That afternoon just before dusk the Lake Geneva police released them. Jimmy wasn’t around, but Georgia understood. She had broken so many rules even she wasn’t sure on which side of the law she belonged. She’d asked a Russian Mafioso who loved Barry Manilow for a favor; she’d helped his men go free after they complied; she’d tampered with evidence; she’d lied about who killed whom.
But somehow it had worked. Vlad and Zoya were gone, and her sister was safe. The only unknown was Jimmy. She’d failed to keep her promise to communicate; she’d gone right back to her guarded ways. It wasn’t going to be easy—this relationship stuff. It would take time. She only hoped once he realized why she’d done what she did, he’d forgive her.
She unlocked the door to her apartment and settled Savannah on the couch. The girl fell asleep almost immediately. Georgia went to a closet, pulled out a blanket, and draped it over her. Her sister was a train wreck. She would need a lot of healing. But under that tough-girl exterior was a vulnerable young girl who just needed to be loved unconditionally.
Hell, you could say the same thing about me, Georgia thought. Maybe they could help each other heal. She had much to learn about her sister. How they were alike, but how they were different, too. She suspected Savannah was stronger than she was. She’d survived sex trafficking, a heroin addiction, and Vlad’s control, and she was still mostly sane. That indicated a powerful resilience Georgia wasn’t sure she possessed.
In the kitchen she ran cold water, cupped a hand, and drank directly from the faucet. After the baby came, Savannah ought to go back to school, but Georgia wouldn’t force it. The past nine months had been quite enough of an education. Maybe Georgia would call Reggie Field. Have him hire Savannah to work part-time at his store.
She dug out her cell, ordered a pizza, then at the last minute added a salad—Savannah needed healthy food. As she rummaged in a cabinet for plates, she looked around. She was going to need a bigger place. She took out plates and utensils, marveling at what life could throw at you. In a month she’d gone from a loner to a woman with a sister, a niece or nephew on the way, and a boyfriend she wanted to keep. What was next—a frigging dog?
She went to the window. It had begun to snow. Soft, plump flakes that glittered in the light and eddied to the ground where they knit a blanket of white. Georgia pulled the shade down and went back to her sister.