Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
H unt walked into the De Winter Museum and took it in. It was a small place on the edge of Golden Gate Park that specialized in modern art.
Light from the police cruisers outside strobed through the plate-glass windows in red and blue.
“What the hell?” Cam muttered.
Hunt saw his brother eyeing a sculpture that looked like two people melted together and topped by colored circles that looked like fried eggs.
He liked Savannah’s art style better.
He headed through an arch into the next room. Brynn and Vander followed right behind him.
Cam brought up the rear, alert as always. On the watch for any sign of Walkson.
Some officers were gathered in a small group. A young one looked pretty pale in the face, but was holding it together. You never forgot your first murder scene.
“Where’s the victim?” Hunt asked.
“Through there,” a female officer said. “It’s a real mess, Detective.”
“Who found her?”
“The cleaning crew. The museum was closed for the night and locked up tight. They come in to clean every night.”
“ID?”
The officer nodded. “Eloise Walters. She works here part-time, and is a budding artist. She takes classes at the San Francisco Art Institute.”
He noted her badge. “Thanks, Dempsey.” Hunt dragged in a breath and strode through into the room.
In the center stood a pedestal holding a large, blue box, topped with a yellow sphere, topped with a small, green pyramid. The label said it was called Finding Home .
Beside him, Vander grunted.
“Not your style, Norcross?” Brynn asked.
“No.”
Hunt took another step, and then he saw her. A spray of blood covered the wall. It almost looked like paint.
The woman lay sprawled on the glossy tile floor, her legs and arms askew like a broken doll.
Her skirt, once white, was now red. Her shirt was cut open and when he saw the fine slash marks—akin to the scars on Savannah’s belly—his chest hardened.
“Her throat was cut,” Brynn said dispassionately.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care. Hunt knew his cousin cared too much sometimes. No, in their job, they had to learn to switch off and compartmentalize. One, to get the job done, and two, to cope with the things that they saw.
“The murderer left you a message.” Vander shifted, deftly avoiding the blood. He crouched.
Frowning, Hunt followed. His gut cramped.
Walkson had written on the wall, using the victim’s blood.
“Asshole,” Brynn muttered.
Yeah, he was.
Susannah is mine.
You can’t have her.
Soon, I’ll have her under my blade. Her sweet, red blood will flow for me.
You can’t stop me.
You can’t stop destiny.
Hunt’s fingers curled into a fist. He fought hard to control his rage.
“The guy’s totally unhinged,” Brynn said. “He thinks Savannah is his destiny.” Brynn shook her head.
“Walkson is not getting near her,” Hunt growled.
Both Vander’s and Brynn’s heads whipped around.
“Deep breath, Hunt.” Worry crossed Brynn’s face.
Vander rose. “You can’t lose it. She needs you to keep your head clear, so you can track Walkson down and lock him up.”
“I’ll kill him.” Hunt’s hand flexed.
In his job, he tried to be black-and-white and follow the rules. He was a cop. But he knew there was gray in the world as well. Hell, Vander made a career out of operating in the gray.
“Hunt…” Brynn’s voice was full of concern.
“Walkson has murdered and terrorized across the damn country, and unfortunately, gotten away with it for years. He’s ended the lives of promising young women, and he’s destroyed Savannah’s life. Why should he live?”
“Hey.” Brynn grabbed Hunt’s arm. “I know you’re angry, and I know that under the mad is fear for Savannah. You aren’t alone on this, Hunt.”
Camden walked into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. He glanced at the victim, then the message, his scarred face grim.
“We’re all with you on this,” Vander said. “All of us. To help catch Walkson and help keep Savannah safe.”
Hunt let out a breath. He pressed a hand over Brynn’s and squeezed. His rage simmered down—still there, still white-hot—but in control enough so he could function.
“I’m falling in love with her.” Hell, he was pretty much there.
Brynn’s lips quirked. “Only just working that out? You’re a good detective, Hunt, you should’ve realized.”
Vander smiled. “I knew you’d go down eventually. Figured you’d do it before me, and have a house in the ‘burbs.”
