by Drake, J. L.
“Raven One to Fox Two,” John’s voice flows over the radio, “we’ve got company in five minutes.” Gunshots ring over their earpieces. “You guys need to move now!”
“Ten-four,” Mark answers. “Get the SUV ready, we’re transferring two hostages.”
“Copy that, Fox Two.”
John and Paul spray bullets at the men as they try and close in on them. They take out more than half of The American’s army. The rest seem to pull back when they get sight of Blackstone’s hostages.
Daniel has the two men blindfolded and piles them in the truck, handcuffing them to a metal bar. Tim is pleading with Daniel to let him go, that it was all a misunderstanding, while The American remains silent.
Cole feels Savannah’s grip tighten as he gets closer to the vehicle. He wishes he planned this better as he jumps inside, keeping her on his lap tight against his chest. Mark, Daniel, and Keith squeeze in beside them, while Paul takes the front with John.
“Call it in,” Cole orders Paul once they are on the road. Headlights are coming up quickly behind them.
Savannah doesn’t speak. She barely even moves. He has to keep shifting to make sure she is all right. Her eyes are glued to Daniel’s watch, and she hardly blinks. It takes everything Cole has not to turn around and kill the man who tried to take everything from him. Wanting answers on what the fuck happened back at the house is eating away at his mind.
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes go by. Cole keeps checking the side mirror, watching the same headlights follow them along the dark road. No shots have been fired yet.
“I can smell you, my love,” The American whispers into the silence, making Savannah tense as she hears his voice, snapping her out of her trance. Daniel shakes his head at Cole, making sure he doesn’t react. “I can still feel your soft lips, your smooth skin, and the taste of your tongue.” Savannah turns her face into Cole’s chest, silently sobbing.
“He’s trying to get to you, baby, just tune him out,” Cole whispers in her ear. He kisses her softly, wanting to calm her.
The American chuckles and leans his head back against the window. “When my hands felt that last tiny gasp of air pass through your lungs, I knew I should’ve stopped, but your eyes were hypnotic. You held me in the moment.”
Cole reaches forward and grabs Paul’s stun gun from his hip. He shifts Savannah so she is sitting upright, turns, and forces the tip of the gun through the bars and stuns The American in the neck before anyone has time to react. The American screams out, his body jolting upward. “One more word and I'll kill you.” Cole doesn’t even recognize his own voice he’s so fucking livid. Yanking the wires from the gun, he presses Savannah back down to his chest and hands the gun to his father while the asshole tries to control his breathing.
“House to Blackstone,” Mike’s voice breaks through.
Cole presses the button on his neck to activate his earpiece. “Go ahead.”
“Chopper is standing by, backup arriving in five, Frank and Eagle Eye will meet you on the other side of the border. We see you on satellite and are monitoring behind you, will communicate if they show signs of making a move. So far they’re only watching.”
“Copy that.”
***
Savannah
I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on Cole’s smell, sweat mixed with soap. It's just what I need to ground me. So much has happened it’s hard to stay focused. I’m tired, sore, my neck and throat feel like they’re on fire, and my head is pounding. It’s terrifying to know The American, Denton, or whatever his name is, is sitting a foot away from me. He tried to kill me and almost succeeded. My mind goes to Tim. He was using me; thank god that backfired. But am I really safe? This will never really be over until The American is dead. I don’t even realize what I am doing until I feel Cole’s hand slip on top of mine, stopping me from taking his gun from his leg holster. Instead of saying anything, he laces his fingers through mine, ever so calmly bringing them to rest on my leg. His lips kiss my hair for a long minute, breathing in deeply and helping me drift off to an unpleasant sleep.
Suddenly all hell breaks loose and I'm being hoisted out of the car. I’m in Mark’s arms now, not Cole’s, and there is a lot of shouting, gunshots, and a chopper whose rotor is madly cutting into the early morning air. My brain fights to catch up with this madness.
