Chapter 11
SAVANNAH
“We cannot go this long between talking,” Blake scolds me through the phone. “Too much has happened, and I’m expected to process it all in one phone call.”
Using my shoulder to hold my phone in place, I take a bite of my Danish and a sip of my caramel pumpkin latte as I continue my commute to RHL on foot. If I cared about my figure whatsoever, I’d eat something healthier, but I’d rather be happy and curvy with my pastries.
Blake continues her rant, and I let her. She’s a little dramatic at times, but it’s not because she’s upset. She’s my biggest cheerleader.
“Agent Cuntley drags you away twice, you get a fairy godmother lawyer and his sidekick, and you meet three hunky guys. I’m not sure if the universe is blessing you or punishing you.”
I snigger at her favorite nickname for the agent who has made it his mission to make my life miserable. “I’m not sure either.”
Blake takes a deep breath and softens her tone. “First things first, it’s okay to be frustrated, numb, sad, angry…all the things. Feel what you feel, babe.”
“Thank you. I’m trying,” I half lie. Last night, after I got home from Green Haven, I wanted to go out again, but I couldn’t. I was the epitome of self-control. The time between my kills is getting shorter, and that’s the quickest way to get caught.
“Second,” some of Blake’s fire comes out, “I’ve had some prisoners write to me after those art classes I taught. I’m sure I could ask one of them to off your sperm donor for you. And to the NSA agent monitoring me, that wasn’t an admission of guilt.”
I can’t hold back my belly laugh that bursts out of me, startling my surrounding fellow commuters. “Noted.”
“And third—wait, let me get my tea,” Blake embellishes for effect. “Tell me about these guys.”
My responding smile is wide and genuine.
This is what I need—therapeutic girl talk with my best friend.
“I met Hunter at The Circuit, Rory at Mocha Lisa, and Luke at the library,” I recall as I amble through the crosswalk.
“Aww. You met them in all your favorite places? Talk about meant to be.” She sighs wistfully. “Okay, yes. After Nate turned out to be a grade-A douche bag, the universe is definitely sending you some blessings.”
“Hunter is…older.” My shoulders drop, realizing how much I really do like him.
“He’s mature and he’s commanding in an attractive way, and he doesn’t ask me if I want to ‘Netflix and chill.’” I make my distaste of the activity apparent with my tone.
“And then there’s Rory. He makes me laugh, and I love talking to him. He’s unapologetically himself.”
“I’m loving this for you.” Blake squeals. “Tell me about the last one.”
“Luke. I met him at the library. We talked about books, and he makes me all giddy like a little girl. And he seems protective, but not in a way that makes me feel cut down or like he doubts my own strength.”
If someone told me there were literal hearts in my eyes right now, I wouldn’t doubt them.
“Aww. You really like them. I can hear it. You’re like a smitten kitten.”
“But after yesterday,” I comment, acknowledging the elephant in the room. “I doubt they’ll still be interested. I think by now they’ll realize who my dad is.”
“If they’re going to judge you based on who your sperm donor is, then they’re not guys you want hanging around anyway, babe.” Her advice isn’t what I want to hear, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Letting out a sharp breath through my nose, I reply, “I know. It’s just been nice to meet a good guy who doesn’t know about my connection to,” I glance at the people near me, trying to gauge if they’re listening, “him.”
“That’s understandable,” Blake validates.
Blake truly is an amazing friend. She doesn’t tiptoe around my feelings, yet at the same time, she shows me compassion and care. She forces me out of my shell but knows when to give me space.
Stopping on the sidewalk, I stare up toward the top of the RHL building. “I’m here.”
“Are you going inside?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. I won’t know if they figured it out or not until I do.”
“I’m proud of you. We’ll let our hair down and have some fun on Friday, okay?” Her question is less of an inquiry and more of a directive.
Groaning, I try to protest. “How about—”
“We’re going out.” Her tone is final.
“Fine.” I don’t bother holding back my distaste of our new plans.
“Good. Now go to work, my big shot working girl. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Ending the call, I slide my phone into my pocket.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I force myself through the entrance and into the lobby. Everything seems normal. Various people are in the lobby, arriving at work, and Blair sits at her desk at reception.
