Page 14 of Her Redeemed Protector

“Thank you,” she mouths and signs.

I smile, my heart in pieces. “Thank you, Bethany. I’ll keep it in a safe place.”

Then she signs some more, and Savannah translates, “She gave her bracelet to Jack, so you get the necklace. She talked to her mom, and she said it was okay to give them away.”

I kneel in front of Bethany. “You’re a brave girl.”

That acknowledgment earns me a tight hug from her.

Savannah watches our interaction, her eyes softening and a tender smile spreading across her face. She places a gentle hand over her lips as if deeply moved by what she’s witnessing.

A paramedic gestures that it’s time for him to take care of Bethany. Reluctantly, I let the girl go.

With her lips still curving upward, Savannah says, “I should head back. I’ll let you join your colleagues.”

The thought of her leaving stirs my gut. I answer, “I’m not law enforcement. There’s just one colleague here. Meet Jack Kelleher.” I nod at Jack. “Jack, this is Savannah Mitchell, the ‘kind woman’ Bethany talked about.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Jack says, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” Savannah replies with a warm smile.

While paramedics work in the background, we observe Bethany being carefully loaded into the ambulance. It departs shortly after, the flashing lights and blaring sirens receding into the distance.

As the paramedics’ hustle dies down, media vehicles pull up, almost seamlessly replacing the commotion. Cameras andreporters eager to capture the drama scan the scene, seeking potential interviewees, and quickly settle on us.

I give a general response, emphasizing the safety of our rescued individual and the perpetrator’s capture. The press can be an ally, but it can also complicate matters unnecessarily. With the operation concluded and Bethany safe, I have no intention of wading into political or jurisdictional discussions. When questions steer into those areas, I defer to Captain Zander, who is currently speaking with the sheriff and is better suited to provide those details.

As reporters persist with more questions, I maintain a polite ‘thank you.’ Only then do I feel Savannah leaning against my back, clearly trying to hide. As microphones edge closer to her, she retreats further. Stepping in, I position myself between the eager reporters and her subtle withdrawal, using a firm hand to keep them at bay and ensure she remains out of the unwanted spotlight.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, still half-hidden behind me, her fingers nervously hovering near the fabric of my jacket while her chest is almost glued to my back.

I turn to face her slowly. “No need to thank me.” The touch of her fingertips and her desperation feels comforting and electrifying, kindling emotions I hadn’t expected.

She smiles shyly, withdrawing her hands and stepping back, putting a small distance between us. “Cameras are the last thing I wanted to face today.”

I wish she hadn’t withdrawn so quickly. But there’s an allure in her cautiousness, something that compels me to honor her boundaries. Respect for her feelings and our recent meeting means I can’t push too hard to keep her close—and I won’t.

“I can already see you’d cancel your own reality show,” I tease.

“Only if it means navigating the paparazzi on horseback,” she returns with a chuckle, her eyes twinkling.

Her wit, like a sunbeam breaking through my clouds, momentarily lifts the tension around us. Damn, if only those reporters had witnessed her skill on top of that stallion.

Just then, the sheriff approaches her, requesting a statement. My instinct is to step forward to protect her.

Savannah touches my arm. “It’s okay, Hux. I’m ready.”

As I let the sheriff usher her to a quiet corner, my composure begins to falter. Our mission to bring a girl home safely is fulfilled, yet the day has swerved. I’m not usually one to be affected by a woman upon first meeting, but Savannah’s striking resemblance to the love I lost has unleashed a torrent of memories, fears, and yearnings within me. Yet, Savannah overrides my convoluted emotions, commanding my attention on her own merits.

They say, wisdom waits where recklessness rushes. Should I heed that advice?

6

SAVANNAH

After giving my statement, I’m finally allowed to go. The surrounding scene is still buzzing with activity—reporters milling around, law enforcement personnel coordinating, and the occasional flash of a camera capturing the aftermath of the day’s events. Hux remains close by, his presence a comforting shield without being overbearing, giving me a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Soon, the sheriff turns his attention to Hux and Jack. Noticing Hux’s intent to stay by my side, Jack steps in and says, “I can start.”

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