Chapter 2

An electric current charged the atmosphere of the small space when Savannah met Micah’s amber eyes. Its potency registered on some level to the other passengers because several of them looked back and forth between them. She wasn’t surprised to find Micah in the elevator. In fact, she’d known he’d be there.

She stepped inside and then turned around at the same instant the doors shut. They started moving again. Savannah berated herself for thinking that some things would have changed in the past three years they’d been apart. She no longer loved him but the bond still existed. If he walked into a crowded room, she’d instantly know where to find him, as if there was a homing device locked in her heart.

The elevator stopped once more and a number of passengers left, leaving only her, Micah, and a woman answering her cell phone.

Savannah fought the urge to look back at him. The dull reflection in the mirrored surface of the elevator doors showed his murky figure. She could feel the heat of his gaze traveling along her backbone and she gulped. She knew his perusal stemmed from animosity.

At last, they reached Liliana’s floor and she exited, hearing Micah’s footsteps behind her.

Just get this over with.

“Micah—” She whirled around and collided into his body. “Oh!” She backed away. In the brief collision with his wool coat, she’d inhaled the lemony scent of his cologne. Felt the way his strong, long, blunt-tipped fingers gripped her shoulders through the fabric of her thick sweater to hold her steady.

“You okay?”

The sound of that voice touched her senses like a well-remembered caress. Not a deep baritone or a harsh rasp. Nice and even. Direct.

“I’m fine,” she answered, a little breathless. She’d always loved the feel of his embrace in the past. When they walked hand in hand at the park or he’d grab her close at the theater. Every time, she felt safe and secure. Why should she still feel the same way even after her love had faded into regrets?

“I’m here, Savannah.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming, Micah.”

“Spare me the pleasantries. What do you need?”

The last word ended on a deliberate hard note. In his way, he rubbed in the fact she’d been the one to break the silence between them. But she had known he would do that. She took the dig in stride. “It’s Snuffy.”

A peculiar stillness came over Micah. “Fiona and Bart’s daughter?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What’s happened?”

“She was burned in a fire yesterday.”

His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Is she still alive?”

“Yes.” His stance relaxed visibly. Savannah continued. “Barely.”

Micah grabbed her arms and led her to the waiting room chair. He sat her down and then followed suit, keeping two feet of space between them.

“Tell me what you know.”

She kept the story succinct, all the while trying to still the confusing trembling at his presence despite the distance he set between them.

He was so different than three years ago. Cold and severe like granite. The penetrating gaze from his amber eyes reminded her of a wary tiger. They used to look at her with warmth and admiration. Savannah wondered why it mattered. They’d lost it all three years ago. Nothing could be done to gain it back. She needed to subdue these turbulent emotions and just focus on how he could help Liliana.

“Are Bart and Fiona out of town? Or did they ask you to connect with me?”

Her face burned with heat at his question. “Fiona and Bart passed away eighteen months ago.”

Micah stilled once more. Waves of shock emanated from him and she squirmed.

His firm lips compressed into a line. “How?”

She swallowed hard. “They were killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver.”

An outraged gleam appeared in his eyes, and a dull flush highlighted his cheekbones.

“Why didn’t you tell me they had died?”

Savannah looked away from him. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

An imprecation exploded from his lips and she flinched a little.

“I wouldn’t be interested? Savannah, are you out of your mind?”

“Micah—”

He shot up, six feet two inches of male aggravation. He fisted his hand in his hair, tugging at the strands as if he’d rip them out. “I cared about Fiona and Bart as much as you did. We were going to all be part of a family once upon a time. What in the world makes you think I wouldn’t be interested? I’d be a good deal more than interested.”

She stood. “Micah—”

Hands falling to his sides, he stalked over to her. His body fairly trembled in rage, his amber eyes unyielding like marble. “Try devastated. Try heart-broken. Try almost anything else than just interested, Savannah.”

“You’re not letting me—”

“I may not have had any intention of setting my eyes on you again,” he thundered. “I may have wanted nothing else to do with you. But that has never extended to your family. You know me well enough to know this is true.”

Her nostrils flared. Did he think she’d take his verbal assault lying down? In hindsight, maybe she should have told him, but he acted as if he was the only wronged party.

“Well, I know how adverse you are to attending funerals, Micah,” she clipped out in a cool tone. “Even of those who I love dearly. Let’s not pretend I didn’t have a prerequisite.”

The amber gaze burned down at her, incandescent with the heat of warning. “Don’t even go there.”

She bristled, feeling the hairs along her arms and neck rise like those of a cat in response. “You can act like you’re the victim here but when my best friend died, you were conspicuously absent.”

“Oh, don’t even!” he snarled.

“Don’t even what? Tell the truth?”

“Nascha was not your sister.”

“She was like a sister to me!” Savannah lashed out. Her fingers curled into fists. “When I needed you the most, you left me to fend for myself.”

“Well what did you expect me to do, Savannah? You chose that woman over me. You let her destroy what we had. When I heard she died I almost did a dance—”

He stopped abruptly, his head knifing sideways, aware he’d gone too far. But the words might as well have already been said. Hot moisture pricked her eyes at his callousness. Time neglected to soothe the wounds. If anything, this conversation proved that time had exacerbated them to festering, open sores.

“Nascha didn’t destroy anything we had, Micah.” A range of emotions she couldn’t name rocked her like a fierce windstorm. “You did that yourself with your hands.”

“I was still willing to—”

“Ms. Woods?”

Savannah jumped at the sound of Dr. Yamaguchi’s voice behind her. She turned around. The woman wore a carefully blank expression on her face. Savannah’s cheeks burned. What was she doing here arguing with Micah about a past better left forgotten while her niece was in jeopardy? What kind of an aunt was she?

“Yes, Dr. Yamaguchi?”

“I wanted to give you an update on Liliana’s progress.”

She cleared the thickness from her throat and squared her shoulders. “Please do.”

The doctor’s eyes strayed to Micah but she directed her question at Savannah. “Would you like to go to my office in private?”

“I’m here at the request of Ms. Woods, Dr. Yamaguchi.” Micah stretched out his hand. “I’m Dr. Reddington.”

“I see.” Dr. Yamaguchi returned the shake but lifted her brow to Savannah. “Ms. Woods?”

Savannah nodded tightly and followed the doctor down the twisting hallways to her office. Micah’s long strides tread behind her. The silence sizzled. She was determined to avoid talking to Micah unless it related to her niece.

Micah smoldered while they traversed the winding hallways to get to their destination. Why would she keep Fiona and Bart’s death from him? It enraged him to the point where he wanted to shake some sense into her. For Savannah to do such an atrocious thing gave the impression he was some sort of monster to be avoided at all costs.

The sight of her again after all this time had thrown him into a tangled web of confusion. Time had been kind to her. He’d known it would. Even his memories, which he’d stamped out over the years, paled in comparison to her in the flesh.

Those gemstone eyes still had the ability to captivate him. The right one was a cool Mediterranean blue and the left, a warm chestnut brown with a ring of gold in the center. Her left eye had a unique way of flashing when she was angry. That curtain of blue-black hair had a silky texture that came from daily care. The alabaster skin rivalled the purity of fresh cream and her body was slim like a violinist’s bow.