6. Ben
What the hell had I said? What the fuck was I thinking?
I’d opened my mouth to reassure Savannah, to explain this was what I did. I swooped in, took charge, got people out of harm’s way, and retreated before the dust could settle. Like my dad always said about me, I was Three-Be Ben: be brief, be bright, and be gone.
Instead, I’d spilled my guts all over the car, and Savannah had fallen into wide-eyed silence beside me. So much for being bright. Around her, I still devolved into the stupid twenty-two-year-old defending my woman’s honor. Or more like the horny sixteen-year-old who couldn’t stop fantasizing about her wearing her graduation cap and gown with nothing underneath it. Or maybe the dumbstruck thirteen-year-old with a first crush on his big sister’s totally off-limits best friend.
When I was with her, no matter how much time had passed since the last time I’d seen her, my feelings picked up right where they’d left off. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing the open wound to see if it still hurt. Of course, it still fucking hurt. It was an open fucking wound.
After an hour of uncomfortable silence, we spotted the lights of the place I’d picked as our first-night destination. The town, situated in the middle of Nevada, barely showed up as a speck on the map. But it had three hotels, and at least one of them was likely to have two rooms on the same floor, which was an absolute necessity. Savannah and I needed some distance between us, but I couldn’t let her very far out of my sight.
Five minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a decent-looking bar and grill. “This place looks as good as any.”
The restaurant was quiet for a Saturday night, but in a sleepy town like this, the dinner rush would have ended much earlier. The hostess who seated us and handed us menus was also the waitress who brought us water and took our orders. When Savannah ordered chicken marsala, I tightened my shoulders to hold my composure. When it was my turn to order, I went for the obvious. Steak and a baked potato because I’m a walking cliché, and a house salad on the side because my mother raised me right.
More awkward silence ensued as we sipped our water and waited for our meals. I’ve had more fun waiting for an incoming sniper attack.
“Listen, Savannah—” “Why don’t we—” We spoke at the same time.
I clasped my hands in front of me on the table. “You first.”
“Okay.” She traced a fingertip through a water glass trail. “I think we need Vegas rules for this road trip.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Vegas rules?
“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip.” She glanced up at me. “We agree not to hold the other responsible for things we do. Or say. Except for the one thing I haven’t said to you yet: Thank you. Thank you for doing all this for me. Taking a risk. Interrupting your life. I’m sure you have things you need to do, places you need to go. Like Chicago.”
I nodded. “Final job interview Tuesday morning. The VP says it’s just a formality, but I do have to be there.”
“Congratulations. So you’re not moving back to Annapolis or DC, near your family?”
I shrugged. “I’m still considering my options.” Which was true, but the more I dwelled on my past back home, the less I wanted to live there. So, yeah, Chicago was looking like my dream job.
“We’ll make it there on time, right?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem as long as Mai can meet us there.” My sister damn well better show up in person to take over Savannah’s protection, because I wouldn’t trust anyone else in the world to do it.
She frowned. “To take over babysitting duties. God, I hate being so dependent.”
I grinned. “I remember.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Well, anyway, thank you. And there’s probably something you want to say to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s it?”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lindstrom?”
“How about an apology for manhandling me?” She narrowed those big, golden-brown eyes.
“See, there’s that word again.” I grinned. I couldn’t help it. She looked so damn cute when she was annoyed with me. “I don’t think it means what you think it means because, like I already said, I was just helping you in your moment of weakness.”
Plus, I’d wanted an excuse to feel her in my arms again, even if it was in an awkward position. Then there’d been the bonus of seeing her fine ass inches from my face. I really did like those jeans she was wearing.
“But if it makes you feel better, I won’t tell anyone you needed to be carried.” I winked. “Vegas rules.”
Savannah opened her mouth, no doubt to toss out some smart-ass remark, then smiled as our waitress approached and set down our food in front of us. We exchanged pleasantries with her, and Savannah maintained her smile until the woman was gone.
“We should eat before it gets cold,” I said.
The anger leaked from her face as she stared down at her dinner. “I am pretty hungry.” She shot me a withering glance. “And you’re too damn stubborn to apologize anyway.”
The full plates of food in front of us put us both in better moods. We managed to have a pleasant conversation as we ate. She told me a little about her business, her face lighting up when she talked about it. I didn’t ask follow-up questions because I didn’t want to remind her how precarious it was, although I doubted she’d forgotten for a second.
We moved on to discuss my family. She knew nearly as much about Mai’s career as I did, and texted with her often enough to know my dad was still teaching at the Naval Academy, and my mom continued her tenure at American University. She knew Michael was in an MBA program but was surprised to learn he was about to graduate. Then we edged into the difficult topic of her mother’s cancer diagnosis, followed six months later by her death.
“I moved east to stay with her those last six months,” she said. Her silky hair fell forward, obscuring her face but not completely covering her down-turned mouth and furrowed brow.
I wanted to tuck the strands behind her ear and stroke her cheek. I resisted the urge because I’d made enough stupid mistakes for one day. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
She waved her fork in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. You were deployed. It was lucky that Mai was on leave so she could be there.”
Mai had been deployed then, too, in SWA—Southwest Asia. I didn’t know where, exactly, but I knew damn well she’d pulled every string she could and traded on every favor she was owed so she could get home to support Savannah. I’d tried to do the same, but at that point, I’d served two fewer years than my sister had and didn’t have enough favors to call in.
