Page 52 of Her Redeemed Protector

“Are you okay, Hux?”

“Yeah. The grizzly’s still with me,” he quips, prompting me to picture Chase standing close by.

I’m nervous, but I know the two Red Mark men are more than capable and careful.

I keep my eyes trained on Fabian and Redford, a live play unfolding before me. “Redford’s clean, or so it seems. He’s engaging with Fabian,” I report, half-distracted by the interaction. “If he’s caught up in Kayla’s disappearance, she’s not with him. That much I can tell.”

“Grab your truck, meet me in Melville,” Hux instructs.

I hesitate, my mind racing. “I’ll head that way. But I’ll grab Dad’s pickup instead of getting mine from Helena. His work is closer and will save us time.” The practicality of my choice is clear. I know Huxley appreciates that. “I’ll ride with Fab. Your brake sounds a little funny.”

“Ah, shit. You’re right.” He sighs, guilt lacing his words. “It’s been like that since I left Idaho. I’m sorry, Sav. I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“Hey, it’s fine, honestly. It probably just needs a quick clean. On any other day, I’d be happy to get it fixed for you. But we’re pressed for time, and that road is rough enough to rattle your teeth out. I don’t want to risk it. Are you okay if I leave your car at Fab’s?”

“Yeah.” Hux chuckles, the sound slightly static over the line. “Just make sure your dad doesn’t mind swapping his ride for Fab’s Beemer.”

A laugh escapes me, providing a momentary relief from the heavy tension. “It’s Fabian who should be worried. Ranger and Ruby will have a field day with his leather seats.”

We end the call as I watch Fabian’s last attempt to detain Redford crumble. Redford slips into the cab and out of our grasp. I signal Fabian, a sharp gesture that’s all business.

Fabian jogs over, his face a picture of frustration. “Redford’s a dead end—he doesn’t have Kayla,” he pants out.

“I gathered as much,” I reply, standing up. “Come on, we’ve got a ride to catch and a lead to follow. Let’s move.”

The trade-offwith Dad unfolds seamlessly. Fabian doesn’t so much as blink at the change of wheels—likely still shell-shocked from Dad’s scathing reprimand earlier. He’s quiet and withdrawn, his focus scattered as he adjusts to the sudden shift.

I slide into the driver’s seat of Dad’s truck and slam the accelerator to the floor. The truck eats up the road to Melville like it’s starved for it.

In the passenger seat, Fabian can’t sit still, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. “So, who snatched Kayla? You must have a theory!” he demands, voice tight with desperation.

I dart him a sidelong glance. “Maybe Redford is our man. Didn’t you catch that sour twist to his lips? Bitterness like that doesn’t come from nowhere,” I counter, the words loaded with an unsaid accusation, reminding him that I haven’t forgotten his betrayal over Mitchell Ranch.

He bristles. “I’m no saint in business, but I don’t play dirty. Savannah, we’ve got history. Can’t you give me a sliver of trust?”

I think back on the three years we shared until he swappedcountry for city lights. “Your ambition drove a wedge between us,” I reply coolly.

He scoffs, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. “Dreaming big is not a crime.”

“And Juliet? She’s your kind of big dreamer, right?” I needle him, the words sharp and unforgiving.

He glances away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Juliet was… unexpected. We had Kayla too soon. But don’t think for a second that I don’t love my daughter. Yet I know, deep down, you’d be the better parent.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, the leather groaning under my hold. “Cut it out, Fab. You made your bed.”

He exhales. “We could’ve had everything, Savannah. I know I fell short, didn’t commit the way I should have—” His lips press together, and he gestures vaguely toward the open air before dropping his hands resignedly into his lap. “Your father never liked me.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh, the old rivalry between him and my dad flashing through my mind like a bad movie.

Undeterred, Fabian adds, “That doesn’t mean we can’t try again, though.”

I snort, anger simmering just below the surface. “Yeah, right. But you proved one thing for certain. Money wins over loyalty. You betrayed my trust. My dad’s trust. You sold us all out for a handful of dollars!”

“Savannah, I swear, I had no part in what the Blackwater Brutes or West Sun did. They played dirty, not me! They hacked my accounts, forged my signature. I was framed!”

I throw his words back at him. “Yet West Sun played your knight in tarnished armor, didn’t they? Your precious company was sinking, and they threw you a lifeline.”

He doesn’t deny it, just stares out the window. “They did, but?—”

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