He laughed, his grin primed to superstun. He squeezed her waist. “Funny.” He took a sip of juice, and when he looked at her again, he’d grown serious. “This thing with your ex.”
“No, no, no,” she whined, closing her eyes to shut out reality. “I don’t want him anywhere near this night.”
“That idea went down the drain when he pointed his service weapon at me.”
A chill vibrated down Savannah’s spine. That very image played against her closed eyelids. She forced them open and exhaled heavily. “Okay, what were you thinking?”
“He’s into some bad stuff.” His voice was light, as if this bad stuff wasn’t all that big a deal. He stabbed another bite of French toast and said, “Counterfeiting passports, selling or distributing counterfeit passports, that’s serious stuff. With evidence, he’ll go away until Jamison is well into adulthood.”
Savannah’s stomach jumped again. And again, she wasn’t sure what emotion lay behind the buzz. “Evidence is the key word there. I don’t see how I could get any.”
“You already did.”
“Those pictures don’t prove anything.”
“They prove those three men were given fake passports.”
“But it doesn’t prove where they came from,” she argued. “And nobody would believe where I found them either. Around here, nothing I say is valid.”
“I’d back you up.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
He went quiet, twirling a square of French toast in the syrup. “You’re a savvy woman,” he said, looking up at her again. “You consistently document your conversations with him, knowing his ego will get the best of him and he’ll spill damning stuff.”
She shrugged, unsure where he was going with this. “Live and learn.”
He nodded, then angled the empty fork toward her. “What if you already had incriminating evidence against him and didn’t even know it?” He lifted his brows. “Hell, you might be able to send him to jail tomorrow. What would it feel like to have the weight of him off your back?”
Her eyes slid closed. “Heaven.” She looked at Ian again. “Unfortunately, I don’t have enough. If I did, he’d already be gone.”
“How do you know? You didn’t think you had anything with the photos of the passports either, but they could turn out to be very powerful. Just because you don’t know how one thing connects to another doesn’t mean you don’t have enough evidence to nail him.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He put the fork down and lifted a strand of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Why don’t you let me take a look at everything you’ve got—pictures, audio, video, personal notes?” He slid the tip of his index finger along her jawline. “I bet you’ve got way more than you think you have.”
A persistent sparkle of hope gleamed somewhere deep inside. She’d been collecting every little detail for this very reason—to get enough to amount to something. But she’d learned over and over again that hope was a fickle bitch.
“I’ve given everything I have to Audrey. She doesn’t seem to think any of it is enough to sway a judge in a criminal court. She also said a lot of it wouldn’t be allowed as evidence.”
“Audrey is focused on making sure Jamison stays with you. I’m focused on putting your ex away and giving you total freedom. Audrey is looking for evidence that would stand up in court. I’m looking for evidence that could be used as leverage to make him surrender. Audrey is a small fish in a big pond—the same pond where Hank swims. My contacts are the sharks that swim anywhere they smell blood.”
“Who are these contacts?”
“Buddies from the military who have retired and moved on to bigger and better things—FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, Secret Service.”
“What kind of work did you do to have such high-caliber buddies?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought only special forces, like Navy SEALs, became Secret Service.”
He grinned. “You’ve been watching too much television. The SEALs may get the glory, but we all do our part.”
She shook her head. “If Hank finds out I’ve been collecting dirt…”
“That won’t happen.” He cupped her face and lifted her eyes to his. “He won’t lay a finger on you or Jamison as long as I’m around.”