Her stomach jumped. “God, this is crazy.”
He tipped her head back and smiled. “Just think of it as sneaking out of your house as a teenager to meet your boyfriend.”
That made her laugh. Savannah had never had that opportunity.
Ian kissed her forehead, opened the back door for her, and said, “See you soon.”
9
Ian paced his kitchen with his phone to his ear. He kept glancing out the window of the back door for signs of Savannah.
“She’s freaked out,” Ian told Roman. Sam and Liam were also on the line. “Reasonable, considering.”
“If she kept pictures of the abuse,” Liam said, “you can bet she’s got more ammunition tucked away.”
“Sam,” Ian said, “what have you gotten off her VPN?”
“Some Amazon shopping—can’t believe they deliver to that frozen hole—nothing of particular interest,” Sam said. “And a lot of Google searches. How to disappear without a trace is a popular theme. As is psychobabble about boys growing up without fathers and post-traumatic stress disorder related to abuse and control.”
Ian closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and rubbed a hand over his face. He hated—hated—the idea of Savannah struggling through this alone, with the internet as her only source of information about a very complicated and risky endeavor.
“Bishop is out of control,” Ian said. “And since I came on the scene, he’s escalating.”
“If she gives you something solid on Bishop,” Roman said. “She won’t even need to go into witness protection, because the bastard will be in jail. Mine her.”
Ian didn’t like the sound of that last comment. He found himself falling into the same category as Hank—manipulating, lying, and spying. He’d much rather be dropped in the middle of nowhere to trek a hundred miles in the desert heat and take out his target with a double tap from a distance. But if taking out Bishop could help Savannah get out of this situation and create a new life, he’d just have to deal with it.
Shadows moved outside. “I’ve gotta go.”
Ian signed off and opened the door for Savannah. She’d changed into sweats and was huddled beneath a parka, her cheeks bright pink against a pale face and big, scared eyes. Her arms were crossed over a file folder held against her chest.
He shoved his phone into his pocket as she stepped inside. “Are you okay? You look a little—”
“Who was that?”
He closed the door at her back. “The friend I sent the passport photos to.”
Hope sparked in her eyes. “Did he find out anything?”
“Not yet.”
Her breath whooshed out. “I brought the papers, but I’ve been thinking about this.” She started pacing. With her arms crossed, holding the evidence Ian desperately needed tight against her chest, she didn’t look like she planned on staying. “You’ve been so great. Amazing, really. To help me, a stranger, with all my stupid problems—”
“Savannah—”
“But I need to step in and stop you. This has gotten way out of hand. This isn’t your fight, and I’m not going to drag you down.”
“You’re not—”
“I swear Hank slips closer to the edge every day.”
“Listen—”
“After tonight, I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore, and I’m not going to let you—”
He took her face between his palms and silenced her with his mouth. She covered one of his hands with hers but didn’t pull away. When she sighed, he tilted his head and kissed her again, deeper. Her lips relaxed, and she kissed him back. Her fingers curled into his shirt. Her body eased against his. Before he knew it, his hands had slipped into her hair, his tongue into her mouth. She tasted so sweet, so honest.
He forced himself to pull away. But when he looked down into her heavy-lidded eyes, his heart squeezed. Ian was definitely getting in too deep.