Page 44 of Freeing Savannah

Savannah’s ears rang with the echo of the word “girl.”

Notpianist.Notdiplomat.Notguest of honor.

Just a bargaining chip.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to summon the image of Sawyer, steady and sharp-eyed, working somewhere outside this nightmare. He’d come for her. She knew that for a fact. Hehadto.

Because the truth settled in her chest like ice.

The Senator would never come. Not for her. Not for any of them.

The hostage-taker knew it, too. His gaze locked on hers. “He sent you around the world to cover his sins,” he said, his accented English coming through loud and clear. “To play pretty songs while people burned. While our families disappeared.”

Savannah’s mouth went dry. Her voice, when it came, was little more than a whisper. “I didn’t know. Neither did any of the people in this room.”

“If you think that, then you are a fool.” His eyes moved over the crowd until they settled on the group of Azerbaijani diplomats huddling together in the corner.

“We watched you smile for cameras, take bows for presidents, shake hands with murderers. You are not innocent. The blood that covered their hands now stain yours.”

A bead of sweat traced the line of her spine. “I’m a pianist,” she said. “Not a politician.”

“But you arehis,” the man replied coldly. “And that is enough.”

Around them, the gunmen prowled like caged animals, barking in a language she didn’t understand, rifles slung loose but ready. A cloying wave of fear hung heavy in the air, thick with the acrid bite of sweat, the cold tang of gunpowder, and the surprisingly pungent coppery reek of blood all assaulting her nostrils. Her stomach churned violently, and with a grimace, she suppressed the bitter bile rising in her throat.

Across the room, her eyes met Brian’s. He sat against the far wall, dusty and pale like the rest of them. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into himself, but his gaze held steady. Unflinching. For a heartbeat, maybe two, something flickered across his face. Not panic. Not desperation. Something else. Something closer to . . . satisfaction?

She blinked.

No, that couldn’t be right.

But the way his eyes lingered on hers, the faint curl at the corner of his mouth didn’t look like fear. It looked like eagerness. Like he was grateful they were stuck here together. That in this nightmare, he might achieve something he’d anticipated for a long time.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled over Savannah, her stomach churned, making her swallow hard, the lump in her throat thick and unpleasant.

She tore her eyes away. It had to be the stress. Her nerves were shot, her brain misfiring. Brian was a friend. A kind, quiet presence on the tour. That look had meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. The chill that crawled down her spine refused to leave was just the situation as a whole.

A jittery younger man, his balaclava still in place, ran up and muttered something in their native tongue. The leader’s expression darkened. “Ten minutes,” he called to the room. “Ten minutes, and we make another example out of one of you. Who will it be?” he taunted. He now held an assault rifle, his handgun holstered at his side. He swept the business end of the rifle across the crowd. Dozens of elaborately dressed people whimpered, cried, and tried to make themselves invisible.

To protect herself from the fear that threatened to make her keel over, she thought about the previous night. Moreimportantly, the kiss and subsequent orgasm she’d shared with Sawyer.

Around her, the masked men moved with the quiet, practiced menace of wolves circling prey. The click of rifle straps and the sharp bark of commands in a language she didn’t understand had replaced the chamber music that had previously played in the opulent ballroom.

Fear should’ve consumed her. Or surly terror. But all she could think about, absurdly, was Sawyer.

Sawyer and last night.

The way his mouth had claimed hers with a hunger that left her shaking. The way his thigh had pressed between hers as they stood tangled in each other’s arms in her hotel suite, her body grinding helplessly, breath catching as release tore through her like lightning, her nails digging into his shoulders to keep from falling apart completely.

God. She hadcomeagainst his leg like some fevered, desperate version of herself. And he hadn’t stopped her. He’dheldher through it, breathing against her mouth like he was the one unraveling.

She hadn’t known kissing Sawyer could feel like that. She hadn’t knownanythingcould. And now, the fear she felt was from the thought that she might never have the chance to do it again. The thought clenched like a fist in her gut.

Something hadstartedwith Sawyer. Something real. Something dangerous in a completely different way. And she wasn’t ready to lose it. Not now. Not before it even had a chance to become more.

She closed her eyes and silently prayed. She knew that he was out there, fighting his way back to her.

But if she had to die tonight, she wanted it to be after one more kiss.

---