“Move, move, move!” someone shouts at Mark. Paul is shooting off to our left. I can see the concentration on his face and the puffs of dust as bullets ping around him. It all comes at me as if in slow motion. I see John inside the chopper with his hand extended, reaching out for me. His mouth is moving as though he is yelling something. I can feel the jolt of each step Mark takes as he runs toward John. I feel no pain now; it's all so surreal. When we are close enough, I'm tossed into John’s arms and he lifts me into the chopper. He places me on a seat across from The American, who is still bound and blindfolded. I scan about the massive chopper and can’t find Cole.
The pilot is shouting for the guys to get in, and John is barking out orders to Paul, who is still firing off his weapon. Mark suddenly flies inside with Daniel, who looks to be bleeding from his arm. The chopper blades are kicking up a huge dust storm, making it hard to see and hear the fight outside. I feel the chopper start to shift. What’s going on? Cole and Keith jump on at the last moment before we rise into the sky, and my body sags with relief.
I can't keep my eyes away from The American. It’s odd seeing him looking so vulnerable. With his handcuffs and blindfold, he certainly doesn't frighten me anymore. He’s not wearing his stupid cobra boots. He’s barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans and a shirt. Memories flood through me of him on top of me in the bedroom, of the lies Tim told me that if I cried he’d stay away, knowing now that only made him more intrigued. I feel sick as I think of it. The harder I sobbed, the harder he squeezed the life out of me. I stopped fighting him. I would rather be dead than give in to that man and let him have me.
I reach into the top of my dress and slowly ease out the tiny blade from my bra. Looking around, I see that everyone looks exhausted. Cole is wrapping Daniel’s arm, and the others’ attention is on that. As much as my body hurts, as much as I’m mentally finished and just want to close my eyes again, I know this might be my only chance.
I shift silently onto my knees and crawl forward. I catch Keith's face as my movement draws his gaze, but he doesn’t stop me. He’s just watching. He puts a hand on Mark when he turns my way. It’s not easy moving around on the chopper, but I make the five foot distance and sit on my knees next to The American. Leaning in and letting my hair brush his shoulder, he senses my presence and his face turns up with a smile. My lips are close to his ear as I whisper so only he can hear me.
“Anyone can be bought, Denton. It’s all about finding their weakness. Yours was me. Problem is I already belong to someone else, and that someone else always gets what’s his. You never had me, and you never will. So while you sit in your six by twelve jail cell I want you to picture the Colonel with his hands on my body, touching me, and my moans of ecstasy that are his alone.”
His neck muscles flex as he clamps down on his jaw. “This will never end, my love.” He suddenly leans into me. Even through his blindfold I can feel his eyes burning into mine. “I always win.” His mouth is still smiling at me.
He’s right. I’ll never be free if I don’t end this now. My eyes drop down to his long throat, and the blade in my hand becomes hot as fire. As I raise my arm, I see my future flash in front of me. If this doesn’t end, I’ll forever be afraid. All my anger boils to the surface as I throw my body weight forward, aiming for his neck. A large hand wraps around my wrist while the other hooks my waist and pulls me to the other side of the chopper.
“It’s what he wants, Savi,” Cole huffs in my ear. “He wants you to kill him. His hell is being caught. Let him live so he can suffer.” He pries the blade from my fingers and hands it to Keith, who is shaking his head with a smirk like I never stop surprising him.
“It’s over, Savannah, I promise it’s over.”
***
We make two stops before we finally land back in Montana at the safe house. The American, whose name I now know is Denton, is handed off to Frank and a team of his men who arrived back from TJ just hours earlier. Daniel had to be dropped off at a private hospital in North Dakota to have his wound treated. When I ask what happened to Tim, The American’s muscle, Keith tells me he got shot in the head. I nod, not wanting to know which team did the deed, since I now know Tim's loyalty lay with Denton all along. He used me to try and trap Cole into coming to the market. Thank god Cole was smart enough to see through it. I hate that I didn’t.
