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Savannah slid down the wall into a crouch, her body trembling from the adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins. She had no idea who this Blake was or if Paladin Security could be trusted, but there was nothing else she could do. It was either trust them or face whatever horrors awaited her alone.
“I don’t need you here right now,” she said, her voice small. “But . . . well, things are getting a little tricky. Can we meet tomorrow morning to discuss my security needs?" she asked, pushing away the fear that threatened to consume her. “I’m in desperate need of backup.”
"Awkward little thing, aren’t you?" Blake grunted in reply, the distant gunshots still echoing in the background.
Savannah gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to tell him he was the awkward one. She couldn’t risk him hanging up on her.
"I’m busy tomorrow morning,” Blake said after a pause. “It’ll have to be the afternoon. 3 p.m. Do you have a meeting place in mind?"
"Uh, my apartment?" Savannah suggested hesitantly, unsure of the best place to discuss sensitive matters.
Blake grunted. "Listen to me closely, little girl,” he scolded, his voice firm and commanding. “Don't you ever invite a strange man back to your apartment. Got it?" The words sent shivers down Savannah's spine. Little girl? Did he somehow know she was a Little?
"R-right. Sorry," she stammered, feeling foolish for her suggestion. "Where should we meet, then?"
"North Avenue Beach," he said gruffly.
"The beach?" Savannah repeated, surprised. She knew the beach well—it was a popular hangout this time of year. There was a huge beach house that looked like an ocean liner. Not the sort of place she was expecting to have a rendezvous with a grumpy private security grunt. But still, why not? "Alright, I'll meet you there. How will I know what you look like?"
"Don’t worry about that," he confirmed. “I’ll know whatyoulook like, Savannah Sweet.” The conversation ended abruptly as he hung up the phone.
Savannah stared at her phone for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. What had she gotten herself into? And how in god’s name did he know what she looked like?
Chapter three
BLAKE
The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air. Blake Marks, clad in dark, tactical clothing, stood tall and muscular at a shooting range booth, his piercing blue eyes focused on the target downrange.
After a slow exhalation, he squeezed the trigger, and the bullet found its mark with deadly accuracy. To his left, Nash fired off a round, hitting just slightly outside the bullseye.
"Getting rusty, big brother?" Blake teased, glancing over at Nash who smirked.
"Speak for yourself," Nash retorted, taking another shot that edged closer to the center.
Jax, the youngest of the three Paladin brothers, huffed from his position on Blake's right. His glasses slid down his nose as he squinted at the target, trying to line up his shot. The bullet landed farther out than either of his brothers, prompting a chuckle from Blake.
"Maybe you should stick to computers, little brother," Blake quipped, earning a glare from Jax.
"Just remember who keeps your tech running," Jax shot back with a sarcastic grin.
Blake lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger. The bullet tore through the center of the target, leaving a neat hole in its wake. He lowered his gun, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Damn, I’m good.”
"Show-off," Jax muttered, stepping up again. His shot went wide, barely grazing the edge of the target.
Nash chuckled, shaking his head. "Keep trying, baby bro."
"We can't all be super-soldiers like Blakey here," Jax countered, gesturing to his older brother. "Some of us have to rely on our brains instead of our brawn."
Blake rolled his eyes, reloading his gun.
"Speaking of brains,” said Nash, “what've you got on our corrupt politician friend, Jax? Any updates?"
Blake let out a frustrated sigh. “Another corrupt politician? Sometimes I wonder if we're making any real difference going after these guys.”
“There’s a lot of dirt on Alderman Anderson, Blake. He seems directly involved with the disappearances.”
Jax leaned against the shooting booth, his expression turning serious. "According to my sources, he’s building up to something big at a charity gala in a few days. He’s using the gala as a front for illegal activities."
