by Shandi Boyes
“What about the other Marshalls? What do they have to say for themselves?” Regina asks as she digs through the handwritten notes Savannah kept hidden from Rylee’s dad. “Tobias’s crew would have never let this slide. There should have been more than one Marshall assigned to her protection. Who was Keifer’s superior? Who did he report to?”
I shrug my shoulders, my mind as jumbled as Regina’s. “Savannah said after Tobias died, she didn’t see anyone but Keifer. She assumed he was keeping their location on the down low as a security measure. He told her the fewer people aware of her location, the better. This wasn't a properly run operation, Regina. He had Savannah at his advantage, and he exploited it.”
I scrub my hand over my eyes before scooting to the edge of my chair to continue rummaging through the evidence. I’m tired as fuck, but there's no chance of me sleeping. Not only is my heart in a mess, so is Savannah’s case. Rylee’s father is a US Marshall. Although no official evidence has been amassed, he appears to have been assigned to Savannah’s protective detail in the weeks leading to Tobias’s death.
Although Keifer continued to check in for duty every day for the past nearly four years Savannah has been running, he has not lodged a single document that includes Savannah’s name or one of the many aliases she has had over the years.
He wasn’t just hiding her from Col’s crew after Tobias died. He was hiding her from the world.
I stop staring at the long list of names Savannah has been called the past ten years when Regina asks, “How did she get out alive, Ryan?”
Regina knows the statistics as well as me. Over half of the women killed in America each year are related to intimate partner violence. That means they were killed by either a current or former romantic partner. The odds of Savannah getting out were low, yet here she lies, sleeping peacefully years later with the strength of a tigress. I always knew Savannah was a strong, determined woman, but I admire her even more now.
She didn’t just accept her fate, she fought it. Could you imagine the courage it takes to sneak out of a hospital room with a one day old baby hidden under your sweater? Savannah knew the odds on households affected by domestic violence; she read every article I gave my mom when we were kids. She knew Rylee’s birth would coincide with the return of Keifer’s violence. That is why she ran when she did.
By manually adjusting her obstetrician receipts and buying items at the store before immediately refunding them, she amassed over a thousand dollars the last few months of her pregnancy. She didn’t want a glamorous life; she just wanted a non-violent one.
For the first few months, she lived on the money she had stolen, but as Rylee grew, so did Savannah’s desperation. She knew Keifer was looking for them, so she had to change her location a minimum of once every two months. That made it hard to secure employment. Not only did she have to trust the care of her baby to strangers, she had to plead with business owners to keep their payments under the table.
It is lucky Savannah can read people.
She and Rylee lived well below the poverty line the past three years, but they were living, and that was all that mattered... until Savannah’s heart had her issuing a plea she never thought she’d give.
There's only one alias Keifer is unaware of: Abby Rowe.
That is how Regina discovered Savannah’s return to Ravenshoe two weeks before me. After scouring Tobias’s records, she discovered a protocol he had failed to advise his superiors about. He had hidden aliases for every woman he placed into witness protection. It was a safeguard, their last resort. If their cover was blown, or they were in immediate danger, they only had to use the name Tobias had given them, and he’d find them.
Savannah no longer has Tobias in her life, but she has the next best thing. She has Regina.
Savannah is too proud to admit she needs help, but the fact she used the alias Tobias advised was only for an emergency situation in the town she was raised in reveals the plea she’s too independent to make: I need help.
Like she can sense my intrusive stare, Savannah’s eyes slowly flutter open. Although she’s only been sleeping for a few hours, she looks well-rested. I doubt she had a solid night’s sleep in ages.
“Everything okay?” she mouths, ensuring she doesn’t wake up Rylee, who is sleeping on her chest.
I nod, preferring to lie without words. It’s not okay. Not yet. But it will be. Soon. I’ll make sure of it.
