by J. L. Drake
Savannah shifts next to him. Her hand moves to his stomach, and her head falls on his chest.
He waits until her breathing is smooth and even, and then wraps his arm around her back, holding her a little closer to him. He loves the way she molds to him. He knows he should slip out of bed before she wakes—she’ll probably freak out if she wakes in his arms—but he can’t seem to move. His brain and heart are having a battle. Finally, he flips off his brain and basks in her warmth, falling back to sleep.
His vibrating cell phone brings him out of his groggy state. He starts to move but realizes Savannah is still draped over him. He snakes the phone free and checks the ID, seeing it’s a text from Mark wondering where he is. He switches the cell to silent and places it quietly on the nightstand.
“Cole?” Savannah says softly.
“Yes.” His stomach sinks. Oh, God.
She shifts and tries to sit up, but can’t.
“It’s all right, Savannah,” he assures her. “It’s not what you think.”
“Why am I in this room, in bed with you?”
His brain mentally slaps him. Ass! He decides to go with the truth.
“Because you asked me to.” Because I can’t leave you alone.
She moves again, this time managing to lift herself onto her knees.
He experiences a loss at the sudden lack of body contact. He instantly misses her.
“What happened?” She looks down at the t-shirt she is wearing and gasps, quickly tucking it between her legs—not that she needs to. It is like a dress on her. “How did I get in this? And why is my head pounding?”
He sits up and leans against the headboard. “You’re in my room because it’s the safest room in the house. Plus, there are two ways to come and go. Do you remember anything from last night?”
She looks around and takes in her surroundings, her hand holding her stomach. No doubt she still feels awful. “I remember getting sick, and Keith.”
“You were poisoned, Savannah. We think someone may have spiked your lemonade.”
Her expression changes, and all the color leaves her face. She’s remembering. Tears pool in her beautiful dark eyes, breaking him in two. “What? Who would have poisoned me?” she cries as she tries to understand what happened. She wipes the back of her hand across her cheek, catching a tear. “I—I have to go.” She moves to the other side of the bed.
Cole jumps to his feet and catches her as she loses her balance and tumbles forward.
“No, you’re staying here.” He scoops her up and places her back on the bed.
“No, you don’t understand—” She fights him, but he pins her to the mattress with his body.
She tries to push him off, but she’s too weak to fight for long.
“I do understand. I know York spoke to you.”
Her gaze turns to meet his.
“I know he told you about The American, and that he doesn’t lose his captives. And that he’ll hunt you until he finds you. But, Savannah,” tears are streaming down her cheeks now, “I promise you I will not let him find you.”
Her lip quivers. She looks terrified.
“Please, stay and let me protect you.” His face is inches from hers. He gently lifts the sheet and dries the corners of her eyes. “You have to trust me.”
“I—I do,” she whispers without hesitation.
He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Cole.” He opens his eyes at the sound of her soft voice. “Did you spend the whole night with me?”
He nods, not sure if he can speak. Her trust means more to him than he thought it would.
“Thank you.” She lifts her head and gives him a soft peck on the cheek.
Her lips are like velvet against his stubble. Every nerve in his body stands at attention. This woman is waking up parts of him that he didn’t know he had. He slowly peels his body off hers, knowing he can’t hold her like this forever. He pulls her up with him, so they’re both sitting up.
“Who do you think drugged me?” She shifts the t-shirt around her legs again.
He clears his throat. “I don’t know. I have Keith reviewing the video.” He watches as she rubs her head. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nods, but he can tell she is lying. “I need a shower and my toothbrush,” she mutters with a tiny grimace, “and some Advil.”
He opens the drawer next to the bed and hands her two Advil and a bottle of water.
She hesitates before taking it.
“It’s all right. The water is from my fridge. No one comes in here without a security code, and only Abigail and I know it.”
“I found something…yesterday, I found something. I need to show it to you.”
“Okay, Savi, but let me get you to your room and have Abigail help you get showered. Then you can show me.”
“All right.”
