by Shandi Boyes
“Please,” I beg, turning my focus to Ryan. “She’s my baby, Ryan. Please don’t pick me over her.”
His eyes only drop to mine for a second, but it is long enough for him to see the honesty in them. I’ll never forgive him if his failure to stand down results in Rylee getting injured.
Peering into the eyes of a man I’ll never stop loving, I assure him, “He won’t hurt me, Ryan.” Because you won’t let him. My last guarantee is issued without words. Ryan is a protector, and I'm a nurturer. It is the way we are.
While murmuring profanity under his breath, Ryan lowers his gun. An egotistical grin stretches across Keifer’s face when Ryan unclicks the chamber from the butt and slides the two separated pieces across the floor. When Keifer nudges his head for me to collect Ryan’s gun, I do as requested, albeit hesitantly.
“Now let Rylee go,” I demand, my confident words not betraying the shaking encumbering every inch of me.
Keifer’s evil eyes bounce between Ryan and me for several terrifying seconds. Just when I think he's going to deny my request, he drops Rylee from his grasp and fists my hair in a firm grip. The roots of my hair pull from my scalp when he drags me into the position in which he was holding Rylee. His pistol notches into my temple as his death-clutch steals the air from my lungs. Although I'm terrified, I am also relieved. Rylee has her little arms curled around Ryan’s thigh. He will keep her safe.
“If you attempt to follow us, I’ll kill her.” Keifer’s tone leaves no doubt to his threat.
As I am dragged out of the place I’ve only called home for two months by my hair, I mouth to Ryan and Rylee that I love them, while silently praying my tear-stained face won’t be the last memory they have of me.
Chapter 24
Ryan
My eyes drop from one tear-stained face to another. “It’s okay, Rylee. Your mom is going to be okay. I promise.”
She accepts my guarantee with the same assurance I took Savannah’s earlier. Keifer won’t hurt her—because I won’t let him.
Ignoring the crazy beat of my heart, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket before scooping Rylee into my arms. She's so warm, the sweat slicking my skin sizzles when I draw her into my chest to calm her panicked shuddering.
The 9-1-1 dispatch officer connects my call at the same time I reach the door Savannah was just hauled through. After checking the corridor is clear of any threat, I make my way to Mrs. Daphne’s apartment. She's Ravenshoe’s collective grandmother. Nearly every child in this town has been babysat by Mrs. Daphne at some stage in his or her life.
“My name is Ryan Carter; we have a 134 in progress at an apartment block on Wren Street. Suspect is wearing black trousers, a navy blue collared shirt, and a faded baseball cap. He's armed and considered highly dangerous...”
My hurried words skid to a stop when my eyes lock in on a flurry of honey-colored hair. Savannah is being shoved into the passenger seat of a white sedan via the driver’s side door. Keifer’s vehicle is mounted on the curb, showcasing his desperation has reached fever-pitch. The panic burning my esophagus grows. Smart criminals are a menace to society, but unhinged ones usually only harm those closest to them.
When Keifer cranks his ignition, I increase my speed. “Suspect is driving a white Chrysler, last three digits of the number plate are 382. He's heading north on Wren. His victim is a Caucasian female wearing white denim shorts and a pink sweater.”
With one hand holding a crying Rylee to my chest and the other caressing my cell, I alert Mrs. Daphne of my presence by kicking her door. She answers not even two seconds later. One look at my face tells her everything she needs to know.
“It’s okay, baby girl, come on,” Mrs. Daphne coerces Rylee, who is clutching my neck for dear life, fighting to stay with me.
I hate her being torn from me kicking and screaming, but I know she's safe with Mrs. Daphne. Her mother’s safety isn’t as easily guaranteed.
After pressing my lips to Rylee’s flaming red face in silent promise that I will return with her mom, I charge down the corridor. My pulse is pounding my eardrums so fiercely, I can barely hear the instructions the 9-1-1 officer is giving me, but I don’t miss the most vital part of her information—Keifer’s location.