I was a little surprised Mai had lied about having leave, but I understood. Savannah would have felt guilty if she’d known Mai had gone to so much trouble. Not only did she not like depending on anyone, but she also hated feeling like a burden.
Which was ridiculous because in the sixteen years I’d known her, I’d only ever seen Savannah take on other people’s problems, never once asking for help with her own. My chest tightened as I realized how much it must have cost her to reach out to Mai and accept help from me. I needed to go easy on her. Hell, maybe I’d even apologize for the manhandling before this trip was done.
“I moved back to California right after the funeral,” Savannah continued. “I’ve avoided traveling east as much as possible since then.”
Mai’s home base was near DC, so I assumed whatever protection plan she had for Savannah would be near there. That discussion could wait another day or two.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, the mood decidedly darker.
“How’s your dinner?” I asked.
“Good. Not the best chicken marsala I’ve ever had. That would be—” She cut herself off and looked up at me.
“My dad’s recipe,” I finished for her.
I grew up eating my mom’s amazing Vietnamese cuisine, but twice a week when he wasn’t deployed, my father took over the kitchen. One weekly dinner was something grilled on the outdoor barbecue, no matter the season. The other meal was one of the three dishes he knew how to make: spaghetti with homemade meatballs and sauce, blackened tuna, or chicken marsala. Mai never learned to cook from either of them, but Michael and I had each apprenticed with my dad during our respective middle and high school years.
The chicken marsala had been Savannah’s favorite of my dad’s dishes over the many dinners she’d eaten with our family over the years. The one time I’d cooked for her the summer we were dating, choosing the menu had been a no-brainer.
“That’s the only meal I remember from that summer,” Savannah said. She’d been making the same trek down our shared memory lane. “Other than that, did we even eat?”
I grinned. “Not much. We were too busy.”
I’d been doing odd jobs for my parents while I waited to ship out for boot camp, and she’d had her three-day-a-week internship and a weekend job waiting tables. Working around our messy schedules, we’d spent every minute possible together, usually hiking to a secluded spot in the woods where we could have sex, or hiding out at her mother’s apartment while her mother worked so we could have sex, or sneaking into my apartment over my parents’ garage so we could... Shit, we really did have a lot of sex that summer.
Savannah cleared her throat and set down her fork. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. If the waitress comes by, she can take my plate.”
As she walked away, I pushed my plate away from me. Being thrown back into each other’s company was torture. I knew I was the best man for the job, but I couldn’t help wondering if I should have told Mai to find the next-best person. Mai couldn’t have known how hard this would be for us because we’d never told her about our relationship. I hadn’t told anyone until one day near the end of the summer when I’d decided I wanted to go public. Then I’d told one person, the wrong person, and everything between Savannah and me had gone to shit.
I asked the waitress to clear our plates, then paid the bill. I was sliding my credit card back into my wallet when Savannah came around the corner, returning from the restrooms. She was pale, maybe even a little gray. I jumped to my feet and met her halfway across the room.
“Were you sick again? Maybe you’re coming down with something.”
She shook her head and held out her burner phone. The phone that only Savannah, Mai, and I knew about. I took it from her and stared down at a text message on the screen.
Run, little rabbit, run.
A cold lead ball settled in my gut. Someone was taunting her. Maybe Devlin. But why? “Do you recognize the number?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Did you—”
“I’m not an idiot. I understand the purpose of a burner phone. I swear, no one has the number except Mai.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me back to the table. Luckily, the waitress hadn’t finished clearing it. I used a butter knife to wedge the back off the phone, then popped out the SIM card. I poured salt into one of the water glasses, dropped the SIM card into it, and stirred it all together.
“What are you doing?”
“Corroding it, I hope,” I answered. I took her hand more gently and led her toward the exit. “We have to get out of this town. We’ll call Mai once we’re clear. She knows IT people who can do crazy things.”
“Like figure out if someone’s been tracking us,” she said, following my thoughts too well.
“I doubt that’s happened.” But in truth, I had no fucking idea. IT ops were not in my wheelhouse. I learned the tech I needed for my job, used the tech when it was necessary, and counted on IT specialists to understand the tech so I didn’t have to.
“What if they have, and they can put us together? Then you can’t use your credit cards, either.”
“Did you ever tell Devlin about me?” Stupid question. He knew about me. We’d met, in a sense. “My name, my Army career, any details.”
“No, never.”
That landed like a punch in my gut. But it was good news, and I was a grown man, so my fucking ego would survive. “And about Mai?”
“I mentioned a high school friend. No name. Devlin wouldn’t even know I’m still in touch with her.”
I clicked her seat belt into place. I couldn’t help myself. With the possibility of a real threat bearing down on us, I went into mission mode. Observe every detail. Use every safeguard. Check, recheck, strike. Be brief, be bright, be gone.
I closed her door and hightailed it to the driver’s side of the car. “We’ll drive a few more hours and find a good place to set up camp,” I said as I pulled out of the parking lot at a reasonable speed. The last thing we needed was to attract the attention of local law enforcement.
“Camp? Do you have a tent?”
I nodded. “Picked up camping gear when we stopped for supplies. They only had one air mattress.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I grinned, liking that I’d made her think we’d be sleeping together. “There’s always...” I glanced over my shoulder.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. In eight hours together, I’d intimated climbing into the back seat with her twice. I didn’t need a shrink to explain that one to me. Our hormone-soaked, sex-fueled, heartbreaking summer romance had started in the back seat of a car.