Roping Savannah

by Jory Strong

  Holland stepped back into the house and into the living room, stopping next to a couch that was also serving as her bed. She began stuffing clothes into a gym bag.

  Savannah had thought to question Holland further when they were in the car, but now she hated to leave without searching the house. “Do you know where Ivy and Camryn are?”

  Holland stilled, her shoulders hunching inward. Just a little. Not enough to notice except Savannah had been looking right at her when she did it.

  Savannah walked over and knelt next to the girl. “You were afraid something had happened to them when you saw me.”

  “They left yesterday. They haven’t come back and neither one of them is answering their cells.” A whisper. “They always answer their cells. Not right away if they’re working. But right after.”

  “Were they meeting someone?”

  A slight nod. “I think so. But they didn’t say.” She looked up. Eyes haunted. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to go with them.”

  Savannah steeled herself against the image of Holland giving a blowjob to a man old enough to be her grandfather. “They were meeting a client?”

  Holland reached for a pile of socks and put them in the bag. Then a shirt. And another shirt. Her movements slow, as though she was using the time to come to a decision. Finally looking up and meeting Savannah’s eyes. “I think they were meeting Mr. Traynor.”

  “Is he the one telling your sister and Camryn which men to take back to the room with the camera?”

  Holland’s eyes glistened with tears and Savannah moved closer, unsure whether physical contact would be welcomed or repelled. “I don’t know. Maybe, sometimes. Mostly it’s Camryn and her brother.”

  “Can you identify Camryn’s brother?”

  Holland’s gaze slid away from Savannah’s. She ducked her head and swiped under the sofa, pulling out a stray sock as she answered, “No.”

  Savannah let it go for the moment. “Why do you think Ivy and Camryn were meeting Traynor?”

  “Ivy gave me money so I could order pizza. When they were leaving I heard Camryn joke about how nice it was to have an insurance policy that covered drugs.” Holland looked up and met Savannah’s eyes again. “Camryn fucked him and he gave her drugs to party with. She called him her insurance policy.”

  Holland stood and looked around. “I’m ready.”

  Savannah got to her feet too, wondering if maybe Camryn was blackmailing Steven Traynor, wondering if Camryn knew about his connection to Dominguez and how easily he could supply her with drugs as a result of it. Then again, if she was blackmailing Traynor, he could have solved the problem by asking Dominguez to send The Psychos or The Cousins after her.

  “Where do Camryn and Ivy go to party?” Savannah asked.

  “To Alphonso’s house. They always go there right after they get a party pack from Mr. Traynor.” Holland tightened her grip on the gym bag, holding it to her chest like a shield as small tremors racked her body.

  Savannah heart wrenched as she easily imagined all the reasons Holland might be afraid, especially if drugs were involved. “We can get you settled at the Bar None. Then Kye and Draigon and I can come back and check out Alphonso’s place. Do you have an address?”

  Holland took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’ll go with you.”

  Savannah started to say no then let it go. She didn’t want to become Holland’s jailer. She’d worked as a cop long enough to know some people never get clear of their problems, never get clear of the mess they make of their lives with bad choices.

  According to the Social Services’ report Kelleher had shown her, Holland had been running away from foster care since she was ten, always going to Ivy. Maybe the pattern was already too ingrained. Or maybe Holland needed a final confrontation with her sister to make the break.

  “Okay,” Savannah said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Alphonso’s place was a tract house in suburbia. A landscaped yard with shiny, expensive cars in the driveway and lining the curb in front of the house.

  Savannah glanced at Kye and Draigon, wondering what they were thinking. Since finding Holland they hadn’t said a word. Then again, maybe they were concentrating on bodyguarding. Or maybe they were just biding their time, waiting ’til the situation played out and they were somewhere they could discuss things in private.

  It worked for her.

  “That’s Ivy’s car,” Holland said, pointing to the silver convertible parked in the driveway.

  “When were they supposed to meet Traynor?” Savannah asked, trying to get a fix on how long the people inside the house had been partying. Holland’s answer making Savannah’s stomach ripple with uneasiness when she realized Ivy and Camryn had gone out at about the same time the shootout with Psycho II would have started making the news.

  They reached the front door, Kye and Draigon hanging back instead of insisting they go first. Savannah rang the bell. Several times. Then tried the door and found it unlocked.

  Out of habit Savannah’s hand went to where her gun usually rested in its holster. There was a moment of disorientation at finding it missing then she took a deep breath and opened the door. Yelling hello and not getting a response. Not hearing anything beyond the music. Hip-hop. The words so fast she couldn’t make them out.

  She yelled hello again then eased inside. Kye and Draigon fanning out. Moving in front of her. Holland pushing forward so Savannah was forced to grab the girl’s arm in order to keep her from racing ahead. “You should go wait in the car while we check this out,” Savannah said. Holland didn’t answer, just tugged at her arm, trying to get Savannah to let her go.

  There was the smell of pot. Just a hint of it in the hallway as they made their way toward the back of the house and the source of the music.

  Savannah called out again. Worried someone in the house might be carrying a weapon and not wanting to startle or panic them—especially if they were high.