Stepping down on solid ground and taking in the scenery feels pretty amazing, but seeing Abigail and June run up and wrap me in a bear hug is even better. Thinking back, I know there was a point I didn’t think I was going to be here again. I thought I was going to live the rest of my crazy, messed up life with Denton or until I made it end. As they fuss over me, I feel a bubble of warmth start to rise from my stomach to my heart.
“Come on, dear, you must be freezing!” I tug Cole’s jacket around me a little tighter as she looks at my bare legs in the army boots, smiling. “Let’s get you inside.” I glance back at Cole, seeing him smile and nod at me. I return the smile, but it fades when I start to walk, as the soreness in my body reminds me of what The American did to me physically.
Sitting in my room on the edge of my bed, I'm still huddled under Cole’s jacket, wanting to shake off an odd feeling that has a grip on me. I know I'm terribly tired and I want a shower, but I can't bring myself to move. I wonder where my father and Lynn are. I wonder what they’re doing right now and if they’ve heard that I’m free again. I feel my face prickle all over like I want to cry, but I don’t. I just sit and stare at the floor.
I may have fallen asleep for a few minutes, because I find myself slumped on the bed uncomfortably. I finally force myself up and get showered, dressed, and back downstairs to find everyone doing what they do best whenever they come from back from a job. Drinks in the living room. It feels wonderful to be back here, and I find myself thinking of Derek, realizing I'll never see him again. I want to mourn for him, knowing that it is my fault he’s not with us, my fault he’s being buried, and why his little niece won’t be getting her New York snow globe. I got him killed; that death is on me, and me alone.
“One Marcus Martini for you.” Mark grins as his eyes fall to my neck where I know from checking myself out in the bathroom mirror I have a purple and blue necklace of bruises. I gladly take the drink and pluck an olive off the stick. “Cole should be down soon, he's just making his report. Look, Savi, I know you've been through a lot. I hope you know how much we all care about you. Is there anything you want to talk about? Are you okay?”
“That’s a big question,” I answer honestly.
Mark nods, looking at the room full of all our friends smiling and talking. “This is a big day, not only because we brought you back home, Savi, but we took down The American. It’s been a long seven-year hunt for that bastard. He's been a real thorn in our side, and every one of these guys has reason to celebrate.”
I tuck my feelings aside and click Mark’s beer. “You’re right, Mark. You know I love you guys and couldn’t be more thankful for what you’ve all done for me. Now let’s go celebrate.”
Later that night, I lie back on my pillow and think about the evening. Cole wasn’t able to come celebrate at all in the end, as he had a video conference with Frank and some other important people about the capture of The American. I am too tired to last more than a few hours and really just want to sleep and turn off for a while. Thinking is overrated.
It is about three a.m. when I feel Cole slip into bed with me. Something cold touches my skin, and I feel him placing my snowflake chain back on, fastening it around my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing how much I missed its comfort. His arm slides over me and pulls my back flush against his front. He sighs and breathes me in deeply then tucks his face into my neck, lacing my fingers with his, and we both fall into a deep sleep.
***
The week goes by in an odd blur. Everyone seems to be doing their thing, whereas I just float around unable to focus on anything. Cole is extremely busy. I’ve seen him twice for dinner, but he doesn’t talk much and seems preoccupied. His apologetic comment that he is mentally fried was given with a quick hug in the hallway. Abigail and June are helping Derek’s sister with his funeral arrangements but don’t talk to me about it. I’m sure they are only being kind, but leaving me out of it makes me feel isolated and guilty instead. Keith, John, and Paul are hardly around, and Mike only will talk to me if I stray too far off the grounds.
I start to feel strange in this house, a little lost and, frankly, a little hurt. No, to be honest, I’m really hurting. Feeling my mood sink even lower, my heart weighs heavily in my chest. I find myself drawn down to the entertainment room. Sliding down onto the smooth wooden bench, my fingers lift the cover, exposing the soothing ivory keys.
