Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
H unt shifted on the bed, fighting off his annoyance. The nurse checked his vitals, then fussed with the bandage on his arm.
“I think it’s good.” He did his best to temper his voice. He’d been shot before; more than once, in fact.
Savannah would panic. Again, she’d get it in her head that she had to protect him and try to run. His pulse spiked. What if she slipped away?
Vander had her. No one could slip past Vander.
“You need to rest, Detective,” the nurse said. “And take your pain meds.”
He knew the drill. He was just glad he hadn’t needed surgery.
The door opened. His mom led the charge, but Hunt’s gaze went straight to Savannah. She was wedged between his brothers, her face pale, and her lips pressed tightly together.
Hunt swung his legs over the bed.
“Detective,” the nurse squawked.
He took two steps and yanked Savannah into his arms. “You aren’t leaving, and this is not your fault.”
“Hunter…” A near soundless whisper. Then her arms wrapped around him and held tight.
That was better. He looked over her head. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hunt.” She leaned close and touched his cheek. Her worried look melted away as she watched him and Savannah. A smile touched her lips.
Delia Morgan had been a cop’s wife. She’d had three sons in the military. She was made of sturdy stuff.
Even after she’d lost her husband to a stroke, she’d never faltered. His mom was like a rock. The foundation of their family.
She’d always supported whatever decisions they made about their careers, and never pushed them to marry or have kids. But the look in her eye warned him that she’d been thinking about it.
“I’m about to be discharged,” he told them. “I’m fine.”
Savannah lifted her head and eyed the bandage on his arm with unhappy eyes.
He cupped her chin. “I’m fine . This is good. The asshole hired someone to take the shot.”
Savannah gasped.
“We got the guy. He’s singing like a canary, and he described Walkson as the man who hired him.”
Savannah’s hands flexed on Hunt’s skin.
“We’ve confirmed he’s in San Francisco,” Hunt continued. “I also made contact with the NYPD.”
She tensed.
“You aren’t the suspect from Amelia’s murder, Savannah. You were only ever a person of interest. I know the questioning made you feel that way, but people lie a lot, and thorough questioning is vital.”
She nodded. “I don’t care about any of that right now. Walkson’s after you.”
Hunt slid his hand into her hair. “Good. He’ll get sloppy.”
“He’s already hurt you…”
Fear coated her voice. He hated it, but he knew that it showed she felt something for him.
That made him feel good.
There was a knock at the door and Vander appeared in the doorway. “You done lying around, Morgan?”
Hunt snorted.
“It’s too dangerous for you to go home,” Vander said. “Walkson knows where you live, Hunt. Today, he proved he’s willing to resort to any tactics.”
Hunt frowned. Shit . That was all true.
“And you can’t stay with your family or friends either,” Vander added. “That’ll just put them in danger.”
Savannah’s fingers tightened on him.
“I think Sunday lunch is off,” Hunt said to his mom.
His mom waved a hand. “I just want you and Savannah safe.”
Vander continued, “I spoke with Easton, and we’ve organized a safe house for you and Savannah.
Somewhere safe, comfortable, and well protected.
I’ll have my team supplement security.” Vander’s face hardened.
“And then we can make a plan to track this fucker down.” His gaze flicked to Hunt’s mom. “Sorry, Mrs. Morgan.”
The older woman smiled. “I’ve heard the word before, Vander. In fact, I’ve heard you and my boys use it quite a few times.”
Vander gave her a faint smile.
“And I want you, Hunt, and my boys to catch the fucker,” she said.
“Mom,” Ryder said, grinning.
Savannah laughed. Hunt squeezed her closer.
“I’ll drop you at the safe house,” Vander said. “Cam can get clothes and whatever else you need from your place.”
“Savannah will need her art gear,” Hunt said.
“Oh, you’re an artist.” Hunt’s mother clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful.”
“Okay, let’s spring Hunt, and get these two safe,” Ryder said.
Hunt met Vander’s gaze. “We need to find Walkson. Fast.”
Vander nodded. “Rhys and Ace are on it. We’ll run him down.”
Savannah stiffened, and Hunt stroked her back.
Once the paperwork was done, Hunt’s mom kissed him and Savannah, then headed off with Ryder.
Vander herded them into the back of his X6.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” She stroked his fingers.
