by J. L. Drake
“Anyone can be bought, Denton. It’s all about finding their weakness. Yours was me. Problem is I already belong to someone else, and that someone else always gets what’s his. You never had me, and you never will. So, while you sit in your six by twelve jail cell, I want you to picture the colonel with his hands on my body, touching me, and my moans of ecstasy that are his alone.”
His neck muscles flex as he clenches his jaw. “This will never end, my love.” He leans into me. Even through his blindfold, I can feel his eyes burning into mine. “I always win.” His mouth is still smiling at me.
He’s right. I’ll never be free if I don’t end this now. My eyes drop down to his long throat, and the blade in my hand becomes hot as fire. As I raise my arm, I see my future flash in front of me. If this doesn’t end, I’ll forever be afraid. All my anger boils to the surface as I throw my body weight forward, aiming for his neck. A large hand wraps around my wrist while the other hooks my waist and pulls me to the other side of the chopper.
“It’s what he wants, Savi,” Cole huffs in my ear. “He wants you to kill him. His hell is being caught. Let him live so he can suffer.” He pries the blade from my fingers and hands it to Keith, who is shaking his head with a smirk like I never stop surprising him. “It’s over, Savannah, I promise it’s over.”
We make two stops before we finally land back in Montana at the safe house. The American, whose name I now know is Denton, is handed off to Frank and a team of his men who arrived back from TJ just hours earlier. Daniel had to be dropped off at a private hospital in North Dakota to have his wound treated. When I ask what happened to Tim, The American’s muscle, Keith tells me he got shot in the head. I nod, not wanting to know which team did the deed since I now know Tim’s loyalty lay with Denton all along. He used me to try and trap Cole into coming to the market. Thank god Cole was smart enough to see through it. I hate that I didn’t.
Stepping down on solid ground and taking in the scenery feels pretty amazing, but seeing Abigail and June run up and wrap me in a bear hug is even better. Thinking back, I know there was a point I didn’t think I was going to be here again. I thought I was going to live the rest of my crazy, messed-up life with Denton or until I made it end. As they fuss over me, I feel a bubble of warmth start to rise from my stomach to my heart.
“Come on, dear, you must be freezing!” I tug Cole’s jacket around me a little tighter as she looks at my bare legs in the Army boots, smiling. “Let’s get you inside.” I glance back at Cole, seeing him smile and nod at me. I return the smile, but it fades when I start to walk, as the soreness in my body reminds me of what The American did to me.
Sitting in my room on the edge of my bed, I’m still huddled under Cole’s jacket, wanting to shake off an odd feeling that has a grip on me. I know I’m terribly tired, and I want a shower, but I can’t bring myself to move. I wonder where my father and Lynn are. I wonder what they’re doing right now and if they’ve heard that I’m free again. I feel my face prickle all over like I want to cry, but I don’t. I just sit and stare at the floor.
I may have fallen asleep for a few minutes because I find myself slumped on the bed uncomfortably. I finally force myself up and get showered, dressed, and back downstairs to find everyone doing what they do best whenever they come from back from a job. Drinks in the living room. It feels wonderful to be back here, and I find myself thinking of Derek, realizing I’ll never see him again. I want to mourn for him, knowing it’s my fault he’s not with us, my fault he’s being buried, and why his little niece won’t be getting her New York snow globe. I got him killed. That death is on me, and me alone.
“One Marcus Martini for you.” Mark grins as his gaze falls to my neck where I know from checking myself out in the bathroom mirror I have a purple and blue necklace of bruises. I gladly take the drink and pluck an olive off the stick. “Cole should be down soon. He’s just making his report. Look, Savi, I know you’ve been through a lot. I hope you know how much we all care about you. Is there anything you want to talk about? Are you okay?”
“That’s a big question,” I answer honestly.
Mark nods, looking at the room full of all our friends smiling and talking. “This is a big day, not only because we brought you back home, Savi, but we took down The American. It’s been a long seven-year hunt for that bastard. He’s been a real thorn in our side, and every one of these guys has reason to celebrate.”
I tuck my feelings aside and click Mark’s beer. “You’re right, Mark. You know I love you guys and couldn’t be more thankful for what you’ve all done for me. Now, let’s go celebrate.”
Later that night, I lie back on my pillow and think about the evening. Cole wasn’t able to come celebrate at all in the end, as he had a video conference with Frank and some other important people about the capture of The American. I am too tired to last more than a few hours and really just want to sleep and turn off for a while. Thinking is overrated.
It is about three a.m. when Cole slips into bed with me. Something cold touches my skin, and I feel him placing my snowflake chain back on, fastening it around my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing how much I missed its comfort. His arm slides over me and pulls my back flush against his front. He sighs and breathes me in deeply then tucks his face into my neck, lacing my fingers with his, and we both fall into a deep sleep.
The week goes by in an odd blur. Everyone seems to be doing their thing, whereas I just float around unable to focus on anything. Cole is extremely busy. I’ve seen him twice for dinner, but he doesn’t talk much and seems preoccupied. His apologetic comment that he is mentally fried was given with a quick hug in the hallway. Abigail and June are helping Derek’s sister with his funeral arrangements but don’t talk to me about it. I’m sure they are only being kind, but leaving me out of it makes me feel isolated and guilty instead. Keith, John, and Paul are hardly around, and Mike only will talk to me if I stray too far off the grounds.
