“What else would I be focused on?”
Power.That was the first thought that came to Rohan, but the next was more insistent, more insidious.This. Me. Us.
“We should get back.” Savannah pointedly changed the subject. “I don’t like letting Gigi and Brady out of our sight.”
Our.Rohan relished her word choice more than he should have. “Are you under the impression that you’re the one calling the shots here, love?”
“You need me.” Savannah’s smile was slow, haughty, and oh-so-tempting. “After all, you can’t step foot in London.”
And there it was: the information she’d gleaned from her eavesdropping.
I need an accomplice. It doesn’t have to be you.At this point, Rohan could not be entirely sure whether he believed that or not. He allowed his gaze to settle on the fleur-de-lis just above the swell of her chest. “Tell me, Savannah, what’s your favorite flower?”
“I don’t have one.” Savannah cast a neutral gaze at the vegetation around them, thoroughly unaffected by the beauty of the natural world. “My father used to buy my mother flowers. Two dozen red roses, everyMother’s Day, every birthday, every anniversary. Sometimes even just because. When I was young, I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world.”
“And then you found out that romance is a trick of light.” Rohan made a study of her eyes—those pale, silvery, betray-nothing eyes. “An illusion. A sleight not of hand but of heart. Your father had an affair and achildwith Skye Hawthorne. The man lied to your mother every day, and once you discovered that, discovered the existence of your secret half brother, roses didn’t seem soromantic.”
“She doesn’t even like flowers.” Savannah lifted her chin. “The kind you plant, the kind you can help grow—my mother would have loved something like that. But bouquets? Cut roses? Flowers that die no matter how fondly you tend them? I realized one day that my mother hates them. She always has.”
Every Mother’s Day, Rohan thought.Every birthday. Every anniversary.Against all odds, Savannah Grayson had just showed Rohan something human, something raw. A humming sound rose in the back of his mind, a warning to never let himself get close enough to anyone that he could be used against them or they against him.
Rohan shut out the memory and reverted once more to listening to his surroundings instead.
“Do you hear that?” Rohan asked. He moved like lightning toward the sound, toward thick brush. He listened again, then crouched, and there, hiding behind a tangle of vines and wild grass, was a small ball of calico fur. The kitten was clearly feral, half starved, barely old enough to be away from its mother, and alone.
“How did you come to be by yourself all the way out here, little one?” Rohan held out a hand, which the little thing promptly attacked. “No biting,” Rohan chided. “Unless the person truly deserves it.” He swooped the kitten up, cradling it against his chest and running a firm, calming hand over her head, meeting Savannah’s gaze as he did. “There’s a love.”
“You had better,” Savannah told him, “be talking to the cat.”
Rohan’s phone chose that moment to ring again. He transferred the kitten to Savannah, who seemed startled to be holding anythingso warm and small. With a crooked smile, Rohan answered the phone, assuming it was Jameson.Persistent bugger.
“This had better,” Rohan said into the phone, borrowing the turn of phrase from Savannah, “be good.”
“You said to make you an offer.” The voice on the other end of the line was unmistakably female. “I thought you should know: We already have.”
Chapter 25
GIGI
Gigi valiantly resisted the urge to open the door and peek in on Brady and Nora, because she knew what she’d find—the same thing she’d found the last time she’d peeked: Brady sitting on the floor, quiet and still, committing every last hair on their captive’s head to memory while Code Name Sentimental Knives thoroughly pretended she couldn’t see him at all.
“Brady’s going to untie her.” Knox sat with his back up against the wall, one leg dangling off the platform. “I should call Ortega and tell her everything, but if I do that, Boss Lady’s going to expect me to haul your ass out of here.”
Gigi plopped down next to Knox. “You could try, but my ass has its ways. Can I ask you something?”
“Does it, in any way, involve your ass?”
“No.”
“Then ask away, Happy.”
Gigi had so many questions, but she settled on one. “Why did Calla start coming out to the bayou in the first place?” Gigi couldn’t helpfeeling like if she could just understand Calla Thorp, she might be able to make some part of all of this make sense.
“Calla tracked Severin down when she was about twelve.” Knox didn’t even look at Gigi as he answered. “She was soft, spoiled, the only girl. All the male Thorp cousins hated her for that. Severin was her great-uncle and the family black sheep. Calla, being Calla, got curious about him, maybe because rumor had it the reason Severin was disowned was that he got a city girl pregnant, way back in the day. Helena made an example of her son. Knock a woman up without making her a Thorp, and you were done, kicked out of the family, completely cut off, even if the baby died before she was ever born.”
“She.”Gigi picked up on that.
“She,” Knox echoed. “I always thought that was why Calla tracked Severin down—the idea thathehad almost had the first daughter.”