Page 45 of Her Redeemed Protector

“You’re welcome to use the shower downstairs,” she advises.

“You’re not gonna run out of hot water?”

“No. Dad had made sure of that when he sorted out the plumbing in this house. Go on,” she encourages, handing me a thick, fluffy towel.

I take her offer and head downstairs.

I let steam fill the air as I turn on the shower, eagerly anticipating the cascade of water. The droplets hit my skin, starting lukewarm but gradually increasing in temperature until it transforms into a strong, hot stream. With closed eyes, I relish in the sensation, the water massaging my tensemuscles while my cock hasn’t moved away from Savannah’s touch.

As the shower water stops, I hear something unfolding outside. Savannah has clearly finished before me, and someone is agitating her. After such a blissful morning, I’m not prepared for a commotion.

Clad in the plush towel around my waist, I step out of the bathroom, the moisture still clinging to my skin in dewy beads. The atmosphere shifts, and the air outside the bathroom is charged with tension that ends my momentary peace.

My ears tune into the sharp edge of Savannah’s voice. “I’m calling the police!” she declares with authority.

The response is a desperate plea, a male voice trembling with urgency. “No, don’t! Please!” The voice, thin with panic, unmistakable in its pitch, belongs to Fabian fucking Gill.

My heart rate speeds up, a rush of adrenaline rendering my thoughts razor-sharp. I step forward and discover them. Fabian stands there, tightly holding Savannah’s hand, his grip filled with desperation. It’s an attempt of a man clinging to a fading hope, even someone on the brink of losing their sanity.

In the process, he’s preventing her from reaching for the phone.

The threat to Savannah is a live wire, triggering every protective instinct I possess. Without wasting another second, I drag the man away from her and deliver a punch to his face.

Down he goes, landing on the porch’s wooden floor.

“Get your hands off her!” The command rolls off my tongue with the ferocity of a storm.

“Hux, wait,” Savannah interjects, a petition that tethers my rising fury. Does she see something in this man that I don’t? Is she swayed by his desperation?

Fabian cowers on the floor, his pleas reaching for the divine, treating me as if I hold the scales of his fate. His eyesflit nervously to Savannah, seeking refuge behind her poised presence.

Is he trying to leave all the talking to her? Does he think Savannah will shield him from dealing directly with me?

I step forward, blocking his line of sight to her. “Hey, look at me when you’re talking,” I command.

Savannah intervenes, her voice steady yet imbued with urgency. “Hux, we really need your help.”

I’ve always told myself I’d do anything for Savannah, but Fabian’s craven demeanor tests my resolve. Yet, catching the earnest plea in Savannah’s eyes, I feel my resistance waver, perhaps foolishly.

“I—I came here specifically to ask Savannah to talk to you, Mr. Cometti,” Fabian stammers, finally meeting my gaze. “I really need your help.”

I step back, drawing in a breath to quell the tempest in my chest. I pivot, facing him squarely. “Explain,” I order with a cold calm that belies the wildfire within.

“Listen, it’s a mess. I’m locked in a custody dispute, and if word of this kidnapping leaks, my wife will claim it proves my daughter isn’t safe with me.”

Kidnapping?

The word hits like a punch, staggering in its implications. “That little girl? Your daughter Kayla is missing?”

“Keep your voice down, please,” he implores again, a broken record of desperation.

Savannah ushers us inside.

“Yes, she’s been taken.” Fabian spills the words in a frantic rush. “I’m begging you. Help me find her, quietly. I can’t bear to lose Kayla, whether it’s to someone else or her own mother. Juliet, she’s bad news.” He turns to Savannah. “Tell him!”

“It’s true,” she says.

“Have you checked if Kayla is with her mother?” I glare atFabian. If her mother is bad news, there is every chance the woman might’ve kidnapped her own kid.

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