Savannah pulled in a harsh breath. “Where?”
An excited chuckle. “I’ve rented out a little studio. I’m not telling you exactly where it is, because that cop of yours will probably listen to this conversation. If you let them discover where I am, Ella-Mae dies. So, all I’ll tell you, is you’ll be able to work out where I’m at. Think hard. Think about your art, and us being together.”
What the hell did that mean?
“We’ll have the studio all to ourselves. But get here fast, or I’ll start cutting Ella-Mae’s milky-white skin.”
“Don’t you dare touch her. I’m coming.”
“Oh, and Susannah? If you tell that thug in your bed, or any of the other guard dogs around you, she dies. She dies painfully.”
“Okay.”
“See you soon.” He ended the call.
Savannah stared out the window, feeling desolate inside. If she told Hunt, he and Vander would try to rescue Ella-Mae.
And if Walkson caught wind, he would kill her. And he’d enjoy it. He’d enjoy Ella-Mae’s pain, and Savannah’s despair.
She couldn’t tell Hunt, not until Ella-Mae was safe.
Walkson wouldn’t kill Savannah straightaway. If Ella-Mae got free, then there would be time for Hunt and the others to rescue Savannah.
She dragged in a breath. Right. Now she needed to slip away from Camden.
“Savannah?” Her bodyguard appeared, frowning at her. “Everything all right with Harlow?”
“Sorry.” Savannah shook her head. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just got an idea for a sculpture that I want to do.”
He nodded.
“I’m going to make some coffee.” She jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “And visit the powder room. You want a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Go back and soak up the sunshine. I’ll bring it right out.”
He eyed her for a second, then went back onto the terrace.
The air rushed out of her. She set the coffee maker working, then slipped into the powder room.
She was well aware that she needed every advantage to sneak past Cam. She turned on the faucet and looked in the mirror.
She looked pale and afraid.
Ella-Mae’s depending on you. Savannah had to work out where the hell this studio was. Something to do with her art and Walkson.
Get out first, then work on the puzzle. With the coffee maker and the water running, it should hide the noise of the elevator.
She darted out. There was no sign of Cam. Her heart thundered.
She pressed the button. “Come on. Come on.”
There was a discreet ding, but to her it sounded like the clash of cymbals.
The doors opened, and she stepped inside. She decided to get off a few floors from the bottom and take the stairs, just in case Cam worked out that she was in the elevator.
The doors closed and the elevator descended.
Hold on, Ella-Mae.
Chapter Seventeen
Air sawed in and out of her lungs.
Savannah jogged down the stairs, circled the landing, and kept going.
Fear jumped in her gut. She didn’t want to go anywhere near Walkson, but she was more afraid for Ella-Mae.
Savannah had to move faster, and work out where the hell the studio was.
Think, Savannah, think.
More so she was afraid that Camden, or one of the Norcross men would catch her. These guys were ridiculously good at their jobs.
She paused for a second to catch her breath.
Hunt would be so mad.
Her chin dropped. God, she had no choice, but she felt terrible. He’d done so much to keep her safe, but Ella-Mae’s life was what mattered right now.
Savannah heard a door slam in the stairwell above and that spurred her into action. Finally, she reached the ground level and opened the door. She peeked out and watched people milling around the busy lobby. She slipped out, careful to walk slowly and steadily.
Then she spotted Saxon near the front doors on his cell phone, his face looking serious.
Oh, shit.
A maintenance man was pushing a cart toward the door, loaded with what looked like doorframes. She slipped around on the other side, so he blocked Saxon’s view of her. It was flimsy, but it was all she could manage. She kept the man’s body between her and Saxon.
The elevator dinged, and her breath caught.
“Camden’s here,” Saxon growled into the phone. “We’ll find her, you just work on finding out who that call was from.”
Savannah stepped outside.
She didn’t have long. She powered down the street. She had to move fast, or the Norcross men would stop her.
She picked up speed, almost jogging. She neared an intersection, watching as a cable car moved past her.
Something made her look back.
Her rabbiting heart leaped into her throat.
Camden was sprinting down the sidewalk toward her. His face was focused, his strong arms pumping.
Oh. God.
Savannah turned and darted across the street. A car slammed on the brakes, tires screeching. Someone laid on the horn. She ran as fast as she could.
She did a quick look back.
Cam was gaining. Her heart hit her ribs. She watched him reach the stopped car and slide across the hood—powerful, athletic.
She’d never outrun him. She pushed for more speed, lungs burning, and saw that she was almost at the cable car. It was at the crest of a hill, just about to begin its descent.
Cam was getting closer.
Savannah leaped onto the back of the moving cable car and grabbed a pole.
As she watched, the cable car pulled away. A car pulled out of a side street and slammed on the brakes, almost hitting Cam. He slowed and she saw him curse.
I’m sorry.
“Lady, are you all right?” a man asked.
“Um, my ex is after me. He’s…not nice.”
“Jesus.” The guy nodded. “You’re safe now. Take a seat and catch your breath.”
She gave him a wan smile, sorry for lying to him.
She pulled out her phone. She needed to find the studio. Her belly cramped. Come on. Come on. Ella-Mae’s life was depending on her.
What about her art—?
It hit her like a bolt of lightning. The first piece Walkson bought from her. She quickly did a search for art studios in the area and found a list. She spotted the name and address and knew instantly that it was the right place.
Her belly cramped. It wasn’t far away. She needed to get off in a few more stops.
Her phone rang and she jolted, and almost dropped it.
Hunt’s name was on the screen.
God. She pressed the phone to her temple. She wanted to hear his voice, but he’d talk her out of this.
She couldn’t let Ella-Mae pay the price. Savannah pressed the screen and it stopped the ringing. She tapped in a message.
I’m sorry.
What the fuck, Savannah?
He has Ella-Mae. I have to help her.
God, there was so much she wanted to say to him.
Stay where you are.
I’ll get her to contact you when she’s free. Let me get her out of there first.
Savannah turned her phone off. She had no doubt that Ace could track her.
Her head bowed. She hated that Hunt would be so worried and mad. Her stomach swirled and she felt sick.