by Skye Jordan
But the tension wafting off Ian was palpable, and he didn’t listen to her any better now than fifteen minutes ago. “I was going to tell you when we had all the concrete information.”
“When you got evidence against me,” she corrected. “Everly told me.”
“No,” he said. “When we had evidence against everyone else and had cleared you.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” he repeated, his voice tense with frustration. “One assumes guilt, the other assumes innocence. I knew you weren’t part of it. Savannah, I’m the same man that was with you last night.”
Her frustration rose. Her sense of control plummeted. “It’s obvious I have no idea who I was with last night.”
How had this happened? Since she’d walked away from Hank, she’d developed personal barriers that had strengthened over time. How had this man slipped through a crack she hadn’t even realized was there and invaded the security she’d created for herself and Jamison so damn quickly?
“God,” she whispered, rubbing her forehead. “I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” he insisted.
She huffed a laugh, disgusted with herself. “What do you call dropping all my defenses for a smile from one hot guy?”
“I call that attraction.”
She cut a look at him. “It’s not attraction when you were ordered to act like you care.”
“I wasn’t.” He met her gaze with equal frustration. “I do care.”
“This conversation is pointless.” She turned her gaze out the windshield, focusing on the taillights of Everly’s Jeep.
When would she learn? She’d been taught the same lesson over and over throughout her life, yet she kept making the same mistake. Every time she thought she’d found someone genuine and committed, they morphed and changed into something completely different.
Her father had taught her that men don’t stay. Her mother had taught her that she didn’t matter, she wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth loving. Hank had combined both of her parents’ lessons into one ugly mess of a marriage.
And now Ian had confirmed all of it. That people say one thing and do another. That they make empty promises, then twist them to fit their own agenda.
The only thing that kept Savannah sane was Jamison. So pure, so innocent, so open and loving. The one person in the world who gave Savannah hope she could break this cycle in her life.
To do that now, Savannah needed to understand what was happening, who she was with, and how to secure her son’s safety.
“What branch of the military is this Manhunters team part of?” Her question came out flat and emotionless, signaling her internal barriers shoring up.
“I’m not in the military,” he said. “I’m on a nonmilitary security team. What I told you about my mom and retiring was true. All the important stuff you know about me is true.”
“Your truth, maybe. If it’s not military, what is this security team? Who are you working for?”
“The government.” He paused and added, “Indirectly.”
“Indirectly.” She laughed at his attempt to warp reality. “You either work for the government or you don’t.”
“I work for an agency that works for the government.” Frustration colored his tone.
“That’s convoluted at best.” Her voice rose with anger, despite knowing the emotion was futile and draining. “How can you expect me to believe anything you say at this point?”
“Why do you keep asking questions if you’re not going to believe anything I say?”
“Insanity, obviously,” she shot back.
“Mommy?” Jamison drew off his headphones with an irritated frown. “Could you talk quieter, please? I can’t hear my movie.”
Regret instantly pulled the plug on her anger. “Sure, honey.” She reached back and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He slid his headphones back on with a sweet “Thank you.”
A smile flickered over her mouth. Softness filled her heart. Ian glanced back at Jamison, then at Savannah. The instant his eyes met hers, his mouth lifted with the same smile and in that instant, their affection for Jamison shone through the turmoil. Her heart screamed He’s a good man. But she forced logic to override her ignorant emotions.
Everly’s SUV turned onto another side road plowed into a single lane and pulled up behind an idling black Suburban. Three men exited the Suburban. They looked like they belonged here, wearing cargo pants and jeans, parkas, hats, snow boots. Everly parked and slid out of her Jeep to approach the men.
Savannah unbuckled her seat belt and looked at Jamison. When he pulled one of the earphones away from his head, Savannah said, “You stay in the truck where it’s warm. I’m just going to talk to some people and come right back.”
Then she opened the door as Ian slowed, prepared to slide out on the move.
“Savannah.” He hit the brakes and reached for her. “Wait.”
She dropped to the snow before he could grab her arm. She had a son to secure. A life to salvage. Strangers to assess.
“Who’s that?” Jamison asked, his voice drifting to her from the truck.
“They’re friends of mine,” Ian told Jamison. “Everything’s fine, buddy.”
The men turned toward her, and Everly followed their gazes. She glanced behind Savannah toward the truck, then introduced her to the men.
“Savannah, this is Roman, our CO, Sam our tech genius, and Liam, who evidently tagged along whether we liked it or not.”
Savannah didn’t know what a CO was, but she didn’t care. “I need to see some credentials.”
They all stared at her a long second, as if she hadn’t spoken English.
“I have no idea who you all are,” she clarified her position. “I’ve discovered Ian—if that’s even his real name—has been lying to me for over a week, the ex-husband, who’s trying to steal our child, has been dealing in counterfeit passports, and you all believe my best friend is in on it, which you’re wrong about, by the way. Before I listen to what you have to say, before my son and I go anywhere with you, I want to know who you are and whether or not you truly have the ability to do something more for me than I can do for myself, because I can screw up my own life just fine. I don’t need anyone’s help to make things worse.”
