The heaviness on my chest elevates when a pair of lips seal over mine, replenishing my lungs with much-needed air. One lung-filling gulp is quickly followed by another. Arching my back, I suck in a mangled breath as tears prick my eyes. The salty water I swallowed during my near drowning gargles in the back of my throat, almost drowning me for a second time.
“That’s it, Savannah. Come on.”
I’m rolled onto my side and whacked on my back before I can see who is saving me. I don’t need to see my savior’s face to know who he is, though. His heavenly gruff voice and delicious lips tell me everything I need to know. Ryan has once again dragged me from the bottom of the ocean, saving me in more ways than he will ever know.
When my eyes slowly flutter open, it dawns on me I’m not the only person he has saved. Keifer is hogtied on the sand next to me. The blood dripping from a split on his left brow reveals he is alive—unfortunately—andthe arrogance in his eyes is doused with every unsteady breath I take. He wanted me dead so badly, he’d happily go to jail to witness it.
It’s a pity he underestimated Ryan’s determination.
I’ll never make the same mistake twice.
Epilogue
Ryan
Four Months Later. . .
The worry my shoulders have been carrying all night lifts when Rylee’s dimples pop off her face from my finger tracing her cheek. She mumbles incoherently under her breath before slipping her stuffed bunny under her chin.
With the sun peeking through her hot pink curtains, I switch off her underwater-themed nightlight then head for the door. The nightlight was Savannah’s idea. With her fear of drowning passed on to Rylee, she’s hoping the introduction of water in her everyday life will help when we tackle swimming lessons next week.
I don’t like her chances. Rylee is as stubborn as her mother. It is lucky I love her just as much as I did Savannah at the same age. The first few weeks were rocky. Rylee was not impressed when I palmed her off to Mrs. Daphne. She didn’t speak to me for days, not even when I decorated the spare room in my apartment head to toe with stuffed animals and hideous pink bedspreads and cushions.
That is one way Rylee and Savannah are different. Rylee loves the girly stuff. She likes having her nails painted with bright pink polish, and if makeup is involved, she’s there with bells on.
That’s how I won her over. After sharing my dilemma with Izzy, she gave me some tips she used with Callie, her sister/somewhat daughter. Callie was smitten with Isaac, but she wasn’t too keen on Izzy at the start. By using the same persuasive techniques she shared with me, Izzy soon won Callie over.
Izzy’s advice was as solid as a gold nugget, because not only did I get back in Rylee’s good graces, I won over her mother as well. It was a win-win situation. I need an army when it comes to combatting Savannah’s stubbornness. Thankfully, Rylee accepted the rank with honor. She helped coerce Savannah into following our original plan we created the morning of Keifer’s unexpected arrival, citing the park next to my building as her reason for wanting to move.
It wasn’t the basis for her relocation. Rylee is as smart as she is cute. She knew her mom wanted to say yes, she was just too worried what people would think to stick it to the naysayers.
Rylee doesn’t have that hang-up.
Although Keifer is no longer an issue, he didn’t factor into our original plan. I had a decade of labored breathing to make up for. If Savannah had denied my suggestion, she wouldn’t have just dented my ego; my lungs would have suffered too.
Mercifully, Savannah gave in without too much convincing—thank god. If I were forced to use the persuasiveness I know she can’t fend off, I may have scarred Rylee for life. I already tickled her until she peed her pants, then dumped her on a stranger all within an hour, I really didn’t want scar her any more than I already had.
Savannah stops cuddling her pillow when she notices me entering our bedroom. The tiredness on her face matches mine. The past few months have been tough on all of us, but the brunt has been carried by Savannah. The woman I have admired since she was a girl took my admiration to a never-to-be-reached-again level last month. She not only faced her fears head on, she looked into the eyes of a monster as she testified about the horrific things he did to her.
There was not a dry eye in the courtroom when Savannah left the witness stand. Even my eyes were wet.
After a short trial, Keifer was sentenced to twenty-five-years to life. The counts against him are so astronomical, the chances of him ever being patrolled are slim to none. I was hoping the DA would push for the death penalty. That is the only reason I advised the fisherman surrounding me that there was another person in the car when I pulled Savannah from her watery grave for the second time in my life.
Fatal flaws by both Savannah and me four months ago were the cause of her near demise. With the tenseness of our night, Savannah forgot about the FBI agent scanning her fingerprint in the nationwide database. Then with my mind fritzing from all the disturbing information Savannah bombarded me with, I forgot about my call from the US Marshall two weeks earlier. Keifer added two plus two, and he reached four. That is how he tracked Savannah’s location so quickly.
Fortunately for me, Savannah never goes down without a fight.
After tugging off my jacket and loosening my tie, I crawl into bed. My sixteen-hour shift made me want to chase sleep nearly three hours ago. If it wasn’t for a break in Brax’s case, I would have succumbed to the petitions of my heavy eyelids. Three armed men jumped an employee of the tattoo parlor Brax is a part owner in. They fled with only minor possessions, but I can’t settle my curiosity in his case. Brax is my brother from another mother, but that’s not why I can’t hand off his case to officers below me. My intuition is telling me this is my case, I just haven’t figured out why yet.
“How’s Brax? Did you find the people responsible?” Savannah asks as her knees straddle my hips and her hands tackle the buttons of my dress shirt.
She’s not teasing me; she’s merely comforting me like she always does in a crisis.
It is a pity my cock didn’t get the memo.
The instant her breath fans my neck, I become acutely aware my body hasn’t figured out that I’m no longer a teenage boy with teenage issues. I swear to god, Savannah only needs to do a half-hearted hum, and my cock thickens to the point I could bounce a nickel off it.
Considering the circumstances of my night, this is wrong of me to admit, but Savannah and I tested the nickel theory. Don’t do it. It doesn’t hurt, but the laughing that follows the nickel’s bounce may sting your ego.