Cole pulls off his shirt, opening his dresser to get into something clean. He catches her gaze reflected in the mirror.
She studies the tattoo on his shoulder. “What does De Oppresso Liber mean?”
He had gotten it after his first year. It depicted an eagle holding two arrows wrapped in the American flag with the words written in a horseshoe shape around it. It isn’t particularly large, about the size of a hockey puck. A lot of the other guys got huge tattoos, wanting to make a statement, but he didn’t do it for anyone else but himself.
“To free the oppressed,” he answers as he slides a clean t-shirt over his head. “All right, up you go.”
She lets him help her off the bed, and he waits until he knows her legs are steady. He wraps an arm around her waist, letting her lean her weight into him. God, she feels good against him.
“Where are we?” she asks, glancing around.
“The back passage through the house. It’s a safety precaution if we ever come under attack.” He feels her flinch as they move along the passageway.
“What’s in there?”
He moves to the open door and lets her look inside the tiny room with its wall full of books and a floor filled with plush cushions.
“Oh, it’s so cozy,” she says delightedly.
“It’s a room my mother designed when my father would work long hours and the house became too busy. She’d lock herself in here for hours, losing herself in her stories.” He smiles, remembering curling up in a ball next to her as she read Moby Dick to him.
“Here we are.” He opens a door and helps her through.
She looks baffled that part of her wall is actually a door.
“Can I access that passageway from in here?” she asks, eyeing the door as he shuts it behind them.
“Yes,” is all he offers her, and she doesn’t press for more information.
He sits her on the bed and calls for Abigail to come up. He feels her mood change as she looks around her room and her arms wrap around her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he kneels in front of her.
“I just feel—” Her dark eyes stare into his. “In your room, I feel—” She stumbles again.
“Safe?” he asks, hoping he isn’t wrong.
She nods and drops her head.
He brushes her hair behind one shoulder. “8986,” he whispers.
She looks up at him, puzzled.
“You pull back the panel there where the door meets the wood. The code is 8986. 8987 is the code for my door, if you’re feeling scared.”
Her eyes soften, and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him to her.
His body doesn’t think twice about wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. Oh, God, she smells amazing.
She rests her head on his shoulder. “Sorry.” She smiles against him. “I must smell terrible.”
“No.” His voice is hoarse.
She pushes herself back with both hands on his shoulders to stabilize herself. He is still wedged between her legs, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her eyes flicker down to his lips. He wants her to make the first move
, not sure how fragile she might be with all that has happened to her.
God help him, he is losing his control. If he just moves forward a few inches, he’ll be where he wants to be. He watches as her tongue licks her bottom lip, and he moans.
“Cole, I’ve never felt—”
“Here I am, Savannah!” Abigail bursts into the room and halts mid-step when she sees the two of them. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Savannah drops her hands and shifts back on the bed. Cole closes his eyes, silently cursing their intruder.
“I’ll see you in a bit, Savi, ahh…after you’ve had a chance to clean up and get a bit more rest.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter Eight
Savannah
I feel more human after a two-hour nap and a shower. Dr. Rice comes by and checks on me, saying how lucky I am that Keith found me in time. I am also informed the lemonade was indeed spiked with Visine eye drops. Apparently, it can cause a lot of harm if ingested. If I had drunk a second glass, I would be a lot worse. There are some cases where people actually died. I appreciate the doctor’s explanation, but it is upsetting, to say the least.
Poor Abigail is in fits, apologizing to me. She fusses over my pillow about six times and asks if she can get me anything. I assure her I’m fine. I just want to get up and stretch my legs. I get the green light from Abigail, but I have to promise to eat, and if I felt tired, to get rest and not fight it. I promise more for Abigail’s sake than for me, and seeing her eyes light up on the way to the kitchen is well worth the promise.
“I’m thinking oatmeal with sliced almonds? It’s healthy and will stick with you.”
“Sounds good. Thanks,” I say as I sit on a stool at the breakfast bar.
“Don’t worry, dear. Cole gave orders that all food was to be tossed out and replaced, so everything should be fine.”
