Page 4 of Covert Operation
I dip my head in a nod. “You’re welcome.”
She doesn’t have to thank me, but I know I need to tread carefully when it comes to her, so I don’t tell her that yet. She’s been through a lot in the past year—something some people wouldn’t survive—and I want her to feel comfortable around me. Safe.
Because I don’t just want Savannah to learn to protect herself. I want her to reclaim the power that was taken from her. I know how vital that is. How important of a role it will play in the direction the rest of her life takes.
Savannah goes quiet again, and that’s fine. She needs to get used to me. Needs time to acclimate to this new situation. It happens almost every time, so I’m used to it.
Over the years, I’ve helped lots of women learn how to keep themselves safe. How to avoid becoming a victim. But this time is different. It hits a little closer to home. A little closer to an old wound I’ve been trying to heal every way I know how. Deep down, part of me hopes this will be the time I succeed. That helping Savannah will bring an end to my suffering.
The rest of the drive to headquarters is silent. I can feel the tension rolling off her as the minutes tick past. My presence is the likely cause for her discomfort, but there’s nothing I can do to change that. Not right now anyway. Hopefully, over time, Savannah will see I understand what she’s been through more than she realizes. That I will never be someone she needs to be afraid of.
But the closer we get to headquarters, the more uncomfortable she looks. The knuckles on her hands are nearly white from how tight she’s gripping her bag, and while I know she’s the one who came to me, I still feel obligated to give her an out.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.” It’s taken her a year to get to this point, but no one’s going to judge her if it takes longer. If they try, I’ll knock their fucking heads from their bodies.
Savannah doesn’t seem relieved by my offer. The tension bunching her shoulders remains, as well as the pinched expression on her face. “Yes, we do.”
The anger always simmering inside me bubbles up and I have to force myself to maintain some semblance of calm. “Don’t let anyone make you feel like you should be somewhere different, Savannah. No one can tell you how to get through this.” My eyes swing her way. “And if anyone tries, you tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
Surprise blinks across her expression. There and gone in a flash. “No one’s pressured me.” Her eyes drop to her lap, watching where her hands twist the fabric of her bag. “I’m just tired of feeling the way I feel.”
I take a slow breath because I know what’s coming next. “And how do you feel?”
She’s quiet for a minute, gaze staying on her hands. “Afraid.” She picks at a corner of one pink polished nail, her voice barely a whisper as she continues. “Ashamed. Helpless.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “Weak. A little broken.”
I grip the steering wheel, trying to channel all the rage away from my face and into my fists as they flex against the leather. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on.”
She snorts, and it almost sounds amused. “Actually I’ve had nothing going on because I’m too scared to leave the house.”
I inhale slowly, keeping my voice even when I ask, “Even with Sadie?”
Savannah’s sister is highly capable and likely one of the most dangerous women I’ve ever met. I would have expected Savannah to feel safe with someone like Sadie at her side. Especially since I know firsthand the lengths she will go to in order to keep Savannah safe. A year ago, Sadie put herself in the hospital in an effort to do just that.
Then she sent a handful of men to their graves.
Savannah’s lips twist to one side. “I know Sadie is capable of a lot, but I guess I don’t want to put her in the position of having to protect me.” She chews her lower lip. “Again.”
I don’t like the loneliness in her voice. The sadness. And I sure as fuck don’t like the isolation I know can come from the way she’s feeling. That’s why my next words are less careful—less gentle—than they should be. “Don’t ever fucking feel bad aboutthat, Savannah. The people who love you will never get tired of protecting you.Never.”
Her skin pales and I realize I’ve already overstepped. Already pushed her too hard.
“Okay.” Her voice is soft and shaky and the edges of her eyes shimmer with tears that are likely due to my tone.
I knew when I agreed to this I would have to be careful with her—more careful than I’ve ever been with anyone—and I’m already fucking it up because of my own issues. My own fears.
I scrub one hand over my face, rubbing my burning eyes as I blow out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I just want you to know you’re not alone in this.”
An experience like what she went through can make a person feel isolated. I understand that more than she realizes. More than anyone realizes.
Savannah gives me a little nod, but once again her eyes won’t come near me.
Biting back another sigh as I pull up to the gate blocking the drive leading back to Alaskan Security’s headquarters, I swipe my card and punch in the security code, tipping my head at the member of Stealth monitoring the perimeter before pulling through.
Savannah’s jitteriness from earlier returns as we drive through the thick treeline blocking the view of the large campus. She seems to press as far back into her seat as possible as we close in, ducking her chin in what appears to be an attempt to obscure her face.
“No one can see inside here. They won’t know you’re the one in that seat.”
I’m taking every precaution I can with her. From ensuring no one knows what she’s up to until she’s ready, to making sure I don’t invade her personal space, I’m doing my best to make sure she feels safe and secure. I want Savannah to know I will look out for her. That she’s not as alone as she might think.