“Sounds like it might help you escape again.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I was young then, immortal. And I didn’t have a little boy to think about. Once I had Jamison, all my priorities changed. It took a few times of Hank crossing the line before I realized Jamison and I weren’t safe with him. It’s been a long road, but leaving is the best damn decision I’ve ever made.”
He squeezed her hand. “That explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“All your strength. I see it every time I’m with you. It’s palpable. I bet that pisses Hank off too. Bullies rarely take well to confrontation.”
“I don’t know how strong I am. I try. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes my fear still wins out. He’s a hard force to outmaneuver day after day, week after week…”
Her words trailed off. Her gaze drifted out the window.
Just when Ian was going to ask her to go on, a reflective surface caught his eye. The door of a cop’s car. A sheriff’s department four-by-four, parked off the road. The vehicle’s headlights were turned off, but the parking lights still glowed.
Savannah saw it too. She released Ian’s hand and turned to look out the back window. A tense silence filled the cab. Ian found her hand again and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. Holding her gaze, he let their joined hands rest on her thigh again. “We’re fine.”
She didn’t respond, but he could read the doubt in her expression. The same doubt filling his chest. Half a mile back, the cruiser’s lights flipped on, and the car glided onto the highway.
Ian bit back a sigh. Confrontation was inevitable. “Do you have something on Hank?”
“Have something?” she asked.
“Something that would hurt him if it got out. He wouldn’t be the first dirty small-town sheriff, and he’s obviously got something going on with those passports.”
“What do you mean?”
“Small towns are notorious for their backwoods justice.” He split his attention between the approaching cruiser and the dark, snowy road stretching ahead. “They have little to no supervision and maintain handshake oaths among politicians to keep the dirt under the rug. Often they aren’t held accountable for unethical or illegal action until it reaches the media. And even then, the boys’ club of law enforcement usually creates an impenetrable blue wall of silence.”
As if the cop knew Ian was bad-mouthing him, the car’s blue and red lights flashed on.
“Damn,” Ian muttered, not exactly surprised, but still annoyed that the rumors were true.
“Shit,” Savannah whispered, sinking back in the seat. “How did they know?”
The impatient, intermittent trill of the cop’s siren cut through the night, but Ian took his time slowing to pull over. He gave her knee another reassuring squeeze. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I’m so sorry.” Savannah eased to the far side of the bench seat and buckled up again. “I should have known this wouldn’t work.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, searching for a reassuring tone when he was royally pissed these pricks made her life so miserable. “And it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
He put the car into Park and rested both hands on the steering wheel. Ian followed the cop’s progress in the side mirror.
When he recognized the man, Ian’s stomach sizzled: Hank Bishop.
This ought to be fun.
Hank paused beside Ian’s door and tapped one knuckle on the window. “Open up.”
Ian rolled down the window with an overly solicitous “Good evening, Officer.”
The freezing night air swept in, chilling his face.
Hank put both hands on the window ledge and bent to look through the cab, scowling at Savannah. “What have we got here?”
She jackknifed forward in her seat, twisting to get a better view of Hank. “What—?” Her question never made it out before anger took over. “You said you had a city council meeting tonight. Did you seriously cancel on your son just to harass me?”
“Did you seriously send our son to a friend’s house for the night just so you could whore it up with this—”