Bandit Bound: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (13 page)

"Subject: Missed me?" The sender was 'Mr. Fox.' Savannah began to tremble.
I knew something was up,
she thought. She scrambled out of her bed and ran downstairs and into the kitchen.
I need a weapon, I need a knife or something.

That guy wasn't a cop!

She turned on the kitchen light.

There he was.

His perfect features were ominously lit underneath the overhead kitchen light. From the waist up, he was dressed up in an expensive suit; he even had a pocket square in a complementary color. From the waist down? Orange prison pants. It was a strange sight.

"It's you?" Savannah asked dumbfounded.

"I think so," Vincent cheekily remarked as he looked at his own hands in fake awe. "Wow, it is," he added, grinning.

Savannah had the instinct to run to him and embrace him but another equally strong impulse was to run away; to flee from him. He was a dangerous criminal and she had her suspicions about his motives.

The two impulses played tug-o-war with her heart until one of them won over.

She flew into his arms and the two embrace with a long, tender kiss. They stayed that way for quite some time before Savannah came to her senses and pulled away from him.

"But how? I just read--"

"I had some connections- I'd prepared for that a long time ago," he interrupted in a languid, casual tone. "Thought I'd come give you a surprise."

Savannah's jaw dropped ever so slightly as her lips parted gently. She stared at him in awe. Awe turned to anger.

"Why the hell would you think it's a good idea to come to my house in the middle of the night? Who the shit are the guys waiting outside of my house? They sure aren't cops, right?"

"Just some friends of mine," he answered coolly.

"Some friends, huh?" she seethed.

"Yep. And of course I came here after I left, there wasn't a single other place or person on my mind, Savannah," he said, breaking from his icy exterior for a brief moment. Savannah blushed and looked downward in a mix of anger and flattery.

She stayed there silently. Vincent waited patiently.

"Why were the cops asking me so many questions?" Savannah asked. Vincent gave her a confused look.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"What did you do? Why are the cops constantly bothering me and asking me all of these stupid questions and looking at me like I'm crazy and like I'm a criminal?" Savannah said, pouring out her frustration and suspicions like a pot boiling over.

"They probably think you're in on it," he said back with a smirk.

"In on it? Are you fucking joking? Did you do this?" Savannah said raising her voice in fury. Vincent's eyebrows raised and he reeled back slightly at the lashing out of Savannah.

"Whoa, whoa, relax," he said, putting a hand on Savannah's shoulder. She quickly moved her body away from his grasp and turned her eyes away from his, towards a toaster. "This isn't some scheme to get you arrested. I wouldn't know how to get you out of jail so where would the fun in that be?" he added.

"Then why?" she asked.

"Some idiot cop probably has some crack-pot theory that you're in on it because you didn't seem happy enough to be freed," he said confidently.
That almost makes sense,
Savannah thought.
But it's not good enough.

"Trust me, I was very happy to be freed," Savannah shot back, lying to Vincent and herself.

"Is that right? Should I go then?" Vincent said in a challenge to her claim.

"Go right ahead. You should leave before I call the cops anyways," she said defiantly.

"Mind if I use the bathroom first?" Vincent said with a disarming smile. Savannah stifled a laugh at the absurdity of the question.

"Fine," she said, failing to hide a tiny smile.

"Thanks a bunch," he said in a too-chipper tone and started to walk towards her. When he was inches away, he turned towards her and looked her right in the eyes.

"Sorry, I'm new here, could you point me in the bathroom's direction?" he asked. Savannah bit her lip and looked up at him. It was like he could touch her soul just by looking at her.

"It's... past me to the left," she said nervously. Vincent leaned in for a kiss. Savannah closed her eyes and parted her lips in anticipation but before she knew it he had walked right past her.
Asshole,
she thought. She knew her bluff had been completely called as well, which made her more frustrated than ever.

She heard the bathroom door shut behind her.

13

A minute or two passed and he came out of the bathroom. Somehow, he had put on dress pants in the bathroom.
Where did he even have the pants?
She wondered.

"How did you get those pants?" she asked immediately upon seeing him.

"Well, I did break into your house," he said. "By the way, sorry, but I thought you'd like the surprise."

"Loved it," Savannah said sarcastically.

"Yeah, so, the pants were in there. I was actually changing but then you came rushing downstairs so I didn't have time to finish."

"Oh," Savannah said. Her head whirled at the whole situation.

"Speaking of not having time to finish, remember the good times we had at the cabin?" he asked tauntingly. Savannah blushed once more and looked away from his piercing eyes.

"Stop it," she said. "Stop it with all of your bullshit. Even if I did like you--which I don't, by the way," Savannah started. Vincent smiled. "I could never respect someone who does what you do. Who just steals from the hard work of others so he can wear nice suits and drive nice cars and have little secret fancy cabins where he can kidnap girls and take them. It disgusts me." There was a long pause. "I had to work my ass off for every little thing I've ever had in my life, I had to scrape and scrounge and I never had anyone hand me anything, not even my parents."

