Fuck. He dragged in air. He wanted that. Really wanted it.
“She’ll fight me.” He scraped a hand over his head. “Being on the run, it’s made her skittish. It’s taken a lot to get her to trust me. She ran to protect her mother and brother who she loves. She hasn’t spoken to them for years.”
“She just needs time to adjust,” Cam said, an undertone to his voice. “But knowing Walkson is in jail will go a long way to helping her.”
“The way she looks at you…” Brynn smiled. “She cares deeply, whether she wants to admit it or not.”
“I’m afraid that when this is over, she’ll leave, and go back to New York.” There, Hunt’s real fear was exposed. “She deserves the life she wants, that has been denied to her.”
“Loving a woman is tough,” Vander said.
Brynn slapped her man’s arm.
But Vander caught her hand. “But it’s worth every second of the pain, fear, risk and upheaval.”
Brynn smiled. “Not a bad comeback, Norcross.”
Hunt watched Vander place a quick kiss on Brynn’s fingers, then Hunt turned his gaze back to the young woman who would never fall in love, or realize her dreams, or live her life.
For now, he had to stand for her.
Later, he’d make a plan for how to convince Savannah that he was in love with her, and that she was in love with him.
After he caught a murderer.
Savannah paced Easton and Harlow’s living area. She couldn’t sit still, or focus. Her belly was doing an uncomfortable dance.
It’d been doing that the entire time Hunt had been gone.
Damn Walkson to hell.
Most of the people had left. Murder tended to put a dampener on a party.
Ace had taken an exhausted Maggie home. Haven and Rhys had left, Haven hugging Savannah multiple times and trying to distract her with talk of a showing at the Hutton. Sofie and Rome had left, and then Gia and Saxon.
Now, Harlow was doing her best to keep Savannah from losing her mind.
Easton and Ryder were talking quietly in the kitchen.
“You have a beautiful home,” Savannah said.
Harlow waved a hand. “It’s all Easton. Like I mentioned earlier, my father got involved in some financial trouble, and I got pulled into it.” A faint smile. “It’s all resolved, thankfully. Easton moved me in here for my protection, and I never left. I’ve been adding my own stamp here and there.” She cocked her head. “Watch out, because I highly doubt Hunt’s going to let you move out of his place when this is all over.”
Savannah’s heart did a funny jig. “Oh, it’s not like that.”
Harlow’s brows went up. “Really?”
“I mean, we’re enjoying ourselves, but I drive him crazy. The man is very neat and proper. And a bit bossy.”
“Mmm.” Harlow didn’t sound convinced.
“This—” Attraction? Desire? Inferno? “—will run its course.” Savannah forced a laugh. “After dealing with my stalker, he’ll probably be glad to see the back of me.” And then he’d find some pretty, easy, sweet woman. Savannah frowned at the thought.
Harlow didn’t laugh. “You don’t really believe that.”
Savannah dropped onto the couch, then jumped back up again. She couldn’t sit. The butterflies in her stomach trying to head up into her throat. “Stop freaking me out more, Harlow.”
“Okay. You need to fight it. I get it. I did, too.”
Savannah let out a breath. “He got hurt because of me.”
“Savannah—”
She shook her head, all the terrible emotions inside her swelling, coalescing into a horrible, spiky ball that felt like it was ripping at her insides. “People get hurt because of me. Today, a woman out there somewhere died a horrible, bloody death. All alone, her beautiful life gone. Just because she was an artist and has blonde hair like me.”
“Oh, Savannah.” There were tears in Harlow’s eyes.
Savannah sensed the men moving closer.
“I can’t love someone. I can’t let them love me, or Walkson will make them pay for it—” Her voice cracked. She felt like the world was pushing down on her.
Suddenly, her legs gave way, but Ryder caught her.
“It’s all right, babe. We’re here. I’ve got you.”
He felt and sounded so similar to Hunt.
“I can’t let him get hurt.” She clung to Ryder. “I have to protect him.”
“He can take care of himself, and believe me, my brother is not going to walk away. He’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”
It was the no matter what part that she was afraid of.
“Another woman is dead.” Grief hit, and sobs tore out of her.
Ryder’s arms tightened. “Babe—”
Then suddenly he lifted her and spun.
And she found herself in Hunt’s familiar arms.
“Hunt—”
“It’s okay, Savannah.” He sat on Easton and Harlow’s couch, and pulled her onto his lap.
This seemed to be their favorite position. He was always offering her comfort. It seemed like she was always falling apart lately
“I’m not usually this weak.”
He made an annoyed sound. “This is a sign of your strength. You’ve had to hold it together for so long, now, with me, you know you can fall apart. It’s safe. I’ll catch the pieces and help you put them back together.”
Oh, God. She never knew men like Hunter Morgan existed. She pressed her face to his neck, and let her tears fall.
“Come on.” He stroked her back. “Let’s get back to the penthouse.”
“I’ll follow you guys back,” Ryder said.
Savannah let Hunt bundle her into the Ferrari. They were both quiet on the drive back to the Four Seasons. She glanced at his shadowed face. His jaw was tight.
She’d been so lost in her own meltdown, that she hadn’t thought how it was for him tonight. Seeing a murder. It must’ve been so horrible.
Finally, back in the safety of the penthouse, she kicked off her shoes and watched him pour a glass of bourbon.
He knocked one back, then poured another.
“It was bad?” she asked, quietly.
“It was bad.” He sat on the couch.
“It was Walkson?”
Hunt nodded.
“What was her name?” Savannah asked.
“Eloise. She was an art student who worked part-time at the museum.”
Savannah walked over and took a sip of his drink, then leaned down to kiss him.
“Thank you for taking care of her. For being her voice.”
“Walkson will not touch you, Savannah. Not one hair on your head.”
His tone made her shiver.
She saw in his eyes how bad the murder scene was. Suddenly, she was so angry. All her grief and sadness morphed.
“I’m so sick of Andrew Walkson. Fuck him.” She spun and snatched an ornate paperweight off the coffee table. She threw it at the wall. She followed with a book, then a vase.
The vase smashed.
“Savannah.” Hunt’s arms wrapped around her.
“It always feels like he’s one step ahead. In the driver’s seat. I’m left to get tossed around, and I’m sick of it.”