The lamp hanging over the sofa Savannah is resting on twinkles in her eyes when I push off my feet and pad to her side. My god, she's a beautiful woman. Brave. Gorgeous. And mine. That’s not subjective. It is straight up honest.
Rylee nuzzles into her mother’s chest when I adjust the knitted blanket draped over them. “Go back to sleep. We’ve got everything handled here.”
I can see the controversy in Savannah’s eyes, but she still nods, awarding me a trust I’ve yet to fully gain back. It’s not that she believes I will deceive her; she’s just wary of everyone.
When Keifer first struck Savannah, she sought assistance at the local sheriff’s office, unaware Keifer’s brother was the head of their region. When he hit her for the second time, she tried to run as she did four years ago. She didn’t even make it a mile before Keifer arrived at her side. For every corner Savannah walked, a member of Keifer’s family or friends stood on it. No matter whom she sought assistance from, word of her inquiries always got back to Keifer.
That didn’t just make matters worse for Savannah, it nearly got her killed.
The horrifying images spread across Savannah’s table are the result of her seeking help. As Regina said, she did everything right, yet she was still abused. If it wasn’t for the young midwife who stayed by her side when she delivered Rylee, I doubt she’d be free now. She didn’t just get out of the hospital unseen; she saved her life.
Once this all settles down, I’m going to shower that midwife with my praise. What she did makes her just as brave as Savannah in my eyes.
After pressing a kiss to Savannah’s temple, I run my finger down Rylee’s rosy cheek. The heaviness on my chest eases when the little dimple indents further from my touch.
“She couldn’t be more like her mother if she tried.”
I realize I said my statement out loud when Savannah replies, “You have no idea, Ryan. You haven’t seen her awake yet.”
It’s the fight of my life not to kiss the cheeky grin off her face, but I hold back the desire—barely. I don’t want Rylee’s first impression of me to be a lip-sucking-leech, no matter how delectable Savannah’s mouth looks.
“Go to sleep,” I request again before raking my fingers through her hair in a comforting manner.
Savannah always loved having her hair played with when she was younger. I don’t know how many times I woke up with strands of her hair wrapped tightly around my fingers, cutting off my circulation. It used to bother me—now I’d give anything to have it again.
I wait for Savannah’s chest to rise and fall in a steady rhythm before returning to my watch station in her kitchen. From where I'm sitting, I can see the living room, main hall, and the front door. That’s why Savannah is sleeping on the sofa instead of her bed. It is the prime spot for me to keep an eye on her.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Ryan. Direct me. Guide me. Take everything I’ve taught you and flip it on its head, “ Regina asks when I enter the kitchen. “Give me something. Because if you don’t, I’m going to drive to Wyoming and pop a bullet between this guy’s eyes before the sun sets tomorrow afternoon.”
I smirk. I shouldn’t be smiling, but considering her thoughts match the ones I’ve had numerous times the past three hours, I can’t help but smile. If I had my gun, Keifer’s breaths would be limited.
“Weren’t you the one who told me violence never ends violence?”
Regina glares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Yeah, but that was before any of this. He's a US Marshall, Ryan. He should have been protecting her, not beating her to within an inch
of her life.” She licks her parched lips before saying, “We need to report this. You know what these men are like. When they lose one target, sometimes they put two in its place. Not only do we need to seek justice for Savannah, but we also need to make sure this isn’t happening to anyone else.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “But we need to be smart. If he's hiding them like he hid Savannah, and we go in strong, we may never find them.”
“We can do this in a way he’ll never see coming.”
Regina’s words aren’t as confident as she's hoping, but they don’t stop me from asking, “How?”
Her chest rises and falls numerous times before she breathes out, “We use Savannah as bait.”
Chapter 21
Ryan
I wake up the next morning to a pair of bright green eyes gawking at me. Rylee is kneeling next to the sofa I’m sleeping on. Her straight blonde hair is pulled into two even piggy tails, and a curious crinkle is scoured between her brows.
“Hello.”