With my emotional support pastry and coffee in hand, I head for the elevator and repeat the mantra in my head, “I can do this.”
I don’t notice Rory standing beside the elevator until I’m right there.
He’s waiting with crossed arms and his back against the wall. The butterflies in my stomach go crazy at the sight of him. He looks like a model from GQ.
When I’m almost to him, Rory pushes off the wall and approaches me. “Morning, Dream Girl.”
If I’m still Dream Girl, then maybe they don’t know.
“Good morning. Are you my escort today? Is there a rotation I should be aware of?” I rag on him.
“Yeah, I fought to get every day, but Luke won the thumb war and now I only get Wednesdays and Fridays.” He displays a quirky frown in jest after he scans his palm and eye.
I bite my lip to hide my smile, not wanting to be the one to break first. “I didn’t think old men still play thumb war.”
“Who are you calling old?” He shoots at me over his shoulder as we enter the elevator.
I settle into the space next to him, and we both face the doors as they close. “Not you, that’s for sure.”
As soon as the light from the lobby is cut off, Rory spins to me, backing me into the wall. He takes my coffee and pastry, tossing them over his shoulder, and his lips cover mine.
If he had done anything other than kiss me, I would have caused a stink about my food, but I love the way his lips feel on mine.
His resounding moan shoots straight to my core as I slip my tongue into his mouth, and my hands dive into his silky-smooth locks.
He grips my backside, guiding my hips to grind against his front, drawing a whimper from my throat.
The maddening ding of the elevator ends the moment, and I pull my lips back from Rory’s. He groans in protest, causing me to smirk.
“Do you greet every employee like that?”
“Just you, Dream Girl.” He kisses me one more time, then takes a step back, righting his clothing.
I do the same, and my eyes move to my ruined breakfast. Either I need to order more food or deal with not having a meal.
“I’ll get you something else,” Rory offers.
“I can take care of it,” I resist.
Rory blinks in surprise. “That’s a first. I’ve never had a woman refuse a gift from me.”
“There’s a first for everything,” I quip and exit the elevator, but I’m pulled up short when I find Luke and Hunter standing a few feet away with their heads bent together and talking in hushed tones.
Rory clears his throat behind me, a clear signal to Hunter and Luke because they react by ending their discussion and standing up straight.
Instead of questioning what’s going on, I walk away and head for Hunter’s office, where I worked the other day with all three men trailing behind me. Their whispered argument drifts to my ears, but I’m unable to interpret their exact words.
I make it to the conference table, dropping my bag in my chosen seat, and turn to face Hunter, Rory, and Luke.
They stand at the opposite end of the table, blocking my path to the door like a brick wall.
But only if a brick wall were made up of sexy men who make my brain fog with needs that I’ve never wanted satisfied by another before.
Crossing my arms, I plant my feet. “Is this some kind of intervention? You all look so serious.”
Luke speaks up first. “We’re not going to pretend like yesterday didn’t happen.”
I came here today, resigned to the fact that they probably figured out my parentage, but now with the reality in front of me, I want to run and hide. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come into work. I know you hired me to do a job and—”
“That’s not what this is,” Hunter interrupts.
My mouth pulls into a puzzled twist. “Then what’s happening here? Am I being fired?”
“No,” Luke answers. “It’s about yesterday.”
“You said that already,” I remind them.
“Savannah,” Rory releases a breath. “The FBI showed up and dragged you away.”
“They didn’t drag me. I went willingly,” I insist.
Luke snorts. “Semantics.”
“The details are important.” I’m veering off topic on purpose. I know avoidance shouldn’t be a tool in anyone’s kit, but I’m grasping at straws.
“We know your last name used to be Bartlett,” Hunter states plain and simple.
“Oh.” Blinking, my arms drop to my sides.
They’ve laid the truth out there, addressing the elephant in the room. It follows me everywhere, and I do my best to forget it because when people become aware of its presence, I’m no longer welcome.
“We know your dad is John the Baptist,” Luke clarifies.
“I figured that’s what you meant.” My shoulders sag as I stare down. I’d rather maintain eye contact with a table than read the disgust on their faces. “How long?”
