Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

11

Savannah

My stomach clenched,seeing Gage’s mother. My own mother had passed away when I was very small. I didn’t even remember her. I had always looked at Gage’s mother as sort of a substitute mom of my own.

Just one more person, one more relationship, that had been ripped away from me with no warning that night when I was sixteen.

Marjorie turned to me and her face showed no reaction for a moment.

Maybe she doesn’t remember me?

That seemed unlikely, but I had never seen the woman’s expressive face go completely blank before in my entire life.

It was a little unnerving, honestly.

Silence hung in the air. There was a part of my brain that realized it must’ve been only a moment, but the awkwardness made it feel like hours.

I was on the verge of cracking and giving in to the compulsion to say something—anything—to break the torturous silence.

Damn, Langley, you would’ve made a really crappy CIA operative.

Just as I was about to open my mouth to speak, though, Gage’s mother burst into tears, rushed over to me, and enfolded me in the tightest bear hug I could ever remember experiencing.

It was heaven.

I didn’t realize how much I’d been craving—no, needing—physical comfort since recent events.

Hell, even since not-so-recent events.

My father had been awesome. Smart, brave, and a witty conversationalist. I’d loved him, and admired him, and had fun spending time with him.

And I’d never doubted that he loved me, even though he rarely said it. He was more of a “show your devotion through actions” person. I never had to worry that my car was in disrepair, or even in need of an oil change. He took care of me in ways that were practical, if not affectionate, and I loved him for it.

But, damn. Affectionate was pretty great, too.

I melted into Gage’s mother’s arms and absorbed the pure love radiating from her. In a way, it fed me even more effectively than the bacon and eggs had.

“Oh, honey!” Marjorie exclaimed. “I never gave up hoping and believing you were okay. I prayed for you every night! Every night!”

“Mom, you don’t pray,” Gage argued gruffly.

His mother drew back from me and swatted Gage with her purse. “And how do you know what I do? Maybe I just never had a good enough reason before. Did you ever think of that?”

Gage rubbed his temple like he had a headache coming on. I had to give a little smile.

The shock of me showing up on his doorstep. The knowledge that my father had been killed by the criminal organization he’d testified against, and that the same criminal organization was now likely coming after me. The reality that he was my only hope of survival.

None of those things had penetrated his stoic facade enough to cause him to show any reaction.

But less than five minutes with his mother and he was fighting off a migraine.

“Mom, you really shouldn’t have come here,” Gage said, his voice tight. “There are people after Savannah, and you might have led them here.”

“People? What people?” His father interjected.

I had always liked Gage’s father, too. He operated a lot more in the background than Gage’s whirlwind of an extroverted mother, only speaking when he had something to say. But when he did have something to say, it was always worth hearing. It always cut right to the heart of the matter.

Gage looked like he was considering how much to tell them. I said, “It’s fine, Gage. I don’t mind.”

He nodded decisively. “Fine. We don’t have time for questions. But Savannah’s father testified against some very bad people. They were taken into witness protection. Three nights ago, those people—well, people that work for them—found Savannah and her father. Savannah escaped, she came to me for help. I brought her here.”

“Oh, honey! You poor thing!” Marjorie wrapped me up in her arms again, as if her embrace might be enough to protect me from those very bad people Gage had just told her about.

“I figured it must’a been somethin’ like that,” Gage’s grandmother said matter-of-factly.

“You never said anything,” Gage’s father pointed out.

She shrugged. “Nobody ever asked.”

Gage said, “Look. This is a very heartwarming reunion, but we don’t have much time. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Gage’s mother drew back, a horrified expression on her face. “Gage Crawford. Do you really expect me to just turn around and drive back home like nothing happened after I just found out that Savannah’s okay, and that the both of you are in danger? Because that is not going to happen.”

Gage’s jaw twitched. “I don’t expect that, actually. You can’t go home. Not until all of this is over.”

“What are you talking about?” His father asked.

The room erupted in flashing lights, and Gage tensed. “That. I’m talking about that.”

“What in the Sam Hill?” His grandmother exclaimed.

“They’re here.” I said grimly. “The people that are after me. They’re here.”