“With a picket fence,” Cam added. “And a pregnant wife.”
The image of Savannah pregnant hit Hunt and he straightened. He imagined her at her easel, one of his shirts falling over her round belly.
Fuck . He dragged in air. He wanted that. Really wanted it.
“She’ll fight me.” He scraped a hand over his head. “Being on the run, it’s made her skittish. It’s taken a lot to get her to trust me. She ran to protect her mother and brother who she loves. She hasn’t spoken to them for years.”
“She just needs time to adjust,” Cam said, an undertone to his voice. “But knowing Walkson is in jail will go a long way to helping her.”
“The way she looks at you…” Brynn smiled. “She cares deeply, whether she wants to admit it or not.”
“I’m afraid that when this is over, she’ll leave, and go back to New York.” There, Hunt’s real fear was exposed. “She deserves the life she wants, that has been denied to her.”
“Loving a woman is tough,” Vander said.
Brynn slapped her man’s arm.
But Vander caught her hand. “But it’s worth every second of the pain, fear, risk and upheaval.”
Brynn smiled. “Not a bad comeback, Norcross.”
Hunt watched Vander place a quick kiss on Brynn’s fingers, then Hunt turned his gaze back to the young woman who would never fall in love, or realize her dreams, or live her life.
For now, he had to stand for her.
Later, he’d make a plan for how to convince Savannah that he was in love with her, and that she was in love with him.
After he caught a murderer.
* * *
Savannah paced Easton and Harlow’s living area. She couldn’t sit still, or focus. Her belly was doing an uncomfortable dance.
It’d been doing that the entire time Hunt had been gone.
Damn Walkson to hell.
Most of the people had left. Murder tended to put a dampener on a party.
Ace had taken an exhausted Maggie home. Haven and Rhys had left, Haven hugging Savannah multiple times and trying to distract her with talk of a showing at the Hutton. Sofie and Rome had left, and then Gia and Saxon.
Now, Harlow was doing her best to keep Savannah from losing her mind.
Easton and Ryder were talking quietly in the kitchen.
“You have a beautiful home,” Savannah said.
Harlow waved a hand. “It’s all Easton. Like I mentioned earlier, my father got involved in some financial trouble, and I got pulled into it.
” A faint smile. “It’s all resolved, thankfully.
Easton moved me in here for my protection, and I never left.
I’ve been adding my own stamp here and there.
” She cocked her head. “Watch out, because I highly doubt Hunt’s going to let you move out of his place when this is all over. ”
Savannah’s heart did a funny jig. “Oh, it’s not like that.”
Harlow’s brows went up. “Really?”
“I mean, we’re enjoying ourselves, but I drive him crazy. The man is very neat and proper. And a bit bossy.”
“Mmm.” Harlow didn’t sound convinced.
“This—” Attraction? Desire? Inferno? “—will run its course.” Savannah forced a laugh. “After dealing with my stalker, he’ll probably be glad to see the back of me.” And then he’d find some pretty, easy, sweet woman. Savannah frowned at the thought.
Harlow didn’t laugh. “You don’t really believe that.”
Savannah dropped onto the couch, then jumped back up again. She couldn’t sit. The butterflies in her stomach trying to head up into her throat. “Stop freaking me out more, Harlow.”
“Okay. You need to fight it. I get it. I did, too.”
Savannah let out a breath. “He got hurt because of me.”
“Savannah—”
She shook her head, all the terrible emotions inside her swelling, coalescing into a horrible, spiky ball that felt like it was ripping at her insides.
“People get hurt because of me. Today, a woman out there somewhere died a horrible, bloody death. All alone, her beautiful life gone. Just because she was an artist and has blonde hair like me.”
“Oh, Savannah.” There were tears in Harlow’s eyes.
Savannah sensed the men moving closer.
“I can’t love someone. I can’t let them love me, or Walkson will make them pay for it—” Her voice cracked. She felt like the world was pushing down on her.
Suddenly, her legs gave way, but Ryder caught her.
“It’s all right, babe. We’re here. I’ve got you.”
