Page 56 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

“Hello, Mr. Colton,” she said, making her voice rasp. “Do you know who I am?”

He smiled at her. “If I didn’t know, I definitely wouldn’t recognize you now. Great job, Savannah! Now let’s go.”

* * *

Though Grayson doubted anyone would recognize Savannah the way she looked now, he couldn’t be sure. As a result, after they quickly cleaned the cabin to make it look as close as possible to how it had when Savannah moved in, leaving no extra food but replenishing the water bottles, he had her lie down on the back seat of his car.

He hadn’t bought her a hat, though maybe he should have for when—if—they were out somewhere with other people around. Later. But he did have a baseball cap in the back of his car—fortunately not one branded with the First Hand logo, but a gray one that just said Mustang Valley. He handed it to her to put on eventually and at least partially shield her face.

He explained their destination to Savannah as he drove as far as he could beyond the lake area where the cabin was, twisting his way through the forest in the direction of his family ranch. He’d decided that, first and foremost, he needed to get her out of there. If the cops did a better job of fanning out from the location where the van had been destroyed, they could easily wind up near the lake—and its nearby cabins.

He drove toward the bunker he had found ages ago as a kid and used as his refuge, to hide from the family when he could. Even when he was younger, he’d needed time and a place away from his sometimes overbearing and controlling family.

And now, he had visited the bunker briefly after the earthquake to ensure that it remained undamaged and no one had been caught there.

“Here’s what’s going on,” he said to Savannah. He told her first about his conversation with his buddy Detect

ive Doherty. “The cops have what they believe is good evidence—a concrete reason to put you at the top of their suspect list, Savannah.”

“What?” she demanded, her voice muffled from the back seat.

Grayson wished he could watch her as he spoke, hold her in his arms to comfort her as much as possible. He could imagine the frightened expression on her beautiful face anyway. But he’d been a bit spooked and his mind had gone in many ugly directions while he drove back to the cabin.

The bunker should be a safer hideout. Even though a lot of people knew about the many abandoned mineshafts in the area, no one else to his knowledge was ever aware he’d used that one.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he said. He wanted to soothe her as he told her the situation as he knew it—and his further fears about it. He wanted to hold her tight, and not just to protect her, although that was most important at the moment. But later? He could imagine their making use of the bunker to engage in more of the wonderful sex they had already experienced. He didn’t know how things would be in the future, but he definitely craved keeping Savannah in his life.

A few cars passed on the remote street until he turned off and headed down a dirt road beyond the Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch, between it and other ranches. He drove as far as he could into a grove of trees near the side of a fair-sized hill and parked behind bushes that obscured his vehicle.

He got out of the car and looked around, listening.

“Okay,” he finally said, opening a back door. “Time for you to visit the next exciting mansion where you’ll hang out for a while.”

“I’m not sure I like your sarcasm, Grayson,” she said, stepping out of the car and pivoting to look around them into the woods.

He noted that she retained her disguise, slouching and frowning and sticking her gut out to appear heavier than the lovely, slender woman she was.

She’d have made a great actress, he figured. But he didn’t tell her that. Not now, at least. Not until they’d put all this behind them and she could return to her life as an heiress with contacts and charitable instincts—and then decide if there was anything else she wanted to do. He could only hope it would still involve him.

“So where are we going?” she asked in a moment.

“This way,” he said and took her hand.

It still felt the same to him—warm and sweet and sexy as she held onto his while they began walking.

You’re doing this because you’re a first responder who does all he can to help people, he reminded himself. And this woman needed help.

Eventually, no matter what he wished for, they might both go their own ways, and he could only hope, at this point, that hers didn’t involve prison.

His either, since if anyone caught him he could be charged with abetting a fugitive.

He reminded himself that he shouldn’t care for her beyond someone who desperately needed his help, but recognized that was no longer entirely true.

Ignoring the calls of birds and the sound of twigs cracking beneath their feet, the only noises out here, he led Savannah around the rise at the base of the hill—and beyond some bushes he pushed aside to reveal the opening into the bunker. At first it was like walking inside a cave, and Grayson still held Savannah’s hand as they entered, using the flashlight function on his phone in the other. But at the back was another opening, and it led farther inside to the area Grayson had made his own.

It had no windows, of course, or other openings to the outside, but over time he had brought in folding chairs and a cot and shelves where he stacked foods and chips and things that didn’t go stale fast, and of course bottles of water.

Not to mention a whole variety of battery-operated lanterns, better than the ones he had brought to the cabin.

---