My jaw drops. “All the food? Are you kidding me? You had enough to feed an army!”
“We are the Army,” Mark chimes in, ignoring my eye roll. He looks me over. “How bad was it?”
“Let’s just say I felt like I was knocking on death’s door.” I shudder at the memory. “But I’m better now.”
“Glad to hear it.” He leans over and plucks a grape from the bowl then lowers his voice. “Cole, Keith, Mike, and I are the only ones who know what happened, and we want to keep it that way until we know what we’re dealing with. Okay?”
“Okay, sure, but who’s Mike?”
“Delta Six. Keith had him watch you while he filled Cole in on the details.”
“Oh. Have I met him yet?” I try to remember.
“No, but you won’t forget him after you do.” He smirks. “Let’s just say I’m glad you were out of it when he was watching you. He’s one scary looking son of a—” Whack! A tea towel hits Mark in the face.
“Mouth, Marcus.” Abigail scowls and points a wooden spoon at him. He laughs as she sets the bowl of oatmeal in front of me along with a glass of orange juice.
Cole doesn’t show his face again for the rest of the evening. I’m disappointed because I still haven’t shared what I found with him, but I realize it isn’t that important in the general scheme of things. I’m feeling pretty beat and pass out around seven, not waking until eight the next morning.
I’m told Dr. Roberts needs to take some personal time off, and we’ll pick up where we left off when he returns. In the meantime, there is someone on call if I need to speak with them. I don’t.
I spend the next day lounging around my room under Abigail’s watch. She won’t let me do much. I know she is making sure I’m all right.
The next day, my body is more than ready to get back to my daily routine.
“Hey, Savi.” Mark appears in the kitchen. “What are you up to today?”
“Oh, you know, got a meeting at eleven, client lunch at noon, presentation at two. Same old, same old.”
“Bored, are we?”
“I just need to move.” I bite into an apple.
“We’re running drills up and down the mountain. We’re dressed in blue, and we’ll be firing paintballs, so don’t go giving any of us black eyes again, all right?”
“No promises,” I joke.
“Well, if you’re in the mood, give it to the guys with the red armbands. I’m green.” He winks.
I take the longer path up to see the horses. I enjoy this route. At one point, it gives you the most beautiful view of the lake. I wish I had a camera. I’ll have to see if Abigail knows where I can get my hands on one. Perhaps there’s a place in town.
I settle on the grass and soak up the cool mountain air. I lean back on the ground, closing my eyes. I love the way the wind blows and makes a soft, wispy sound, and how it grows louder as it gets closer.
“Savi.” I squeeze my eyes shut. No, they will not break my happy Zen moment.
“Savannah.” Mark hisses my name again.
“Can’t hear you,” I hiss back. I feel the vibration of him crawling up next to me.
“You know how to shoot?” My eyes snap open to see his blue helmet flipped up in the front. “You up for a bit of fun?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Before I know it, I am pulling on John’s dark blue camo outfit. Thankfully, I wore my dark hiking boots, but it doesn’t matter because John’s pants cover them almost completely. I can see why they picked John; he is the only one who is just slightly taller than I am. I notice the name tag reads Agent Black.
“Are you still training?” I ask as John shoves the gun in my hand. Holy hell, is it heavy.
“We’re done. Now it’s playtime. We need someone who can fit down in that gully and into the hole in the barn.” He points at a building. I wouldn’t call it a barn, exactly. “Once you’re in there, you need to capture the flag and tuck it in here.” He points to a pocket on the vest. “Then run like hell on wheels back to me so we can fly it first.”
“Seriously, the U.S. Army plays capture the flag for training?” I laugh.
“It’s a great training tool. Trust me, you’ll see.” He holds the gun up to my eye. “See that right there? Line it up with your target then shoot.” I line it up with the can and squeeze the trigger. Pop! Pop! I actually hit it! I jump up and down, giving myself my own high five. Mark smirks. “Great job. It’s actually a little scary that you hit the target.”