He felt and sounded so similar to Hunt.
“I can’t let him get hurt.” She clung to Ryder. “I have to protect him.”
“He can take care of himself, and believe me, my brother is not going to walk away. He’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”
It was the no matter what part that she was afraid of.
“Another woman is dead.” Grief hit, and sobs tore out of her.
Ryder’s arms tightened. “Babe—”
Then suddenly he lifted her and spun.
And she found herself in Hunt’s familiar arms.
“Hunt—”
“It’s okay, Savannah.” He sat on Easton and Harlow’s couch, and pulled her onto his lap.
This seemed to be their favorite position. He was always offering her comfort. It seemed like she was always falling apart lately
“I’m not usually this weak.”
He made an annoyed sound. “This is a sign of your strength. You’ve had to hold it together for so long, now, with me, you know you can fall apart. It’s safe. I’ll catch the pieces and help you put them back together.”
Oh, God. She never knew men like Hunter Morgan existed. She pressed her face to his neck, and let her tears fall.
“Come on.” He stroked her back. “Let’s get back to the penthouse.”
“I’ll follow you guys back,” Ryder said.
Savannah let Hunt bundle her into the Ferrari. They were both quiet on the drive back to the Four Seasons. She glanced at his shadowed face. His jaw was tight.
She’d been so lost in her own meltdown, that she hadn’t thought how it was for him tonight. Seeing a murder. It must’ve been so horrible.
Finally, back in the safety of the penthouse, she kicked off her shoes and watched him pour a glass of bourbon.
He knocked one back, then poured another.
“It was bad?” she asked, quietly.
“It was bad.” He sat on the couch.
“It was Walkson?”
Hunt nodded.
“What was her name?” Savannah asked.
“Eloise. She was an art student who worked part-time at the museum.”
Savannah walked over and took a sip of his drink, then leaned down to kiss him.
“Thank you for taking care of her. For being her voice.”
“Walkson will not touch you, Savannah. Not one hair on your head.”
His tone made her shiver.
She saw in his eyes how bad the murder scene was. Suddenly, she was so angry. All her grief and sadness morphed.
“I’m so sick of Andrew Walkson. Fuck him.” She spun and snatched an ornate paperweight off the coffee table. She threw it at the wall. She followed with a book, then a vase.
The vase smashed.
“Savannah.” Hunt’s arms wrapped around her.
“It always feels like he’s one step ahead. In the driver’s seat. I’m left to get tossed around, and I’m sick of it.”
“It’ll be over soon.”
“It’s never over.” She broke free and grabbed his glass. She threw it at the wall. It broke into shards.
Hunt grabbed her.
“Let me have a tantrum, Hunter.”
“I think you’ve ranted enough.”
“No, I haven’t.” Then he wrestled her, and Savannah found herself flat on her back on the couch, with Hunt’s big body on top of her.
“It’s time to turn it off for a while,” he said.
She let out a shuddering breath.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You had a meltdown because you’re worried about me.”
“That’s part of it.” She gripped his biceps. “I should leave. He’d stop targeting you and the women of San Francisco if I did.”
Hunt’s body went rock-solid. “Fuck, no. You’re not running.” He pressed his angry face nose to nose with hers. “You’re staying right here, with me, forever.”
She went still. “What?”
“I’m in love with you,” he growled.
A hundred different emotions stormed through Savannah. “No, you’re not.” Okay, her voice sounded totally panicked.
Green eyes flashed. “I am, and if you dig deep, you’d admit that you’re in love with me, too.”
Savannah sucked in a breath. “I am not. You can’t tell me what I feel.”
“I just did.”
Her heart leaped around like crazy. “You are so stubborn.”
“Yes. After I deal with Walkson, then I want you to marry me.”
Savannah’s chest locked and she couldn’t breathe. “You’ve lost your mind, Morgan.”
He looked smug. “No. I love you, so you’ll just have to get used to hearing it.”
He kissed her. She fought him for a second, but it was Hunt, so she caved.
She pulled him closer and kissed him back.