With years of training under my belt, and even more years of admiration, I dive into the driver’s seat of my patrol car, stab my key into the ignition, and floor the gas. My car rockets out of the parking lot of Savannah’s building as my cell connects to my command’s Bluetooth.
“Right on Turner,” the operator’s instructions are mixed with the helicopter hovering above my head. They’ve brought in the big guns.
“North on Taite.”
Gratitude for Regina’s love of pursuit pumps into me when I take the corner like a maniac. A handful of pedestrians ignorant of my siren can’t ignore my horn when I slam my hand down on it. They race onto the sidewalk, their eyes as wide as mine, their fists clenched just as tightly.
The features of Ravenshoe I’ve grown to adore the past decade whizz past my window in a blur. My speed is so excessive, the front tires on my patrol car struggle to hold onto the asphalt. I’m practically soaring.
“West on Mercer.”
I slam my foot on the brake and skid to a stop mere inches from Mercer Avenue. After taking a second to ensure my abrupt pause hasn’t caused an accident, I shift my foot from the brake to the gas pedal. I’m flooded with painful memories when my extreme speed along Mercer Lane doesn’t impede my notice of the many tourist signs dotted along the way. They are all for the man-made wonder I haven’t visited since a horrifying day nearly eleven years ago: Bronte’s Peak.
When the operator advises Keifer has turned east on Wesley, I realize what he's doing. He isn’t fleeing with Savannah; he’s taking her straight to hell with him. But his hell isn’t filled with fiery flames and ashes—it’s a bed of water. He’s returning Savannah to her deepest, darkest nightmare.
“Direct emergency first responders to the base of Bronte’s Peak. Instruct them to bring police divers.”
Dust hinders my vision when I drag my car off the roadside. I careen down the valley on the outskirts of Bronte’s Peak as if my mode of transport is a four-wheel drive. I can only hope my intuition isn’t hindered by the pain shredding my heart to pieces, because if it is, I didn’t just risk Savannah’s life—I took it.
“Move, move, move!” I scream at a group of tourists scaling the volatile rock surface with the hopes of capturing a superstar unaware. Noah has lived on the cliffs of Bronte’s Peak for the past six months. Not only is he living the dream; he’s living the life neither of his brothers got to live. To say I'm proud of that man is an understatement. He didn’t just break the cycle of domestic violence in his family, he smashed it out of the park.
When the tourists scamper out of the way, I release my foot from the brake. I don’t need to place it on the gas pedal; the natural decline of the cliff edge guides my speed.
Blisters form on my palm as I struggle to keep control of my vehicle in the loose sand. Recognizing that my sinking tires are slowing me down, I throw open my door and continue my trek on foot. My heart rate is dangerously high, but nothing can slow my speed, not even the sirens I hear growing closer with every thump of my feet.
Why?
Because my intuition is proven spot on when a loud boom rumbles through my chest a mere nanosecond before a white sedan sails over my head like a plane soaring in the sky.
With my heart in my throat, I charge down the wooden jetty filled with tourists. They stare at Keifer’s car flying through the air with their mouths hanging open, as if they are at a stunt show in Hollywood Studios.
“I’m hijacking your boat,” I advise a fisherman at the end of the jetty.
Not giving him the chance to protest, I grab him by the scruff of his shirt and throw him away from the wheel. Keifer’s car has barely broken through the water when I’m racing toward them. Salt water splashes my cheeks as I scan the water’s edge, seeking a
ny signs of movement. I know why I haven’t been oceanside in years. It smells as horrible as it always has.
But this is different from the last time I swam these waters. Savannah knows how to swim, so her chances of survival have drastically improved... right?
Right.
Then why do I have a horrible feeling twisting my stomach?
Chapter 25
Savannah
The impact of Keifer’s car hitting the barricade at the crest of Bronte’s Peak dislodges his weapon from his grasp. While we sail through the air, I prepare for impact. I’m not talking about the ocean; I’m referring to my fist connecting with Keifer’s jaw.
I knew the instant he turned down Taite what he was planning to do. He had read my record; he knew how much I hated this place, so this was the perfect spot for him to seek his revenge. This event isn’t a kidnapping; it is an attempted murder/suicide.
