Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I can drive,” Griffin protested as she hit another pothole on the back road. Savanna glanced over to the passenger seat, where he slowly pulled a tee over his head. He’d only had time to take a wet cloth to his face and body before they rushed from the cabin three minutes ago.
According to the security app on Griffin’s phone, the police arrived a few minutes after they made their escape.
“You were just attacked. Still bleeding.” She pointed to his lip, and he lifted his shirt and used it to wipe the blood from his mouth. “So yeah, I’m driving.” She shook her head and put her eyes back on the road, angry that Nick had put them in this situation. “What about your ribs?” She pressed down on the pedal harder, needing to add some distance between them and the police, but it had resumed storming, and the rain was hammering the windshield, making it hard to see.
“My ribs aren’t broken.” He cursed under his breath when he shifted on his seat and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket. “I should never have laid down my weapon. I wasn’t thinking.”
“And here we go again. You’re feeling all guilty. You were blindsided by the fact a Navy SEAL busted into your father’s home to kidnap me. I don’t blame you. No one would blame you.”
“I don’t care if the Pope himself fast-roped into the cabin, you never set down your weapon. Never.”
“He was your friend.” She had to make him see reason before he drove himself crazy replaying the particulars of the last few hours in his head. She sensed the darkness of guilt and blame crawling its way in to take him over. And that was the last thing she wanted. “It’s not so easy to shoot a friend, a man you served with. A man that wore the country’s flag on his arm to protect our freedoms.” A man that worked with my husband. A man that ordered four other men to beat you up to get to me. “Plus, what if he’s a good guy, and he’s just been misinformed? He thinks I’m bad and that I work with Nick.”
Savanna peeked at him as he shook his head while unlocking the phone to call Carter—well, she assumed that was his plan.
“They left without me. That means something, right?”
He turned and caught her eyes, and damn it, she was going to run off the narrow road if she didn’t stop swiveling her head his way every few seconds. These back roads were tricky.
“Marcus was watching out for you again, wasn’t he? If any other team leader had been sent tonight . . .”
She swallowed at his words, then blinked her focus back to the road.
“Yeah, I could feel him there,” she softly confessed.
“Me too,” Griffin admitted, his raspy voice carrying a hint of anguish.
Somewhat startled, but really not all that surprised by Griffin’s words, Savanna gripped the wheel and told herself to be grateful that Marcus’s connection with that Joe guy basically saved them tonight. Unfortunately, she could also feel Griffin pulling away from her because of it. The intimate moment they’d shared at the cabin would most likely be the only one to ever happen between them. Not that she should have been thinking about that right now.
“Hey, it’s me. We’re okay,” Griffin said over speakerphone once the line connected.
“What the hell happened?” It was Gray.
“Joseph Harding, a former SEAL, along with four other vets broke into the cabin tonight. I don’t know who they work for, but they’re under the impression Savanna is in league with Nick and a threat to national security.”
“Are you fucking with us?” A voice she vaguely recognized filled the line. Was that Jack?
“No, he’s serious,” she spoke up before Griffin had a chance. “But Joe worked with my, um, husband in the Navy.”
“Joe seemed as confused as we were that he’d been sent after Marcus’s, um, wife.” Why were they both using “ums” when referring to Marcus as if they had a secret to hide?
The vibe she was getting from Griffin made her feel like they were guilty of having an affair. Sure, they kissed, and he pinched her nipple, and fingered her, but would he consider that an affair? But wait, I’m single.
“Once Joe realized who Savanna was and that the police were on their way, they left. I’m guessing they came in on a modified Black Hawk. How many guys do we know with access to stealth birds like that?” Griffin groaned and clutched his ribs a moment later when she hit another pothole.
Not broken, huh? Well, maybe not. But they’d pummeled him like he was a pi?ata, so at the very least, he was badly bruised.
And it was her fault. He could have died tonight because of her.
“I’ll do a background search on him. See who he’s working for,” Gray spoke up a moment later.
