Page 15 of Savage Heart

If you’d asked her what possessed her to name her daughter after the man who broke her heart, she’d tell you she was out of her mind on pain meds and post-birth euphoria. But the truth was…no matter how hard she’d tried, she’d still loved the man. Still wanted a part of him in their lives. And back then, she’d determined that, when Erika was old enough to ask about her dad, Liz would share with her about him. All the good things about him. His intelligence, his sense of humor, his smile, his ability to laugh about anything, that Texas twang that had often turned her panties to mush…not that she’d tell Erikathatpart.

Then there were all the bad parts…. The precious girl would never know what a piece of shit her sire was. Though, Liz had to admit, she’d had a moment where she’d told Erika her father was…trouble. In her defense, she’d been drinking a little too much wine that night, trying to drown her anxiety about her future with a box of cheap red. It was the day after that wine-fueled incident that she’d agreed to quit Summerlin and partner with her colleague, Dr. Lyle Pace. Her ex-boyfriend. They’d dated for a year before she’d realized there was nothing there, no spark, to interest in moving things forward. Nothing. They’d gone their separate ways but agreed to remain professional friends.

He’d fallen into some money from a dead relative and wanted to use that money to open a medical clinic for the rich and famous in Vegas. At first, she’d been skeptical, but when he’d told her she would be in the on-staff concierge doctor and could set her own schedule, she’d jumped at the chance. She’d been working like a grinding cog in a wheel for years, missing out on too much time with her daughter. Leaving Summerlin, taking on the role as business partner with Lyle…well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, though, she wonderedif she’d made a mistake, her thoughts jumping back to the pile of indecipherable invoices and expenditures on her desk.

What the hell was Lyle doing?

Shaking off thoughts that had nothing to do with spending the night with her daughter, she smiled down at her.

“Sure, baby, you can have two pieces, but I need to change first—and so do you. Go put on your jammies. We’ll have a sleepover party in front of the TV, just the two of us, yeah?”

It was like she’d just told the girl there was a unicorn out in the backyard waiting for her.

“Yes!” Erika squealed then took off for her bedroom in a burst of energy only a nine-year-old could do.

Ten minutes later, dressed in sweatpants and a worn, comfortable T-shirt, she settled onto the couch with a plate of pizza. Erika, dressed in her Trolls pajama set, curled up next to her.

Together, they ate, laughed at the antics of monsters in a Transylvanian hotel, and just enjoyed one another.

This. This was why she took that job with Lyle. For nights like this. Where she wasn’t ten hours into her sixteen-hour shift, missing days upon days with her precious child. Yes, she had some issues she needed to address with the way Lyle was running the business, but that—

A solid, loud knock at the front door made her lurch from her seat on the couch, knocking Erika to the floor. Shocked at her reaction, Liz bent to help a giggling Erika to her feet.

“Mama, you—”

Another loud knock sounded, making both girls look toward the door.

The smile dropped from her daughter’s face.

“Mama?”

Through the frosted glass along the right side of the door, she could see the large silhouettes of two men.

Tension and menace thrummed through the air, and every hair on Liz’s skin stood on end.

Something wasn’t right.

Bending low, she whispered into her daughter’s suddenly pale face.

“Erika, baby, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“Mama?” Her large green eyes were wider than Liz had ever seen. Something tore at her insides; she’d never wanted her child to know the taste of such fear, not like she had when she was Erika’s age.

“Erika, I need you to do something important for me, can you do that?” she repeated, desperate for her daughter’s cooperation.

The girl pinched her lips shut and nodded.

“I want you to run to your closet and close the door. Hide in there until I come and get you—but don’t come out, no matter what you hear, okay?”

Erika nodded again.

Oh, my brave girl.

“Here is my phone,” she said, unlocking the device and handing it to her terrified daughter, who took it with tiny, shaking hands. “If I don’t come and get you in ten minutes, you call Odin. Okay? You call him and tell him what happened. He will take care of us, okay?” She did not know why the idea to call Odin popped into her head, nor why she wouldn’t just have Erika call the police. She just knew that, in that moment, Odin provided a measure of safety she needed for whatever was coming. He might not be her favorite person, but she knew he would be there if she called—no hesitation. No questions.

“O-okay, Mama,” she murmured, her voice small and filled with fear. Her bottom lip wobbled, but her brave, beautiful girl didn’t cry.

“Go!” she choked out, her throat suddenly thick with dread.

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