Save Me If You Can

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Save Me If You Can Page 7

by Jones, Christina C


  She sucked her teeth. “I think it was better than wondering.”

  “It wasn’t.” Ignoring the sharp pain in his leg, Harrison sat up, looking Savi right in the eyes. “I promise you. Seeing you happy, sad, seeing you garden, and shop, and have lunch like you couldn’t kill a room full of people… like you were just a regular girl. Seeing you get married, seeing you mourn your husband when he died. Not being able to touch you, laugh with you, comfort you… make love to you. It was not easy.”

  Silence lingered between them for several long seconds, only broken by Savi’s stifled sobs. “When they were talking to you,” she said finally, sniffling, “in that interview… you said it like it was nothing. You made it seem like it was no big deal to you.”

  “Because I was trying to protect you. I don’t know what you’ve revealed about us, but nobody will know anything unless you clear it. I will not betray you, or our history, like that.”

  “It hurt,” she said, shaking her head. “Like a machete to the neck.”

  “And I’m so, so sorry for that. Because that’s the last thing I would ever want to do to you.” He swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat, wishing there was something, anything he could do to ease the pain she was so obviously feeling. She’d dropped her head, had her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed. “Savannah…”

  She shook her head, then lifted it, wiping her face with her hands as she turned for the door. In that moment, Harrison didn’t give a shit about the pain. He was out of the bed, hobbling to her side, and she turned around at the sound of him moving, her face twisted in horror.

  “Harrison, your leg!”

  Savannah closed the bit of distance between them to lend her support to get him back to the bed. Just that little bit of movement had him sweating in pain as she eased him back down on the mattress.

  “Are you crazy?!” she asked, lifting the leg of the basketball shorts he’d changed into after an incredibly awkward, but much needed shower earlier. She frowned, shaking her head as she checked his bandages, which were quickly soaking with blood. “You probably tore your stiches, being stupid.”

  “Trying to get to you. To keep you from leaving. To make you understand that I—”

  “I know, Harrison.” She dropped her eyes again, then looked away from him, at the bandages and other medical supplies piled on the table against the wall. “I… get it. I understand. But it doesn’t make it hurt less.”

  After a deep breath, Harrison reached out, grabbing Savi’s hand. He was surprised when she didn’t pull away. “I love you Savi. Still. I would never put you in danger. Never do anything that might cause you harm. That is the only thing that has kept me away from you.”

  Savi’s lips parted, then closed and he could see the movement in her throat as she swallowed hard. “I… I need to tend to your leg.” She slipped her hand away from his and hurried across the room, coming back with handfuls of bandages and gauze. She left those, then went back for alcohol and other things, then proceeded to clean and change the bandages on his leg.

  Her hands were quick, moving deftly across the wounds to disinfect and cover them. When she was done, she went back across the makeshift hospital room to wash her hands. She shuffled in her medical bag for a moment, and came back with familiar pills in her hand. “Inez told me you’ve been refusing to take any meds.”

  Harrison shrugged. “No telling what these crazy motherfuckers might try to give me.”

  “Only what I gave them to give you. Pain relief, so you can sleep. So you can heal.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t trust them. Only you.” He plucked the pills from her hand and put them in his mouth, swallowing them with the cup of water she offered. Afterward, she insisted that he lay down, claiming that he looked exhausted – which was probably spot on, considering how he felt.

  He hadn’t slept, not really. Partially because of the pain, partially because of Savi. He knew she was pissed about what he’d revealed, knew she was probably hurt, and just the thought of that made sleep an elusive goal. The painkillers would put sleep right in his hands.

  He moved to the middle of the bed, taking care not to disturb his fresh bandages. Savi’s expression was still pained. On a whim, Harrison lifted a hand and beckoned her to him, knowing that the chances she would oblige were slim. She lifted an eyebrow, and shook her head, but… she eyed the empty space beside him.

  Feeling a sudden surge of hope, Harrison lifted the covers. “Come here,” he said, quietly, insistently, silently praying she would. At first, she shook her head, but then… she shifted a little on her feet, and Harrison realized she was slipping off her shoes.

  Savi climbed into the bed beside him in wrinkled cargo shorts and a tee shirt, but Harrison didn’t care. She could have been wearing a burlap sack for all he cared. The only thing that mattered was that six years after he’d last felt her touch, she had her warm body pressed against him.

  He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, unbothered by the moisture that slowly spread across his chest as she cried against him. He grabbed her chin, tipped her face toward his, and took a chance on pressing his lips to hers. She didn’t resist.

  So he kissed her harder. Slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her like he was making up for the last six years. He held her face between his hands as their tongues moved together, in concert, like no time at all had passed since they last kissed.

  He could have kissed her forever. Would have kissed her forever, and then done so much more, all the things he’d missed over the years. But there was a knock at the door, and then another, and Savi scrambled out of the bed and into her shoes just in time for it to swing open, revealing Quentin and Renata on the other side.

  “Mr. Cole,” Quentin said, looking back and forth between Harrison and Savi with a lazy grin. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  &

  “So… you’ve been undercover how long?”

