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In his dark mood, he was surprised when a message suddenly blasted across his mind, the first time his secret lover had contacted him first. I have something for you.
Charlie’s attention snapped back. What? Where are you? he asked her.
Close. I’ll see you soon. Wait for my call.
Fuck that, Charlie thought. He was going to find her. And then he was going to kill them all: her, the luscious detective, all the sisters at Siren Song, and, of course, Pops, the creaky old bastard who’d climbed atop that bitch Mary Beeman and sired him.
She was asleep in the chair when Hale returned to his bedroom. Baby Declan was lying in the center of the king bed, wrapped up in a blanket, sound asleep, but Savannah had curled into the chair, her head lying against the back of it. Hale gazed down at her, noticing the sweep of her lashes against her cheek. He debated about finding her a blanket, but instead he half woke her and guided her to the bed while she protested that she wasn’t going to sleep in his bed. Ignoring her, he pulled back the covers and tucked her in. For a moment, he thought she was going to wake completely; she looked tense and ready. But then she gave up with a deep sigh, and when she was lying quietly, he scooped up baby Declan and took him to his bassinet in the nursery. Victoria was in her room, but she heard him and came into the hall, standing in the doorway and watching him settle the baby. He cracked the door open and joined her in the hall.
“I’ll keep an ear open for him all night,” she promised, heading back to her room.
Hale just nodded and then rejoined his grandfather in the kitchen. Before he could say a word, his cell phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was his mother. He almost didn’t answer it.
Savvy woke up with a start, confused for a moment. Where am I? And then her memory came back in snapshots, the most memorable being standing outside Hale’s house and staring up at him, sensing that he was feeling something of what she was.
And then baby Declan’s cries. It was as if she’d been scripted to take him from the young woman’s arms and into the safe haven of Hale’s bedroom.
Hale’s bedroom. Kristina’s bedroom . . .
Savvy tossed back the covers and got to her feet. She was fully clothed except for her shoes and socks. Vaguely she remembered being helped to the bed from the chair, and she realized, a dark pink flush climbing up her neck, that it had been Hale, his strong arms around her, who’d pulled back the covers and tucked her in.
Guilt flared inside her. He was still Kristina’s husband, and it didn’t matter that she was gone. It didn’t matter what she did, or didn’t do, with Beelzebub before her death. It didn’t matter that she might, or might not, have been on-site when the Donatellas were killed . . . not when it came to Hale. Savannah had always prided herself on being the sane sister, the discriminating one, while Kristina had been flighty and impressionable.
So what the hell was this all about?
Hating herself a little, she stumbled into the master bath and took a look at herself in the mirror. She groaned upon seeing her tangled hair and dark-circled eyes.
And then she heard the baby crying again and wondered if that had woken her up. What time was it? She glanced back into the bedroom and realized it was 9:00 p.m. Quickly, she finger-combed her hair, found some toothpaste and rubbed it on her teeth with her index finger—wasn’t going to poach either her sister’s or Hale’s toothbrush—and then hurried out to see where Hale was and to find the baby.
Hale had heard baby Declan’s cries and was just coming down the hall when Savannah appeared from the master bedroom. Victoria’s door was shut, and she was nowhere to be seen.
“I think he’s hungry again,” Savannah said.
“Looks that way,” Hale said.
“I’ll get him and take him back to your room . . . if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. Thank you.”
He stood outside the nursery door and watched her pick up the baby and carry him back to the bedroom, giving him a quick smile as she closed the door. Hale stayed where he was for a moment, then headed back to the den off the kitchen, where his grandfather was ensconced in a chair and the television was turned on to a sports channel, the volume on low.
“When did Janet last call?” Declan asked him.
“An hour ago.”
“Maybe she shouldn’t be crossing the mountains,” Declan said fretfully. “Could be a lot of snow.”
Hale didn’t remind him that he’d had exactly the opposite opinion just hours earlier. Both of them were worried, though Hale had channel surfed around for an updated local weather report an hour before and had learned it was mostly raining in the Coast Range. He just hoped it stayed that way.
In truth, his attention was fractured; his mind’s eye pictured Savannah in the chair in his bedroom, breast-feeding his son. He yearned to be in the room with her, yet that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
“What’re you gonna do with that bimbo who calls herself a nanny?” Declan asked in a whisper.
“Shhh.”
“She doesn’t know a damn thing about being a mother.”
“She’s the nanny Kristina hired.”