“He also implied there are several someones coming after Savanna, which matches what the guys you’re holding told Carter earlier. I’m thinking several means more than just those Greeks and Joe’s crew,” Griffin told him. “I did get him to give me a name. I don’t know if it represents a person, a place, or a fucking thing, though,” he added angrily. “Elysium.”
Silence filled the line for a second. “What the hell is Elysium?” Gray asked, as confused as they all were, from the sounds of it.
“If my memory’s right, Elysium’s a Greek word. Heaven, I think,” Griffin explained.
“And how do you know that?” A touch of humor filled Gray’s tone.
“My mom was into Greek mythology. Her mom was Greek,” he answered a bit slowly as if he hated the fact she was being hunted by anyone from his grandmother’s country. “We need to get more from those guys. Any luck?”
“Not unless we go Gitmo on their asses,” Jack said, joining the conversation again. “And with Beckett breathing down our necks, our hands are tied.”
The guys did a quick back-and-forth about how to interrogate the two supposed Greeks without crossing a line that’d piss off the sheriff.
“What about the Mustang?” Savanna asked when they’d finished.
“Oliver’s tearing the thing apart now. If Nick hid something there, he’ll find it.” Jack paused. “Sorry, I know the Mustang was Marcus’s, but we don’t have much of a choice.”
She slowed the truck for a moment as she visualized what “tearing the thing apart” might look like and how much that’d gut Marcus. But bottom line, Marcus would want her to be safe no matter what the cost, and that included the Mustang.
“Where are we supposed to go now?” she whispered, afraid her voice would crack, allowing the gamut of emotions she was feeling to spill out.
Despite how shaky she’d been before getting in the truck, an eerie calmness had settled over her once she was behind the wheel. That didn’t mean she was taking any of this in stride, though. As a sailor’s wife, she’d learned how to push through painfully tough situations and make it to the other side—sometimes feeling more scathed than others.
“The fact they tracked you to Griffin’s dad’s place, and discovered we’re helping you, means our location has also been compromised,” Gray announced the shit news. “We’re dealing with people who have access to some high-level technology.”
“It’s possible that whoever Joe works for also has eyes on the Greeks. They may have even seen what went down at Jesse’s and followed us to the cabin once they’d assembled a team after figuring out who they’d be going up against,” Griffin pointed out. “Guys with Black Hawks will also have drones. Could be how they tracked us undetected.” He was pissed off and growling again. No doubt because he’d lowered his rifle, allowing those men to use him as a punching bag.
“I think we need to take Carter’s jet and leave Alabama tonight. We’ll just have to take these two assholes with us,” Gray decided. “Head to the hangar. I’ll get a hold of Carter and update him. And hopefully, Oliver finds something by the time you reach us.”
“But where will we go?” Savanna asked, clutching the wheel with a white-knuckled death grip again. “You still have no clue where Nick’s been lately aside from my place.”
“Greece,” Griffin muttered as if it were the last place on earth he wanted to go. “We need to track down whoever sent these fuckers in the first place. Figure out what or who Elysium is. It’s possible we’re on the same side as Joe and his men, but we each have different pieces of the puzzle.”
“We don’t have any fucking pieces at the moment,” Jack returned. “Aside from Savanna’s thief of a brother-in-law mixing her up in whatever shitstorm he’s created.”
“Joe said Savanna was a threat to national security, an enemy. Those were his words.” Griffin stated. “What if Nick stole something connected to national security?”
“Hang on while I see if I can find out who Joe works for,” Gray said. “Give me a second.”
The cab of the truck was quiet except for the sounds of Gray typing in the background. Savanna shifted her gaze to Griffin, his body tense at her side in the passenger seat, head leaned back, and eyes focused on the ceiling.
The typing stopped as Gray announced, “He works for the Archer Group.”
“Are you serious?” Griffin snapped to attention.
“Remind me who they are,” she said, the name sounding familiar.
“The Archer Group is a manufacturing and defense company. They’ve won multiple contracts overseas for energy and infrastructure development in the Middle East, but they also have another sector, which is responsible for making everything from jet engines to weapons and drones for the U.S. government,” Gray told them.
