Chapter 18
Five minutes.
That’s all the time they had before another hostage would be dragged to the center of the ballroom and executed.
Savannah’s pulse thundered in her ears as the lead terrorist’s voice echoed through the vast space, counting down in harsh, deliberate tones.
Beside her, Kandy whimpered and Savannah couldn’t blame her.
The situation was as terrifying as it was shocking.
She curled her hands into fists in her lap to stop them from shaking, but it didn’t help.
Tremors ran through her whole body, and she was so cold in her sleeveless dress that her teeth chattered.
Her gaze flicked to the gilded clock high on the far wall. Four minutes. Maybe less now.
Where are you, Sawyer?
The terrorist barked something in another language and two men moved toward a trembling elderly diplomat. Savannah’s stomach twisted.
Then—BOOM.
The room rocked with several thunderous explosions, as every entrance to the ballroom blew inward in perfect synchrony. Smoke flooded the room and screams broke out. Dark figures in tactical gear poured in from numerous points of entry simultaneously.
“Down! On the ground! Don’t move!” The sharp commands sliced through the room, immediately followed by the rapid barrage of gunfire that echoed around them.
And leading the charge, moving like a storm through smoke and gunfire, was Sawyer.
Still dressed in his white tuxedo shirt and black dress pants but now covered in body armor, his rifle trained with deadly precision, he was a walking contradiction—elegant and lethal. And so heartbreakingly beautiful as he moved with brutal efficiency.
God, he looks hot, Savannah thought, even as chaos unfurled around her. Even as she watched him shoot the terrorists.
She barely had a moment to process the wave of relief crashing over her before Sawyer’s eyes found hers. Just a heartbeat’s glance. But then he was gone, sprinting through the smoke after the lead terrorist who had slipped out the side door.
“No,” she breathed, surging to her feet. “Sawyer—”
One of the other operatives caught her arm. “Ms. Gaines, you’re safe now. Stay here.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were locked on the door Sawyer had disappeared through.
Because she knew him.
And wherever he’d gone . . . he’d gone alone. That terrified her more than any countdown ever could.
As a man crouched down before her, his tactical gear vaguely registered in her mind, a blurry impression amidst the building worry. “Ms. Gaines. My name’s Aleck. I’m part of the SEAL team that was sent in to assist Voodoo. I’d like to check you over. See if you are all right.”
She replied, “I’m fine,” though she was surprised by the breathless and unsteady quality of her own voice. “Go help Sawyer.” She grabbed Aleck’s arm. “Please. Help him.” Desperation filled her. These men needed to listen to her. She couldn’t lose Sawyer. She just couldn’t.
“Don’t worry. Two of my guys are on it.”
She didn’t exactly know what “on it” meant, but if it indicated that they went to assist Sawyer, then she could breathe a little easier.
“Now. Can I please check you over while we wait for Voodoo to return?” She nodded, and Aleck got to work pulling equipment out of a bag.
Consumed by worry, Savannah’s eyes glazed over, and she was completely oblivious to the man’s actions.
Soon enough, she was being led on shaky legs to a nearby room whose opulent furnishings were lost on her.
The rich scent of mahogany and polished wood filled her nostrils, but her shaky legs and racing heart overshadowed the luxury around her.
She sat stiffly on the edge of a velvet bench in the Four Seasons’ private lounge, a wool blanket draped around her bare shoulders. She couldn’t stop shaking. And she felt beyond exhausted.
Daphne, Kandy, and Henry had all been taken to medical for evaluation, but Savannah had refused to go. Not until she saw him.
The room felt too quiet, too still. Eerily wrong after the chaos of the past hour. Somewhere, siren’s wailed in the distance, muted by the hotel’s thick walls.
She clenched her hands in her lap. Her once shimmering and elegant gown was torn at the hem and smudged with dirt and blood. Not hers. But it didn’t matter. Her skin still felt dirty.
The door opened, and she jerked her head up, her heart racing in anticipation. Then there he was.
Soaked. Dripping water onto the marble floor. Shirt ripped at the collar, knuckles bruised, breathing hard. But it was him.
