22. Huxley
22
HUXLEY
The morning air still hums with the residue of adrenaline. While Savannah is at the hospital, bringing a smile to Kayla’s brave face, I’m here at the Red Mark headquarters, tying up the loose ends left by yesterday’s events.
The office is abuzz with whispers of discontent carried on the lips of our badged guests from Bozeman. Red Mark’s discretion regarding the kidnapping has not gone unnoticed, stirring a pot of controversy. Collaboration with law enforcement is a cornerstone of our operations, and our sidestep from protocol this time has ruffled feathers, an irregularity that hasn’t been well-received.
Mark, the leader that he is, stands firmly behind our decision, reinforcing that our actions were taken with the client’s best interests at heart. And when it came down to it, we didn’t entirely shun protocol. We eventually involved the local sheriff and Bozeman PD.
With a sincere apology offered and accepted, the Bozeman PD releases their grip on us.
The man and the boy we encountered in Lakefall Valley have become the faces of the ordeal. The father, a deputy of the Blackwater Brutes, confessed to his solo, desperate deed to funnel cash into the gang’s coffers. The evidence? A scatter of newspaper clippings in his home, intended for a ransom note he never managed to send.
As the team is about to disperse, Mark’s phone rings. With a silent motion, he asks us to stay put. The lines on his face deepen as he listens, the room holding its breath. When the call ends, Mark’s reveal sends a ripple through us all. The Blackwater Brutes’ communications have been traced back to a company in Monterey.
“Damn. William Redford?” I say, voicing my suspicion.
“Indeed. Redford’s in custody,” Mark confirms, his tone heavy with implications. “He’s pointing fingers at Fabian, claiming a frame-up. But the money’s path is clear. Our Blackwater deputy was funded by Redford’s account.”
As others leave the room, Mark turns to me, his gaze carrying the weight of concern.
“Do you need to get that checked again?” He nods toward my left arm.
I glance down at my shirt sleeve, barely revealing the whiteness of the bandage. “Nah. The sting’s already faded. It’s just a superficial burn. It’ll heal soon.”
“Take a breather, Hux,” he insists, firmness in his voice. “Three major cases back-to-back, it’s enough to test anyone’s limits. I don’t want you on the brink of madness.”
I nod, recognizing the hard truth of his words. It’s time, I admit to myself. Time to let go of the tension and commit to the date I promised Savannah.
I make my way to Sav’s house. The decision to arrive unannounced feels right somehow. Tucked in my hand is a bouquet of roses—fragrant messengers of the words I can’t always find.
Al answers the door, his familiar grin tinged with concern. “Hux, my man. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Sav’s down for the count, might’ve caught something at the hospital.”
“Can I see her?”
“Absolutely, go ahead,” he says, stepping aside to let me pass.
Savannah’s room is a plush comfort, yet the sight of her unoccupied bed with its blankets haphazardly thrown aside tightens a knot of worry in my stomach. I pause in front of the half-open bathroom door.
I peer in.
“Close the door! Close the door!” Her voice is a sharp whip of embarrassment.
She’s perched on the toilet seat, panties and pajama pants tangled around her ankles, her hands flailing for me to leave. I can’t help but feel a smile tugging at my lips, even as I pull the door shut and respect her plea.
Behind the closed door, I stifle a chuckle, listening to the flush of water and the flow of the faucet. Savannah finally emerges, her expression a canvas of bashfulness. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she murmurs, eyes darting away. She looks a bit pale, her movements sluggish. Otherwise, I think she’s holding up.
I lean against the wall, arms folded, the hint of a grin still playing on my lips. “Hey, I’m your boyfriend. Why are you so shy about it?”
She bites her lip. “I know, but… toilet business is still personal,” she protests.
Despite that, I’m not giving her any personal space, peering at her curves bluntly, stopping at the nipples piercing through her singlet.
“Stop it, Hux,” her voice trailing off as she notices me hiding the bouquet of roses behind my back.
“Or what?” I challenge.
“Or… or I’ll…” She grumbles, unable to finish her sentence. My knowledge of her has passed the intimate threshold. I know what she’s trying to say. Then she sighs. “Never mind. What are you doing here?”
I extend the flowers to her—a riot of reds and pinks.
“They’re beautiful,” she breathes out, the tension easing from her shoulders as she leans in to smell them. She almost hugs the bunch. Thankfully, the wrapping paper is thick, shielding her from the thorns.
I can see the moment her spirit lifts, a genuine smile replacing the embarrassed flush. “Did Dad tell you I was feeling sick?”
