very high risk—of losing everything. Including his life.
It wasn’t worth it. It would never be worth it.
Fuck. Were we really almost clear of this thing? Finally? And forever?
It felt too good to be true, so I tamped down the feelings of relief. When
we were really safe, meaning out of the range of Barlowe’s men’s guns,
then I would breathe again. Not until then.
Barlowe looked back at his man, the one that was holding my father,
and nodded. The man pushed my father roughly, and he stumbled forward.
It took everything inside me not to rush forward to help him, but Gage
had made me swear on everything I held dear that I would stay behind that
door, and so I did. I would never promise something to Gage and then not
follow through. That just wasn’t in me.
 My hand unconsciously lifted to my chest, my fingertips pressing to the
place on the side of my breast where Gage’s words were indelibly inked
into my flesh. ‘I love you.’
God, I loved him, too.
He was saving me. He was saving my father. But it was more than that.
He was saving us. Our chance for a life together.
He was truly my hero.
When my father reached me, I gave him a quick hug, but rushed to
hustle him into the cab of the van. As soon as the guys piled in, I wanted us
to be ready to go.
The minute my father reached me, Gage nodded at the guy holding
Mac’s arm, and he gave Mac a shove, sending him to cross the divide to his
father.
“You got what you came for,” Barlowe sneered. “Drive away. And you
better hope I never see your face again.”
Gage’s reply was steely. “You first.”
Barlowe’s eyes narrowed, but after about ten seconds of silent standoff,
he gestured to his men, and they turned to get back in their cars. And ten
seconds after that, they had pulled out and were gone.
Gage climbed into the driver’s seat. Noises coming from the back told
me that the rest of the crew was piling in.
A few seconds after that, we were gone, too, heading through the night
back to Bear’s safe house. And safety.

