Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
A ir sawed in and out of her lungs.
Savannah jogged down the stairs, circled the landing, and kept going.
Fear jumped in her gut. She didn’t want to go anywhere near Walkson, but she was more afraid for Ella-Mae.
Savannah had to move faster, and work out where the hell the studio was.
Think, Savannah, think.
More so she was afraid that Camden, or one of the Norcross men would catch her. These guys were ridiculously good at their jobs.
She paused for a second to catch her breath.
Hunt would be so mad.
Her chin dropped. God, she had no choice, but she felt terrible. He’d done so much to keep her safe, but Ella-Mae’s life was what mattered right now.
Savannah heard a door slam in the stairwell above and that spurred her into action. Finally, she reached the ground level and opened the door. She peeked out and watched people milling around the busy lobby. She slipped out, careful to walk slowly and steadily.
Then she spotted Saxon near the front doors on his cell phone, his face looking serious.
Oh, shit.
A maintenance man was pushing a cart toward the door, loaded with what looked like doorframes. She slipped around on the other side, so he blocked Saxon’s view of her. It was flimsy, but it was all she could manage. She kept the man’s body between her and Saxon.
The elevator dinged, and her breath caught.
“Camden’s here,” Saxon growled into the phone. “We’ll find her, you just work on finding out who that call was from.”
Savannah stepped outside.
She didn’t have long. She powered down the street. She had to move fast, or the Norcross men would stop her.
She picked up speed, almost jogging. She neared an intersection, watching as a cable car moved past her.
Something made her look back.
Her rabbiting heart leaped into her throat.
Camden was sprinting down the sidewalk toward her. His face was focused, his strong arms pumping.
Oh. God .
Savannah turned and darted across the street. A car slammed on the brakes, tires screeching. Someone laid on the horn. She ran as fast as she could.
She did a quick look back.
Cam was gaining. Her heart hit her ribs. She watched him reach the stopped car and slide across the hood—powerful, athletic.
She’d never outrun him. She pushed for more speed, lungs burning, and saw that she was almost at the cable car. It was at the crest of a hill, just about to begin its descent.
Cam was getting closer.
Savannah leaped onto the back of the moving cable car and grabbed a pole.
As she watched, the cable car pulled away. A car pulled out of a side street and slammed on the brakes, almost hitting Cam. He slowed and she saw him curse.
I’m sorry.
“Lady, are you all right?” a man asked.
“Um, my ex is after me. He’s…not nice.”
“Jesus.” The guy nodded. “You’re safe now. Take a seat and catch your breath.”
She gave him a wan smile, sorry for lying to him.
She pulled out her phone. She needed to find the studio. Her belly cramped. Come on. Come on. Ella-Mae’s life was depending on her.
What about her art—?
It hit her like a bolt of lightning. The first piece Walkson bought from her. She quickly did a search for art studios in the area and found a list. She spotted the name and address and knew instantly that it was the right place.
Her belly cramped. It wasn’t far away. She needed to get off in a few more stops.
Her phone rang and she jolted, and almost dropped it.
Hunt’s name was on the screen.
God . She pressed the phone to her temple. She wanted to hear his voice, but he’d talk her out of this.
She couldn’t let Ella-Mae pay the price. Savannah pressed the screen and it stopped the ringing. She tapped in a message.
I’m sorry.
What the fuck, Savannah?
He has Ella-Mae. I have to help her.
God, there was so much she wanted to say to him.
Stay where you are.
I’ll get her to contact you when she’s free. Let me get her out of there first.
Savannah turned her phone off. She had no doubt that Ace could track her.
Her head bowed. She hated that Hunt would be so worried and mad. Her stomach swirled and she felt sick.
She glanced out and saw her stop. The cable car slowed.
Savannah left her phone on the seat and leaped off. She hurried down the street. People passed by, going about their business, no clue that she was on her way to confront a killer.
Ahead, she saw the sign for the Infinity Studio.
She bit her lip hard, tasted blood.
The art studio looked nice. It had plate-glass windows, and sage-green trim. A pretty, watercolor landscape hung in the window.
It didn’t look like it was hiding something ugly.
She dragged in a breath, and she casually walked past, but didn’t see anyone inside.
But he was in there. He could be hurting Ella-Mae right now.
Then she squared her shoulders and pushed open the studio door.
* * *
Hunt had never felt this afraid before. He sped toward the Norcross office, his brain turning every bloody crime scene he’d ever seen over in his head.