I start to feel strange in this house, a little lost and, frankly, a little hurt. No, to be honest, I’m really hurting. Feeling my mood sink even lower, my heart weighs heavily in my chest. I find myself drawn down to the entertainment room. Sliding down onto the smooth wooden bench, my fingers lift the cover, exposing the soothing ivory keys.
My eyes close and my heart swells as I feel her sit down next to me. Letting out a long, slow breath, my fingers touch the keys softly.
“Let’s play our song, but add a little of your flavor to it,” Mom suggests, grinning at me with a bump to the shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, let whatever is bothering you flow out through your fingers.” I take in another deep breath and let the pain flow from my soul.
The first line to These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding slips past my lips, and the notes start to form the song’s beautiful melody.
Cole
Cole moves about the kitchen searching for something quick to eat, but nothing looks appetizing. Abigail joins him, holding a newspaper which she drops on the counter in front of him. Cole leans forward and reads the headlines, seeing the news about The American has made the front page. “One of America’s most wanted fugitives captured.”
“The question is, will her father be next?” Abigail sets a sandwich down in front of him. “You need to eat more than an apple. I can make myself another one. Where’s Savi? I haven’t seen much of her lately.”
“You don’t hear that?” Mark says as he snatches the sandwich off the plate and takes three big bites. Cole steps out into the living room, hearing the piano and Savannah’s deep, soulful voice. He turns to look at Mark in disbelief. “Yeah, for like ten minutes now. Girl has some mad talent.”
Before he gets a chance to hear much more, the song ends. The sound of the piano cover closing has Cole and Abigail slipping back into the kitchen, pretending to be busy as Savannah climbs the stairs and enters the room. She blushes slightly when she sees them. He can tell she thought she was alone in this part of the house.
“Hey, Savi,” Abigail says, standing in front of the
fridge. “You thirsty? I just made some lemonade.”
She nods and comes over to the island, standing next to Cole. He leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek, but her body turns slightly, almost as though she doesn’t want it. “Are you all right?” Her body language screams no, but she nods.
“Really, Savi?” Mark says through a mouthful of cookie. “You’re gonna lie to Logan?” he sputters, sending crumbs into the air. “You seem to forget what we do for a living. Besides, the way you played and sang that song nearly brought me to my knees in tears.”
“Mark!” Abigail scowls, making Savannah gasp. “Filter, my son,” she scolds him.
“What?” He shrugs. “It was a compliment.”
Savannah
I shift while watching him scribble on his tablet. Snow is falling outside the window behind him, brightening up all the scruffy areas, softening the landscape in a winter wonderland again. “Tell me, Savannah, how does it feel to be back?” Dr. Roberts asks as we sip our coffee in our usual meeting room next to Cole’s office. I was the one who asked him to come this morning. Something feels off, and I want to get to the bottom of it.
“It feels great…good, I mean. It’s a relief to be back, of course.”
“But…” He pulls his glasses down on his nose, knowing there’s more.
I shrug, not sure how to put it. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been back here for a week now. I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m so grateful to the guys…I just thought it would feel a little different.”
“How different?”
I shift again and tuck my dress a little tighter around my legs, feeling nervous about answering this question, knowing that once I say it out loud, it makes it true. “It feels like it’s not quite where I need to be.”
He nods like he understands me instead of displaying the confusion I expected from him. “Savannah, you were left to look after your mother for the four years she was ill. Weren’t you fourteen when she passed?” I nod miserably. “So, that would have made you ten when you took on a very adult emotional task, correct?” I nod, agreeing. “Okay, then after your mother died, your father began his political climb to the mayor’s office, thrusting you into his world. Suddenly, the press is hounding you, your life is turned upside down, and you start to run into problems, so you put your life on hold once again for your parents. A few years later, you are kidnapped and held for seven terrible months.” I clear my throat uncomfortably and start to say something, but he holds up his hand and continues. “Finally, you are rescued and brought here. Then,” he pauses with his finger in the air, “a few months later, you are taken once again, then rescued and brought back here again.” He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, waiting for a response.
“Okay…” is all I can muster.
“What I’m saying, Savannah, is you need to give yourself some time. You need to process all that has happened. You haven’t had a chance to live your own life yet. You’re twenty-eight years old and—”
“…Still feel like I’m going in circles with no direction and no end in sight,” I answer, feeling like he has just hit the source of my problem. “I don’t really know who I am and what I want, and now that all my major life-altering problems seem to be ending, I find myself lost.” A horrible feeling hits my stomach when I suddenly think of Cole.
“Finding yourself doesn’t mean you have to give up anything. It just means you need a little time to be alone.”
“Space,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “I think I just need some space that’s mine.”
Cole
Cole hangs up the phone after a three-hour conversation with Frank. Turns out they have enough evidence to convict Lynn, thanks to Joe Might, who is willing to throw her under the bus to get a lesser sentence for himself. However, the mayor is pinning it all on Luka Donavan. It’s easier to blame the dead than the living who have a voice.
He pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the window, watching the snow fall. A storm is coming. They’re supposed to be getting forty-five inches of snow. He’s thankful his father arrived home safely last night. A bullet grazed his shoulder, and now he and Mark are joking that they actually planned their new matching scars.
“Cole?” Savannah whispers behind him.
He turns, feeling the strange vibe that seems to be there whenever they are together lately. He knows he really needs to address the Derek issue, as she still must have raw feelings about it. She’s been acting different since she got back, and it’s not like her to keep him at arm’s length. It’s killing him.
“Cole,” she repeats when he doesn’t answer right away, “do you have a moment?”
He nods and rubs his face. God, he is tired. He sits down on the couch while she takes a seat across from him.
“Why?” he asks without thinking.
“Why what?”
“Why are you over there and not over here next to me?”
“Because I don’t think clearly when I’m that close to you.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” he admits.
She stares at him for a moment then comes over and sits next to him. His hand reaches for her automatically, tugging her closer, but she stops him. She slides to the other end of the couch, looking uncomfortable.
“Okay, I’m listening,” he says, raising his hand to show her he won’t grab for her again.
It takes her a few minutes, but she finally clears her throat. “I saw some pictures.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Savannah, we met Jose four months ago. He thought we were looking for work with the Cartel. The guy is a bit of an idiot, and we quickly gained intel on your whereabouts. We met up with him a few times at that café, and apparently so did The American. That’s how we found you—”
“No,” she interrupts, her face growing pale, “not that picture.”
Cole turns, pulling a leg up so he can look at her better. “Then which?”
“The one with the blonde.” His stomach rolls. Oh, fuck, how the hell? “The one where you were holding her in your arms like you hold me. The one where you’re staring at her with the same look you have for me. The one where you’re kissing her with the same lips you use on me.” She pauses, nearly in tears. “I thought…” She shakes her head, standing and putting more distance between them. “I’m sure there’s some reason why you were doing that with her, but…”
“There is,” he chimes in.
She holds up her hand to stop him. “But regardless, those little things mean something to me. I thought they were only for me.”
“They are.” He stands and goes to her, but she steps back. He hates not being able to touch her when he wants to. He shouldn’t, but he shares, “She’s an informant for Shadows. She’s the one who helps us gain info on the Cartel. Her brother runs tight with them. She’s had a crush on me forever, and when you were taken, I knew I had to…I played dirty to get anything I could on your whereabouts. But, Savannah, she means nothing to me. I did it all for you, for us.” He can feel her pull away mentally, her big beautiful eyes filling with tears again. “I love you, Savannah, I always have. Please don’t pull away from me. My heart can’t take losing you again.”
She steps forward then stops as big, silent tears roll down her cheeks. With each one that falls, a piece of his own heart falls along with it. “I promised Keith I’d help him with something.”
“Savannah, please.” Cole catches her by the hand, but she shakes her head, making him release her immediately.
As she reaches the door, she turns, keeping her head down. “I love you, Cole, but put yourself in my shoes. Think about how much that would hurt seeing me with another man, looking at him like that, even if it was for a good reason.”
“It would destroy me,” he admits, feeling sick.
She nods once, then slowly closes the door behind her.
Cole grabs for one of his brandy glasses and sends it across the room, feeling all kinds of fucked-up emotions. It shatters into a million pieces right along with his
heart.
Chapter Twelve
Savannah
Walking, walking, and more walking around half of the lake, I’m just trying to make sense of everything. By the time I make it back to the house, I’m more mixed up than I was when I started. It’s late, the sun is setting, and the snow is coming down harder. After a quick trip to my room, I go to the kitchen, grab a bottle of wine, a glass, and an opener, and head downstairs. Luckily, most of the guys have been busy with the wind-up of The American case, so everyone seems to be keeping to themselves.
I step out into the freezing air in a pair of flip flops. Climbing up onto a chair, I cover the camera pointing in my direction with a t-shirt. I rip off my top and chuck my shorts to the side. I toss my hair into a messy bun as I sink into the deliciously hot water. It feels divine. I instantly feel the tension slip from my body. In the winter, they keep the hot tub covered with a tent that opens at the sides. I open only one flap, so I have a private view of the lake.
My second glass in, and I feel pretty damn relaxed. I can’t believe I haven’t come here sooner. Closing my eyes, leaning my head back, I listen to how quiet the snow makes everything. It makes for a perfect moment.
“See, Savi, this is the perfect place for a vacation.” Lynn grins with a lime green straw wedged between her lips. She’s on her fourth margarita since we hit the beach an hour ago. She surprised me with a trip to Fiji for my birthday. We’re staying in a little bungalow on Castaway Island. No one knows me, allowing me to blend in perfectly.
I slip my sunglasses on, plucking the melon from the rim of my mojito and popping it in my mouth. The cold juice is refreshing. “Yes.” A grin tugs at my lips, as our morning yoga trainer, Diogo, grabs a paddleboard and heads for the crisp blue ocean. “I think this is one of the best presents you’ve ever given me.”
