Page 29 of Dirty Delivery

“You’re quiet,” he says when he sits down across from me. “Something on your mind?”

I cut into my pancakes to buy time. “Just . . . everything. It’s a lot to take in.”

“That’s fair,” he says, his tone softer now. “But you don’t have to do it alone, Savannah. I’m here. Whatever you need, you’ve got it.”

It’s such a simple thing to say, but the sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I want to believe him. I want to lean into this little world we’ve created, where danger feels distant and laughter is easy. But I can’t forget who he is, what he’s capable of, or the fact that this can’t last forever.

“Thanks,” I say finally, forcing a small smile. “That means a lot.”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. It’s such a small gesture, but it feels monumental. And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself believe that maybe . . . maybe this could work.

The buzzing of Rylan’s phone jolts me back to reality, and I quickly shift my focus to my plate of pancakes, idly pushing the last pieces around to look preoccupied. Rylan’s expression hardens as he glances at the screen, his jaw tightening. Just like that, the bubble we’ve been living in bursts like a balloon and all the pieces come sinking back down to earth.

“Everything okay?” I hedge.

He stands and slides the phone into his pocket. “It’s nothing. Eat your breakfast.”

I nibble at the edge of the pancake, but the taste feels muted now, drowned out by the heaviness in the air that’s all but rushed back in. I’m not sure what I was expecting—some grand confession? Reassurance? But the walls have been built back up, and Rylan’s carefully neutral expression reminds me that whatever connection we shared moments ago isn’t enough to change the reality of who he is.

I follow him into the living room after breakfast, the silence between us uncomfortable. He’s on his phone, typing furiously, and I’m left to pace the large room. The comfort of the room with its gilded mirrors and plush furniture do nothing to comfort me. They feel like bars in an elaborate cage.

“Rylan,” I finally say, crossing my arms. He looks up, and for a second, I see something soften in his expression. “Do you ever wish things were different? That you weren’t . . . tied to all this?”

A shadow crosses his features which causes his eyes to darken slightly, and he leans back, tossing his phone down onto the coffee table. “Every damn day, Savannah. But wishing doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe not.” I ease down to sit across from him so I can look at him head on. “But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?”

For the first time today, he smiles—a small, genuine smile that makes my chest ache. “Yeah, it is.”

The moment stretches. I let myself linger in it, even if I know it won’t last. For now, it’s enough.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rylan

Savannah cannot possibly understand the weight of what she just asked me and how badly I want to get away from this life. It has been the only goal keeping me sane since Da died and Declan took over the reins. Every choice I have made has been aimed at carving out a life that doesn’t involve blood and bullets.

But here I am, knee-deep in this shit again, and it’s all because of her. She didn't know who she was inviting over that night and absolutely none of this could ever be considered her fault. But if the world wants to take her from me, I’ll burn it down first. Every inch of this godforsaken life, I’d set ablaze for her.

My phone buzzes again with a reply from Declan and I quickly read back through the messages that ruined what should have been a nice day spent with Savannah.

Declan

One of my men was jumped last night. He’ll make it, but the Castillos are moving in.

Me

What do they want?

Declan

What do you think? They’re looking for Vinny. And Savannah.

Me

I thought they didn’t know where she was.

Declan

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