Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Are there any pictures of him to speak of at all?”
“My family threw out everything they had of him when he went away, and it’s not like they’d let you inside their house anyway.” She scratches the side of her head. “But what you could do is check out his old high school yearbooks. He went to a private school on Long Island. It was called St. John’s Academy for Boys. Maybe visit the school library and see if you can find a yearbook from when he attended.”
“It’s a start. When did he graduate?”
“Well, I guess it was fifteen years ago now.” She wrinkles her forehead.
“You sure?”
“No, not really. He’s eight years older than I am. And I graduated nine years ago, so I guess that’s seventeen years ago.”
“All right. That would make him about…”
“Thirty-five,” Savannah says. “I think of him every year on his birthday.”
“That’ll be a help,” Leif says. “What’s his birthdate?”
“January seventeenth,” Savannah says, closing her eyes.
“Good to have,” Leif says. “I’ll do what I can.”
12
SAVANNAH
The days are beginning to drag.
Falcon and I have made love a lot, and that’s been wonderful, but within two weeks, our supply of fresh food has dwindled, and we’ve had to resort to eating the survival food.
It’s not terrible, but it’s certainly not good by any stretch of the imagination. Everything we eat is either dehydrated and stored in a bag, or out of a can. Never in my life did I think I’d enjoy eating canned green beans, but the rehydrated beef stroganoff makes me wish I were a vegetarian.
The good news is that after two weeks, I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been in my life. I started slowly, as Falcon suggested, and without anything else to do, I’ve worked on my shooting and my strength.
I can’t say my strength has improved much after only two weeks, but Falcon has taught me lots of self-defense moves, lots of punches and kicks, and I’ve been an eager and quick learner.
And my shooting has only gotten better.
The last time we practiced, I hit the target dead center four out of five times, and that fifth one was damned close.
Still though, as I boil water and pour it over freeze-dried macaroni and cheese for lunch, I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever get the hell out of here.
Until, for the first time in a couple days, Falcon’s satellite phone buzzes.
I’m serving the bright orange concoction onto two plates when Falcon puts the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?”
Pause.
“Seriously? He’s here?”
Pause.
Who’s here? I bring the food to the table, set a plate in front of Falcon, and take a seat next to him, eagerly listening.
“That’s great news!”
Pause.
“No, not here.” He glances over at me. “I don’t want to leave Savannah here alone though.”
“Oh hell, no you’re not leaving me here alone,” I say.
He waves at me to be quiet.
I glare at him.
I love the man, but whatever’s going on involves me as much as it does him. Moreso even.
Pause.
“Put it on speaker.”
He nods, and then puts it on speaker, setting the phone on the table. “I’ve got you on speaker, Leif. Savannah’s here.”
“Hey, Savannah,” Leif’s voice. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good. About ready to dig into some gloppy macaroni and cheese.”
“Had to hit the survival food, huh?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a few eggs left for tomorrow’s breakfast. A few apples and oranges here and there. They’re the only fruits that would last more than a few weeks. There’s also some pasta. But for the most part, the fresh food is gone.”
“I can bring you a new stash.”
“No,” Falcon replies. “It’s time we got the hell out of here. It’s been two weeks, and no one has found us here.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not looking,” I say.
“Oh, they’re looking,” Leif says. “I’ve been watching them. The McAllisters are furious. They’ve had their people out with dogs, combing every inch of the surrounding area, trying to track where we took you. Luckily they haven’t come within a mile of here. At least, not yet. But here’s the good news I was telling Falcon, Savannah. I found your brother.”
My heart thumps wildly as happiness surges through me. “Vinnie? Is he all right?”
“He’s good. I had to make an offer he couldn’t refuse, though.”
“You mean he wouldn’t come for me?” I ask, the happiness lodging into my gut as a brick.
“That was the offer I had to make. Nothing swayed him. Not money, not a new identity so he could hide in plain sight. Nothing at all, Savannah, until I told them what they tried to do to you.”
Happiness again. Happiness that my brother hasn’t forsaken me.
“He’s on a private plane now, traveling under an assumed identity. He’s been living in Spain, going by the name Alejandro Martinez.”
“Yeah, he could totally pass for Spanish,” I say. “From what I remember, anyway.”