My greeting barely leaves my mouth when she screams blue murder, darts up from the ground, then bolts across the living room floor at the speed of a bullet.
Upset that I’ve frightened her, I quickly shadow her steps. I find her in the kitchen. She has her tiny arms wrapped around Savannah’s thigh and her cheek buried in her backside. She watches me with a curious gleam in her eyes when I cautiously approach them.
“Don’t let her smell your fear, Ryan, or she’ll exploit it for all its worth,” Savannah warns, unconcerned about the worry in my eyes.
Realizing her cover has been blown, Rylee jumps away from her mother’s thigh. She holds her hands in front of her body and roars like a bear.
The squeal she emits when I return her banter sets my hearing forward by at least three decades. My heart smashes against my ribs when she races across the kitchen floor to leap into my arms. I’m so unprepared for her attack, I land on my backside with a thud. My first thoughts are to wretch her away from me to check her for damage from our collision, but the hearty giggles spilling from her lips stop me.
Rylee’s laughter grows when I tickle her ribs before lifting my eyes to Savannah. “I’m sorry,” I mouth.
What I said to Savannah last night was wrong. She did everything in her power to save her daughter from living the childhood I did. The fact Rylee is open to waking up with a stranger in her house proves this without a doubt. She's a well-adjusted nearly four-year-old who doesn't have a clue about the danger surrounding her. She is as perfect as her mother.
It is like no time at all has passed when Savannah dips her chin, acknowledging she’s aware of what my apology is about. She read my eyes—no more words needed.
My hands tear from Rylee’s ribs when she demands the use of a bathroom. After clambering onto her feet, she dashes down the hall, holding her crotch.
“Sorry,” I apologize again when I notice the small puddle seeping into Rylee’s pajama pants.
Laughing, Savannah holds her hand out to assist me from the ground. Although her help is more of a hindrance than an aid, I accept her offer. If it keeps her skin on mine, I’m never going to turn it down.
“How did you sleep?” she asks before heading to the hall to check if Rylee needs assistance.
After Rylee assures Savannah that she's a “big girl," Savannah returns her eyes to mine, waiting for an answer.
I don't answer her, unless you accept grunting as a form of communication?
Smiling in a way that tightens the front of my pants, Savannah moves back to the sink to finish the breakfast dishes she’s in the process of washing. I watch her from the side of her tiny kitchen, loving the opportunity to see her in her mothering ways, while also reprimanding myself for nodding off.
I had no intention of falling asleep, but the comfort of my gun and badge on my hip must have made my tiredness get the better of me. Although Regina’s suggestion of using Savannah as bait was a plausible proposal for an officer of her dedication, I couldn’t put Savannah’s life at risk.
I only swore to protect her and Rylee a few hours earlier, so I couldn't break my word so quickly. Savannah has had enough promises broken the past ten years; I'm not willing to add more to her stack.
Thankfully, with my denial, another idea came to mind. Keifer is a US Marshall, so as much as this kills me to admit, taking him down needs a broader skillset than Ravenshoe PD has to offer. That is where Alex comes into play.
After advising Regina of my earlier tussle with a member of Alex’s team, she handled initial contact. Alex was as egotistical as ever, but even he had a hard time stomaching the evidence we presented him. He doesn’t even know Savannah, yet he wants to see Keifer pay penance for his horrendous actions.
Thus started my third joint operation with the FBI in the past year and the return of my gun and badge. You wouldn't think two pieces of metal could mean so much, but they do. They don't just represent that I'm a member of Ravenshoe PD. They display I'm a protector. First to Savannah and Rylee, second to my community.
I don't feel an ounce of guilt admitting I'm putting Savannah before anyone. If it weren't for Savannah's persuasive techniques years ago, I would have never enrolled in the academy to begin with, so it is only right she is at the top of my list.