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 58

G age

“I can ’ t quite believe this ,” S avannah ’ s father murmured quietly ,

as if to himself. “Is this really real?”
“It is, Dad. I promise,” Savannah assured him for about the thousandth
time.
She was tucking him into a warm, safe bed at Bear’s, and he was still
having trouble wrapping his mind around his sudden change of fortune.
His eyes locked onto her. “I only cared that you were okay. That you got
away,” he said, emotion choking him up so that he could barely get through
the end of the sentence.
Savannah leaned down and hugged him. “I know, Dad,” she whispered.
“I know. You sacrificed yourself. Or thought you were. To give me enough
time to run. I know that.”
He nodded and hugged her back, although I couldn’t imagine he could
exert much pressure with as frail as his arms looked.
“And then I pretended to be a little off my rocker. I knew they’d kill me
the minute I gave them the formula. But I never imagined that you’d find
me. I wouldn’t let myself. Thank you, Savvy. Thank you so much.”
Savannah pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Just sleep now, okay? That’s
what you really need. Rest.”
He nodded and turned over, and we left the room, dimming the lights on
our way out.
 I took her hand in mine as we moved down the hall toward our
bedroom.
Our bedroom.
That was a new concept, and one I could definitely get used to. Now
that Savannah and I were together again, neither one of us was ever going
to sleep alone another night in our lives. Not if I could help it.
When we’d closed the door behind us, I took her in my arms. “How do
you feel?”
She laughed, and I realized that it was an absurd question. She must be
feeling every single emotion in existence, mixed together like a cocktail.
Shaken and stirred.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, after her laughing jag was over. “I would
have never guessed that would be one of the hardest questions in the world
to answer.”
I held her, stroked her hair, and she leaned against me. Actually, melted
into me was more like it.
Aside from her father, we were alone in the safe house. Bear had taken
Woodward to get his go kit and put his ass on a plane. He’d insisted he
could handle it alone, and so I thought Woodward might be in for a pretty
good ass kicking before boarding, if I knew Bear.
Savannah looked up into my eyes. “Do you really think it’s over, Gage?
Do you really think we’re safe?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. We’ll always be watching.
Barlowe’s an enemy. You don’t turn your back on enemies.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in my chest. I held her
close, thinking that she was upset—maybe even heartbroken—at the idea of
always looking over our shoulders, even just a little.
But when she looked up into my face again, she was smiling through
her tears, and she laid a hand on my cheek and whispered, “Thank you.
Thank you for that.”
“For what?”
“For turning him into just an enemy. Believe me, having an enemy is
very different than being hunted. Being prey. They’re not even in the same
realm.”
My heart tightened in my chest. Like prey being hunted down by a
predator—that was how my girl had felt for twelve years. Of course she
had. Because it was true. It took my breath away, the sheer terror and
anguish she must have felt. And yet she still managed to live, to laugh…and
to love. To love me.
It was stunning. She was stunning.
Like they did so many times, words failed me. There was so much in
my heart, so much I wanted her to know. But expressing those feelings with
words felt impossible. Showing her how I felt was so much more natural.
I bent and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her gently, like she might
break. Which was ridiculous. She was the toughest person I’d ever known.
But in my eyes, in my arms, she was delicate. A delicate, precious
treasure that I would never fucking take for granted.
My heart was pounding fiercely as I pulled back and looked into her
eyes. “Fuck. I wish I could take everything in my heart and just give it to
you so you could feel it. Like a scratch n’ sniff for emotions. Then I
wouldn’t have to try to explain it. Because I don’t think I can.”
Her eyes widened and she stared up at me for a moment without saying
anything. So long, in fact, that I thought maybe I’d said something wrong.
Suddenly, though, she burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God,” she choked
out between breaths. “A scratch n’ sniff for emotions. That’s the best thing
I’ve ever heard!”
I shook my head, a tiny smile touching my lips. At least I could make
her laugh. Even if it was at my expense. I didn’t care. I just wanted her
happy.
As her laughter died down, she looked at me, pressed her hands to my
chest, then moved them to my face. “Gage,” she breathed, her voice so rich
with intense emotion it took my breath away. “I don’t need sweet words.
They’re nice, but not necessary. All I need is you. All I’ve ever needed is
you.”
I pulled her tighter, even more determined now to never let her go.
“Then you’ll always have everything you need,” I said, so full of love
for her I thought my heart might explode right then and there. “You’ll
always have me. No matter what. That’s a promise, my sweet girl. Because
all I need is you.”

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 EPILOGUE

S avannah – O ne Y ear L ater

“O h , honey , don ’ t you just look pretty as a picture .”