"I never had parents," Vincent said. Savannah turned her eyes back towards him. There was a cold exterior to his look now but it seemed fragile. Like frozen glass.

Savannah didn't respond. She just looked at him.

"I grew up alone on the streets. My 'parents' were all sorts of people. Teenagers, amputeed war veterans, creeps, predators, occassionally some kind middle class people as well. They were my collective parents and I grew up making whatever life I could, the same way they did. It wasn't easy when you've got nothing to fall back on. Whenever there was bad luck, you were back at square one, scrounging through garbage cans for a meal before your body shuts down."

Savannah continued to stare at him. Tears were in her eyes.

"You're an orphan too, so you should know," he said. A tear trickled down Savannah's cheek and she nodded.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I could tell just by looking at your face, the first day we met. When I told you who I was donating to. Nobody gives a shit what some random guy is donating to unless it means something to them. I could sense it just from that. I was right."

"Yeah, I guess, fuck," she said softly.

"I learned that crime pays, Savannah. I don't like it, but it's true," he said. Savannah nodded.

"I understand," she said. "But that still doesn't excuse it."

"Crime pays, but I pay it forward," Vincent added. Savannah cocked her head waiting for an explanation.

"I really do donate to Save the Orphans. Among other charities, but mostly that one."

"What, you hand out some scraps to them now that you're on top?" Savannah angrily responded.
Who does he think he is, anyways?
She thought.

"I donate ninety percent of what I steal. The other five percent goes towards making sure that I'm not caught and making sure that when and if I do get caught, I have a way out. I'm not going to let them stop me from doing what I think is right," he said with powerful determination in his voice.

"Why should I believe you?" Savannah asked.

"Because you know it's true," he answered.

"No, I don't. I believe it's possible but I really doubt it. People say anything. I want proof."

"Proof? What kind of proof?"

"You're the genius who just broke out of a maximum security prison. Why don't you figure it out? I'll wait." Savannah crossed her arms and looked at him impatiently.
If he can't prove it, I'm calling the cops. What he's saying is... too good to be true. I don't buy it,
Savannah thought.

"Hmm," Vincent hummed. He put his hand on his chin as he pondered.

"Well?" Savannah asked.

"I've got it. But, I need to use a computer. Do you have a laptop or tablet or something in here?" he asked.

"Why, are you going to steal that, too?" Savannah asked. Vincent frowned at her. "I'm joking. Obviously, I have a laptop, it's in my bedroom. I'll go get it," she said. She started to walk back to the stairs and heard footsteps behind her.

"Nuh uh, you stay here. Right here," she said scoldingly. "Wait."

"Okay," Vincent said, slightly dejected.

Savannah ran up the stairs and turned on the light to her bedroom. She put her hands up in front of them.
Shaking
, she thought. Shaking was an understatement; there was practically an earthquake going on inside of her body.

I can't let him stay,
she thought.
He's wanted. He's a criminal.

I have to let him stay.

She took a deep breath. Then two more. She looked around for the laptop like an eagle, quickly found it, snatched it and ran back downstairs.

Vincent was waiting there with an eager look on his face.

"Okay, come here," she said, beckoning him to a little makeshift desk she had crafted; it was the kitchen counter with a chair beside it. The only noticeable thing that made it seem desk-like was the stacks of papers all around and rings of coffee staining the counter top.

Savannah plugged in the laptop into the nearest outlet and waited for it to boot up.

"Nice background," Vincent remarked. He stared at the baby panda bear with a grin.

"Shut up," Savannah replied. She turned the laptop to him. "Well, go ahead," she said skeptically.

"Gladly," he responded. He reached over and began furiously typing at the computer. A flurry of windows and web pages flew past Savannah's eyes.

"This is one of the accounts I funnel stuff through," Vincent said. Savannah looked over the screen but couldn't make much of what was going on. It was a huge spreadsheet of transactions, all of the senders and receivers were abbreviated in all caps.

"This is a bunch of garbled garbage," Savannah said frustrated. "You call this proof?" she asked. Vincent laughed.

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't look that impressive," he admitted. "I can explain it. So, that's the amount," he said, pointing his finger to a column. "And that's the receiver. That right there, that is Save the Orphans," he said.

"How do I know that's true?" Savannah said.
It looks legit, though,
she thought.

"Here, you can look up the receiver codes yourself. It's all publicly available, it's just kind of messy on the spreadsheet my bank account gives me. Plus, it's in French, since it's from Switzerland," Vincent said with a tiny chuckle.

"I thought they spoke Swiss in Switzerland?" Savannah said.

"There's no such language," Vincent said amused. "Didn't do so well in history or geography. Did you, Vannah?" he asked. Her heart fluttered when he said the nickname he'd given her at the cabin.
He remembered
, she thought.

"Go to hell," Savannah replied half-heartedly.
I hate how he can be an asshole but make me smile at the same time. Right?

"I'm sure I will, but for now, go ahead and verify for yourself if you don't believe me. I've got nothing to hide," he said.

"I think you have a shit-load of stuff to hide, actually," Savannah remarked back.