“I’m glad to see nothing has changed,” Savannah murmurs, returning my focus to the present. She slings a damp tea towel over her shoulder before pacing to stand in front of me. “You still get a little groove right here when you’re deep in thought.”
Her thumb rubs the mark etched between my eyes before tracing my quirked brow. Her lingering touch reveals she is as uneager to stop touching me as I'm eager for her to continue. Once her fingers have graced every inch of my face, her hand falls to her side.
“My turn,” I whisper huskily.
Cradling her jaw in my hands, my thumb traces the little scar in her left brow. Savannah’s face has aged since the last time I’ve studied it, but not in a bad way. The tiny crease in the corner of her eyes makes them dazzle even more brightly, and her dimples give her a youthfulness no amount of time could erase.
She's as beautiful now as she has ever been—thank fuck.
I was worried the horrific injuries she sustained during her assault would be evident on her face. They aren’t. Her eyes are the only ones left carrying the baggage.
Just like the silent pledge I gave years ago about wiping Axel from her mind, I’ll work just as hard to remove Keifer from her memories as well. By the time I’ve finished worshipping her like she deserves, she won’t remember the dreadful things he did to her, much less his pathetic name.
After gliding my thumb down Savannah’s inflamed cheeks, I brush them over her lips. I've missed studying her mouth nearly as much as I've missed tasting it the past decade. I can't believe it's been ten years since I've sampled her lips, yet I still recall its intoxicating palette like it was yesterday. As sweet as her hair coloring, but as sinful as vodka.
“Ryan...” Savannah’s eyes divulge the rest of her hummed plea: please kiss me.
I return her desire-fueled stare as I contemplate her suggestion. I’m dying to kiss her—it’s been way too long since her lips have been on mine. We may have fooled around two nights ago, but we didn’t kiss. I just don’t know if it’s an appropriate thing to do with her daughter in the other room.
The last time I was around a baby was when Noah’s daughter Maddie was born. If Rylee were a newborn, I'd have no hesitation granting Savannah's wish. But she's not a baby. She's old enough to be permanently scarred by the influence her mother has over certain regions of my body. I already tickled her until she peed her pants; I don’t want to taint her childhood memories more than I already have.
Before I can announce my worries to Savannah, she balances on her tippy toes to seal her lips over mine. I groan into her mouth. Just as predicted, she tastes like heaven.
I keep the swivels of my tongue to a bare minimum, ensuring I can withdraw at any moment.
Yeah, right.
My tongue is so far down Savannah’s throat, I can confidently declare she still has her tonsils.
Calm down, I’m joking.
I am sampling every inch of her mouth like I have ten years of breathing to make up for—because I do—but I’m not doing it in a zombie sucking your brains out via your mouth type of way. I’m matching the lashes of her tongue stroke for stroke while grinding my extended crotch against the heat between her legs.
Our kiss is nowhere near as raunchy as our romp in my truck, but it is a hundred times hotter. There's something profoundly moving about open-mouth kisses. The affection displayed in a kiss can't be replicated in the bedroom. It is the easiest way to show your feelings without the need for additional protection or words. My relationship with Savannah started with a kiss. If I have it my way, it will end that way as well.
I stop dragging my tongue along the roof of Savannah’s mouth when a deep grunt rumbles through my chest. When the cranky groan is followed by the stomping of a foot, I reluctantly withdraw from Savannah’s sinful mouth. Rylee is standing at our side. Her little hands are spread across her cocked hip, a deep groove between her blond brows.
When she bossily gestures for me to stoop down to her level, I instinctively angle my body to the side. If she's anything like her mother, I'm anticipating a swift kick to my nether regions.
The wind is knocked from my lungs. It isn't what you are thinking. Rylee isn't just a spitting image of her mother—she also has the same fondness. After barely pressing her lips to mine, she charges into the living room, giggling in the same manner Savannah did when we shared our first kiss.
The girl I’ve been crushing on since I was four has competition: her nearly four-year-old daughter.
Shit.
