Page 6 of Savage

Savage shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. “Just looking out.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Savage knew it was more than that. The memory of Savannah's laughter, the sparkle in her eyes during the playdate, had left an indelible mark on him. And now, knowing she was alone and struggling, awakened a fierce desire to protect her.

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Savage found himself lost in thought, strategizing his next move. He couldn't explain the pull he felt towards Savannah, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't about to walk away without at least knowing if she felt the same chemistry between them. Mind made up, he said goodbye to his friends and left the clubhouse.

His fingers drummed against the worn leather of his motorcycle seat as he pulled into the Sundown Motel's cracked parking lot. The neon sign flickered weakly, half its letters burnt out, casting an eerie glow across the dilapidated building. Whoever the owner was, he didn’t care about the upkeep of the building. There had to be another reason for him to keep theplace open. Something, he knew, that was likely illegal. A tax write off? A place to launder money? Whatever it was, it wasn’t safe for Savannah.

“Damn,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he surveyed the scene. It’d gotten even worse than he’d remembered. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that had driven him here. The conversation at the clubhouse replayed in his mind, Emilee's worried voice echoing,she's been through so much, Savage. And now she's all alone.

Savage swung his leg over his bike, boots crunching on broken asphalt. His eyes darted around, cataloging potential threats – a habit ingrained from years of military service and life in the MC. A rusty pickup with no plates, shadowy figures lurking near the ice machine, the unmistakable scent of pot wafting from an open window. Although legal in Colorado, the smell indicated that it was the cheap stuff.

“What the hell am I doing here?” he growled to himself, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. This wasn't like him, acting on impulse, letting his guard down for a woman he barely knew.

But as he approached the dingy stairs leading to the second floor, Savage couldn't deny the urgency coursing through him. Something about Savannah had wormed its way past his defenses, awakening his protective instinct.

He paused at the foot of the stairs. Should he do this? Would she be upset when he just showed up without calling?

“You're getting soft, old man,” he chided himself. But even as the words formed, he knew he couldn't turn back now. Whatever Savannah was running from, whatever secrets she held, Savage was determined to uncover the truth—and keep her safe in the process.

Savage's knuckles rapped against the peeling paint of room 217. He saw Savannah's car parked outside and observed thatthe room below was empty; its open curtains provided him with a view inside. He’d knock on every damn door in the place to find her but hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He sighed a breath of relief when the door opened, and Savannah stood there, wide-eyed and vulnerable, clad in black leggings and an oversized Care Bear shirt.

Her hair was draped over her shoulder in a single side braid, wisps escaping to frame her face. Relief quickly washed over her face, replacing the initial look of terror. What was that about? Who did she think was at her door, and why did the thought terrify her?

The sight of her standing there, looking incredibly vulnerable and little, stirred something primal in Savage. This was his woman. He knew it to his core.

“Savage?” Savannah's voice wavered, a mix of surprise and apprehension. “W-w-what are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how imposing he must look. “Just checking in. Mind if I come in?”

Savannah hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the door. “I... I guess so,” she finally murmured, stepping aside.

As Savage entered, he couldn't help but notice how small she looked in the dim motel room. His gaze swept over her, cataloging the details – the dark circles under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands. Worry pricked at him. She wasn’t sleeping. He wanted to pick her up and take her back to his house, feed her a good meal, and put her down for a nap. But he couldn’t Daddy her. She wasn’t his. Not yet anyway.

“Nice shirt,” he commented, trying to ease the tension.

Savannah glanced down at her chest and then the beginning of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Thanks. It's my armor against the monsters under the bed. You know there’s nothing the Care Bear Stare can’t scare away,” she said with a giggle.

Savage's eyebrow quirked. “Monsters, huh? Slaying monsters just so happens to be my job description.”

“Oh?” Savannah's voice held a hint of challenge. “And what makes you qualified for monster-slaying?”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Years of practice. But I'm more interested in what kind of monster is chasing after you, Savannah.”

Her smile faltered, eyes darting away. “Who says someone's chasing me?”

“Sweetheart,” Savage said softly, “I've seen that look before.” After retiring from the SEALs, he’d worked for Spartan Elite. He hadn’t taken any jobs since being shot in the spleen. The surgeon repaired the damage, but he’d taken it slow since. He’d rescued too many women with the same terrified look that Savannah wore when she’d hesitantly opened the door.

Her gaze snapped back to his, a flicker of recognition passing between them. For a moment, Savage glimpsed the little girl beneath her steel exterior, and it only intrigued him more.

“Maybe, I’m not running from anything. Maybe, I just like the ambiance,” she quipped, gesturing to the shabby room. “Maybe I’m on a much-needed vacation.”

Savage couldn't help but chuckle. “Yeah, nothing saysvacationlike questionable stains and paper-thin walls.”

As they bantered, Savage felt the tension in the room shift. Savannah's shoulders relaxed incrementally. As he watched her, a multitude of thoughts went through his head.

What are you hiding, little girl? And why do I feel this overwhelming need to shield you from whatever it is?

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