I turned around and smiled at Gage’s mother, standing in the door of my
bridal suite as I adjusted my veil. Tears were shimmering in her eyes. “Oh,
no! Mrs. Crawford, don’t cry! You’ll make me cry, and I can’t ruin my
make-up!”
She flapped her hands in front of her face and then ran her fingers
gently underneath her eyes, so as not to disturb her mascara. “You’re right. I
know you’re right. And that goes for me, too. Even though I used the
nuclear strength waterproof variety of mascara, I don’t know how well it’s
going to hold up against all of the crying I’m sure I’m going to do today.”
I smiled, and it was from pure happiness that reached the depths of my
soul.
Today was my wedding day. Today was the day that Gage and I were
going to pledge our love to each other, make a commitment that would last
forever.
Today was the day I had been dreaming of since I’d met a cute boy who
gave me his pen in ninth grade homeroom. Today was the day that my name
was going to officially become what I had scribbled on countless notebooks
in high school. Mrs. Savannah Crawford.
Gage and Savannah Crawford.
 Yeah. That had more than a nice ring to it. It sounded like it had always
been meant to be.
She came over to me and wrapped me in a gentle hug, careful not to
wrinkle my dress. “Sweetie, do you remember what I said to you, right
before we left the cabin?”
I nodded, too choked up to speak.
“Well, I’m gonna tell you the same thing now. You take good care of
him, honey. And you let him take good care of you. That’s all he’s ever
wanted to do.”
I pulled back and dabbed at my own eyes. “I said you weren’t supposed
to make me cry,” I said, a laugh bubbling up in my chest.
She smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Well, I don’t think it’ll
matter. There’s somebody else here to see you. And I have a feeling you
might shed a few tears. A few small, delicate tears that would never dream
of destroying your make-up!” she hastened to add when she saw the
horrified expression on my face.
I looked past her and saw that my father was standing in the doorway of
the bridal suite. My heart beat a little faster. It did every time I saw him
now. One day, maybe I could look at him without a little rush of adrenaline,
remembering how devastated I had been during those dark days when I had
thought he was dead, and the immense relief and elation I’d felt when I got
him back, alive and well.
Maybe. Someday. But it had been a year, and it still hadn’t happened, so
I wasn’t exactly hopeful.
Marjorie gave my hand one last squeeze and stepped out, heading down
the hall of the small church to find her seat in the sanctuary.
I crossed the room to my father. He took both of my hands in his and
held them out to my sides, looking me up and down.
Then he got tears in his eyes. It was like an epidemic of emotion. He
shook his head, apparently thinking that would keep the feelings at bay.
Judging by how thick his voice was when he spoke, I didn’t think it worked.
“My baby girl. You’re all grown up.”
I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“He’s a good man, Gage. He’ll take good care of you.”
Thinking of Gage’s mother’s words, I replied, “I’ll take good care of
him, too.”
 My father smiled, a bittersweet look in his eye. “I wish your mother
could be here to see this. But I know she’s looking down on you. So proud.
Not just today, either. Every day. I know she’s proud of you every single
day. Because I am.”
Holy crap, what was it with people and waiting until my make-up was
on to try to make me cry ugly tears? It was almost working, too.
I opened my mouth to respond but just closed it again. I knew I
wouldn’t be able to speak with the way my throat was tight with unshed
tears.
My father must have gotten the message, though, because he just
smiled, then turned to stand next to me and tucked my hand into the crook
of his arm. “Okay, baby girl. It’s time.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. It was time to go to the altar and make
it official that I would belong to Gage forever, and he would belong to me.
Of course, that was only in the eyes of the world, and the law. In my heart,
that had been true since I was fourteen.
My father and I walked to the doors that led from the foyer to the
sanctuary and waited for the music cue that would let us know it was time