Alive.
Their eyes locked.
She was on her feet before she could think. The blanket fell to the floor as her legs moved of their own accord.
He caught her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. She buried her face into his neck, inhaling chlorine and him.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice rough. “God, Savi. You’re okay.”
Her hands fisted in the damp fabric of his shirt. “You came for me.”
“Always.”
Her breath hitched. “I thought—”
“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s over now.”
She pulled back enough to look at him. A bruise bloomed along his jawline, his lip was split, and there was a weariness in his eyes.
“You’re hurt.”
He shrugged, the barest of smiles twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You should see the other guy.”
Despite everything, she let out a broken laugh, half-sob, half-relief. Her fingertips ghosted across his cheek. “I was so scared.”
“I was, too. I’m so sorry I left you alone. It killed me to do it. But I knew I couldn’t take them on alone. I had to get backup. But I left you. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please.” His words were a jumbled, hurried mess, but the desperation behind them wounded her.
The look in his eyes cracked something open in her chest. He thought he was going to lose her over this.
She cupped both his cheeks, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Sawyer. You have nothing to be sorry for. I always knew you were coming. I knew you’d never leave me.
I . . .” She paused, emotion choking the rest of her words.
She wasn’t ready to say what was pressing against her ribs, but she knew it now. Knew it in her bones.
“I’ve got you, Savi,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She leaned into him again, letting the quiet stretch between them, his heartbeat strong against her cheek.
For the first time in days, maybe even years, she let herself believe that maybe . . . just maybe . . . she didn’t have to be strong alone anymore.
“Let’s get you up to your room and cleaned up,” he said, drawing her to the door. Still unsteady, she stumbled. Voodoo didn’t hesitate. He swept her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style through the luxurious hotel until they were finally ensconced in her suite. Just the two of them.
The hush of the room wrapped around her like a balm after the chaos. Gilded mirrors, soft lamplight, and plush velvet furnishings filled the space. Opulence and calm, a world away from gunfire and terror.
He closed the door behind them, making sure to lock the deadbolt, and turned to her, his expression gentle, his stormy eyes scanning her face like he needed to see she was still whole. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly.
She gave the smallest nod.
He took her hand and walked her into the bathroom.
He stepped forward, his fingers brushing the strap of her dress, his touch reverent as he helped her out of the floor-length gown.
Not rushed. Not impatient. Just Sawyer, grounding her, and dare she say, loving her in silence.
The fabric whispered to the floor, and he kissed her bare shoulder.
He turned on the water, adjusting it with careful precision before offering her his hand.
The marble bathroom was all warm light and steam, gold fixtures gleaming under the soft glow.
He gently grasped her hips, his gaze locked on her as if taking measure of her mental state.
Then, having obviously seen what he wanted, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs.
He released her and gave her a gentle nudge toward the shower. She stepped in first and the heat rushing over her skin was like a cleansing rain.
Then he joined her.
Under the cascade of water, they moved slowly. His hands glided over her arms, her back, her hair. She returned the gesture, her fingertips gentle over the powerful lines of his body. Her breath caught when she saw the angry bruise spreading over his ribs.
“God, Sawyer,” she whispered, pressing her hand lightly to it.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, cupping her jaw. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
But she hated it. Hated that he’d gotten hurt. Hated that she couldn’t shield him the way he shielded her.
Still, neither of them spoke more about it.
The moment was too fragile, too sacred. They stood forehead to forehead beneath the spray.
His arms wrapped around her, while her fingers rested over his heart.
Despite the fact that they were naked in front of each other for the first time, this wasn’t about sex.
It was about care. Comfort. And even love.
Afterward, he dried her gently, like she might break, then helped her into one of the hotel’s thick robes. She sank into the bed, the soft linens welcoming her exhausted body. Sawyer followed her, settling in behind her, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, his chest pressed to her back.
She sighed, her heart finally slowing.
“You’re not going anywhere, right?” she murmured.
He tightened his hold and promised, “Never.”
She fell asleep to the feel of his heartbeat steady against her spine, unaware that the depth of his promise extended far beyond the one night.