Page 5 of Dirty Delivery

The phone rings twice before Sam picks up, his voice groggy but quickly bleeding into alertness.

“Rylan, what the hell do you want at this hour?”

“I—I’ve got a problem,” I say, glancing at the body crumpled at my feet, vacant eyes staring back at me. “I need you to handle it off the books.”

Sam’s silent for a beat, then lets out a low whistle. “Off the books, huh? Must be serious.”

“It is,” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll pay you in cash. Whatever you need. Just get here fast.”

“Alright, alright. Text me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.”

I hang up, and a shaky breath rattles my chest trying to calm the chaos raging through me. Thirty minutes. That’s all the time I have to keep it together.

I look back at the attacker's figure one more time, bile rising in my throat. This guy’s death wasn’t part of the plan but he made his choices. Choices that led to him attacking Savannah. Choices that got him killed.

I grab a towel from the kitchen and start wiping down surfaces. Door handles, countertops—anything he might have touched. I force myself to focus. No panic. No hesitation. This is just another job. Another mess to clean.

By the time Sam arrives, the room looks almost normal again. He steps inside, his sharp eyes immediately taking in the scene. He whistles low, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Damn, man," he mutters, his eyes glinting like he knows more than he's letting on. "You’ve really got yourself in deep this time, haven’t you?"

“Just tell me you can handle it,” I say, my voice tight.

Sam pulls on a pair of gloves while sending me a smirk. “Relax. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I watch as he starts his work. He’s methodical and efficient. Each motion is controlled with the precision of having done actions such as this countless times. He’s good at what he does—too good. It’s unsettling, but right now I’m grateful for it.

Sam straightens, wiping his hands on a rag. “Alright, you can get out of here, I’ve got the rest of this handled. You owe me, Doyle. Big time.”

“Yah, I know I do,” I reply, pulling out my wallet and handing him the stack of bills inside.

Sam takes the cash with a nod, then glances toward the van where Savannah is still sound asleep. “You’d better take care of her. She’s the kind that’ll haunt you if you don’t.”

I don’t respond, just watch as he loads the body into his van and drives off into the night. The street is quiet again, but the weight in my chest hasn’t lifted.

I glance toward the van, where she’s still dead to the world, blissfully unaware.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper to her, even though she can’t hear me. “No matter what it takes.”

Chapter Five

Savannah

An oppressive silence meets me when I finally wake. No hum of the refrigerator, no distant sirens, just an eerie stillness sending a chill down my spine. My eyes flutter open, and I’m greeted by a room so opulent it takes my breath away.

The ceiling is impossibly high with ornate crown molding that would put a museum to shame. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the room in soft morning light, highlighting the sleek furniture and tasteful art that scream understated wealth. The bed I’m lying in is massive, draped in crisp white linens that feel softer than anything I’ve ever owned. It’s all so pristine, so perfect, it feels completely alien.

Where the hell am I?

I sit up slowly. The ache in my wrists grounds me. The oversized T-shirt I’m wearing shifts against my skin. I frown. This isn’t mine. Of course, it isn’t. Just another mystery to add to the growing unease curling in my stomach.

As I scan the room, the events of last night come crashing back in disjointed fragments. The knock at the door. The charming smile turned sinister. My screams. The struggle.

And then . . . Rylan.

Gasping, I clutch the sheets as the memories hit me with full force. He was there. Somehow, he was there. His voice, sharp, commanding. The way he tore the guy off me like it was nothing. And then . . . nothing.

Just darkness.

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