“No, just a hunch,” I reply, my chuckle lightly veiling my disappointment at our derailed plans.
She squints, piecing it together. “Wait a sec! That’s why there was no dinner from Dad tonight. He knew you’d come and whisk me away on a date?”
“Something like that,” I say, the corners of my mouth turning up despite the situation.
The date we’ve both looked forward to remains elusive, but it’s a small thing considering the rest. Her health, her company—that’s what truly matters. Yet, as she clutches her chest, a familiar fear grips me. “Should we head to the hospital?” Her heart condition is still on my mind.
She waves me off with a laugh. “I was just there, Hux. I’m all right. Probably just my immune system deciding to take a little unscheduled break.”
I kiss her, praying that she’ll be careful. My gaze lands on the empty teacup by her bedside. “How about a refill?” I offer .
“No, I’m all tea’d out,” she replies.
“Maybe some takeout then? Soup could be good for you?”
Instead of answering, she climbs back into bed, then pats the space beside her, an invitation. Sliding in next to her, she sets aside the roses and runs her fingers along the length of my tie—sexy, irresistible. Her eyes sparkle as she purrs, “You look so handsome, it ought to be illegal.”
“Arrest me then,” I retort with a mock seriousness.
She gives an insatiate growl, her gaze flitting daringly toward my belt. “Tempting,” she quips with a glint in her eyes. But she brings herself back, and with a sigh, she adds, “How I wish we were heading out on that date right now.”
“There will be other times,” I assure her, believing it fully.
Curiosity brightens her eyes. “So, tell me, what’s new?”
I recount the morning’s revelations at Red Mark, the involvement of the Blackwater Brutes, and the developments with William Redford.
While listening intently, Savannah’s expression grows troubled. “It doesn’t sit right, Hux,” she says with skepticism as she draws parallels with the murky dealings that implicated his ex. “I know Fab is a slimeball, but he insisted someone else forged his signature during the Mitchell Ranch mess. There’s a puzzle piece missing, something that slipped between the cracks with the West Sun Corporation, the banks, and his own company. I didn’t buy it at first. Not for a second.”
Her resolve comes to the forefront, but then her demeanor shifts, adopting a subtler tone. “As time went on, Fabian kept claiming he was clean. And now, with what’s happened, his story hasn’t changed. Redford, too, it seems like he might be another pawn in the game.”
“I’ll bring this up with Zander,” I assure her. “But let’s focus on the silver lining for now—Kayla’s out of harm’s way, the Blackwater Brutes’ deputy is in custody, and the law is closing in on the rest of the culprits.”
She winces suddenly, her face trying to deny pain, and I realize the conversation has burdened her. With tender motions, I rub her chest in a bid to ease both the physical and emotional ache. “Sav, you mustn’t strain yourself over this.”
Her smile is wry. “Maybe a date could be the cure.”
I stand, ready to give her space to heal. “Rest now. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying?” There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice.
I lean close, my lips brushing her hand. “It wouldn’t be a proper date if I don’t come knocking while you wait in sweet anticipation, would it?”
With a flirtatious grasp, she cups my chin. “Hugs,” she says, her voice clear—Hugs, not Hux—then she adds, “Rancher to rancher, let’s not overthink it.”
“Yes, my lady,” I reply, ready to rejoin her in bed. But her hand raises, a virtual barrier between us. “What? Changing your mind so soon?”
“You can stay, but only if you agree to one condition,” she decides.
“Yeah? And what might that be?”
“Take off your shirt,” she commands, scooting back to make room, ready for a spectacle.
I’ll gladly be her entertainment. I loosen my tie, flinging it away like a performer shedding layers. I undo each button on my shirt, letting her absorb its slow unraveling. Her eyes lock onto my bare chest as she bites down on her lip. Like that, it’s hard to believe that this girl is under the weather. Or perhaps I have just dispelled her malaise.
“Pants off,” she demands after I remove my shirt completely .
“Just one condition, then?” I retort, slowing down my movements for dramatic effect as I start to unbuckle my belt.
“Don’t poke the bear, Hux.” It’s a warning that comes with a sultry stare. Her hips lift invitingly under the covers, her legs parting, and her hand ventures down.
Fuck… should I dare to ask her to pleasure herself? Should I ask her to slide her fingers inside her wetness and tease her clit while I watch?
But courage eludes me, and I slip out of my pants, leaving me standing there in nothing but my clingy underwear. Without waiting for another challenge, I leap next to her on the bed, tickling her silly. Her laughter fills the room, vibrant and freeing. The night may have changed our plans, but they’ve opened the door to moments even more precious.