When I first sailed over this gorge years ago, I was certain I was going to die. I should have never underestimated Ryan. He doesn’t understand the word defeat. He didn’t just save my life that night; he restored my faith in humanity.
I can only hope he achieves the same outcome today.
My body launches forward when we crash into the ocean with a bone-shuddering crunch. Hitting water at the rate we were traveling is the equivalent of crashing into a concrete wall. It steals the air from my lungs and sends pain hurtling through my chest and stomach.
But it doesn’t alter my plan of attack .
After slamming my elbow into Keifer’s ribs, my hand jack-knifes up, punching him right in the nose. He grunts before retaliating to my violence with the same amount of force. White spots dance in front of my eyes when his clenched knuckles rattle my teeth.
His viciousness intensifies my flight and fight mode. After slinging my seatbelt off my body, I spring to a crouched position, then throw out my leg. Although I’m aiming to inflict harm to him, I also use his face as a springboard to escape the water flooding into his vehicle at a rate faster than my heart is pumping blood.
I’m halfway out the window when Keifer seizes my ankle and drags me backward. Recognizing the hard top design of his vehicle is sending us to the bed of the ocean faster than Axel’s convertible did, I suck in three deep breaths to replenish my lungs with air before I'm swamped by water.
My assumption about Keifer’s plans is proven dead accurate when he doesn’t attempt to flee his rapidly sinking car. He holds me captive by my legs as bubbles of air trickle from his nose. I struggle with all my might, not willing to go down without a fight. I didn’t spend years ensuring Ryan didn’t become a statistic of domestic violence just to become one myself.
My fight agitates Keifer more. With the aggressiveness I’ve always seen in his eyes, he grips my nape before throwing my head forward. My forehead connects with the dashboard so fiercely, the crystal blue water turns murky in an instant. Dizzy and profusely bleeding, I attempt to gasp in much-needed air. All my lungs take in is water.
As I struggle through my body’s convulsive reaction to the horrible-tasting water gushing into my lungs, I dig my nails into Keifer’s hand. The harder I battle, the greater my wooziness becomes.
Before I know it, blackness takes over.
“Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen,” grunts a voice from above as my chest caves inwards. “Come on, Savannah. We’re not going down this road again. Fight, baby. Do it for Rylee. She’s waiting for you.”
The heaviness on my chest elevates when a pair of lips seal over mine, replenishing my lungs with much-needed air. One lung-filling gulp is quickly followed by another. Arching my back, I suck in a mangled breath as tears prick my eyes. The salty water I swallowed during my near drowning gargles in the back of my throat, almost drowning me for a second time.
“That’s it, Savannah. Come on.”
I’m rolled onto my side and whacked on my back before I can see who is saving me. I don’t need to see my savior’s face to know who he is, though. His heavenly gruff voice and delicious lips tell me everything I need to know. Ryan has once again dragged me from the bottom of the ocean, saving me in more ways than he will ever know.
When my eyes slowly flutter open, it dawns on me I’m not the only person he has saved. Keifer is hogtied on the sand next to me. The blood dripping from a split on his left brow reveals he's alive—unfortunately—and the arrogance in his eyes is doused with every unsteady breath I take. He wanted me dead so badly, he’d happily go to jail to witness it.
It’s a pity he underestimated Ryan’s determination.
I’ll never make the same mistake twice.
Epilogue
Ryan
* * *
Four Months Later. . .
The worry my shoulders have been carrying all night lifts when Rylee’s dimples pop off her face from my finger tracing her cheek. She mumbles incoherently under her breath before slipping her stuffed bunny under her chin.
With the sun peeking through her hot pink curtains, I switch off her underwater-themed nightlight then head for the door. The nightlight was Savannah’s idea. With her fear of drowning passed on to Rylee, she’s hoping the introduction of water in her everyday life will help when we tackle swimming lessons next week.
