Chapter 5
The soft hum of the engines was the only sound in the darkened cabin, save for the occasional sigh or shuffle from one of the sleeping passengers.
Kandy had her silk eye mask on and headphones in.
Henry Patrick, the other singer who’d joined the tour last minute, was snoring under his cashmere blanket.
Daphne Dempsey, who’d been introduced as Savannah’s assistant, shifted in the seat across the aisle before settling in sleep again.
Brian Hammerstein, Savannah’s personal piano tuner and technician, sat in the seat across the aisle from them, earbuds in place, and tablet playing a movie in his lap. Even the crew members had gone still.
Sawyer hadn’t closed his eyes once.
He sat near the back, with Savannah in the seat beside him. Waiting. He’d given all the new names he’d learned to Haley to do her thing with SYBIL. He hoped by the time they landed, she’d have something for him. But something told him it wouldn’t be that easy.
Savannah hadn’t spoken much since the hangar incident.
She’d smiled politely through the rest of the press frenzy, and the meet and greet with the other performers, musicians, and crew members.
She’d boarded the jet with a grace that masked how shaken she’d been, then curled up in her seat beside the window with a blanket tucked under her chin.
But now he could see it. The tiny winces when the lights flickered. The way she pressed her fingers to her temple when she thought no one was looking.
Damn it. Migraine.
He remembered when she’d had them as a kid. He’d always felt so helpless when one struck. Hating to see her in so much pain, he’d learned everything he could about how to help her through them.
He rose quietly and went to the galley and asked the flight attendant there for headache medicine and a bottle of water.
Sitting back down next to Savannah, he studied her face for a moment while her eyes were closed.
Her features were pinched and drawn, a clear indication of the intense pain she was experiencing from her migraine.
Her skin was smooth and far too pale for his liking.
Even her lips hadn’t escaped the effects of her migraine.
The dryness was evident, a pale and cracked surface that suggested dehydration.
She still resembled his Savi, though, but now she was more. More beautiful. More graceful. Just more.
He was still reeling from the surprise that she, of all people, had been his assignment.
Even after twenty years had elapsed, he felt a connection to her that surpassed any other relationship he’d ever experienced.
A bond that time could not diminish. He couldn’t help but wonder about the uncharted depths of their connection, the unspoken possibilities that lay ahead.
Careful not to wake anyone else, he touched her arm. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You hurting?”
Her eyes opened slowly. They were glassy, dulled with pain, and rimmed with fatigue.
“It’s not too bad,” she whispered. “Just started on the climb. Pressure change, maybe.”
He didn’t buy it, not for a second. “Lie to someone who didn’t watch you fight through these as a kid.”
That pulled the faintest, pained smile from her. “Still bossy, I see.”
“And you still don’t tell the truth about how you’re really feeling,” he said gently.
After handing her the pills, he opened the water bottle and then gave that to her as well. A grateful smile played on her lips as she popped the pills into her mouth and followed by a long, deep drink of water.
Standing again, he opened the overhead compartment and pulled out the tactical bag he always carried.
Digging through it, he found the travel-size bottle of peppermint oil.
He didn’t know why he carried it with him.
Even during his deployments, the small bottle of peppermint oil traveled with him.
Maybe it had been wishful thinking they’d be reunited, and that’s why he’d always kept a bottle on hand.
He held it up like an offering. “This still help?”
Her eyes softened. “You remembered.”
“Told you, I remember everything,” he said, quieter than before.
She didn’t respond to that, nodded. Raising the armrest between them, he patted his thigh.
Thankfully, the private jet’s seats were wide enough she could easily maneuver until her head rested in his lap.
He gently uncapped the oil and rubbed a drop between his fingers, then pressed it lightly to her temples, slow and careful.
As he massaged the oil into her temples, she moaned and the sound shot straight to his cock.
“That feels like heaven.” He barely heard her words as he struggled to keep all the blood from rushing south.
He’d been fifteen when she left. Just learning to traverse the minefield of puberty’s confusing sensations, so he’d never experienced such a reaction to her before.
But now, as a full-blooded adult male with a beautiful woman moaning on his lap, he couldn’t help his reaction.
If he couldn’t keep this sudden desire under control, the next three weeks were going to be hell.
Shaking off the lust, he watched as her shoulders relax by degrees. “Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”
She obeyed, and for a while, the silence between them wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable. Protective. Like when they were kids, hiding in his backyard treehouse during storms, reading books by flashlight while thunder rolled overhead.
“I remember the first time you did this for me,” she said quietly.
“Drove me nuts to see you in pain.”
“It did?”
He smiled at the tone of disbelief in her voice. She never did think she was worthy of anyone’s care and attention. “Yeah. After I saw you suffering through that first migraine when you were nine, I wanted to learn everything I could about them . . . so I could help you.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“How did you think I got the tip about the peppermint oil?”
“I don’t know. I just figured it was something most people knew. I didn’t really think about it.”
He tweaked her nose. “Silly. My mom thought I was nuts, but I asked her to make a doctor’s appointment for me so I could ask him about them. He’s the one who told me about peppermint oil. Made my mom help me get a bottle that same day.”
“Oh, my God, Sawyer. Why would you go to so much trouble?”
“Because you were important to me. My best friend. And, like I said, I didn’t like seeing you in pain.”
She was quiet then as she absorbed what he’d just told her. He could practically see the gears turning as her perceptions shifted. He’d never hidden from her how important she was to him when they were little. He guessed she just hadn’t realized how far he’d go for her.
After a little while, she murmured, “I’ve been thinking about what that man said.”
Sawyer sat back in his seat, eyes never leaving the curve of her face in the dim cabin light. “Me too.”
“He said I wasn’t safe,” she whispered. “And that someone was using me.”
Sawyer’s jaw clenched.
He’d already replayed the man’s words a dozen times.
Haley had filled him in just before takeoff.
The man’s name was David Greer. Former senator’s aide, not one of McNabney’s.
No active employment now. Diagnosed PTSD, possibly paranoid delusions.
But damn if his message hadn’t been unnervingly direct.
“I don’t think he was crazy,” Savannah said.
“I don’t either.”
She opened her eyes again, barely. “Then what are we going to do?”
Sawyer exhaled slowly. “Dig for more information. And keep up appearances. It has to appear as if nothing has changed. Besides, your stepfather made it clear that nothing was to deter this trip or your involvement in it.”
“I’m not his campaign prop,” she whispered.
“No,” Sawyer said. “You’re not. You’re much more.” That last part slipped out before he could stop it.
Savannah turned her head slowly, studying him. “Sawyer . . .”
He reached down and lightly brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Sleep. We’ll talk more after. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Promise?”
His heart twisted. “Always.”
She turned to her side, her head still resting on his thigh.
While she settled, he pulled the blanked over her.
As she drifted off, he sat back and stared into the dark, his hand instinctively drifted toward her.
He touched her hair gently, marveling over the golden hues, darker than when she’d been a kid, that played through the strands before settling his hand on her arm.
He couldn’t not touch her. As if awakening from a twenty-year slumber, he felt a need to ground himself, to feel her presence beneath his touch, to steady his suddenly unsteady hands and mind.
Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having her in his life. How much he needed her in his life.
His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Olivia. Someone was using this tour for something. And if anyone laid a finger on Savannah, Sawyer would burn their entire plan, and everything behind it, to the ground.