Page 58 of Covert Operation

Not that any of my options are good. I’m going to fucking kill Pierce the next time I see him. I don’t care that he signs my checks. It’s his fucking fault we’re in this mess.

I reach the last room at the back of the building and peer through the open door, looking for any sign someone might be inside. It’s just as trashed as the rest of the place, but it seems deserted, so I lead Savannah inside. I clear off the surface of the desk built into the wall and lift her onto it. Once she’s seated, I hold one finger to my lips so she knows we still have to be quiet.

Again, she silently nods.

I start to move away, but she grabs for me, holding tight to the front of my coat as she shakes her head, eyes wide.

I wrap both my hands over hers, leaning close. I know she’s scared, and it’s fucking tearing me up, but I have to figure out what the fuck is going on and how much danger we’re actually in. I’ve been at this long enough to know shit doesn’t just accidentally blow up, so the odds it was some kind of a coincidence are slim to none.

And it makes me wonder what in the hell is going on in Nashville and if Vincent has anything to do with it.

But those are concerns for when Savannah is locked up safe and sound.

So I cup her face, hoping I’ve given her enough reasons to trust me, then kiss her, breathing in her scent and soaking up her taste. Letting them feed me. Fuel my focus.

It’s nearly impossible to pull away from her, but I have to. Just for a few minutes. Long enough to figure out how in the fuck we’re going to get out of this if it’s as bad as I think it might be.

Keeping my voice low, I hold her gaze. “I need you to text Pierce. Tell him what’s going on.” I kiss her again because I fucking hate the thought of leaving her. Even for five minutes. “Give mefive minutes. If I’m not back by then, call the cops. Tell them where you are. Don’t leave with anyone unless you see a badge, understand?”

She presses her lips together, eyes narrowing like she might argue. Instead she gives me a jerky nod.

I pull her in, kissing her yet again. “Good girl.” I can keep her safe if she trusts me, but putting your safety in someone else’s hands isn’t an easy thing to do. “I’ll be back soon.”

A slight frown tips her full lips. “You better.”

I almost laugh, because there’s nothing in this world that will keep me from her. Not now.

Not ever.

Walking out of the room is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, even though I know there’s no way around it. I can’t do what I need to with Savannah at my side. I wish she’d been comfortable learning to shoot. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I could have left her with a gun. But unless you’re ready and willing to shoot, a weapon is worse than useless—it’s a liability.

So I leave her behind, knowing I’m her only line of defense.

God help anyone who crosses my path.

TWENTY-FIVE

SAVANNAH

I MAYBE SHOULD have seen this coming.

I’ve heard stories about all the crazy things that have happened to the people who work for Alaskan Security, but I sort of thought all my craziness was behind me.

Guess I should have known better.

At least this isn’t my craziness, though I’m not sure that makes anything better.

I huddle on the desk, keeping as quiet as I can as I wait for Zeke to come back. I really wish we could have found somewhere less vandalized for me to hide, but the pickens were pretty slim. I do my best to ignore the gross stuff surrounding me, saying a silent thank you to the gods of winter for keeping the stench to a minimum.

I can’t even imagine what this place smells like in the heat of summer.

The space is filled with discarded food wrappers and abandoned clothing. What I’m pretty sure is a line of pee jars sits along onewall. On the plus side, there’s no visible crap anywhere, not that hidden crap is any better.

A shiver snakes down my spine and at first I think it’s from the cold sinking through my coat and scarf, but then the soft sound of footsteps filters through the panel of plywood screwed over the broken window. They might belong to Zeke, but they also might belong to someone else, and it spurs me to action.

Pulling out my phone, I open the texting app and add in Pierce’s name. Working quickly, I type out a message explaining the basics of what’s happened. It takes longer than it should because I keep stopping to listen and to glance at the door, making sure there’s no one coming for me. Once the message is done, I send it, along with my location, then tuck my phone back into my purse. The thing was in the way earlier, so I quietly unfasten my coat, slipping both arms free so I can hook the cross-body bag underneath. Once it’s in place I bundle back up.

Then I realize I can’t reach my phone if I need it, so I dig it out, freeing it just in time to see an incoming response from Pierce.