“Well, that explains how Joe and his men rolled up on us in the stealth bird and tracked us in the first place,” Griffin bit out. “They have all the tech. But what exactly does Joe do for the company?”
“He’s head of one of the security teams,” Gray answered. “Looks like he and his men are assigned to safeguard overseas projects from potential threats. Requires top-level security clearance for that gig. Basically, they’re PMCs.”
“Why would private military contractors be sent after me? I own a little bakery in freaking Birmingham, Alabama.” She let her thoughts derail, becoming more and more jarred by the events that had unfolded that stormy afternoon. What day is it even? Saturday? “Gray, didn’t you take PMC jobs like that in the past for Uncle Sam?” she asked when no one had spoken up with an answer to her question. She’d crossed paths with Gray a few times in the recent past and remembered that detail. “Marcus sort of . . . um . . .” Shit, she couldn’t reveal the kind of work he used to do because A.J. and the others still did it. And also, she was bound by contract never to share the fact that Scott & Scott Security was a cover story for the teams who ran ops for POTUS.
She could feel Griffin’s eyes on her at the mention of Marcus and the “um” she’d dropped again. But the rain wasn’t letting up, so she kept her eyes on the road. Plus, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to look at him right now. Oddly, she didn’t feel any guilt for what happened between her and Griffin back in the living room, but she knew the next time she looked into his eyes, his gaze would be filled with it.
“My only question . . . why doesn’t the government seem to know about this?” Gray asked. “There are enough people that we trust who are aware that Savanna is in danger and that it’s connected to Nick. If this Archer Group knows about Nick?—”
“That means they didn’t notify the Department of Defense,” Griffin finished for him.
“Red flag?” Savanna whispered.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Gray hissed. “I’m betting Joe’s team was dispatched to handle this situation because the company doesn’t want Uncle Sam, or the media and public for that matter, knowing they’ve been compromised.”
“Right,” Griffin muttered under his breath.
“I’ll do some more digging into Archer and see if I can get any hits on the word Elysium,” Gray said.
“You’re taking me to Greece, right?” Savanna stole a quick look at the hero off to her right, and he peered her way. “I have a target on my head, and if I’m near anyone in Walkins Glen, they might get hurt because of me.”
“As much as I hate taking you with us overseas, we can’t leave you behind. Not with an unknown number of threats out there,” Gray replied.
Savanna glanced at Griffin to see his hand clench into a fist on his jeaned thigh. He didn’t like the idea of her traveling, did he? But he didn’t rebut because he was well aware that she couldn’t stay behind, either. If those men found her at his cabin, maybe they’d be able to track her anywhere, though?
“Do you have a passport?” Griffin asked her, most likely remembering she’d told him she’d never traveled outside of the country before.
“I do. It’s just blank. You know, never been used. Shouldn’t be expired yet, though.” Marcus had her get it back in 2014, the year before he was killed. They’d had plans to travel, and then . . . “It’s in the filing cabinet in my small home office. Third drawer down hidden beneath, um, photo albums.” Beneath more of my memories.
“Not a fan of Savanna using her real name and passport at customs, but we don’t have time to work up an alias,” Gray grumbled. “I’ll have Oliver grab it while he’s there. We’ll talk more about everything on the jet. Hopefully, by the time you arrive at the hangar, Oliver will have found something in the Mustang, and I’ll have news to share as well.” And with that, he ended the call, and Griffin tucked his phone back in his pocket. It dawned on Savanna he’d never changed out of those wet jeans after he’d returned from checking the security sensors just as the storm hit. And that felt like forever and a day ago.
“Are you okay?” she asked after allowing some silence to sit between them. “Do you need me to pull over and do something for you? I don’t know, like wrap your ribs? I saw a first aid kit in the back.”
Now that they were a safe distance from the cabin, she didn’t bother to wait for his answer. She slowed down, carefully pulled over, and parked the truck off to the side of the road. Savanna twisted in the seat to look at the man who’d taken a beating for her.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t look or sound fine, though. He was currently wiping more blood from his face, this time from beneath his nose. And his words had come out gritty as if her question had aggravated him.
