Page 30 of Covert Operation

But before I can pull back, Savannah latches on to me, her fingers lacing between mine and gripping tight. Like I’m her fucking lifeline.

Like I genuinely provide what she needs.

Her other hand layers onto mine, sandwiching it between her soft skin. Taking a deep breath, her eyes slip closed as she says, “Is it still rape if I pretended to like it?”

The bubble of rage simmers to life in my gut. I’ve carried it for years. Most days I keep it under wraps, but there are times, like now, that I can’t. “He fucking abducted you, Savannah. Threatened to kill you.” I know how I sound—like the man I work so hard to keep from her. But I can’t stop it. Can’t hold him back. “Nothing that happened to you was consensual in any capacity.” I stop at a light, my foot hitting the break harder than it should as I turn to face her. “You aren’t responsible for a single fucking thing that happened to you.”

Savannah’s eyes widen, like I’ve scared her. They dip to my treacherous mouth, lingering for a second before coming back to mine. “Oh.” She doesn’t pull her hand from mine, probably only because she’s too stunned to move.

I work hard not to let the women I help see what I can be. What my own past shaped me into.

The anger I still carry because of it.

I turn back to the road, unable to make myself look at the shock on her face any longer. “I should probably take you home.”

“What?” Savannah scoffs. “Why?”

I open my mouth, but I can’t make the words I want to say come out. Instead, I spill my fucking guts all over. “Because I can’t keep my shit together sometimes, and today is obviously one of those times.”

Savannah is quiet for a minute. Long enough the light turns green and I have to continue our drive. When she finally speaks, her words are soft. “I can be a safe place for you too, you know.”

My head whips her way.

The soft stroke of her fingers against my skin steals my attention as Savannah smooths across the back of my hand. “It’s okay to be angry or sad or frustrated around me.” She swallows, her throat working as her gaze once again dips to my mouth before coming back. “This isn’t a one-sided thing, Zeke.” Her lips lift at the edges. “At least I hope it’s not.”

THIRTEEN

SAVANNAH

I CAN TELL it’s never occurred to Zeke that I could be someone he might be able to confide in. Someone who could offer support and understanding. I get it, I guess. I haven’t exactly been a pillar of strength this past year.

But being strong for myself and being strong for someone else are two very different things. Different things that might actually go hand-in-hand now that I think about it.

“Honestly, it might make this all easier if I feel like I’m helping you too. It means I have something to offer.” I almost stop there, but another epiphany slaps me right in the face. “And I’m actually getting pretty fucking sick of my own misery. Sick of my whole life revolving around something I don’t want to define me.”

Zeke’s expression is hard. It usually is, but I’m starting to be able to identify the little hints he offers about how he’s actually feeling. The man holds a lot in. That’s why he’s so quiet. So stoic. What most people would call intimidating.

But his eyes always give him away. They’re basically a window. One that is easy to see through if you take the time to figure out what you’re looking for.

“I know you probably don’t really talk about things with most people, and you don’t have to talk about them with me either.” I swallow hard at the flash of vulnerability that flickers across his gaze. “I just want you to know that I’m here, I’m a good listener, and it might be nice to have someone to commiserate with.”

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. That I didn’t put two and two together. I was so blinded by my own tunnel vision I never took a second to wonder why Zeke was so willing to help me. Willing to help Mona. Willing to help any woman who was feeling powerless and vulnerable.

I still don’t know why, but there’s a reason. One that will probably hurt my heart.

Zeke is quiet for a minute. His tendency to go silent unnerves a lot of people, but I appreciate the way he processes things before sending them out into the world. It tells me a lot about him. About the way he lives his life. How he thinks. The consideration he puts into every action and word.

“Thank you.” His simple response makes me smile.

He didn’t tell me no or insinuate I couldn’t bear the weight of his pain. And he didn’t blow off my offer like it meant nothing.

Will he take me up on it? I don’t know. And it’s not up to me to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing. Zeke is careful with me. Lets me go at my own pace. Gives me room to be happy and sad and afraid.

I’ll do the same for him.

I take a deep breath, my exhale long and more of a release then I anticipated. “So which vehicle do you think I should try first?”

Zeke almost acted like he thought he should take me back home, and I want it to be clear that’s not an option available to him this morning. I really am sick of myself, and I need to be able to get out of my house whenever I want. That requires a vehicle, especially since Sadie is going to be on the other side of the country soon.