My eyes close and my heart swells as I feel her sit down next to me. Letting out a long, slow breath, my fingers touch the keys softly.
“Let’s play our song, but add a little of your flavor to it,” Mom suggests, grinning at me with a bump to the shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, let whatever is bothering you flow out through your fingers.” I take in a another deep breath and let the pain flow from my soul.
The first line to These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding slips past my lips, and the notes start to form the song’s beautiful melody.
***
Cole
Cole moves about the kitchen looking for something quick to eat, but nothing looks appetizing. Abigail joins him, holding a newspaper which she drops on the counter in front of him. Cole leans forward and reads the headlines, seeing the news about The American has made the front page. “One of America’s most wanted fugitives captured.”
“The question is will her father be next?” Abigail sets a sandwich down in front of him. “You need to eat more than an apple. I can make myself another one. Where’s Savi? I haven’t seen much of her lately.”
“You don’t hear that?” Mark says as he snatches the sandwich off the plate and takes three big bites. Cole steps out into the living room, hearing the piano and Savannah’s deep, soulful voice. He turns to look at Mark in disbelief. “Yeah, for like ten minutes now. Girl has some mad talent.”
Before he gets a chance to hear much more, the song ends. The sound of the piano cover closing has Cole and Abigail slipping back into the kitchen, pretending to be busy as Savannah climbs the stairs and enters the room. She blushes slightly as she sees them. He can tell she thought she was alone in this part of the house.
“Hey, Savi,” Abigail says, standing in front of the fridge. “You thirsty? I just made some lemonade.”
She nods and comes over to the island, standing next to Cole. He leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek, but her body turns slightly, almost as though she doesn’t want it. “Are you all right?” Her body language screams no, but she nods.
“Really, Savi?” Mark says through a mouthful of cookie. “You’re gonna lie to Logan?” he sputters, sending crumbs into the air. “You seem to forget what we do for a living. Besides, the way you played and sang that song nearly brought me to my knees in tears.”
“Mark!” Abigail scowls, making Savannah gasp. “Filter, my son,” she scolds him.
“What?” He shrugs. “It was a compliment.”
***
Savannah
I shift while watching him scribble on his tablet. Snow is falling outside the window behind him, brightening up all the scruffy areas, softening the landscape in a winter wonderland again. “Tell me, Savannah, how does it feel to be back?” Dr. Roberts asks, as we sip our coffee in our usual meeting room next to Cole’s office. I was the one who asked him to come this morning. Something feels off, and I want to get to the bottom of it.
�
�It feels great…good, I mean. It’s a relief to be back, of course.”
“But…” He pulls his glasses down on his nose, knowing there’s more.
I shrug, not sure how to put it. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been back here for a week now. I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m so grateful to the guys…I just thought it would feel a little different.”
“How different?”
I shift again and tuck my dress a little tighter around my legs, feeling nervous about answering this question, knowing that once I say it out loud, it makes it true. “It feels like it’s not quite where I need to be.”
He nods like he understands me instead of displaying the confusion I expected from him. “Savannah, you were left to look after your mother for the four years she was ill. Weren’t you fourteen when she passed?” I nod miserably. ”So, that would have made you ten when you took on a very adult emotional task, correct?” I nod, agreeing. “Okay, so then after your mother died, your father began his political climb to the mayor’s office, thrusting you into his world. Suddenly the press is hounding you, your life is turned upside down, and you start to run into problems, so you put your life on hold once again for your parents. A few years later you are kidnapped and held for seven terrible months.” I clear my throat uncomfortably and start to say something, but he holds up his hand and continues. “Finally, you are rescued and brought here. Then,” he pauses with his finger in the air, “a few months later you are taken once again, then rescued and brought back here again.” He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, waiting for a response.