“Fine.” The bandage poked out of the borrowed scrub shirt he wore. “It cut a groove in my bicep, but there’s no bad damage. The painkillers are controlling the pain.”
She looked unhappy, and he gave her a quick kiss.
Hunt made a quick call and spoke with his lieutenant. Lieutenant William Cook was smart, fair, and solid. Hunt liked working for him.
“Lay low, Hunt, and find this Walkson,” Lieutenant Cook rumbled. “Whatever resources you need, you have them. No one gets away with taking potshots at cops in my city.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep you updated.”
It wasn’t long before Vander drove past the main entrance to the Four Seasons and pulled into one of the private residence towers around the corner.
“Exactly where is the safe house?” Savannah asked.
Vander turned and looked back at them. “It’s more of a safe apartment. Easton owns a slew of properties across the city. This one’s in the residential tower here, on a high level, and the building has an excellent security system.”
“Installed by Norcross Security?” Hunt asked.
“Of course. The building has a good security team too, plus I’ll have my team beef that up, and control access to your floor.”
They strode to a private elevator. Vander pulled out a key card and held it to the panel. As the elevator zoomed upward, he handed the card to Hunt.
“You’ll be safe here. Tomorrow, Ace, Rhys and I will come by with whatever we have on Walkson. We can make a plan of attack.”
“You guys are doing so much…” Savannah fiddled with her hair. “All because of me.”
“Because you deserve to be safe,” Hunt said. “Because Walkson has to be stopped before he hurts anyone else.”
The elevator slowed and the doors opened. They walked into the apartment.
Hell . Hunt couldn’t think of anything to say.
Savannah’s mouth dropped open. “Holy cow. Vander, you should’ve said safe penthouse .”
The space was flooded with natural light. There was a double-height living area, with huge, floor-to-ceiling windows. Savannah looked dumbfounded, and Hunt was a little in awe himself.
Sleek, gray couches were grouped around a flat, black coffee table.
The windows in front of them gave breathtaking views of the city and the Bay.
To the left, a half spiral staircase led up to the mezzanine level and upper floor.
Beyond that, were more windows that showed off the Salesforce building and rest of the city.
Sliding doors opened onto a terrace, with outdoor furniture and a long, infinity pool.
To the right was the dining room with a huge table and another terrace.
“Kitchen’s stocked,” Vander said. “Get some rest, Hunt, then be ready to hunt Walkson down.”
“Bye, Vander,” Savannah said. “Please thank your brother for letting us stay here.”
Once Vander was gone, Savannah strode over to Hunt.
“You need to rest.” Her tone turned bossy. “I’ll make you something to eat and—”
“Don’t fuss.”
She huffed out a breath. “I’m going to fuss. I’m freaked, worried, and you got shot .” Her voice rose. She was wired, tense.
“I don’t need you to fuss.”
She met his gaze. “What do you need?”
“You.” He tilted her head up. “I’m going to have you now, Savannah.”
* * *
Instant desire.
Heat pooled in her belly. It really didn’t take much with this man. Hunt just had to be in the room, and she was wet. She tried to find some control.
“Your arm—”
“Is fine. How many more times are you going to make me say that?” He kissed her. His hand cupped the back of her head, tongue stroking into her mouth.
She moaned, kissing him back.
His other hand gripped her ass. He pulled her flush against him, his big, hard cock pressing against her belly.
God . She wanted his cock inside her. Wanted to feel the flex of his muscles as he thrust into her.
“You’re sure?” she asked. “I don’t want you in pain.”
“I’m sure.” He covered her mouth with his again and backed her up.
“ Please ,” she said.
“Please, what?” His voice was deep, guttural.
“Please fuck me.”
He growled, then gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the long, shiny dining table.
Savannah glanced over her shoulder. The windows gave amazing views of the city. Then she felt Hunt working to open her pants, and all she saw was the stark, hungry need on his rugged face.
She gripped his arms, narrowly avoiding his gunshot wound.
Oh, boy . She loved his strong arms. Her fingers traced over the ink on his forearm. It was intricate and a fascinating piece of art. It looked like a kraken—wild and powerful—with its tentacles wrapped around his muscular arm. There was writing as well, but she didn’t get a chance to read it.