All the possibilities of what could happen to Savannah.
He knew just what damage a man could inflict on a woman.
Savannah was walking into the hands of a killer. One who was obsessed with her.
Hunt’s woman was in danger.
He screeched into the lower-level parking at the Norcross office and leaped out of the car. He took the stairs two at a time.
The office was in upheaval. The men were crowded around the door to Ace’s office.
Cam came straight toward Hunt, his face a terrible mask. “Hunt, I’m sorry. It’s my fucking fault she got away.”
Hunt gripped his brother’s arm. “This is Walkson’s fault. You were there to protect her, you had no idea he’d get to her and she’d sneak out.” Hunt drew in a breath. He planned to have a long, angry conversation with Savannah about her actions.
But a part of him got where her head was at. Walkson was a manipulative bastard, and he’d taken someone Savannah cared about, an innocent. Savannah was used to depending on herself and going it alone.
Well, not anymore. He’d make her accept that.
After he got her back safely.
“For now, we focus on getting her back. You with me?”
Cam nodded.
Now Hunt just had to follow that advice.
“Hunt.” Vander eyed him carefully. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ll be better once we have her back.”
Brynn jogged up the stairs. “I got your message.” She moved over and hugged Hunt. “We’ll find her.”
He gave his cousin a tight nod.
Brynn gave Vander a quick kiss. “I confirmed that Ella-Mae Birbeck never made it to her summer job today. It looks like she was snatched off the street, somewhere.”
“He would’ve lured her,” Hunt said. “Posed as an art dealer or gallery owner interested in her work. The asshole has an unassuming face.”
Brynn nodded. “Women trust him.”
“Savannah got a call. I knew something was off.” Cam pressed a hand to his hip. “I should’ve trusted my instincts, but I’ve been trying to calm myself down. To not read danger in every little thing. She blew me off, said it was Harlow.”
Ace strode out of his office, tablet in hand. “It wasn’t Harlow. It was a call from a burner phone.” He thumbed the screen and the call played.
“Hello, Susannah.”
Hunt clenched his teeth. He listened to the conversation and Walkson’s smarmy tone, Savannah’s fear.
The call ended.
“An art studio she would know?” Hunt frowned.
“I’ve already set up searches to see if anything pops with studios here in San Francisco,” Ace said.
“Maybe there’s one with the same name as the gallery where she had showings in New York?” Brynn suggested.
Ace shook his head. “I already checked. Nothing came up. I’ve also looked up all versions of her name and Walkson’s name.”
“Hunt, can you think of anything?” Vander asked.
Hunt ground his teeth together. “No.”
“Okay, let’s hope the search hits something,” Ace said.
“For now, we’ll start researching studios around Nob Hill,” Vander said. “We work in pairs. Ace will send everyone the list. Hunt, you’re with me.”
Brynn and Saxon headed out. Cam was paired with Rhys. Hunt strode across the open plan space. It was like he had a rock in his chest, pressing harder and harder against his lungs, his heart. He tried to lock down his fear-drenched rage.
It was how he’d felt when he’d heard what had happened to Manny, Eric and Mitchell.
“Hunt?” Vander’s deep voice.
“Searching one by one will take too long. That murderous asshole has her.”
“We’ll get her back. Don’t lose hope.” Vander grabbed his shoulder. “I know exactly how hard that is.”
Yes, Vander had been through it before, when Brynn had been taken by a dangerous biker gang. But Brynn was a trained cop.
“Savannah’s smart,” Vander said. “And she knows how to survive. She’s focused on freeing the girl, then she’ll be waiting for you to rescue her.”
Hunt released a shuddering breath.
Vander squeezed his shoulder. “Keep it together, and let’s go find your woman.”
Hunt nodded. Soon he was in the passenger seat of an X6, as Vander drove them to Nob Hill.
Hold the fuck on, Savannah . Hunt stared through the windshield and hoped to hell they found the studio soon.
He couldn’t lose her.
* * *
The front of the studio was empty. Savannah’s heart pounded in her ears, her footsteps echoing quietly. There were nice pieces of art on the walls, but she was too scared and distracted to take them in. The silence in the space made her fear ratchet up.
It was probably what Walkson wanted. She should’ve had some sort of plan, but her brain wouldn’t think clearly.
She swallowed, and headed toward the back.
There was a narrow hall, with some gear stacked on one side: paints, brushes, canvases, palette knives.
Her pulse spiked. She grabbed one of the knives and slid it into the pocket of her shirt.