to make our entrance—the opening strains of, “Here Comes the Bride.”
When those iconic chords sounded throughout the small building, I
looked at my father, and he looked at me. I nodded at him, and he nodded
back.
And then he was walking me down the aisle. And Gage was waiting for
me, at the altar. His eyes widened when he saw me and a flush of pride
washed over me. He had a certain look he gave me sometimes. One that
said he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that I was there, and I was his. I
recognized it because I gave him that look, too. And every time he turned it
on me, it filled me with the most intense sense of pleasure, and pride…and
just plain rightness. Now was no exception.
Even though I was almost entirely focused on Gage, there was still part
of me that noticed the friends and family that were in attendance.
It was a small group. We still made it a practice to stay pretty low-key.
But everyone important to us was there. Gage’s parents, and his
grandmother. My father, of course. Bear. And even Crypt had made an
appearance, looking even grumpier than normal as he fidgeted with his tie
and collar.
 When my father and I got to the head of the aisle, the music died down
and the pastor asked my father, “Who gives this woman to be married to
this man?”
My father stood up a little straighter, I noticed, and his chest puffed out
a little bit. “With the whole-hearted support of both her mother in heaven
and me, she gives herself freely.”
My head snapped around in surprise. We hadn’t even discussed that.
He’d just known that I would love it.
For the thousandth time that day, my heart filled with love and gratitude
for my life. It would’ve been easy to focus on all I’d lost over those twelve
long years in WITSEC. But somehow I never did. I was just too damn
grateful for all I’d gotten back.
I stepped up next to Gage, and the pastor announced that we had written
our own vows. I took a deep breath. I only hoped that I would remember
what I had planned to say.
If not, though, I supposed it didn’t really matter. I could just speak from
the heart. That was always easy when Gage was around.
“Gage,” I began, my voice trembling with the force of my emotions.
“You are my rock. My heart, my soul. My only love. I thank God every day
for giving me you, the rarest and most precious gift I could have ever
received. You saved my life only a year ago. But, really, you saved it long
before then. In a too-crowded classroom, just after second bell on the first
day of freshman year.
“There’s a movie we both love. Say Anything. In that movie, Lloyd
Dobler gets a break-up gift from Diane Court. A pen. And he says, ‘I gave
her my heart, and she gave me a pen.’
“Well, the opposite thing happened to me. You gave me a pen, and I
gave you my heart. Right then and there, in homeroom. And I never got it
back. And I never want to. I only want to spend the rest of our lives together
learning how to give you a little bit more of it every day.
“I love you, Gage Crawford. I always have. And I always will.”
Phew. I’d made it through without crying.
Which was more than I could say for Gage’s mother, who I could see
openly weeping out of the corner of my eye.
Which was more, actually, than I could say for Gage himself. His
always-stony face, unreadable to most people but never to me, was soft
with tenderness. And, yeah. There were tears shining in his eyes.
 He took a deep breath, and then took my hands in his.
His voice was deep and raspy when he said, “My Savannah. My heart.
My angel. My girl.
“You have no idea how grateful I am that the Universe brought you to
me, fifteen years ago in homeroom. What would my life be like if that had
never happened? I don’t even like to think about it.
“You are everything to me. You know I will always be there for you.
Never doubt that. If you need me, I am right there. Because you are
everything to me, and I would give you anything, and do anything for you,
to show you that’s true.
“I love you.”
I froze, not able to move, or breathe.
I recognized those words. They were from the card he had given me on
my sixteenth birthday. The one I’d thought was lost forever, except for the
one tiny piece I’d torn out.
But while the card may have been lost, the words weren’t. And they
were all that mattered.
It seemed like everyone I’d talked to that day had been trying to get me
