Dirty Delivery (Bound & Delivered #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Savannah

I’m sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, my arms folded across my chest as I glare at Rylan. He’s standing near the window, his silhouette sharp against the late afternoon light. He paces the room, his hands repeatedly raking through his hair, his expression tight with concentration, as if he’s searching his thoughts, trying to find the right words.

It’s not working.

“You’re stalling.” My voice cuts through the silence. “Stop stalling and just tell me. Who are you, Rylan? Why is Vinny's family after me?”

His shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off like he always does. But he exhales, his breath heavy, and turns to face me.

“You already know the basics,” he starts, his voice quieter than I expected, carrying a softness that almost feels out of place given the tension in the air. “Vinny’s family found his phone. They saw your messages inviting him over, and now they think you’re tied to his death.”

“I get that,” my snapping tone cutting him off. “What I don’t get is why you’re involved or why you seem to know so much about them. Why are you really keeping me here, Rylan? What aren’t you telling me?”

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. The confident, cocky Rylan I’ve grown used to is gone. What’s left is someone who looks . . . almost uncertain.

“Because my family isn’t exactly innocent either,” he admits, his voice low but steady. “The Doyles . . . we’re made men, Irish mob, Savannah. My father built an empire on smuggling, arms deals, money laundering—you name it, we’ve probably done it.”

My stomach twists, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Irish mob?”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “And Vinny . . . he was Italian mafia. His family—the Castillos—are one of the biggest crime syndicates in the country. They’ve been our rivals for decades.”

The words hit me like a freight train. Italian Mafia. Irish mob. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of crime drama, except it’s real, and I’m smack in the middle of it.

“And you?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly. “Are you . . . in it too?”

“I’ve been trying to get out of it for years,” he says, his jaw tightening further. “That’s why I started driving. It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest. It’s something I can do without being tied to them. But it’s not that simple. No one walks away completely.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Honest? You’ve been delivering for them, haven’t you?"

He flinches, and that’s all the confirmation I need.

“Savannah,” he says while he steps closer. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into this. I’ve spent my whole life trying to shield anyone I get close to from the mess that comes with my name. But then Vinny . . .” He trails off, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Vinny came for me,” I finish the sentence for him, my voice shaking. “Because he thought I . . . what? Invited him over for a hookup?”

A dark expression crosses his face, and he nods. “And when he didn’t walk out of that house, his family started asking questions. They’re not just looking for answers, Savannah. They’re looking for blood.”

The walls press in on me, and the room feels claustrophobic. I run a hand through my hair as my mind whirls, trying to process everything.

“So, what?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. “You’re just going to keep me here forever? Lock me up like some kind of prisoner?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’m trying to find a way to end this without anyone else getting hurt. But I need you to trust me.”

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “Trust you? You’ve been lying to me since the moment I met you.”

He steps closer, his voice softening. “I’ve been trying to protect you, Savannah. If I’d told you the truth earlier, would you have believed me? Would you have stayed?”

I don’t answer, because we both know the truth.

“You’re not my prisoner,” he says after a long pause. “You’re my priority. And whether you believe it or not, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. For the first time, I see the weight he’s been carrying—the guilt, the responsibility, the fear.

And for a moment, just a moment, I believe him.