I don’t like her chances. Rylee is as stubborn as her mother. It is lucky I love her just as much as I did Savannah at the same age. The first few weeks were rocky. Rylee was not impressed when I palmed her off to Mrs. Daphne. She didn’t speak to me for days, not even when I decorated the spare room in my apartment head to toe with stuffed animals and hideous pink bedspreads and cushions.
That is one way Rylee and Savannah are different. Rylee loves the girly stuff. She likes having her nails painted with bright pink polish, and if makeup is involved, she’s there with bells on.
That’s how I won her over. After sharing my dilemma with Izzy, she gave me some tips she used with Callie, her sister/somewhat daughter. Callie was smitten with Isaac, but she wasn’t too keen on Izzy at the start. By using the same persuasive techniques she shared with me, Izzy soon won Callie over.
Izzy’s advice was as solid as a gold nugget, because not only did I get back in Rylee’s good graces, I won over her mother as well. It was a win-win situation. I need an army when it comes to combatting Savannah’s stubbornness. Thankfully, Rylee accepted the rank with honor. She helped coerce Savannah into following our original plan we created the morning of Keifer’s unexpected arrival, citing the park next to my building as her reason for wanting to move.
It wasn’t the basis for her relocation. Rylee is as smart as she is cute. She knew her mom wanted to say yes, she was just too worried what people would think to stick it to the naysayers.
Rylee doesn’t have that hang-up.
Although Keifer is no longer an issue, he didn’t factor into our original plan. I had a decade of labored breathing to make up for. If Savannah had denied my suggestion, she wouldn’t have just dented my ego; my lungs would have suffered too.
Mercifully, Savannah gave in without too much convincing—thank god. If I were forced to use the persuasiveness I know she can’t fend off, I may have scarred Rylee for life. I already tickled her until she peed her pants, then dumped her on a stranger all within an hour, I really didn’t want scar her any more than I already had.
Savannah stops cuddling her pillow when she notices me entering our bedroom. The tiredness on her face matches mine. The past few months have been tough on all of us, but the brunt has been carried by Savannah. The woman I have admired since she was a girl took my admiration to a never-to-be-reached-again level last month. She not only faced her fears head on, she looked into the eyes of a monster as she testified about the horrific things he did to her.
There was not a dry eye in the courtroom when Savannah left the witness stand. Even my eyes were wet.
After a short trial, Keifer was sentenced to twenty-five-years to life. The counts against him are so astronomical, the chances of him ever being patrolled are slim to
none. I was hoping the DA would push for the death penalty. That is the only reason I advised the fisherman surrounding me that there was another person in the car when I pulled Savannah from her watery grave for the second time in my life.
Fatal flaws by both Savannah and me four months ago were the cause of her near demise. With the tenseness of our night, Savannah forgot about the FBI agent scanning her fingerprint in the nationwide database. Then with my mind fritzing from all the disturbing information Savannah bombarded me with, I forgot about my call from the US Marshall two weeks earlier. Keifer added two plus two, and he reached four. That is how he tracked Savannah’s location so quickly.
Fortunately for me, Savannah never goes down without a fight.
After tugging off my jacket and loosening my tie, I crawl into bed. My sixteen-hour shift made me want to chase sleep nearly three hours ago. If it wasn’t for a break in Brax’s case, I would have succumbed to the petitions of my heavy eyelids. Three armed men jumped an employee of the tattoo parlor Brax is a part owner in. They fled with only minor possessions, but I can’t settle my curiosity in his case. Brax is my brother from another mother, but that’s not why I can’t hand off his case to officers below me. My intuition is telling me this is my case, I just haven’t figured out why yet.
“How’s Brax? Did you find the people responsible?” Savannah’s knees straddle my hips as her hands tackle the buttons of my dress shirt.
She’s not teasing me; she’s merely comforting me like she always does in a crisis.
It is a pity my cock didn’t get the memo.
The instant her breath fans my neck, I become acutely aware my body hasn’t figured out that I’m no longer a teenage boy with teenage issues. I swear to god, Savannah only needs to do a half-hearted hum, and my cock thickens to the point I could bounce a nickel off it.