  Renata cringed at the exasperation apparent on Harrison’s face, as he struggled, both to stay awake, and to not lose his temper with Quentin’s questioning. Savi had warned them that he’d taken a painkiller, and they had ten, maybe fifteen minutes before he was out cold.

  They were well into twenty minutes now.

  Despite how mostly everyone else felt about him because of his relationship to Wolfe, Renata couldn’t help a twinge of sympathy for Harrison. Probably because over the years – and she didn’t have any tangible proof of this – she was reasonably sure Harrison had protected her from some level of abuse by Wolfe.

  Since the night he and the girls rolled into Inez’s compound, the day he’d—quite literally – saved her from Wolfe’s punishment, and taken a beating for it, played in her mind often. She’d tried to escape with Taylor, and Wolfe’s anger had been swift and brutal – taking Taylor away, and leaving Renata tied up to… rot, she guessed. Apparently, it was a punishment too harsh for Harrison’s sensibilities, because he’d swooped in to put a stop to it, and got himself put through a glass cabinet as a reward.

  She’d never really understood why though. When you involved yourself in an operation like Wolfe’s, with a man like him, you had to understand and accept that misogyny and abuse against women was simply part of the deal. So what was it about her case that made him stand up and do something? What made her special? Many, many times over the years, Renata had wondered about that, even asked him, but he always gave roughly the same answer: “There’s certain shit you just can’t let go down.” No further explanation, no context clues, no secret code words, just certain shit he couldn’t let go down.

  Renata didn’t get it. She didn’t “get” him, to be honest. She wasn’t exactly sure she even liked him in the traditional sense of the word, but she didn’t hate him, either. Other than the fact that he was arrogant and sarcastic, her dealings with him, when it was time to report to Wolfe about his daughter, or when Wolfe was forcing her to do the job against Terry
King… her interactions with Harrison had been almost… pleasant.

  And that baffled her.

  But back to the matter at hand.

  According to Harrison, he was recruited into Wolfe’s operation after what was supposed to be a short stint undercover, to bust a low-level drug dealer. Harrison was a young detective – both in age and experience – but had been savvy enough, impressive enough, to work his way into the position. Still, he was nowhere near ready to be involved with the top tier.

  He ended up being undercover at that for almost a year, before enough evidence was gathered to take down their smaller target. He was about to be pulled out, about to go back to his detective’s desk… and then the thing with Renata happened.

  He came out of the hospital with his back patched up, a new vendetta against Wolfe, and… a position as a newly recruited DEA agent. A year after that, he met Savannah in Brazil.

  For every crime he covered up for Wolfe, he gave up valuable information on another. Harrison named off verifiable case after case, raids that had been conducted against Wolfe’s enemies, peers, and minions, all because of information he’d provided.

  “How many times are we going to go over this shit, man?” Harrison’s voice was muffled, his tongue dragging over the words as he tried to stay awake. “My answers aren’t going to change, and I want to get some sleep.”

  Quentin nodded. “I get it, bruh, but you have to understand… ten or eleven years undercover is a long time to be undercover. Unheard of, actually.”

  “Well now you’ve heard of it,” Harrison snapped, then closed his eyes, his eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. “I fucking… got results for both sides… so… shit, man… that’s all I know… ungrateful motherfuckers.”

  Quentin shook his head as Harrison faded away. “We’ll let you chill for now, but you’re not telling the whole story.”

  “Always questioning me… question other motherfuckers sometimes… got… results.” Harrison’s eyes snapped open, and he glared between Quentin and Renata. “I even… I told the FBI about… about that crooked… motherfu… fucking mole tried to figure me out but I was… on to… on to that ass.”

  Although Renata and Quentin had exchanged looks of mild amusement over his drowsy, drug-induced rant about being questioned, the mention of the FBI had perked both of their ears.

  “A mole? In the FBI?” Renata asked, nudging his shoulder, trying to get him to open his eyes. “Harrison?” she knelt down, so she was at eye-level, then nudged him again, until he dragged his eyes open. “Harrison. Who? Who is the mole in the FBI?”

  Harrison stared for a long time, then blinked so hard Renata thought he had fallen asleep. But then he mumbled, “Where’s my niece?”

  Renata groaned, rolling her eyes over the fact that Kennedy regarded Harrison as an uncle. What made it worse was that Taylor had picked it up too. Of course, he’d been in both girls’ lives since they were very young, but still… this was the most twisted, convoluted excuse for a family she’d ever heard of.

  “Kennedy is just fine. And…” she pushed out a heavy sigh. “Taylor too. The girls are fine. Now I need you to answer this question. Harrison?”

  She nudged his shoulder again, but this time the only response she got were soft snores, and she shook her head as she stood.

  “It’s fine, cher,” Quentin said, giving her a little smile as he stroked her cheek. “We’ve got plenty to look into now, and we can talk to him again when he’s awake.”

  Renata returned his smile. “Yeah.” Turning to Savi, she gave the other woman a little nod, noting that she looked exhausted too. She understood without asking that Quentin had been easy in his questioning surrounding Harrison’s relationship with her, but they would have to share it with the rest of their team. She doubted the others, especially Inez, who was Savi’s good friend, would be so lenient.