to cry. No one had succeeded. Not until now. My lip trembled and two fat
tears rolled down my cheeks, probably taking streaks of mascara with them.
I didn’t care.
Everyone else in the room would just think that I’d gotten emotional
because Gage had spoken beautiful words to me. They would have no idea
the true significance of his speech. And I liked it that way. It was just for us.
Special.
Gage took my face in his hands, gently wiped away my tears with his
thumbs. Then, before the pastor could even give us the go-ahead, he leaned
down and kissed me.
The rest of the day—reception, dancing, wedding cake…all the normal
festivities, just done on a smaller scale—passed in a blur of emotion and
activity. I didn’t really come to my senses again until Gage and I were back
at home that night, alone at last, changed into our comfortable clothes, and
dancing in the kitchen to music that he had put on from his iPhone,
streaming through our Bluetooth speaker. All the sweetest, most heartfelt
love songs. I realized he must’ve made a playlist and sighed contentedly.
He really thought of everything. He always took the most amazing care of
me.
 As James Morrison’s “Precious Love” played softly through the
speaker, he kissed me gently on the lips and said, “I have a surprise for
you.”
I glanced down to where his jeans were bulging, a playful smirk on my
face. “Baby, while it might be impressive, it’s hardly a surprise.”
He shook his head, that little almost-a-smile-but-not-quite thing he did
crossing his lips. “Not that. Another one.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Does this have to do with where you disappeared
to this morning, Mr. Mysterious?”
He nodded.
I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. “Well? What is it?”
“You’ll find out.”
I swatted at his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”
He glanced down, then, at his bulging jeans and said, “He begs to
differ.”
I burst out laughing and then turned and ran up the stairs, knowing he
would chase me.
This was why I’d wanted to stay here tonight, at our home. Gage’s
parents had offered to pay for us to stay in the elegant honeymoon suite at
the swankiest hotel in town, as a wedding gift, before we left on our
honeymoon the next day. They had said it would be special.
But, to me, our home was special. It was where we made our life. It was
the thing that had been denied to me for too many years, the chance to make
a home with Gage. Now that I had it, I wanted to enjoy it. Especially when
the occasion was special.
Gage caught up with me in our bedroom, snatching me around the waist
and picking me up while I laughed and squirmed. He lowered me down
onto our bed, and then I wasn’t laughing anymore. The energy had shifted
dramatically, and suddenly.
He kissed me passionately and we tore at each other’s clothes, desperate
to get them off. Desperate to be naked together, to have nothing between us,
no barrier. To be as close to each other as two human beings could be.
When I pulled his T-shirt off over his head, that was when I saw it.
I reached out and ran my fingers over it, disbelieving. Already I could
feel tears welling in my eyes.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Is that the surprise?”
He nodded. “Do you like it?”
 The tears escaped, rolling down my face with abandon. “I love it. Oh,
Gage. I love it so much.”
There, on his chest in roughly the same position as the words that were
inked into my skin on my breast, was a tattoo. It said, “I love you.” And it
was in my handwriting.
He ran his fingers through my hair. “I do, you know. Love you.”
I looked up at him. “I know. And I love you, too. And I don’t ever want
to have to be apart from you again.”
He leaned forward and kissed me, then drew back and looked into my
eyes. “Oh, my girl. My sweet girl. That’s something you will never have to
worry about. Because I don’t care what happens. I don’t care what tries to
come between us. Floods, tornadoes, pestilence…gangsters, or the federal
government. I am never going to let you go. Never. Never again. That’s a
promise.”
I knew that a promise from Gage was as strong as steel, and I was glad.
Because him keeping that promise was all I wanted in life. To be with him
forever. To have him never let me go. Because I was never going to let him
go, either.

