Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
T he next day, Savannah sank back on the couch and laughed.
Ryder smiled at her. On him, the smile was slow, sexy, and designed to drive a woman to make bad mistakes.
“Okay, lie back and let me check your wound, babe. You know you want to get your clothes off for me.”
“Stop flirting,” she countered.
He winked at her. Despite his teasing, he was brisk and professional as he lifted her shirt. Charming demeanor aside, he was clearly good at his job.
She noted that he paid no attention to her old scars, just zeroed in on her wound. Thankfully, the hospital had confirmed that the knife had missed anything vital.
Andrew Walkson was in jail. He was in the medical wing at the prison, getting his neck wound monitored, and awaiting trial.
He was locked up, as Hunt had promised, and would never be a free man again.
A weight had lifted, but to be honest, she couldn’t quite believe it yet. She’d been living on the edge for so long, and it was hard to let go. To relax and trust that she was safe.
She rubbed her temple and blew out a breath. “It’s hard to believe it’s over.”
“It gets easier,” Camden said from a stool at the island. “Eventually, you start to lose the fight or flight mode. And trust that you don’t have to watch your six all the time.”
“Quit reading my mind,” she said.
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “Or so they say. So far, it seems to get a little bit better every day.”
Warmth hit her. She hadn’t realized what she had in common with Hunt’s youngest brother.
“Thanks, Cam. I’m so sorry I snuck out on you.”
His lips quirked. “A girl is alive because you did, but it still stings to know you pulled it off.”
She laughed. “I almost didn’t. When you were chasing me down the street, I almost wet myself.”
“You run well. You have impressive form.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Her thoughts turned to poor Ella-Mae. The teenager was recovering at home. She’d dropped by this morning to see Savannah, and they’d both hugged and cried.
Ryder pressed a fresh bandage to Savannah’s belly. The wound was mostly off to the side. It hurt, but the painkillers helped. The bruises on her neck were healing too, but were unfortunately turning hideous shades of green and yellow.
“How about you run away with me, Savannah?” Ryder winked again. “We can rent a yacht. Sail the Caribbean.”
“Will you two quit flirting with my woman?” Hunt yelled from upstairs.
Savannah smiled. She tapped Ryder’s nose. “Someday, some woman is going to knock you off-kilter. And she’ll be impervious to all that Ryder Morgan charm.”
“Never.” His gaze flicked up to her painting. The one of her and Hunt. He’d hung it in the living room. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it since she was naked in it, but she hoped she could talk him into putting it back in the bedroom eventually.
“He loves you,” Ryder said.
Her heart skipped a beat. She still couldn’t quite believe it. “I know.”
“He’d do anything for you. Kill for you. Die for you. Give you everything you need.”
She looked down at her hands.
Ryder put a finger under her chin and tipped it up. “If you let him. You guys are two peas in a pod. You take on all the responsibility for everyone and everything, then drown in your guilt when you feel you don’t live up to all those expectations.”
“Ryder—”
“Neither of you believe you deserve the good stuff. Let him love you, Savannah. And show him that he deserves that too, despite whatever fucked-up shit from the past, whatever shit he sees daily on the job, messes with his head.”
“I love him, Ryder. So much it scares me.” She felt Cam watching.
“Then I guess that’s how you know it’s the real deal,” Ryder said.
“He’s right. I do love you.”
She looked up and saw Hunt on the stairs. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a bandage on his arm.
Cam stood. “That’s our cue to leave.”
Ryder hesitated. “I was hoping to bum lunch.”
“I’ll buy you a burger,” Cam said.
Savannah barely glanced at them as the two men left.
“I just finished speaking with my lieutenant,” Hunt said.
Her pulse jerked. “Walkson?”
“Is locked up, baby. Forever.” Hunt circled his hands over her shoulders.
“There’ll be a trial—”
“He won’t be getting off on murder. Or for attacking you and Ella-Mae, or hiring someone to shoot a cop. I’ve already been in contact with the other states where Killian clocked potential victims. Brynn is taking point, and my cousin misses nothing. Walkson will die in prison.”
Savannah nodded. “How come you aren’t taking point?”
“Because I asked my lieutenant for some time off.” Hunt rubbed a thumb over her lips. “I told him that I needed to heal. And spend some time with my woman while she heals. So, I have two weeks off.”
