Chapter 4
Chapter Four
T he next morning, Hunt headed out to his Charger.
There was no sign of movement at Savannah’s. He scowled. She was probably sleeping like a baby. Meanwhile, he felt tired and churned up.
That kiss…
She’d vibrated with passion, then shoved him out the door like he had an infectious disease. He knew she was wary, but still. After helping her with her artwork, he’d thought they’d made a connection. Hell, he’d never felt that feeling before, having a hand in creating something so beautiful.
Sure, putting criminals behind bars gave him a sense of satisfaction, but that was different. That always felt like the end of something bad. But making art felt like the beginning of something good.
And how Savannah had looked after that kiss, her face flushed with desire…
If she poured that much passion into her art, would she give the same level of it in bed? His cock tightened.
Hunt swallowed a groan. He’d dreamed of her. All night. He’d woken with a throbbing cock that he had to take care of in the shower.
Today, he was stopping at the local coffee shop for something with an extra shot before he headed to his desk. He found a parking space and headed inside the Roasted Bean, known to the locals as the Bean.
They were doing a brisk business.
“Hey there, Detective.” The pretty brunette at the counter gave him a flirtatious smile. “The usual?”
“Yes, thanks, Sam.”
He paid and moved aside, going through his cases in his head. He needed to catch up with Brynn about some gang crime, then follow up with some informants.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bicycle pass by the front window. His muscles tightened, and a moment later, Savannah bustled into the coffeeshop.
She wore another pair of those tiny denim shorts, and a slouchy, white T-shirt. It fell off one shoulder, revealing smooth, golden skin. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail today, and it made her look younger. She headed straight for the counter.
“Vanilla latte. Stat.” She smiled, then turned and spotted him. Her smile wavered and she hesitated, then she moved toward him. “Hey.”
“Good morning.” Damn, just looking at her tied him in knots. He wanted her. Badly. He wasn’t a man used to having trouble controlling himself. “How’s the lip?”
His gaze went to her pink lips, covered in something glossy. The small injury looked better already.
“Totally fine.” Her finger brushed her bottom lip, sending his brain into X-rated territory.
Shit . He put a stranglehold on his out-of-control desire. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby.”
“That makes one of us.”
She raised a brow at his grumpy tone. “Rough night?”
He leaned closer. “My sexy neighbor kept me up.”
Heat hit her cheeks. “It wasn’t that late.”
“It wasn’t helping you with your art that kept me up.” Her hair smelled like fruity shampoo, but still with an undertone of paint that he shouldn’t find so alluring. “It was afterward, lying in my bed, hard for you.”
Her lips parted. “Hunter…”
“Hi, Savannah. Hi, Detective Morgan.”
Hunt made himself step back. Ella-Mae was beaming at them. The teenager was tall and thin, her blonde-brown hair in a braid.
“Hi, Ella-Mae.” Savannah shot the girl a bright smile.
“I wanted to ask how Marcie was?” The girl’s face filled with worry.
“She’s staying with her sister, and sorting out her options.” Hunt hoped she picked one where she divorced her abusive husband, but Hunt had heard the excuses she’d made for John—that he was stressed at work, not sleeping well, had some health issues.
It was fifty-fifty as to how it would go for Marcie.
“So, she’s safe.” Ella-Mae released a breath. “Savannah, you were like Wonder Woman yesterday, diving in there to stop John.”
It looked like Ella-Mae had a girl crush.
“She was foolish,” Hunt said.
Both women looked at him.
“She could have gotten hurt badly, worse than a split lip.”
Savannah straightened. “Morgan—”
He touched a loose strand of her hair and tucked it back behind her ear. “Foolish, but brave.”
Some of the fire went out of her eyes.
Hunt noted Ella-Mae looking between the two of them, and her smile—impossibly—got bigger.
“Morgan and Cole,” the barista called out.
Ella-Mae nodded. “I’ll let you two get back to your coffee date. I need to go.”
“It’s not a date,” Savannah said quickly.
The teenager winked. “Right. Well, I need a chai and a doughnut.”
“Shouldn’t you be at your summer job?” Savannah asked.
“I have a day off. Bye.”
Savannah snatched up her coffee. Hunt reached past her for his own.
“Great, now she thinks we’re together,” Savannah muttered.
“You have a problem with that?”
“We aren’t together.” She sipped her coffee.
“Yet,” he countered.
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“I like the look of you, Savannah.”
She stiffened. “I won’t be around long. I don’t do relationships.”
