Page 96 of Her Redeemed Protector

He steps back, surprisingly honoring my boundaries. “If the land can’t convince you, nothing will,” he admits. He makes one last appeal, maintaining his distance. “I’m begging you. Stay with me until the court case is resolved. Talk to Huxley, do whatever you need to. Savannah, Kayla is my life.”

“No, I won’t lie for you.”

“Okay, okay,” he replies, a note of defeat in his voice that I’m not used to. There’s a new awareness of remorse and pain in his expression. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

My frustration cools off. “Fab, I’ve never toyed with people’s feelings, and I’m not going to start now. Not with you. We’ve known each other a long time, and sure, you can be exasperating, but let’s not end things badly.”

He steps off the porch onto the lawn, wiping his face. “I guess I’ve done all I could,” he concedes.

I nod, feeling a duty to be honest with him. “The court will see through Juliet’s act. I don’t want to interfere with our justice system, but if push comes to shove...” I hesitate, then decide to trust him with more. “Ivy Connor. She used to be the attorney general of Montana.”

His eyes flare slightly. “You know her?’

“I do. She still holds a lot of sway. If you’re losing the custody battle, I’ll step in, Fab. I’ll do what I can.”

“Really?”

“It’s still up to Ivy whether she’ll help or not, but if you can prove Juliet isn’t the right guardian for Kayla, Ivy might know something that only those in the inner circle of lawmakers know about.”

Fabian’s hands clasp in front of his chest, signaling gratitude and perhaps a truce. “Thank you, Savannah. It’s tough, but I respect where you stand.”

Leaning against the porch frame, I watch as his car disappears. My hand rests on my belly. “It’s just you and me now, baby,” I murmur into the chilly evening.

But peace is fleeting. A dark car speeds by on the road below, the same one that’s been lurking at the edges of my awareness. For a moment, adrenaline spikes, tempting me to pursue it. And this time, I’m certain it’s the one. But the hand on my belly reminds me I’m not alone. Past accidentshave taught me how things can go wrong in a blink of an eye.

“No, not worth it,” I whisper, stepping back as the car vanishes around the corner. The mystery of who’s in that car will have to wait. I turn, retreating into the house, my thoughts still racing, but the safety of my unborn child comes first. Tonight, I need peace.

37

HUXLEY

I can’t shake the unnerving sensation of eyes on me. I decide to ditch the plan of taking a taxi to the airport. I need the reins firmly in my hands today.

A discreetly arranged rental car waits for us in a secluded spot of a parking lot, deliberately chosen for its proximity yet clear risks from our hotel. With only a travel bag and Rodolfo’s small hand in mine, we make our quiet escape through the back exit.

A bite of chill seeps through, but the rain still persists. There is no mistaking the Andes-like quality of the air.

“Are we okay?” Rodolfo’s voice is small, tinged with a fear he’s come to know too well from a lifetime of hiding and fleeing. Yet, there’s a spark of defiance in his gaze. Perhaps the kid is braver than I’ve given him credit for.

“We’ll be fine. Just stick by me,” I instruct quietly, lowering the umbrella as the wind gains strength. “Walk like we’re just going back from dinner.”

“But it is late.”

We’re catching a midnight flight, and this isn’t exactly akid-friendly hour. “Yeah. I know. But sometimes people do have late dinners.”

As we persevere, the rain starts to fall sideways. “I can’t see!” he grumbles while I urge him to quicken our pace.

“Don’t look around too much, and keep quiet, okay?”

This mission isn’t like the textbook operations back at Red Mark. No backup is coming. No team waits in the wings for his safe retrieval. Just us, threading our way through the treacherous streets of Bogotá. He’s no longer a child to save. He’s an essential, though unintentional, partner in this fraught escape.

Rodolfo starts hop-walking, splashing in the puddles as if he were at a playground.

“Act normal, please,” I nudge him.

He pauses, a lightbulb going off in his head. “Kids eat candy. I need candy to look normal,” Rodolfo whispers, thinking he’s come up with a perfect plan. It almost makes me chuckle, even with the nerves.

“Too much candy rots the teeth, buddy,” I reply, half-amused, half-exasperated by his cheekiness. Rodolfo will definitely keep Savannah and me on our toes.

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