Two weeks of just her and Hunt. It sounded like heaven.
“You ready to see your mom and brother?” he asked.
Her belly clenched. “Soon.” She’d talked with them on the phone. They’d been hurt and angry that she’d run, even to protect them. But they’d also been happy and relieved she was alive and okay. Her mom had cried. Ezra, who sounded so grown up now and had finished college, had been quietly furious.
“We all need a little time to adjust,” she said.
Plus, she realized it was hard to go back. Things, people, feelings morphed and changed over time. You could only ever move forward.
Savannah was ready to do that. With this man right here.
He kissed her slowly and steadily. He’d been so careful with her since they’d left the hospital last night. She pulled closer to him, and tried to deepen the kiss, but he leaned back.
She growled. “I’m fine.”
“You were stabbed. I’m going to make sure you’re fully healed before we get naked.”
Savannah looked at the ceiling. “I guess it’s my fault for falling for a do-gooder, overprotective, alpha-male detective.”
“At least you finally admit you fell for me.”
“I did. I never stood a chance.”
He pulled her close. “So, you’re going to stay? Here in San Francisco? Move in here with me?”
Everything in her trembled. Just weeks ago, she’d been terrified, living on the run, unable to live a normal life.
Now, this man meant everything to her.
“I’ll stay. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”
His smile lit up his rugged face. Oh, she needed to sketch him, just like that. This time, she kissed him. When he pulled back, she was extremely gratified to find that he was hard, his cock nudging her belly.
She rubbed against him and he gripped her hip. “Tease.”
She liked the growl in his voice.
“I bet we could find something non-jostling and not too strenuous to do in bed,” she suggested.
He frowned.
“Please, Hunter?” she begged.
Heat flared in his eyes. “I think, if you promise to lie on your back and not move, I could think of something to do to you—” he nipped her lip “—with my hands, my mouth…”
Flames licked her insides. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
As she carefully made her way up the stairs—her wound didn’t let her move very fast—she loved the sound of his laughter behind her.
* * *
Hunt sat in his chair in the park, under the dappled shade of the trees. He had his sunglasses on, and the squeal of kids playing in the nearby playground filled his ears, but his focus was on Savannah.
She stood at her easel, painting. He’d helped to set it up, while arguing with her about lifting anything.
In the four days since she’d been stabbed, she was healing well. Both inside and out.
She was blossoming, slowly coming out of the shadows of her years-long ordeal, and believing that she was free and safe.
She slept soundly in his arms every night, smiled as they shared meals, and the look on her face when he touched her body always took his breath away.
His gorgeous artist was starting to believe.
The gang had descended the night before with takeout, beer, and wine. Savannah had snort-laughed with Gia, Haven, Harlow, Maggie, and Brynn. Only Sofie and Rome had been missing, off at some charity engagement in Los Angeles.
Hunt watched Savannah frown and daub more paint on her canvas. She was in one of his old shirts, tiny black shorts underneath. His shirt was already covered in splatters of paint.
He wanted his ring on her finger, wanted to talk about looking for a house in the suburbs. One with a huge room for an art studio. A home that could be theirs.
But he knew it was still too soon. He wanted to wait until the last of the shadows that Walkson had put in her eyes were gone.
There was time. She loved him and he loved her. He’d know when the time was right.
“I can feel you staring at me,” she called out.
“You’re mine, and you’re good to stare at, so I don’t see the problem.”
She shot him a smile.
“I was thinking you owe me quite a few shirts.”
Her smile widened and she set her brush down. “Maybe I’ll get you some nice, tie-dyed ones.”
She grabbed a water bottle and sipped.
“I got a phone call earlier,” he told her.
“Oh?” She raised a brow.
He didn’t miss the faint tension in her. She still expected bad news. It would fade in time. “Marcie Garoppolo filed for divorce.”
“Oh.” Savannah dropped the water bottle and clapped her hands together. “That’s great news!”
“Yeah. She didn’t press charges, but she’s left him and moved back in with her parents.”
“I hope she gets a second chance and a happy ending.” Savannah wandered over to him.
He nabbed her and tumbled her onto his lap.
“Hunter, I’m not sure this camp chair will hold us both.”
“It’ll hold.” He nuzzled her neck, discreetly checking his watch. Cam was due to arrive soon with a surprise.