“You mean you have secrets, and you don’t trust easily.”
She looked away and sipped her coffee again.
Hunt moved closer. “I like how you smell like paint. I like the way you look at me, even when you’re trying not to. I admire that you rushed in to protect Marcie, even though it was risky. And I like that you really liked my hands. I’m keen to let you study them in more detail.”
Those gray eyes met his, boiling with emotion. “Don’t do this,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Tempt me with things I can’t have.”
There was so much pain in her voice. He fought back a frown, and the urge to bombard her with questions. A part of him wanted to know who’d hurt her so he could make it go away. It was just how he was built.
Suddenly, he heard the screech of tires outside, and then the distinct sound of gunfire.
The front windows of the Bean shattered.
Hunt acted on instinct. He leaped on Savannah, taking her to the ground.
Screams exploded through the coffee shop, and furniture rattled and shook as patrons dove for cover.
“ Hunt ,” she said shakily.
“Stay still,” he growled. “Everyone down!”
There was another spray of bullets, and he felt Savannah jolt and press into him. He made sure he kept her covered with his body.
Bullets peppered the counter, pinged off metal and glass. Something broke with a loud crash. Savannah cried out, and he held her tighter.
He’d keep her safe. He hadn’t been there for his team in Afghanistan, but he’d be there for Savannah.
Finally, there were no more bullets. There was another screech of tires.
Cautiously, he lifted his head. Sobs and cries filled the coffee shop.
“Hunter.” Savannah’s fingers curled into his arms.
He kissed her nose. “It’s going to be okay.”
A teenage boy half rose from behind a chair. “They’re gone. The car sped off.”
Hunt nodded. “Stay down.” He needed to call it in. “Is anyone hurt?”
“My dad’s bleeding!” a girl yelled. “Help!”
Shit .
* * *
Savannah couldn’t stop shaking. She dragged in some deep breaths, reminding herself over and over that the danger was gone.
Hunt moved into a crouch and pulled a dangerous-looking handgun out. She watched him scanning the street through the shattered windows.
Savannah jumped up. A middle-aged man was sitting against the wall, a hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood was oozing through his fingers.
She moved to the counter. The baristas were huddled on the floor behind it, terrified.
“It’s going to be okay.” She grabbed some towels and then moved toward the man. “I’m going to put this on your wound to stop the bleeding.”
The man nodded. His daughter seemed to be about ten, and was clinging to his arm. She had a face full of freckles, and looked so pale and scared.
Savannah steeled herself and looked at the man’s shoulder. Her stomach rolled a little. “Now, I’m no expert, but it looks like the bullet clipped the top of your shoulder. You should be fine.” She pressed the towel harder and hoped to hell she wasn’t lying.
Beside the man, the girl whimpered.
Hunt was striding through the store, calming people. Savannah saw the way people watched and listened to him. His authoritative, calm voice soothed them.
It soothed her jittering nerves a little, too.
“Something like this shouldn’t happen here,” the man said, voice shaky. “It’s a safe area. Olivia and I come here multiple times a week. It’s our thing. Dad and daughter coffee.”
“The police will sort it out.”
“I’m scared.” Olivia grabbed her dad’s hand.
“See that man?” Savannah nodded toward Hunt. “He’s a police detective. He catches bad guys.”
“He’ll catch the shooter?” Olivia brightened a little.
“He’ll do everything he can.” Savannah shot the girl a confident smile. Crap, she hoped it looked confident.
Moments later, several police cruisers screamed to a halt outside.
Hunt sent her one long glance, then strode out to meet the officers. She looked around. People were coming out of hiding. Some were pointing at the bullet holes, others hugging each other.
She studied the damage. The bullet holes were all clustered around the center of the store.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose.
No.
She swallowed. They were all grouped around where she and Hunt had been standing.
Her heart pounded.
It was just a coincidence. She swallowed again. Her stalker had never shot at her, or used a gun.
That she knew of.
The paramedics arrived next. Hunt pointed toward the man Savannah was helping.
The men, wearing navy-blue uniforms, headed over.
One paramedic looked older—probably in his late fifties, head shaved, a graying goatee on his chin.
The other one… Wow. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with lean hips.
He had longish, brown hair pulled back in a stubby tail, and stubble that suited him mighty fine.
His lips were tipped in a faint smile that promised sin. And his green eyes were the exact same shade as Hunt’s.
Her gaze flicked between the two men. They looked similar, except one looked like a clean-cut, handsome, bossy cop, and the other a bad boy, who mothers warned their daughters to avoid.