“I play a lot of video games.” I shrug.
“If you get shot, you go to a room in the far corner of the building where you’ll wait for five minutes then be released out a side door. Meet back here if that happens.”
Oh, my, there is a lot to take in. “So, who else is on our team?” I ask, hoping for Keith.
“We’re green. They won’t shoot at you. Lean your head forward.”
Yeah…that’s the green team. What about the red? He scoops up my hair and pulls on the helmet.
“Do they know I’m not John?” I start to feel uneasy.
Mark pulls my visor down. “No, it’s better this way. Just stick with me.” Wait! What? “Oh, and, Savi, don’t get shot.”
John gives me a thumbs-up and runs away.
Mark grabs my arm and pulls me low and down along a path. “Whatever you do, don’t take your helmet off.”
I nod, knowing there isn’t a chance in hell that’s going to happen.
He gives me quick instructions then points me at the hole in the building. “Heads up, and don’t shoot green.” He pats my back and eases me into the opening.
It’s a little hard at first with all the clothing, but I manage to get in.
Holy shit! This is no barn. I just walked into a training room for the friggin’ Green Berets. I drop down behind a metal shield. Okay, Savannah, you can either chicken out or live a little. There are no paparazzi and no Daddy to disappoint. Perhaps you’ll get a shot at York. Oh, yes, that does the trick.
I move to my knees and take in my surroundings. I see the flag, but I also see a guy with an orange band shimmying down a pipe on the far wall. Really? A pipe?
Good Lord, I’m in trouble, and Mark never mentioned a third team. I rest the gun on the top of the shield, awkwardly aiming at orange, and take the shot. Shit! I hit right above his shoulder.
He drops the last fifteen feet and rolls under a stack of crates.
I duck, hoping he didn’t see me. Okay, think. I see some scrap metal and make a beeline for it. I hear shots being fired, but none hit me. Keep moving, Savi. I scan the debris and spot a long cement tube. I run to it and peek inside. I see a flash of an arm, and I wait, watching his reflection in an old hubcap. I see a blurry movement and make my move.
Hello, Red. I grin, raising my gun and popping two in his back.
He turns in disbelief and raises his gun in the air as he walks out of sight.
Hell, yeah! What a rush this is! My heart is pounding through my chest. Okay, back in the game, Savi! I crawl along the side wall, keeping my body low. A series of loud pops pierces my ears. Looking up, I see orange splatters. I freeze and hold my hands over my head. Shit, shit, shit, shit! Thankfully, the noise and my helmet muffled my scream. I open my eyes and discover a set of black boots in front of me. Oh, shit! The tip of a gun is staring at me. I have to fight the flashback that is coming on full force. Then a quick pop hits his shoulder, and he is out. I nearly burst out in glee. I give him a little wave as he walks away and notice he’s on the red team.
He flips me the bird over his shoulder.
So, that makes two red down, and one orange that spread nine bullets at the wall. I keep moving. I finally look over and see I’m only a few feet from the flag. Screw it! I jump to my feet and sprint toward the flag. I leap, and my hand just brushes over it as I feel three pops to my lower stomach. Noooo! I fall to the ground, now thankful for all the gear. I feel the paintballs, but it doesn’t hurt. I jump to my feet; I have to look like I do this all the time.
Oh, no. I’m supposed to know where to go. Damn it! I hear some laughter off to my left. Thank God. I walk in and see the guys with their visors up, cracking jokes about how they got shot. I take a seat against the wall and fight the urge to cross my legs. I look around and try to sit like them. I spread my legs and lean on an elbow. I feel ridiculous; this is not comfortable. Someone on the orange team comes and sits next to me, his arm and chest dripping green paint. I wonder if Mark shot him. He holds his fist out to me. Oh, right. Fist bumps. I bump him back and give a nod. I notice he doesn’t remove his visor either. I wish I knew who he is, but his name tag is now covered in green. I glance up at the screen where the times are counting down for each guy. This place is seriously cool. Scary as hell—but frigging cool.