T he E nd

OceanofPDF.com
 Excerpt: Panty Dropper
Available Now

Billy

The coffee grounds whooshed into the bottom of the white filter as I tipped
the scoop. I pushed the tray in and set the pot to brew while I did my best
not to read too much into the feelings I was having about Reagan being in
my home. It felt...right. It felt totally natural coming home with her,
working together to get my sister settled and then coming to the kitchen for
a cup of coffee.
And that was unnatural as hell.
People might find it hard to believe, given my reputation and my
nickname, but I rarely had women in my home. It’s not that it never
happened, but I did my best to avoid it.
My home was a sacred place to me. It was my domain. It was personal.
Intimate. On the rare occasions that I did have female company, I tried to
limit the time we spent here. No woman had ever spent the night in my bed.
I prided myself on never leading someone on. The women I slept with knew
what they were getting.
No strings. No commitment. No overnights.
And just like some clubs had a two drink minimum, I had a two fuck
maximum. Anything more than that and the waters started getting murky.
I stood, listening to the bubbling water as my pulse raced, fueled by
anxiety that I haven’t felt since I was a freshman in high school and Lana
Swanson, who was a senior and head cheerleader, asked me to the Sadie
Hawkins dance. It was the one and only time I’d ever been nervous around
the opposite sex. And it was the night I’d lost my virginity.
It hit me then, why I felt like I was jumping out of my skin. The same
rules I’d lived my entire life by didn’t apply to Reagan. Tonight, I was a
virgin, of sorts.
I wanted more with Reagan. I wanted murky. I wanted strings,
commitments, and I sure as hell wanted overnights. It was damn unnerving.
The cabinet creaked as I pulled it open and grabbed two mugs from the
second shelf.
With a quick glance over my shoulder I asked, “How do you like it?”
The only light in the room came from the tiny bulb above the stovetop. I
hadn’t flipped on the overhead light so as not to disturb Cheyenne, not that
anything would’ve.
But even in the dimly lit atmosphere I could clearly see the blush that
rose on Reagan’s cheeks and I would’ve bet my last dollar that her mind
had turned my innocent question into one with sexual undertones. It was the
same look she’d had when I’d said safety first. That one I’d meant as a
double entendre, this one was accidental.
“Um, sugar and cream if you got it.”
I grinned. “Oh, I’ve got cream.” That one was intentional, too.
Her face lit with a deeper pink hue and I knew she’d clearly understood
the double meaning. Just knowing that was where her mind was going sent
all sorts of signals to my brain that I tried to ignore. It didn’t work.
When I turned back to the counter to pour her cup, my rock-hard shaft
knocked against the drawer pull and I held in a moan. Reaching down I
adjusted myself and became painfully aware of the zipper restraining my
thickening cock.
My body was not happy about me offering coffee instead of picking
Reagan up, tossing her over my shoulder, and carrying her upstairs. That
was the vibe I’d been getting from her, but I’d ignored it because I didn’t
want her to jump into my bed due to loosened inhibitions caused by the
three Jack and Cokes she’d downed at the bar.
I knew she wasn’t drunk. But if we were going to do this tonight, I
didn’t want it to be something she regretted in the morning. If we were
going to do this, I wanted her stone cold sober.
Hey, who said chivalry was dead? Unfortunately, I was being punished
for my good deed by way of blue balls.
I’d just finished sprinkling a teaspoon of sugar in Reagan’s cup and was
taking it to her when a loud snore came from the front room.
“She is out for the count.” Reagan’s wide smile beamed up at me as I
handed her the mug of steaming java.
My heart constricted as I gazed down at her. The dark outline that I’d
seen around the rim of her lashes at the beginning of the night had worn off
and the effect left her eyes looking larger and more inviting. The dark red
lipstick that had been like a siren call to every man in the bar had faded,
leaving a cranberry stain on her full, plump lips. And sometime during the
night she’d pulled the hair that had framed her face when she’d come into
the bar up in a loose pile on top of her head, exposing the seductive curve of
her bare neck.
I was absolutely mesmerized by this woman.
The first time I’d laid eyes on her, she was sitting at the head of the
conference table and I’d been stunned by how drop dead gorgeous she was.
The next time I saw her, when she’d walked into the bar, I was rendered
speechless by her effortless grace and allure. And now, sitting at my kitchen
table, she stole my breath away with the undeniable natural beauty and raw
vulnerability she possessed. I was starting to think she was my kryptonite.
Unable to stop myself from touching her, I brushed a stray strand of hair
off of her cheek, and the pad of my thumb ran along her jawline. Her skin
was silky smooth. She shuddered beneath my touch.
“God, you are so beautiful.”
Her eyes dipped and I dropped my hand to my side before lowering
down in the chair catty-corner to her. I chose that one instead of the one
across from her because I wanted to be as close as possible to her. She had a
magnetic aura about her that every fiber of my being was drawn to.
She cleared her throat and ran her hand through her hair before looking
back up. I watched as she licked her lips. My joystick jumped at the sight of