Hunt yanked her pants free, then his mouth was back on hers.
The next kiss was hard and hungry. There was no gentleness or wooing—just a possessive claim, and pure need.
She pressed into him, frantic for more. She felt like she’d waited her entire life for this man.
He pushed her legs apart. His fingers stroked over her lace panties.
“I need to taste that sweet pussy again,” he growled.
Her belly contracted. He gripped her panties, then, with a flick of his wrist, tore them off her.
She gasped, pulling his head back to hers. Their tongues clashed, as his fingers stroked between her legs.
Then he broke the kiss, and dropped to his knees.
Oh God. Oh God.
His big hands spread her farther, then his mouth was on her.
Oh .
Savannah clamped her hands on his head. Her legs spasmed, and Hunt gripped her thighs, and pulled her hard against his marauding mouth.
His tongue licked and stabbed, and Savannah’s cries bounced off the windows. She tugged on his hair. “Hunt. I need you inside me. Now!”
He surged up. She attacked his scrub shirt, shoving it up. He ripped it over his head.
She leaned forward and kissed his chest. She made a promise to herself to take the time to explore every inch of him. Later .
With a short grunt, he opened his pants and freed his straining cock.
Oh, yes . The head of him was leaking with need. He pulled something from his pocket and ripped the condom package open.
Clearly, he’d sorted out the condom problem. Belly tight and hot, she watched him roll the latex on his thick cock.
Then he looked up.
The heat and hunger in his green eyes made her chest hitch.
Hunt pulled her to the edge of the table, and she tucked her legs tight to his sides. His thick cock brushed her damp folds, making her gasp.
Then he thrust inside her.
“ Hunter .” She threw her head back, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
He groaned against her neck. “Right where I needed to be.”
He pulled back, then drove deep. He started a hard, powering rhythm.
He felt so good inside her. He felt so right. She clung to him as he thrust into her.
“Tight. Perfect.” He groaned. “You fit me just right, baby.”
“I’m going to come,” she panted.
“Good. I can’t wait to feel you clench down on my cock.”
Pleasure—hot and violent—hit her, washing over her in waves. She screamed his name, drowning in ecstasy. She gripped him tight as he thrust deep and found his own release. His big body shuddered over hers.
She pressed her face against his neck. She couldn’t think, let alone speak.
Breathing heavily, Hunt lifted his head. Their gazes met, electric, then he looked down.
“Fuck, baby, I love seeing how you take me.” He stroked where she was stretched around his still-hard cock. Her body jolted.
A smile tilted his lips as he pulled out.
She moaned at the sensation, fighting the sense of loss.
He took a second to deal with the condom, tossing it in the trashcan near the sideboard. Then he was back. Clearly, he didn’t care that he was naked.
“I hope no one has a telescope.” She nodded at the windows.
Hunt smiled. “I bet they’d enjoy the show. It’s unlikely they can see through these windows, though. They’re treated with a privacy film.”
“Handy.” She reached out and touched two puckered scars on his chest. She gently ran her fingers over them.
“Took two bullets,” he said. “Afghanistan.”
She leaned forward and kissed them. She hated the idea that he’d been hurt, could’ve died.
“This one’s from a knife wound.” He pointed to his side.
It was a jagged scar and she caressed it gently.
“Knee’s a mess. Had a bunch of surgeries.”
He shifted his leg and she saw his left knee was covered in scar tissue.
He met her gaze, then gripped the hem of her T-shirt and pushed it up.
Panic flooded like butterflies in her belly.
No . This was Hunt. She was safe, and he’d just fucked her brains out. He clearly liked her, even if she had a few scars.
He bared her belly. She felt like the long, silvery scars were so glaring in the light. She swallowed.
Hunt bent over and kissed them.
As his mouth traced each one, she was shocked as her desire rekindled.
He took his time before he lifted his head. “You’re fucking beautiful, Savannah.”
Then he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Hunter!”
He smacked her butt lightly.
“Your arm,” she said.
“Is still fine.”
“Put me down.”
“No.” He strode through the magnificent living area.
“What about your knee?” she tried.
“That’s fine, too.” He started up the spiral stairs. “I’m not putting you down. I want you spread under me on the bed, next. And I’m warning you, Savannah, that’s just for starters.”