“Please, step back, ma’am,” the older paramedic said. “We’ll take it from here.”
Savannah rose. She looked up at the hot Morgan paramedic. The man eyed her, his smile widening.
Then Hunter stepped up beside her and slid an arm around her waist. “Dibs.”
The paramedic’s lips twitched.
Savannah cocked her head. “Did you just call dibs on me?”
“Yes. I have two brothers. I’ve learned to stake my claim to what I want fast—the last steak, the leftovers, the front seat, whatever.”
“Did you just compare me to a steak?”
“I would never do that, beautiful,” the paramedic said. “I have way more class than that.”
“Your brother’s pretty smooth, Hunter,” she said.
Hot paramedic winked.
“And cocky,” she added.
“He was born that way. Savannah, my brother, Ryder. Ryder, my neighbor, Savannah.”
“Ah, now I know why my brother’s been grumpy about his new neighbor,” Ryder drawled.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been playing my music too loudly.”
Ryder’s lips twitched. “Beautiful, that is not his problem with you.”
Hmm, these Morgan men sure packed a punch. “And there’s a third one of you, right?”
“Camden,” Hunt said.
Ryder crouched to help his partner, teasing a smile from Olivia.
Hunt got called over by the cops.
Savannah wrapped her arms around her middle, thinking about the bullet holes again. This couldn’t be about her. Her mouth was dry, her chest tight. She hated the growing dread inside her.
She’d learned to trust her instincts. They’d kept her alive for too long.
She saw a female cop—a detective by the looks of her—stride into the coffee shop and take everything in with one swift glance.
Savannah admired the woman’s dark pants and fitted white shirt.
She had a badge and a gun on her belt. Her hair—a pretty combination of multiple shades of brown—was in a ponytail.
The woman hurried over to Hunt, then hugged him.
A funny sensation wound through Savannah. They looked good together, dammit. Hunt wasn’t hers. She shouldn’t feel like this.
Then another man entered the Bean.
Savannah stilled, and fought the urge to duck behind the counter. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. He totally was. He had dark good looks and dark hair, and his suit didn’t hide his muscular build.
It was that he looked dangerous. He had a vibe that told her that the man could kill everyone in the room without breaking a sweat.
She wanted to paint his face. She’d do it so he was half in shadow, and try and capture his dangerous intensity.
His gaze swept over the room and met hers, held.
Savannah looked away. When she looked back, the man was striding toward Hunt and the female detective. Then he stroked a proprietary hand down the woman’s back. It was quick, but firm.
Hmm, so the woman wasn’t after Hunt.
Not that it mattered.
“Savannah?”
Hunt and the couple moved her way.
“This is Detective Brynn Sullivan,” Hunt said.
“I’m both his colleague and his cousin,” Brynn said with a smile.
Hunt gestured. “And this is my friend, Vander Norcross.”
The dark-haired man nodded. He wasn’t a cop then, but he was something .
Savannah cleared her throat. “I’m Savannah.”
“Did you see the shooter?” Brynn asked.
Savannah shook her head. “Hunt leaped on me. I didn’t see anything.”
The couple swiveled to glance at Hunt.
“Did you hear anything?” Vander asked.
“Just the shots. Lots of people screaming and crying.” She let out a shuddering breath, then glanced at the bullet marks on the floor again.
“What is it?” Hunt asked.
Damn, the man could read her so quickly and easily. She shook her head. “I… It’s just all the bullets are in one area.”
Hunt frowned.
“Looks like the shooter was just targeting the center of the store,” Brynn said.
“Right.” That had to be it.
“I’ll get statements from those near the windows,” Brynn said. “Maybe someone saw the make and model of the vehicle. We’re also pulling any CCTV.” She smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Savannah, even under these circumstances.”
Vander Norcross nodded, but his gaze shifted back to the bullet holes.
“You look spooked,” Hunt said to Savannah.
“We just got shot at.” She rubbed her arms. “I’m entitled to be spooked.” She bit her lip. “So many people could have been hurt or killed.”
“Luckily, they weren’t.” He cocked his head. “Are you in trouble, Savannah?”
“What? No .” She shook her head. “No. This is nothing to do with me.” She prayed that was true.
He eyed her, then nodded. “Come on, I’ll drop you home.”
“I have my bike.”
“I can fit it in the back of my car.”
“Hunter—”
His gaze locked on hers. “I’m taking you home, Savannah. No arguments.”