Now, she was sorry she hadn’t admitted how she felt about Hunter.
God . She pressed a hand to the wall. She loved her detective. Her big, solid, protective detective.
She shouldn’t have let fear hold her back. She should’ve told him.
Dammit, she wanted the chance to tell him.
“Susannah?” Walkson’s voice echoed down the hall. “I knew you’d come to me.”
The bastard sounded so smug. She’d come because he’d threatened an innocent, teenaged girl, not because she wanted to be with him.
Savannah walked down the hall and stepped into the back room.
Ella-Mae was tied to a chair and gagged. When the girl saw Savannah, her eyes went wide, swimming with emotion.
“It’s going to be all right, Ella-Mae.” Savannah tried to keep her voice steady.
The room had been set up for artists to work in. There was an empty easel, potting wheel, shelves stocked with equipment, and drying racks. Walkson stood close to Ella-Mae, smiling.
“It’s so good to see you, Susannah.”
Savannah’s insides turned to ice. He looked almost the same as the first time she’d met him at her very first showing. Brown hair, normal, plain face, slender build. He could be anyone’s son, cousin, friend. An accountant, computer programmer, a store manager.
If only he looked evil, then people could’ve seen the rot inside him sooner.
“How did you find me in San Francisco?” she asked.
He grinned. “It was luck. Destiny . A man I sold insurance to in New York, he showed me photos his mother had posted on social media. Of the lovely painting of flowers her sweet, friendly neighbor had painted for her.”
Savannah sucked in a breath. Mrs. Romero. God .
“And the shooting at the coffee shop?” she asked. “The man who broke into my place?”
Walkson winked. “I just wanted to scare you a little. Punishment for running from me.”
She shook her head. He was a monster.
Then she saw the knife in his hand, with blood dripping off it.
Savannah tensed. No . She looked back at Ella-Mae and saw blood on the girl’s shirt.
“You hurt her?”
“Just one little cut.” He smiled. “Nothing like what I gave you.”
“I’m here now, so let her go.”
He walked behind Ella-Mae’s chair and stroked the girl’s hair. She whimpered behind her gag.
“I’m not sure. She’s such a pretty thing. And so frightened.”
Savannah gritted her teeth. “You said if I came, you’d let her go.”
Walkson frowned, his face turning angry. “Yes, but I’m very mad at you Susannah. I think I need to punish you.”
She tried to stay calm. “You said you’d let her go. I’m here. It’s me you want.”
“Yes, but I’m angry .” He stroked Ella-Mae’s cheek. The teenager tried to pull away. “You ran from me for so long. And then you let him touch you. That big, overgrown pig.”
Savannah slid her hand into her pocket. Her hand curled around the hilt of the palette knife. Her pulse raced and she tried to focus. “I love him.”
“No, you love me!” Walkson’s face twisted. “You’re meant for me. Your art, the paintings you did, it was all for me .”
She bit her lip. Ella-Mae’s terrified, pleading gaze was locked on hers. “You need help—”
“I’m not crazy!” He whirled and kicked at an easel, knocking it over. It slammed into the wall.
“I didn’t say that.” Savannah kept her voice low and even. “Let Ella-Mae go, and we’ll talk.”
“You care more about her than me. You care more about that cop than me. About everyone more than me!” He whipped the knife up and pressed it to Ella-Mae’s cheek.
“No!” Savannah cried.
Tears rolled down the teenager’s cheeks.
“Please let her go,” Savannah said. “I’ll do anything.”
Walkson cocked his head. “You’ll do anything for me?”
“Yes.” Her stomach did a sickening turn.
He ran the tip of the knife down the girl’s cheek and a thin, red line of blood appeared.
Then he cut her gag off.
“ Savannah .” Ella-Mae let out a wild sob.
“Don’t call her that.” Walkson yelled. He untied the girl’s bindings. “Her name is Susannah.”
“Just go, Ella-Mae.” Savannah steeled herself. “I want to be with Andrew. You need to go.”
She tried to urge the girl with her eyes to run as far and fast as she could.
Go and find Hunt.
Ella-Mae nodded, then stumbled past Savannah and into the hall.
Her running footsteps faded to nothing.
Savannah let out a breath. Ella-Mae was safe.
She looked at the smiling man who’d stalked and terrified her for years. Her hand tightened on the knife in her pocket.
She was done running. She was done being afraid.
“It’s just you and me now, Andrew.”