As anticipated, they didn’t look pleased, but Savannah had stopped giving a damn what people thought of her a long time ago. She was angry and hurt and scared, and there would be no holding it back in this insane situation.
Two of the men reached into their pockets and pulled out wallets. She took them both. Roman’s ID claimed he was with the Department of Defense. Liam’s ID was from the FBI. Neither impressed her. Law enforcement hadn’t exactly earned her respect. Besides, she had no way of knowing whether the IDs were authentic.
She handed their IDs back and tilted her head toward Ian, still standing at the truck’s front bumper. “Which one of you is his boss?”
“I am,” Roman said.
She crossed her arms against the cold and met his gaze steadily. “Are you the one who told him to sleep with me?”
The gaze Roman turned on Ian could have burned the hair off his head. “No.”
The you-fucking-idiot tone in Roman’s voice confirmed that sleeping with Savannah had been Ian’s idea. She didn’t know if that was good or bad, but it was immaterial.
“You’re so in the doghouse,” Everly said, grinning at Ian like a bratty little sister.
“You’re so not one to talk,” he shot back.
The man named Sam burst out laughing. But Everly cut it short with a smack to Sam’s gut. “Neither are you.”
“Come on,” Roman said, clearly the disapproving father of the group. “We need to get going.”
“You’re wrong about Misty,” she told him. “I’ve known her for five years. If she was involved in something as odd and illegal as counterfeiting passports, I’d know.”
Roman cut another frown at Ian. “What?” he aske
d with sarcasm. “You didn’t show her pictures too?”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said with too much enthusiasm. He stepped toward her and handed her his phone. The camera app was open, and Sam angled behind her to point out all the areas in a sterile, concrete room.
Sam went on and on, sliding picture after picture of unidentifiable images past her.
“I’ve never seen any of this. That room is not on Misty’s property and certainly not in her barn.” She frowned at Roman, her confidence in this group dropping. “Are you sure you had the right address?”
“Oh, wait,” Sam scrolled ahead. “Here I’m coming up from the basement.”
He tapped a video, and Savannah watched Roman, Liam, and Ian scout the space, which was, as Ian had claimed, decked out with some seriously high-tech computers and printers. They were wearing fatigues, helmets with cameras or binoculars or something attached to the top, and seriously scary-looking rifles. Savannah had no experience with the military, had no way of reliably determining whether this was even real. She could only say the way they moved and handled the equipment held a casual mastery learned from years and years of doing what they were doing in the video.
“What have you got there?” Sam’s voice came over the cell as he approached Ian, who picked up bottles off a shelf.
“Thermochromic and optically variable security ink.” His voice was familiar, but his tone was direct and businesslike.
“I’ve seen my share of counterfeit material,” this came from Liam. “But never anything this sophisticated.”
They discussed counterfeiting terms Savannah had never heard.
“I thought she might have picked up some passports on the darknet,” Ian said, “doctored them, and passed them on to Bishop, but this…” He shook his head. “I never imagined she was capable of this.”
Savannah’s stomach dropped. He’d known? He’d known and hadn’t told her?
She couldn’t listen anymore. She shoved the phone back at Sam. “You still haven’t proved to me this has anything to do with—”
“Keep watching,” Everly said.
Sam sped up the tape, and Savannah refocused on the screen. She found the camera following the group up some stairs. When they reached the top, the image went dark but for the light glowing from the basement. Savannah couldn’t make much out. Then someone turned off a light, and everything went black a moment before the camera adjusted for the new setting.
By the open rafters, tin roof, and wooden walls, it was clear they were in a barn, but…
“Here.” Sam pointed at the screen to direct her attention as if she wasn’t already riveted to it. “The work desk.”
A desk lamp clicked on, illuminating an old desk piled high with junk and paper. Savannah squinted, searching for that unmistakable association to Misty. “There’s so much junk, how could you ever link any of that to—”
“Right there,” Sam said.
The camera’s lens focused on a pile of mail. Old mail, judging by the yellow stain across the envelopes. One of the guys grabbed a stack and went through it piece by piece while Sam held the camera. Mail for David Klein—Misty’s father.
Shock jolted Savannah’s brain.
“Sam,” Roman’s voice sounded in the distance, “get your ass out before we lock you in.”
Her vision blurred as her mind worked.
“You need to prep Savannah for what’s coming,” she heard Roman say. “We’re going to need her cooperation.”
And in the next instant, she heard Ian’s voice, sober, serious, and determined, claiming, “We’ll have it.”
15
Ian launched himself toward Sam but grabbed the phone only after Savannah had heard him claim he’d make sure she cooperated.
His fear was realized the moment he saw the look on her face, anger covering hurt even as he watched the transformation.
“Sam, you piece of—”
“Dude.” Sam grabbed his phone. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Me? I swear sometimes for all your brains, you don’t have an ounce of common sense.”
Everly’s phone rang. “Shut up,” she told the guys. “It’s Rosen.”
She turned away, answering the phone with one hand, the other blocking noise in her opposite ear. When Ian turned toward Savannah, he found her walking toward his truck.