Mr. Moody was back, and after the hell he’d endured today, she didn’t blame him for being all kinds of mad. But why’d she feel like he was upset with her?
His next words were a punch to the gut, though. “I should never have crossed that line with you earlier. That’s on me. I’m sorry.” They were words she’d anticipated, even felt coming, but she hadn’t wanted to hear them.
“You didn’t cross the line. There are no lines between us.” I don’t think so, at least.
He shifted on his seat, and her eyes were drawn to the honed cut of his ab muscles before he let go of the shirt.
The rain continued to pound the vehicle, and the racket it caused, as well as the limited visibility, seemed to shut out the rest of the world, making it feel like they were surrounded by a protective shroud.
Griffin’s brows slanted as he studied her, his lips in a tight line. “There are a lot of reasons I should never have set a hand on you. A lot of lines between us.” He paused for a beat. “Crossing that line caused me to be distracted. I should have seen those men coming. I should have known.”
“How could you know a group of former military guys would fly in during a storm and drop in by rope?” she challenged, knowing damn well they needed to get back on the road and focus on the main problem, but she remained unmoving. Sitting there and staring at a man who made her feel so many things but regret wasn’t one of them.
His mouth opened as if he were about to protest, but then his gaze dropped to her chest. “You have blood on you.”
She followed his line of sight to the smudges of red on her shirt. “It’s yours.” She slowly worked her attention back up to find him twisting his torso to reach for their bag he’d hastily grabbed before leaving the cabin. The stubborn man wouldn’t ask for help even as he breathed out a hiss of pain.
“The last thing of mine I want to see you wearing is blood,” he said while handing her a shirt, which happened to be one of his tees. Her stuff was probably buried at the bottom of their shared bag.
She unbuckled and held his eyes while reaching for the hem of her tee. She expected him to look away. To behave and not cross any more of those lines he was so set on maintaining, but he remained still and focused on her.
They lost eye contact when she pulled her tee over her head, but she was certain he was watching her every move. Those butterflies made a reappearance in her stomach once she’d removed the tee and saw that, yes, he was watching her. His heated gaze drifted from the shirt in her hands to her breasts, hidden beneath one of the boring bras he’d packed her. She shivered at the memory of him cupping her breast earlier. That rough palm had skated over her skin, and he’d pinched her nipple, rolling it between the pad of his thumb and finger.
She used the shirt to wipe any smudges of blood from her cleavage, then tossed it in the back before finally accepting the shirt he was clutching.
“Savanna.” His voice was hoarse, and she doubted it was from pain. It was a plea for her to help him maintain his self- control. The self-control he’d allowed to falter when he’d pinned her to the wall earlier. Despite everything that had gone down today, he still wanted her—she was sure of it.
Even if it was just to screw her senseless, which she thought she wanted too, but . . .
“Maybe one of the other guys should be assigned to keep a close eye on you?” His suggestion had her stomach tightening.
She didn’t want anyone else to have her six, as Marcus would have said. Something inside her—her abuela telling her to listen to her heart—insisted it be this man and only this man. The one currently staring at her like he was torn between devouring her and jumping out of the truck and punching something.
“What if I don’t want that?” she countered, her voice low and raspy, provocative even. And totally unlike her.
“If I’m near you,” he said, twisting to face forward in the seat as if he were incapable of looking at her any longer, “I won’t be able to stop myself from crossing those lines again.”
“And you don’t want to cross them?” It was a dumb question, but she wanted him to spell it out for her. Was he like Marcus, who only saw right and wrong? Black and white? Refused to believe there was any gray area in life, especially when it came to his own brother?
Right now, though, Savanna would swim in a sea of gray if it meant having Griffin touch her again.
When Griffin swung his gaze back her way, he shook his head and leveled her with a hard look. “No.” He stroked his jaw, his attention momentarily shifting to her breasts before returning to her face. “Because I’ll break your fucking heart before you have a chance to break mine,” he murmured darkly. “And hurting you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”