her pink tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth. I imagined what it
would feel like, her tongue circling the tip of my dick or running along my
shaft as I pumped my cock in and out of her mouth.
“Thank you, but...” A small grin lifted on her mouth as she reached up
and touched the side of her hair where stray hairs fell down to her neck.
“I’m a hot mess.”
“Then hot mess looks damn good on you.”
She let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you think so, that’s nice.”
“Darlin’.” My throat was tight causing a deep rasp in my voice. I
pushed the words out and they sounded as if they’d been filtered through
sandpaper. “There’s nothin’ nice about what I’m thinkin’.”
Her breath caught and her eyes widened. Every cell in my body was
screaming for me to reach across the table and pull her to me, thread my
fingers in her hair and claim her in a soul-bending kiss. I wanted to kiss her
until she didn’t remember her name and I knew that I could do just that.
The attraction between us was real, it was palpable, it was combustible.
One touch of our lips and we’d go up in flames. But before that happened, I
wanted to stoke that flame. I didn’t want to burn out, I wanted to build this
up so the heat lasted.
If it were any other woman sitting in front of me, I’d act on my primal
impulses. But something inside of me told me that Reagan was different,
and if I had a shot of showing her that, I needed to do things differently.
We sat staring at one another and the energy between us was thick with
anticipation.
Another loud snore popped the bubble of intimacy that had formed
around us. Reagan let out a tiny giggle as she sipped her coffee before
setting it down. “Poor thing. I think tonight was a lot for her.” She tucked
her hair behind her ear.
“Did people give her a hard time?” My brotherly instincts might’ve
been dormant for twenty years, but they were back with a vengeance now.
“No.” Reagan shook her head and a stray strand of hair fell over her
forehead. “Everyone was really sweet and welcoming. They told her how
happy they were that she was home and a lot of them commented that she
looked exactly like your mom.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too.”
“Does she?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in a way that was
equally adorable and sexy. The curious look on her face was so open and
vulnerable, and the smooth skin on her exposed neck was like a beacon
calling me to mark it.
I cleared my throat as I tried to resist all of the vampire-inspired
fantasies that were running through my brain. “I think she does. My
memories are a little fuzzy,” I admitted before taking a drink of caffeine I
probably didn’t need to be putting into my bloodstream considering how
amped up I was already feeling.
When I set it back down I noticed the concern brimming in Reagan’s
deep blue eyes. She set her cup down and leaned forward. “How are you
doing with...everything?”
Since Pop had passed, a lot of people had asked me that question. My
responses had been automatic, I’m fine. I hadn’t put any real thought into it.
But with Reagan, I didn’t do that. With Reagan I answered honestly. “Today
hit me kinda hard.”
“Were you close to your dad?”
“No.” A smirk pulled at my lips. “Since I wasn’t a bottle he really didn’t
have much use for me or my brothers. But I don’t know...somethin’ about
the finality of the will,” I lowered my voice, “and Cheyenne coming back, it
really sunk in that he’s gone.”
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?” I shook my head. “Because I thought I was prepared for this.
I mean, to be honest, I thought I’d be relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to
worry about getting a call that he drove his truck off the side of the road and
hurt himself, or worse, hurt someone else. Relieved that I didn’t have to
worry about making sure he really took his medication and wasn’t lying
about it, or worse, selling it on the side. Relieved that I didn’t have to worry
about him taking money out of the safe or till to use for poker, or about him
and his friends drinking our inventory dry.” I leaned back in my chair,
letting out a slow exhale as I ran my fingers through my hair. “But I’m not.
I’m not relieved he’s gone.”
A sad smile lifted on her lips and she tilted her head to the side as her
shoulders lifted in a shrug. “People don’t have to be perfect for you to love
them.”
Her words shot a cupid’s arrow straight into my chest. Her
understanding and support was indescribable. It wrapped around me like a
hot towel after an ice bath, thawing out my frozen heart.
All my life, people had judged me, my brothers, and my old man. But
there was none of that in Reagan’s stare. I’d just told her that Pop was a
lying, thieving, alcoholic drug dealer and she hadn’t batted an eye. Maybe it
was because she was an outsider, or maybe it was because she was a
genuinely decent human being. I couldn’t be sure. Normally I trusted my
instincts, but I feared that I couldn’t do that with Reagan. She’d short-
circuited all my wires, why else would I be hearing wedding bells and
picturing her walking toward me in a white dress and veil every time I
looked at her?
I grinned, trying to mask the depth of emotion she’d exposed in me.
“But I don’t want to think about all that. Tell me about you.” I wanted, no
needed, to get to know her more than I’d ever wanted or needed anything.
In the short time she’d been in my life, I’d become consumed with the dark-
haired, blue-eyed beauty sitting at my kitchen table. “What’s your story?”