  “So…,” she said, as Quentin released her hand, and left the room. “You and Harrison, huh?” Renata saw the change in Savi’s face, as she went from simply tired, to defensive.

  “Yes, me and Harrison. I don’t know him as the same person you all do, so—”

  “I’m not judging,” Renata said soothingly, lifting her hands. “I’m just… there was a little while… years, actually, where he seemed different. He was always a little more laid-back with me when Wolfe wasn’t around, but even this… was different. I actually teased him one time, when I caught him looking at his phone with this big ass grin, and I just knew… it was a woman making him smile like that.” Renata shrugged. “I guess that was you. Wolfe overheard me, and he came in to ask too, and Harrison freaked out. Understandably, I guess, knowing what I know now… he wanted you to be a secret, so you could never be harmed because of him, or used against him.”

  Savi’s eyes were glossy with tears as she glanced toward Harrison. “Yeah. He told me about that, when he… when he broke it off. Not about you, specifically, but he… I was so mad.” Her voice broke as she looked away from him, and turned back to Renata. “Because the way he explained it… I couldn’t understand why it was a problem that I made him smile like that, you know. But he said that our relationship had caught the attention of “the last person in the world who needed to know”. So… that was that.”

  Renata raised her hand to cover her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh my God… I…. Savannah… I’m so sorry. Because of what I said to him, he—”

  “No, no,” Savi said, shaking her head. “No, don’t blame yourself like that, you had no way of knowing. And honestly, after hearing all of this stuff about Wolfe, hearing what Harrison was involved in… he was right. If it was me, back when I was still in the agency, I would have had to make the same decision. So… no, don’t… don’t feel like this is your fault. Okay?”

  After another deep sigh, Renata nodded. She understood that what Savi was saying was true, but there was still a ring of guilt, deep in her chest. She thought it best not to verbalize it, especially now, but shortly after that incident, she noticed that Harrison had seemed… somber. He was still himself, just much more subdued, and he had been ever since. Still sarcastic, still arrogant, still annoying sometimes, just… not the same.

  Now she knew why.

  She left Savi in the room with Harrison, with her heart heavy and her mind full, thinking about the ways they’d all, over the years, affected each other’s lives without even realizing it. It was amazing, really, that fate had brought them together, a whole group of people whose pasts, present, and futures were interwoven in the most dysfunctional ways.

  Renata shuddered at the thought, but they really were like a family, joined together by the convoluted connecting threads of Damien Wolfe and Terry King. It was something they all shared, having their hope destroyed, lives irrevocably altered, having the people they loved stripped away. And all because of a feud they had nothing to do with. It was… almost comforting.

  Of course, she hated that they’d been through the violent acts, through the loneliness, and heartbreak, but knowing that she wasn’t the only person holding the same anger, the same deep-seated pain… it was a relief. After years of feeling like she was one of a sad, pathetic kind… suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

  &

  Marcus slipped away while Naomi was asleep.

  She was on such high alert still, a week after the invasion of the compound, that he was certain she knew the moment he left the warmth of the bed. No matter how much he tried to ease her mind, that’s just where her head was, and there wasn’t much he could do except remind her she needed to rest for the baby.

  Already, he was stepping into the role of a father.

  It made him wish for his own father, who’d been gone since Marcus was eighteen, and had probably never even wondered about his son’s future family. He was too young for that. The focus was college, grades, career prospects. The path Marcus had chosen, with the FBI, was something that went well against his father’s wishes, and they’d never even gotten to argue about it.


  His father’s death was what had sparked the desire to join the bureau. An attempt to avenge him, in some way. Back then, he’d lived with the impression that his father’s killer was unknown, that he’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, he knew different.

  Marcus made his way out the room he shared with Naomi, into an area that had been converted to living space. This was Kendall’s spot, a huge renovated warehouse on the docks, almost indistinguishable from the thousand abandoned others. But, there were differences. Reinforced walls, weaponry, a bomb shelter. Not as luxurious as Inez’s place, but it was secure. Defendable. Both of which they apparently needed.

  He settled in front of one of the windows, and pulled out his phone, navigating to the file browser. He sorted through files until he came upon the folder he was looking for, simply titled “Kenneth Calloway”.

  Now that he was going to be a father soon, memories of his own dad were suddenly always at the forefront of his mind. Months had passed since Renata showed him that file, and he’d looked into them just as far as he needed to, for the details surrounding his death. He hadn’t had the heart at the time to look further.

  Kenneth Calloway, FBI, had been shot in an abandoned house in New Orleans, along with two confidential informants: Julian LaForte, and Nelson Prescott. Naomi and Quentin’s fathers. Damien Wolfe had committed the murders, but that wasn’t in the file. He only knew who’d pulled the trigger because Naomi, fifteen at the time, had been hiding in the house, and saw it happen. Kenneth had a partner, unnamed in the official report, who was supposed to be there with him, but had canceled at the last minute because his wife went into labor. Lucky him, Marcus had always thought. He’d probably be dead too.

 

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