“I’ll get SYBIL digging,” she said.
The moment Tomas was restrained, Voodoo’s instincts shifted from the heat of action to the protective calm he’d learned to master in combat zones.
He rose, closing the door to the dressing room and flipping the old-school bolt. Savannah stood in the center of the room, one hand pressed to her chest. Her gown shimmered like emeralds, but her expression was pale and shell-shocked.
“Hey,” Voodoo said, crossing to her, his voice low and solid, and pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe.”
She nodded, eyes flickering to the unconscious man at their feet. “He . . . he was always so quiet. Kept to himself. I thought he was just awkward.”
“Breathe, Savi,” he said softly, tucking her head under his chin. “He didn’t touch you. He didn’t get close.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t fine. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, eyes fixed on the man crumpled near the door. “Because of you.” Her voice cracked. “Again.”
He didn’t respond with words. Just kept her tucked against him, let her fist his lapels in her hand. Let her ground herself anyway she needed. She was trembling. That quiet, almost imperceptible kind of shake that came not from fear, but from therecognitionof it. From realizing just how close she’d come to something horrible.
He knew, because he felt it himself. That had been close. Too close. If Tomas had had a weapon and used it . . . he didn’t even want to think of the outcome. It didn’t happen and it never would. He’d see to it.
Tomas groaned at their feet.
The trussed up man stirred, his wrists straining against the zip tie as he rolled partially onto his side. His eyelids fluttered open.
Voodoo gently guided Savannah behind him. “Stay back.”
She obeyed, and Voodoo crouched, grabbing the collar of Tomas’s shirt and yanking him upright until the man sat with his back to the mirror. “You’ve got ten seconds to explain what the hell you were doing, Tomas,” Voodoo said, his voice hard and unflinching. “And don’t feed me any bullshit. I’ve had alongcouple of weeks.”
Tomas coughed. His eyes, dazed at first, sharpened the moment they settled on Savannah. Then he sneered. “I didn’t come here for her.”
Voodoo’s grip tightened. “No? Then why are you in here?”
“Just doing my job.”
“Your job? Does your job entail shady meetings with covert operatives?”
Tomas looked away. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Voodoo heard his phone ping and smiled, knowing exactly what that meant. “No? Then let me refresh your memory.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the text Haley sent. It was a screenshot from the surveillance cameras of Tomas and the two men he was meeting with. He held it out for Tomas to see. “Care to change your story?”
Tomas tried to swat the phone out of his face, but Voodoo grabbed his wrist, holding the phone right in front of his nose. “Look closely. That’s you on the left.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’ll send you there myself if you don’t start talking,” Voodoo growled. He switched tactics. “You made a run for her. Who gave the order?”
Tomas laughed, a bitter, rasping sound that grated on the ears. “You think I’m scared of some SEAL turned babysitter?”
Sawyer twisted his wrist further until Tomas grunted, his cockiness cracking.
“Try again.”
“I was never after her,” Tomas spat. “She’s a pawn. A shiny distraction. The real deals are happening in the shadows while the world watches her tickle the ivories for peace.”
Voodoo narrowed his eyes. “What deals?”
Tomas let out a low, strained breath. “Weapons. Tech. Quiet agreements with men who aren’t supposed to exist. The Senator’s got his fingers in more pies than you’ll ever count. Azerbaijan was just a piece of it. China’s another.”
Voodoo’s jaw tightened. “You’re working forhim?”
“Not directly,” Tomas replied. “I’m a contractor. Middleman. There are layers between me and the top. But it all funnels back to him. Every deal I’ve run, every courier I’ve shadowed, every dead drop—it all benefits McNabney’s network. He’s not a politician. He’s a broker of power.”