Don’t miss Billy & Reagan’s Story – Available Here

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ALSO BY MELANIE SHAWN

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The Whisper Lake Series

Return To You - Book 1

Always Been You - Book 2

Let Me Love You - Book 3

Made For You - Book 4

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The Southern Comfort Series

Panty Dropper - Book 1

Sex on the Beach - Book 2

Between The Sheets - Book 3

Afternoon Delight - Book 4

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The Crossroads Series

My First - Book 1

My Last - Book 2
 My Only - Book 3

My Everything - Book 4
Tempting Love - Book 5

Crazy Love - Book 6

Actually Love - Book 7

Fairytale Love - Book 8

 My Love - Book 8.5

All He Wants - Book 9

All He Needs - Book 10

All He Feels - Book 11

All He Desires - Book 12

Just One Look - Book 13

Just One Kiss - Book 14

Just One Look - Book 15

Just One Touch - Book 16

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The Wishing Well Series

Teasing Destiny - Book 1

Convincing Cara - Book 2

Discovering Harmony - Book 3

Taming Travis - Book 4

Claiming Colton - Book 5

Trusting Bryson - Book 6

Seducing Sawyer - Book 7

Unwrapping Jade - Book 8

Borrowing Bentley - Book 9

Loving Jackson - Book 10

Educating Holden - Book 11

Kissing Beau - Book 12

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The Hope Falls Series

Sweet Reunion - Book 1

Sweet Harmonies - Book 2

 Sweet Victory - Book 3

Home Sweet Home - Book 4

Snow Angel - Book 5

Snow Days - Book 6

Snowed In - Book 7

Let It Snow - Book 8

Perfect Kiss - Book 9

Secret Kiss - Book 10

Magic Kiss - Book 11

Lucky Kiss - Book 12

 Fire and Love - Book 13

Fire and Foreplay - Book 14

 Fire and Romance - Book 15

Fire and Temptation - - Book 16

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The Valentine Bay Series

Protecting My Heart- Book 1

Rescuing His Heart - Book 2

Rocking Her Heart - Book 3

Playing By Heart - Book 4

Unbreak My Heart - Book 5

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The Steamy Weekends Series

Charming Cupid - Book 1

Seducing Cinderella- Book 2

Resisting Romeo - Book 3

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Someday Series

Someday Girl- Book 1

One Day His- Book 2

 Forever Us- Book 3

Chasing Perfect - Book 4

Embracing Reckless - Book 5

Book Boyfriend - Book 6

 Meet Cute - Book 7

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 About the Author

Melanie Shawn is the writing team of sister duo Melanie and Shawna. Originally from Northern
California, they both migrated south and now call So Cal their home.
Growing up, Melanie constantly had her head in a book and was always working on short stories,
manuscripts, plays and poetry. After graduating magna cum laude from Pepperdine University, she
went on to teach grades 2nd through 8th for five years. She now spends her days writing and taking
care of her furry baby, a Lhasa Apso named Hercules. In her free time, her favorite activity is to curl
up on the couch with that stubborn, funny mutt and binge-watch cable TV shows on DVD (preferably
of at least eight seasons in length - a girl's gotta have her standards!).
Shawna always loved romance in any form - movie, song or literary. If it was a love story with a
happy ending, Shawna was all about it! She proudly acknowledges that she is a romanceaholic. Her
days are jam-packed with writing, being a wife, mom aka referee of two teens, and indulging in her
second passion (dance!) as a Zumba instructor. In the little free time she has, she joins Melanie in
marathon-watching DVDs of their favorite TV programs.
They have joined forces to create a world where True Love and Happily Ever After always has a
Sexy Twist!
You can keep up with all the latest Melanie Shawn news, including new releases and contests, at:

http://melanieshawn.com
and
http://facebook.com/melanieshawnbooks

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