Page 21 of John’s Yearning

“Yes, sir!” they said in unison.

Well, at least they’d learned to follow orders. It was a start.

Minutes later, John sat behind the steering wheel of his Mercedes and shot out of Scanguards’ underground garage, two black Porsche Carreras following him. He took the most direct route to Lower Pacific Heights, not wanting to drag out the inevitable. Sure, he could have made a phone call instead, but there was still the matter of his jacket. He’d lent it to Savannah and forgotten it at her place the night before. It was the only reason he was driving to see her in person.

And not because he wanted to see her one more time.

Yeah, not even he believed that. He couldn’t care less about the jacket. In fact, it didn’t even make the top ten when it came to his favorite pieces of clothing. If he lost it during a battle, he would certainly not go back for it. Yet, he was using his jacket as a convenient excuse to see Savannah. How pathetic! He should know better. Not only would she be disappointed and angry once he told her the news that Scanguards wasn’t going to help her find Buffy, he was torturing himself by being anywhere near her. Yeah, he could admit at least that to himself. He had been thinking about inhaling her scent again ever since he’d said goodnight to her less than twenty-four hours earlier.

But nothing would come of it. Because he couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t allow himself to give into the need that had suddenly surfaced, the need to connect with a woman, not just for carnal pleasures, but to have another being touch his heart, just so he knew that he still had one. That it was still beating. That it hadn’t died with Nicolette four years earlier. But to allow another woman in would mean to betray Nicolette, to betray her love. A love he’d vowed would last forever.

Yet here he was, bringing the car to a stop in front of Savannah’s condo and turning off the engine. He sat there in silence. He didn’t need the jacket, could just as easily pull his cell phone from his pocket and dial her number, tell her over the phone—in a businesslike, detached manner—that Scanguards had decided not to take her case. After all, he’d warned her about it. Told her in advance that Scanguards didn’t take every case it was offered—though he’d lied about why. There was no evidence of vampire involvement in the children’s disappearances. With each additional police report he’d read, his conviction about it had strengthened. And though he could have lied to Samson and Gabriel, could have pretended that there was some evidence that pointed to vampires, he knew it wasn’t right. He couldn’t even blame his bosses for their decision. In their shoes, he would have made the same choice.

And now it was his job to be the bearer of bad news.

He looked at the phone in his hand, then at the door handle. His heart beat like a jackhammer, and he could hear his blood rushing through his veins, the sound thundering in his ears like a storm overhead.

Decision time.

~ ~ ~

Savannah shot up from the couch. Had she nodded off? It wouldn’t surprise her. After all, she’d barely slept the night before, and during the day she’d criss-crossed the city, visiting every spot she’d ever taken Buffy to. She knew it had been a long shot, but simply sitting around, doing nothing, waiting impotently, was worse.

There it was again, the sound that had woken her: the doorbell. She raced to the intercom. “Yes?”

“It’s John Grant.”

She buzzed him in and ripped the door open, watching him ascend the stairs to her floor. She couldn’t see his face—the light bulb must have burned out after she’d returned home. When he reached the landing and the light from the hallway illuminated his face, she knew the news he was bringing wasn’t good.

“No,” she murmured to herself. “Buffy? Did you—”

He reached for her hand and stopped her with a quick shake of his head. “No news about Buffy,” he said.

Her heart calmed by a fraction. But the solemn look on his face continued to worry her. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

He shut the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

She hated those words, because rarely did they mean good news. With a shaking hand she motioned to the living room and followed him. He didn’t sit down, but turned to face her, meeting her gaze. He shifted, visibly uncomfortable.

“When you came to see me in my office yesterday, I mentioned to you that Scanguards doesn’t take on every case that’s presented to them,” he started.

Her breath caught in her throat like a fat Santa Claus in a too-tight chimney.

John dropped his gaze to his shoes. “I’m sorry. But we can’t help you.”

She shook her head. Disbelief collided with the real fear that now she would never see her daughter again. “No. No. Please, don’t say that.”

She didn’t recognize her own voice. High-pitched, pleading, borderline hysterical. Yes, she was all that. Because she was a mother, a mother who feared for her daughter. A lioness who was prepared to do anything to get her cub back.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Rice, I wish there was something I could do. But the decision has been made.”

She shook her head, took a step closer to him. “Please, I’ll pay more. Double of what you normally charge. I have money, you can check. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

“It’s not the money. It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about? Please, tell me. What can I do to make you help me find my daughter? Please, you’re my only hope!” She felt tears prick behind her eyes, but pushed them back. “The police haven’t been able to find any of the other children, and they’ve been missing longer than Buffy. You know they can’t help me. But I know you can.” She didn’t know where that confidence came from, but her instincts told her he would find her. If only he agreed to help her.

“You can’t know that. There’s no guarantee. Even if I could take the case. But I can’t. My hands are tied.”