“So, I was thinking…” Her tone was cautious.
“What?”
She set her shoulders back. “I was talking with Ryder.”
“Now I’m worried.”
She whacked his shoulder playfully. “I’m thinking I’ll get my scars removed.”
Hunt stilled, his gaze on her face.
“I know they aren’t that bad, and you’ve helped me accept them, but he put them there. They’re a reminder of him, and he’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“Whatever you want, baby, I’ll support you. Leave them, get them removed, I’ll love you either way.”
“I love you, Detective Morgan. Boy, am I glad that I played my music too loud.”
Hunt smiled. “Me too, baby.”
He pulled that delectable mouth to his. As he kissed her, the world fell away and it was just the two of them. And the bright future they had ahead of them.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was probably Cam telling Hunt that he was close to arriving, but when Savannah climbed around to straddle him and kissed him harder and with great enthusiasm, all he could do was hold on and groan.
“Savannah.” He managed to break the kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “I know.” She purposely shifted on his erection, tearing another groan from him.
Over her shoulder, he saw a X6 pull up at the park.
He looked back at her beautiful face, the wind playing with some of her curls. He clamped a hand on her hip. “That’s not it, and that can’t be a surprise, since you just breathing seems to make me hard.”
She rubbed her nose against his. “I hope that when we’re both old, and gray, and our wrinkles have wrinkles, you still have that problem.”
He pinched her butt and urged her to stand. He stood and took a second to readjust himself. Hopefully he could get himself under control in the next few minutes.
He watched Cam circle the X6. He helped an older, blonde lady out of the passenger seat.
The back door opened, and a tall, handsome, twenty-something man got out.
The breeze tousled his dirty-blond curls.
He scanned the park. A woman Savannah’s age exited last—tall, slender, with inky-black hair.
She nudged the young man, searching the park as well.
Hunt turned to Savannah. “Here’s your surprise.”
Frowning, she turned, and took a second. Then she noticed the trio. Her body went stiff as a board. “Oh, my God.”
He slid a comforting hand down her arm. “I know you’ve talked with them, but they wanted to see you. And I think you needed to see them.”
She swallowed and looked up at him, her pretty, gray eyes shining.
“Go,” he urged her.
She walked toward the approaching group, then she was running.
Savannah and her mother collided first. Savannah was laughing and crying. Her mother kept touching Savannah like she was reassuring herself that her daughter was real.
Ezra claimed Savannah next. The young man wasn’t crying, but his face was filled with emotion.
Then Saskia Hawke leaped on Savannah. The women hugged, cried, and laughed. The sound of their happy laughter rang through the park.
Camden reached Hunt, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Nice work, bro.”
Hunt lifted his chin. “She needed it. Needed to reconnect with them. She was just afraid to close the gap.”
Cam nodded. “The gap can feel like a chasm sometimes.”
Hunt looked at his brother.
“I’m fine. My chasm lasted about an hour. You, Ryder, and Mom just leaped across it when I got back. It didn’t feel like that for long. So, thanks for being there.”
Hunt clasped Cam’s shoulder. “We’re always here for you.”
Savannah, holding her mom’s hand, led the group over.
“You’ve met Camden, but I really want you to meet my detective.” She smiled at Hunt.
Mrs. Hart met his gaze and nodded. “Thank you, Detective Morgan. For bringing her back to us and making her safe.”
“It’s Hunt.” He slung an arm around Savannah’s shoulders, and she leaned into him.
Mrs. Hart watched them, her eyes filling with happy tears.
Ezra nodded and shook Hunt’s hand. Hunt shook Saskia’s slim hand last.
“Your brother was a big help,” Hunt told her.
“He always is.” Saskia smiled. “He has his finger on the pulse of, well, everything.” She looked at Savannah. “Nice.” She tilted her head toward Hunt. “The men here in San Francisco…” Saskia fanned herself.
Savannah smiled. “There are more of them, but most of them are taken.” Savannah shot a sly look at Camden. “Except for Hunt’s brothers.”
Cam dragged in a breath and looked resigned.
Savannah laughed. “I’ve missed years of teasing my brother, so I have lots to catch up on.”
Ezra and Cam shared a look.
As Savannah laughed again, sounding carefree and happy, Hunt pressed a kiss to her temple.
All was right in his pocket of the world.