“Since your first day,” Rory answers my pathetic question.
I didn’t expect the answer to sting, but it does. I feel like a fool. My identity can never remain a secret. Then another thought occurs to me. “And I’m not being fired?”
“No, you’re not fired,” Hunter confirms.
Taking a moment, I let my gaze link with each of theirs. “Then what’s the point in telling me you know?”
Hunter takes a step forward. “You need to know you’re not alone in this, Heartbreaker.”
Shaking my head, I brush away the sentiment. “You all barely know me.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t be there for you.” Rory tips his head to the side.
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” I argue.
Luke storms to my side, grasping my hands in his. “Why is it so hard to believe that we want to help?”
How can I expect him to understand? How can any of them?
No one makes it through this life without experiencing rejection in one way or another. But how many can comprehend rejection on such a level as I have experienced?
Tears line my lower lashes, and I rip my hands away, backing up as words I’ve never spoken aloud are let free.
“Because who wants to help the daughter of one of the most notorious serial killers of New York? Who wants to be friends with someone whose dad committed unspeakable acts? Who wants to date the spawn of evil incarnate? My father raped, mutilated, and murdered twenty-four women because he believed they needed to be ‘cleansed.’ Who would want me?”
My breaths are uneven, and my hands shake at my sides.
I can’t believe I just said all of that out loud, exposing my deepest fears and insecurities. I let all of my pain out in the open for them to judge.
With measured strides, Rory closes the distance between us. He leans, pressing our foreheads together, and cups my cheeks with his large hands. “Us.”
My head shakes side to side in his hands, denying the sincerity of his claim. Rory stands up straight and wipes my tears with his thumbs.
“You are not your father.” Hunter’s tone leaves no room for argument.
If only they knew.
I don’t bother arguing because that’ll reveal too much. I don’t want them to know the effect of my father’s DNA. His madness runs through my veins.
Rory drops his hands from my face, and I rub my eyes.
“How can we help?” Luke asks.
I’m so tired of being alone. I can only stand strong on my own for so long. Every fiber of my being is exhausted. I could sleep for the next century, and it wouldn’t be enough.
If I want that relief, I need to lean on someone. I need to try.
As my shoulders sag, I release a heavy breath. “I’m assuming you’ve heard about the copycat murders recently?”
Rory nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, they’ve been all over the news.”
Letting out a humorless laugh, I explain, “The FBI asked me to talk to my father. Apparently, he won’t give anyone answers except me.”
Hunter moves toward me. “Have you talked to him at all since he went to prison?”
“Nope. I didn’t even attend the trial.”
Luke joins Hunter and Rory in front of me. “So yesterday was the first time you’ve talked to him?”
“Yes,” I corroborate.
Rory raises his brows. “And you still showed up to work today?”
“Yes.” A drop of insolence makes its way into my voice. “As I pointed out earlier, you hired me to do a job.”
“Do you want to go home?” Hunter asks, his brows scrunching together.
“Why would I do that?” I search their faces for an answer, like this is some kind of bizarre test and I’ve been given a trick question.
“You had an intense day yesterday,” Rory says, as if I wasn’t the one to experience it all. “It’s okay to need to decompress.”
I can’t for the life of me understand why they care so much. Their words contradict the actions I’ve experienced from every other person in my life.
But maybe…Maybe they’re different.
Choosing honesty and vulnerability, I reply, “Actually, I’d like to work. I don’t want to think about yesterday. It was a disaster, and I’d like to keep my mind occupied with other things.”
“That, we can do,” Luke responds for the three, and the other two don’t object.
“Thanks.” I step around the protective brick wall they’ve created and settle in my chair.
Whipping out my laptop, I get to it and lose myself in something that has always made sense to me when nothing else in my life has—ones and zeroes.
Ones and zeroes don’t lie. They are what they are.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes to give myself a short break. The sound of fingers typing on keyboards registers in my mind, causing my eyes to shoot open.
I don’t know how long they’ve been at the table with me. It could have been the whole time if their almost-empty coffee mugs are anything to go by.
Then I realize how relaxed I feel. It’s like I can finally take a deep breath.
Maybe I can do this trust thing.
It’s not half bad so far.