“Jesus Christ,” Ian said. “You sure know how to make problems, Slaughter.”
“You’re the one making problems with her, dude. I don’t have anything to do with that.”
“I’d have to agree with him,” Roman told Ian, clearly unhappy.
Not only had Ian stepped over the line with Savannah, he hadn’t prepared her for all this.
Everly ended her call and waited for Savannah to return with Jamison.
“We want to go home,” she told the group, primarily holding Roman’s gaze. Then she glanced at Everly. “Everly can take us.”
Fuck. Ian felt like he’d swallowed a boulder.
Everly glanced at Jamison and said, “Sam, why don’t you show Jamison how you make your special snowballs.”
“My what?” Sam said.
“Stop with the absentminded-professor routine,” she told him. “Your. Special. Snowballs.”
Roman nudged Sam’s shoulder. “Go play with the kid, would you?”
When Sam and Jamison were out of earshot, Everly gave Savannah an apologetic look. “Sorry, girl, you can’t go home.” She turned her gaze on the guys. “Someone called in a Savannah sighting at Bishop’s house. He left the board meeting and discovered everything missing from the safe. Then found Savannah and Jamison MIA.”
“Shit,” Ian bit out.
“He’s geared up his cavalry of half-wits and sent them out on the hunt with an order to use any force necessary to capture Savannah on sight and to bring Jamison and the contents of the safe back.”
“Oh my God,” Savannah murmured, stricken. Her gaze instantly locked on Ian, her expression scared and searching. But then dropped away a split second later, as if she realized he wasn’t her ally anymore.
“Every cop in the county is looking for them. He said to take the back roads to get out of Hazard. Join up with the highway once we’re fifty miles clear.”
“After all the recent snow?” Ian said. “That’s going to take hours. Do we even know which roads are plowed?”
“Sam will be able to tell us,” Roman told them. “He can hack into the state transportation database. Let’s get moving. The bigger our head start, the better. Liam and I will switch cars with Ian and take the lead. Everly, you and Sam take Jamison and the middle position. Ian, you and Savannah are the chaser.”
“I don’t know what a chaser is,” Savannah said, “but Jamison is not going in a different car. He stays with me.”
“He can’t,” Ian told her.
“Don’t tell me—” Savannah immediately attacked.
“We aren’t trying to keep him from you,” Everly cut in, her voice soft but deliberate. “It’s safer to have you in different cars.”
Liam stepped away from the conversation to pull the seat and the DVD player from the truck.
“Why?” Savannah demanded. “Safer how?”
“His chances of getting both of you are significantly diminished,” Ian told her.
“If he captures you,” Roman told her in his signature all-business commander tone, “he won’t kill you if he thinks you have Jamison’s location.”
“And we’d get you back before he realizes you can’t help him,” Ian added, hoping to calm the hysteria brewing in her eyes. “If he captures Jamison, you stay alive, and then we’ll find Jamison.”
“This isn’t a fucking video game.” Terror pulled the color from her cheeks. Shock darkened her eyes. Ian ached to reach out to her, reassure her. But he sank deeper into enemy territory with every new complication that slashed at her life. “This is my life.”
“Which we’re trying to save,” Roman told her. “Sam, get the kid. Let’s go.”<
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In a snowbank to the left, Jamison hit Sam with a snowball and giggled. But terror broke across Savannah’s face. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Everly stepped up to Savannah and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll keep him in his seat and run the DVD player nonstop. Sam’s just a five-year-old genius in an adult’s body. He’ll be Jamison’s new best friend in twenty minutes.”
She finally looked at Ian. “What do you think? Where will Jamison be safest?”
Hope buoyed her heart. Until he had to tell her, “With Everly and Sam in the middle car.”
Tears welled in her eyes. But she pressed her lips together and turned back to Everly. “You promised…”
Her voice broke, and Everly pulled her into a quick hug. “And I keep my promises.”
Everly called to Sam and started toward the Jeep. Savannah followed. She settled Jamison into the back and did a decent job of making the situation seem like an adventure rather than a tenuous life-saving escape.
“We’re burnin’ daylight here, people,” Roman called out the truck’s window.
Ian had to stuff his feelings and pull Savannah from the Jeep. She jerked her arm away and walked ahead of him to the Suburban. Inside, Savannah dropped her head into her hands and choked down sobs. Regret swamped Ian. But with time as their enemy, he couldn’t wallow. At least not outwardly.
He followed the others’ lead and backed onto the road they’d come in on, then followed Everly’s Jeep. Savannah stopped crying almost immediately, curled into her seat, and stared out the passenger’s window.
She stayed silent so long, Ian was convinced she’d never talk to him again. In his ear, the team relayed travel information and Bishop updates as Rosen phoned them into Everly. So far, Bishop and the deputies were weaving a futile pattern around Hazard County, but Lyle had enlisted the help of locals to cover the town so the deputies could cross county lines and patrol the highway farther south. Ian had no doubt Sam was tracking every Hazard sheriff’s vehicle on a map that showed open and plowed roads.