“I do understand. I know York spoke to you.”
Her gaze turns to meet his.
“I know he told you about The American, and that he doesn’t lose his captives. And that he’ll hunt you until he finds you. But, Savannah,” tears are streaming down her cheeks now, “I promise you I will not let him find you.”
Her lip quivers. She looks terrified.
“Please, stay and let me protect you.” His face is inches from hers. He gently lifts the sheet and dries the corners of her eyes. “You have to trust me.”
“I—I do,” she whispers without hesitation.
He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Cole.” He opens his eyes at the sound of her soft voice. “Did you spend the whole night with me?”
He nods, not sure if he can speak. Her trust means more to him than he thought it would.
“Thank you.” She lifts her head and gives him a soft peck on the cheek.
Her lips are like velvet against his stubble. Every nerve in his body stands at attention. This woman is waking up parts of him that he didn’t know he had. He slowly peels his body off hers, knowing he can’t hold her like this forever. He pulls her up with him, so they’re both sitting up.
“Who do you think drugged me?” She shifts the t-shirt around her legs again.
He clears his throat. “I don’t know. I have Keith reviewing the video.” He watches as she rubs her head. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nods, but he can tell she is lying. “I need a shower and my toothbrush,” she mutters with a tiny grimace, “and some Advil.”
He opens the drawer next to the bed and hands her two Advil and a bottle of water.
She hesitates before taking it.
“It’s all right. The water is from my fridge. No one comes in here without a security code, and only Abigail and I know it.”
“I found something…yesterday, I found something. I need to show it to you.”
“Okay, Savi, but let me get you to your room and have Abigail help you get showered. Then you can show me.”
“All right.”
Cole pulls off his shirt, opening his dresser to get into something clean. He catches her gaze reflected in the mirror.
She studies the tattoo on his shoulder. “What doesDe Oppresso Libermean?”
He had gotten it after his first year. It depicted an eagle holding two arrows wrapped in the American flag with the words written in a horseshoe shape around it. It isn’t particularly large, about the size of a hockey puck. A lot of the other guys got huge tattoos, wanting to make a statement, but he didn’t do it for anyone else but himself.
“To free the oppressed,” he answers as he slides a clean t-shirt over his head. “All right, up you go.”
She lets him help her off the bed, and he waits until he knows her legs are steady. He wraps an arm around her waist, letting her lean her weight into him. God, she feels good against him.
“Where are we?” she asks, glancing around.
“The back passage through the house. It’s a safety precaution if we ever come under attack.” He feels her flinch as they move along the passageway.
“What’s in there?”
He moves to the open door and lets her look inside the tiny room with its wall full of books and a floor filled with plush cushions.
“Oh, it’s so cozy,” she says delightedly.