  A few feet away from an open doorway the first whiff of voided bowels hit her. She stopped and tightened her grip on Holland’s arm. “You need to either wait until we check this out or you need to go back to the car.”

  Holland made a gagging sound and nodded. Savannah had no choice but to trust her. She freed Holland’s arm and surged forward, entering the party room a few paces behind Kye and Draigon. Taking in the scene with a glance that told her everything she needed to know.

  Seven bodies.

  Some of them curled in fetal positions. Some of them sprawled out.

  On the floor. On the overstuffed sofa.

  All of them still as death.

  An assortment of drugs on the coffee table. Food. Bottles of liquor. Soda.

  Vomit. Urine. Feces. The bodies’ futile attempts to void themselves.

  Kye was already crouched next to Camryn. He looked up at Savannah and shook his head. Draigon moved to Ivy but Savannah already knew they were the only three people alive in the room.

  A sob sounded in the doorway. A gasping, retching sound and Savannah turned to intercept Holland before she went to her knees. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll call this in from the car.”

  This planet grows more horrifying with each moment, Draigon said, both he and Kye lingering, allowing Savannah a head start as she hustled her new charge down the hallway.

  This is no accident, Kye said. But without knowing more about Traynor’s habits, we cannot be sure that the death wasn’t meant for him.

  It is more likely that he is behind the blackmail scheme and this is his way of eliminating those who might testify against him.

  Kye nodded. True. This would solve the problem of witnesses.

  If Traynor is responsible then Holland should be safe once Vaccaro and Kelleher have placed him under arrest. Even so, the Baraqijal clan-house is not without resources. Bounty hunters can be hired to protect Holland and her caretakers.

  Kye’s eyebrows lifted in response and Draigon grimaced in silent acknowledgment, add
ing, You are right, I fear our stay here has just been extended. Savannah will not easily surrender Holland to the authorities or leave until she is settled.

  We will have to trust the humans to search the bodies and the cars and determine the truth of what happened here. Kye’s expression hardened as he looked at the dead around them. This is not our business to interfere in, though if opportunity presented itself, I would serve justice for what was done here and for what has been done to the girl.

  Draigon nodded. A tightness settling in his chest. Not because he disagreed with Kye, but because he agreed with him, and in agreeing gained unwanted insight as to how Adan could be such good friends with Lyan d’Vesti, a man whose willingness to bend and stretch the rules was well-known.

  Savannah got to the car and dug out an FBI card from her pocket. Kelleher’s. It wasn’t standard operating procedure. But she wasn’t on duty. And she figured she had a better chance of leaving before the cops got on the scene if she turned it over to the Feds and let them handle the jurisdiction issues.

  This could conceivably go down as accidental death by overdose. But maybe if Kelleher and Vaccaro covered it, they’d find something here linking back to Traynor or Carlos Dominguez. In the meantime she had to keep Holland safe.

  Savannah looked over to where the girl was huddling against the car door. Crying. Not huge sobbing bursts. But silent shudders that racked her body.

  Fuck. This was the part she wasn’t good with. Consolation. And for a split second Savannah was tempted to call in a Social Services counselor and turn this over to them.

  Savannah took a deep breath and dialed Kelleher’s number. “This is a courtesy call,” she said when he answered, remembering their last conversation and adding, “not that you would have done me the same favor. I’ve got an address for you. Inside there are seven people. Two females. Five males. Cause of death is either going to be contaminated drugs or an overdose on super pure stuff.”

  “Camryn and Ivy?”

  “Yes.”

  “You call it in yet?”

  “You’re my first call.” Savannah hesitated a moment. “I have reason to believe Traynor was the source of some of the drugs.”

  There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. “You’ve got the kid?”

  “I’ve been in contact with her,” Savannah hedged.

  “We’re going to need to talk to her.”

  “Just talk?”

  “What else?”

  “Social Services, juvie.”

  “We’re not interested in pursuing either of those outcomes.”

  “Once I call this in, it’s out of my hands.” Savannah took a deep breath and came clean. “Holland’s with me. She went into the house when I did.”

  “Hold on a minute.” There was muted conversation in the background. When Kelleher came back on he said, “The bodyguards with you too?”

  Savannah looked up as Kye and Draigon opened the car doors and slid into the front seat. “Yeah, they’re here.”

  “All four of you go into the house?”

  “Yes.” Savannah guessed where this was heading and volunteered the information. “Holland didn’t touch anything. I touched the door handle, front and back, but nothing else.” She frowned at Kye and Draigon, wondering at their delay in leaving the house. “I wasn’t watching the guys.”

  “Does the kid know who’s behind the blackmail?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that one. But I think you should check Camryn’s background for a brother.”

  “Okay. Here’s what I want you to do. Leave. Take the kid back to your apartment and keep her there. Vaccaro and I are on our way to the scene. For the record, a tip came in and we’re checking it out. When we get there, we’ll handle calling in the locals. Keep your cell phone on. We’ll catch up to you later.”

  Relief poured through Savannah. She mouthed the words, “Let’s go,” to Kye, then turned her attention back to the conversation with Kelleher so she could pass on the address where Holland and the other girls had been staying.

