Savannah wiggled beneath the ton of weight atop her. She was sprawled face first on the concrete floor, with Aristides shoes inches from her nose. Ew!
Another set of shoes stood less than a foot away, and her stomach cramped when she realized they had to belong to Hector, Aristides goon. The warm heavy weight on top of her slowly rolled off, and she drew in a deep breath.
“Want me to tie him up?”
Her head shot up at the words and saw the length of rope in Hector’s hands. She quirked her brow, and he shrugged.
“I got no love for him. He owned me because of a debt I couldn’t repay, but I ain’t taking the fall for no murder, or attempted murder. You want him—you’ve got him. Just tell the feds I cooperated, and I didn’t hurt you.”
“Tie him up.” Stefan climbed to his feet, and offered his hand, helping her stand. Bending, he retrieved his gun from the floor. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs was followed by muttered curses.
“Looks like we missed all the fun.” Bogey tucked his weapon out of sight, and picked up the Sig off the floor, where it had fallen from Aristides’ hand. He nodded toward Hector, and at Stefan’s nod, told Javier to take him upstairs.
“Upstairs clear?”
“Yeah, we rounded up the riffraff for you. Looks like you took care of the rest.” He prodded Aristides’ prone body. “What do you want to do with him?”
Savannah stared down at the man who’d tormented her every waking moment for so long she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to lead a normal life. Looking at him now, unconscious and helpless, sprawled on the floor, she couldn’t resist.
Her bare foot connected with his crotch with enough force, his body jerked, though he didn’t wake. Dang, it hurt, but it was so worth it.
“Call the feds. They’ve been looking for him.”
Savannah turned around and stared at Stefan. “Can we go home now?”
He gathered her close, and for the first time she felt like she was home. Safe and protected and free.
“You got this?”
Bogey nodded at Stefan’s question. “Take your girl home, man. I know somebody who’ll love getting their hands on this piece of garbage.” Bogey pulled out his phone and began dialing.
Savannah limped toward the stairs. Maybe kicking him hadn’t been the best idea, but it had felt darned good. Stefan’s arm slid around her waist, and she didn’t jerk away at the unexpected touch. Maybe she could finally put this behind her. Begin living again.
At the top of the stairs, she blinked at the bright sunlight pouring through one of the windows, where the curtains had been pulled back. How long had she been missing? It had felt like an eternity.
“It’s almost one.”
The hardwood floors felt cool beneath her bare feet, as she headed toward the front door. Stefan’s arm around her waist tightened, and he pulled her to a stop.
Yanking one of the dust cloths off a chair, he whipped it once, and then again, shaking free any remaining debris, and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was only then she realized all she wore was a tiny top and a pair of sleep shorts. Heat flooded into her cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve seen you in less.” He whispered the words against her ear. “But I don’t want any of the other guys to see you. Not that you aren’t gorgeous—because you are—but it would embarrass you, and I never want that.”
She ducked her head in thanks. As they stepped through the front door and onto the porch, several police cars pulled up, their red and blue lights flashing, painting the surrounding area with color. Fortunately, they’d pulled up without sirens, because the last thing she wanted was to see her picture plastered on the front page of the Los Angeles paper.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home.” He shook his head when one of the cops started toward him and pulled a card out of his back pocket. “Call this number and speak to Samuel Carpenter. He’ll fill you in and give you all our contact information. You can talk to Ms. Sloane once she’s had a chance to get home and rest.”
Without another word, Savannah was led to his car, parked out of sight behind some bushes. He opened the door and she slid onto the seat, keeping the covering wrapped around her. Her whole body was trembling, and she recognized the signs of shock.
Please, don’t let me have a panic attack. Not in front of Stefan.
He climbed behind the wheel and slapped his hand against it once before climbing back out. “Javier,” he called to the Navy SEAL standing guard over three men seated on the ground. “I need to borrow your phone. I’ll return it back in San Diego.”
“No problem,” Javier said, tossing it across to him. He slid back into the seat and handed her the phone.
“Call your folks. Let them know you’re alright.”
With shaky hands, she dialed home. “Hi, Mom.” She gave a watery chuckle at her mother’s screech. “I’m fine, I promise.” Her eyes slid toward Stefan as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the house, leaving the SEALs and cops in his wake.
“Tell her I’ll have you home in about three hours, give or take.”
She sniffled at her mother’s, “I heard that.”
“Everything’s fine, I promise. Aristides is under arrest.”
“They caught him? It’s really over?”
“He won’t get away this time.” She leaned her head back against the headrest, listening to her mother’s soft sobs. The quiet strength of the woman amazed her, and she prayed she’d have the same dedication and devotion to her own children, if she ever had any.
“I’ll explain everything when I get home. Love you.”
“I love you too, baby girl. Be safe.”
“Bye.”
Stefan drove competently along Los Angeles’ congested freeway, and she stared out the window, trying to process everything that had happened.
“How’d he get me out of the house?”
He glanced her way before turning his attention back to the road. “Somebody, probably Hector, disabled the alarm system and jimmied open your window. Carried you out the back door, probably to a waiting car. Might be able to identify him from the surveillance footage Sully got.”
“I don’t remember anything.” She scrunched her brow, trying to piece things together. “Wait, I do remember a cloth over my nose and mouth. I clawed at it, then I don’t remember anything—until I woke up in that—that coffin.”
“Don’t think about that. I’d rather you tell me how you thought about using my flashlight as a weapon. Mighty fine arm you’ve got on you, Ms. Sloane.”
“Women’s softball, junior and senior year. I played third base.”
“Probably should have been the pitcher, with that throw.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Try and get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get to your place.”
She nodded, pulling the sheet tighter around her. Maybe he was right, thinking about it wasn’t helping. Everything felt too fresh and vivid. There’d be questions, explanations to give both her parents and the authorities.
As her eyes drifted shut, her last thought wasn’t about her ordeal. No, it was now that everything was over, Stefan would be leaving, returning to New Orleans—without her.