Page 33 of Freeing Savannah

CHAPTER 11

The polished marblefloor echoed with each heavy step as Voodoo moved down the corridor of the Grand Hotel Vein, a chill running down his spine, his every sense alert. Things were escalating, and not in a good way. Daphne’s disappearance on the heels of his pleasant morning with Savannah pissed him off. Determination fueled him. He had to figure out what the hell was going on before something worse happened.

His phone in hand, the tracking app glowing on the screen, but Daphne’s still dark icon had him clenching his jaw. No signal. Location turned off.

Not good.

To avoid the inevitable complications and headaches that would have arisen from attempting to convince hotel security to grant him access, he’d requested that Haley review the security camera footage instead. Daphne had left the hotel that morning, alone, in a black town car. She should’ve been at the Musikverein by now. But Savannah had already called the theater three times. No answer.

Voodoo took the back stairs to the service exit, slipping into the streets of Vienna with muscle memory rather than conscious thought. The cobblestones beyond the hotel were damp from arecent rain, the scent of exhaust and fresh bread blending in the air.

Making his way onto the Ringstrasse, the circular grand boulevard that served as a ring road around the historic city center, locally known as the Innere Stadt, of Vienna. The Grand Hotel Wien loomed behind him, its ornate facade glowing gold in the encroaching dusk. Voodoo stood with one hand on the back of his neck, the other tightening around the phone in his hand as he made the two-block trek to the Musikverein.

He had to double check even though he knew she hadn’t shown at the Musikverein. Savannah was worried but trying not to show it, trying to be the professional everyone expected. But Voodoo saw the way she kept glancing at her phone like she was hoping Daphne would contact her with some wild story.

She didn’t.

Voodoo didn’t believe in coincidence. Not anymore.

He moved through the city like a shadow, blending into the foot traffic along Kärntner Straße, scanning faces and alleyways as he moved. It wasn’t until he rounded the quiet curve past the café where a handful of people from the tour had eaten the night before that he saw them.

There.

At the far end of a narrow alley, half-swallowed in shadow, Daphne stood. Her posture was tense, shoulders hunched like she was either bracing or apologizing. She was facing a man who stood before her. Tall. Angular. Dressed in dark clothes but trying to look casual. Voodoo instinctively pulled back into a recess between two buildings, out of sight.

Too far to hear. But close enough to feel the off-ness.

The man leaned in, and Daphne stiffened. Not fear exactly, more like discomfort she was trying to swallow. Voodoo snapped three quick photos with his phone. One of the man’s face, one ofthe interaction, one of the small black car idling a few feet away. He sent all three to Haley with a quick message:

Need ID.

The reply came seconds later.

On it.

Down the alley, Daphne said something. The man paused, adjusted his sleeve like a man sealing a deal, then turned and walked away toward the waiting car. She lingered a beat too long, still facing the retreating car, then slowly turned—and froze.

She saw him.

Voodoo stepped into the open, arms crossed over his chest. She approached with a sheepish smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“There you are,” she said brightly. “Sorry. I dropped my phone earlier this morning, and it’s been dead all day. I thought I could find a charger at the venue, but got sidetracked. Total mess.”

Her laugh was forced.

Voodoo didn’t smile. “Who was that?”

She blinked. “What?”

“The man in the alley.”

“Oh. Just . . . someone from the Musikverein. Tech side. He said the audio guys were switching out some equipment needed for the recording of tonight’s performance and wanted clarification.”

Her answer came a little too fast. Her gaze slid past him.

Sawyer stared at her a beat longer. “And that required a secret meeting in an alleyway?”

“I—it wasn’t secret. I just . . . It wasn’t a big deal.”

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