  She could hear the laugh in Kelleher’s voice when he said, “Is that all? Or do I need to remind you that you’re on administrative leave?”

  “That’s all.” She couldn’t resist saying. “For now.”

  “It’d better be.”

  “Did you figure out how Psycho II found us at the truck stop?”

  “Best we can tell he got lucky and spotted Nowak, then followed him, hoping to catch him with Becky Traynor.”

  Kelleher signed off and Savannah studied Holland. The tears on the girl’s face were dry now though her fists were clenched in her lap. She’d dug out her iPod and was listening to Keith Urban tunes. The volume turned up to form a musical no trespassing sign.

  “Where to?” Kye asked.

  “My apartment,” Savannah said, still worried Holland would panic and bolt. But she didn’t want to alienate Kelleher and Vaccaro. And she knew this was never going to end for Holland until all the other players were known and behind bars.

  Savannah had no clue what she was going to do about Holland. At least not long-term. Story of my life, she thought. Leap first. Worry about landing second.

  Movement in the front seat drew her attention to Kye’s profile then Draigon’s. Humor found her and she smiled. Then again, there were definitely advantages to leaping first and worrying about landing later.

  When they got to the apartment Savannah directed Holland to the bedroom and watched as the girl set her gym bag down on the dresser, her expression lost in the mirror. Sad. Haunted.

  Compassion pulled Savannah over to her. Made her reach out and gently remove an earbud. “You want to talk?”

  Their eyes met in the mirrors. Liquid blue and emerald green.

  Tears trickled down Holland’s face. “I hated her. I told her I hated her. I hated them both.” A sob escaped from deep in Holland’s chest, followed by another one, and another one.

  She turned in to Savannah, accepted Savannah’s hug, Savannah’s whispered words of understanding, cried until she sagged and Savannah led her to the edge of the bed and they sat down.

  “I just wanted it to be Ivy and me.” Holland gulped in a shuddering breath of air. “When I was little, Ivy took care of me. I just wanted it to be like that again. Only better because I can take care of myself now.”

  Savannah sifted away from Holland, far enough to reach for the box of tissues on the night table and hand it to the girl before removing the other earbud and gently brushing the hair off Holland’s face. “She was eight years older than you, wasn’t she?” Savannah said, remembering Kelleher’s comment when they’d met at the diner.

  Holland nodded, rubbing at her wet cheeks. “Ivy would never have done any of this if it wasn’t for Camryn. She did anything Camryn said to do. Anything.”

  Savannah had no way of knowing whether it was true or whether Holland just needed it to be true. “You mean the prostitution and the blackmail? The drugs?”

  Another shuddering gasp for breath, followed by a tremor that shook Holland’s entire body. “Yes.”

  “Were Ivy and Camryn doing the same thing in Vegas?”

  “Yes.” Tearful eyes met Savannah’s. “I didn’t know at first. But then one day Ivy took me to an apartment.” Holland drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “She made me a milkshake. Chocolate. Only she put something in it so I wouldn’t care about anything.” A sob escaped and Holland buried her face against her knees. Rocked. “Then Camryn got there. She had a man with her. Afterward…there were pictures and Camryn said that’s what paid for the life. And Ivy agreed with her. Like always.”

  Sobs racked Holland’s body, leaving Savannah heartsick, aching, feeling inadequate and helpless. Though the urge to try to alleviate Holland’s pain was overwhelming.

  Savannah rubbed Holland’s back, whispered to her that she was safe now. Waited out the tears.

  When Holland stopped crying, Savannah
said, “The FBI agents are going to be here in a little while. They’re going to ask you questions. But they’re not interested in anything but your answers. They’re not going to call in Social Services. They’re not going to take you anywhere.”

  Holland met her eyes. “Then what?”

  “We’ll figure it out as we go along.”

  “I won’t go back. I’ll run before I go back.”

  Suspicion settled in Savannah’s gut. Rage and nausea coiled with it. “Something happened in your last foster home?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Holland whispered.

  Savannah let it go. Didn’t press Holland for any more answers or try to stop her from putting the earbuds back in and walling herself off behind a barricade of music.

  She stayed with Holland until the horror and worry and exhaustion finally took its toll and Holland curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. Then Savannah lingered until the girl’s breathing was even. The sleep deep enough that there was no sign of thought.

  Kye and Draigon wore identical grim expressions on their faces when Savannah joined them in the living room. And as though they were all three on the same wavelength, they met in the middle, Savannah glad to find herself between the two men. “Did you hear any of that?” she asked after several minutes of just savoring the feel of firm muscle and masculine heat.

  “All of it,” Draigon said. Anger vibrating through his voice.

  “She will be protected and cared for from now on,” Kye promised.

  They pulled apart and Kye plopped down on Savannah’s overstuffed couch. Draigon took the chair, but Savannah was too tense to sit. She paced the short distance to the window and looked out, then decided to put some music on.

  The doorbell rang. “That’s probably Kelleher or Vaccaro,” Savannah said, getting there first since she was closer. Surprise flashing through her when she opened the door and found Fowler standing there.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, his face drawn, stressed. GQ looks muted, but the kind of muted that pulls at a woman’s heartstrings.