Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
No… Robin took summer classes, and Raven went to Australia to work as an au pair for the summer.
Damn.
Not one of us was here last summer.
Eagle was all alone the summer between his sophomore and junior years of high school, at an impressionable age.
I’m the oldest. I have to take some of the blame here.
It’s my job to protect my siblings. Especially Eagle, the baby.
I help Eagle lie down on my bed. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
That was a promise I’d grow to regret.
Savannah hasn’t said anything on the drive to my place, so I’ve been alone with my thoughts.
All this time, I figured my life would be better from here.
Sure, I’d always be an ex-con, and people would probably treat me as such, but I could throw myself into work on the ranch. Make myself as invaluable as I had been before I got put away.
And then I met Savannah Gallo.
My fucking parole officer.
I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, and neither could she.
Then again…
What if I had kept my hands to myself? Savannah would’ve been home when those two goons went to her place. They would’ve taken her.
Mr. Shaw might still be alive though.
But when Savannah was not at her place, and they traced her to mine, I was there.
I was there to make sure they couldn’t take her.
But I was unarmed, and I couldn’t stop Savannah from leaving the changing room, even when I told her not to.
If she hadn’t done it though, Carlo and I would still be in a standoff. Eventually, I would’ve had to either shoot Abel or let him go. My legs would’ve given out as I was holding us both up.
But I’m willing to bet I have way more stamina than Carlo. That blond pretty boy has probably never been behind bars like I have.
I stop the car in my driveway, and I turn to Savannah. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She nods, opens the door of the passenger side, and gets out.
I grab her stuff out of the trunk and take it inside. The dogs greet us, and I give them both some loves.
Savannah seems to ignore them. But then she finally kneels, pets Sydney’s soft head, and picks up Sammy, cradling him in her arms.
Thank God for dogs.
They help.
I remember the day I got the original Sammy—the one Raven kept while I was in prison. I’d already figured I wouldn’t be going on my wine tour or joining the Navy, not after Hawk and I found drugs on our property, and especially not after Eagle’s problems came to light. So I got a dog. A pup.
It helped. For a time, anyway.
But Savannah’s going to need more than puppy love to get through the fact that she nearly killed a man.
“Tomorrow,” I say to her. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the hospital. We’ll get all the information we need. On Mrs. Shaw, and on the other two.”
She simply nods.
“Vannah, what do you need? Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“You have to eat something. I was going to make burgers for our dinner.”
Dinner. Seems so long ago. It’s after midnight now.
“Not hungry.”
“I understand. I’m not really either. But you have to eat. I’ve got a loaf of bread, and peanut butter and jelly. Can you get something like that down?
She doesn’t respond.
“Eggs? I’ve got eggs. I can fry up the burgers. Make some potatoes.”
She rubs her belly. “I… I don’t want any beef. Just doesn’t sound good.”
“All right. Some fruit? I have apples. Some toast?”
“Scrambled eggs,” she says.
“Sure. Scrambled eggs then. You want some toast with it?”
“No. Just the eggs. They’re my comfort food.”
“Coming up.”
When is the last time I even cooked? Since I moved in, I’ve been living on sandwiches. I’m out of deli meat, so I couldn’t offer that to Vannah.
I look around my cupboards to find a skillet, and when I do, I realize I don’t have butter.
I find a can of nonstick cooking spray. Thank God.
I whisk the eggs, throw them in the pan, and once they’re done, I plate them. Then I pour two glasses of water.
I set Savannah’s plate on the table and hand her a fork. “Eat,” I say.
She takes her fork and spears a piece of scrambled egg, brings it to her mouth.
She swallows audibly.
“You okay?”
“Feel kind of nauseated.”
“That’s because of what you’ve been through today. But your body still needs fuel. So please, Savannah. Please eat your eggs.”
14
SAVANNAH
The eggs are flavorless. Yellow globules that feel gross in my mouth.
Scrambled eggs are no longer my comfort food.
Nothing can comfort me right now.
This day is surreal.
I can’t get Mr. Shaw off my mind.
And when I do manage to get past him, all I can see is Giancarlo, lying on his back, blood spurting from his neck.
Is he even alive?
Are the police going to come after me, charge me with his murder?
No.
I have a degree in criminal justice, and I’ve worked in the system for the last five years. What happened was pure self-defense. He had a gun trained on Falcon.