I open my mouth to answer but fall silent as I see Caleb’s name staring back at me from my phone. “It’s her…” I mutter.
Archer steps closer, cracking a bit more glass beneath his feet. “Who?”
I answer it and tap on the speakerphone. “Caleb, where are you?”
There’s no reply, just the gentle humming of voices in the background and the dull scratch of the phone’s microphone brushing against fabric.
“Caleb?”
“It’s just a butt-dial, mate.”
I shake my head, smiling wide. A little bit of weight slides off my shoulders.
Caleb Fawn, you beautiful bitch.
“No, she did this on purpose.”
I lay the phone down next to my laptop and keep an ear on it. The voices are obviously Lilah and Elijah, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
Archer moves around the counter to peek over my shoulder. “Why?”
“Because she knows me.”
With a few fast clicks, I tap into the call and a map of Los Angeles pops up on the screen. Several seconds pass before it zooms in on the west side.
“They’re on Santa Monica Boulevard — heading toward the pier.”
“Shit.” Archer groans. “I hate Santa Monica.”
“Me, too,” I mutter. “As long as she keeps the call open, I can track them. I should be able to snatch a picture of the license plate from red-light cameras. Once I have that, this program will track the car using every security camera in the city in real-time, giving us a handy map of where they’re going and where they’ve been.”
Archer’s head slowly tilts. “Who the hell are you?” he asks.
I smile. “I’m Boxcar.”
“And where the hell did you learn to do this shit?”
I chew on my cheek as memories take hold of me.
“Afghanistan,” I answer.
I spin away from the counter and step toward the back room as Archer follows me inside.
“Hold on,” he says. “You were in Afghanistan?”
“Yes.”
I turn back to catch the look on his face. Predictably, his jaw drops as his eyes drink in the stunning array of assault weaponry and gadgets.
“Civilian, though,” I add. “I’m not military, but she was.”
Archer leans against the doorway. His face curls into a wicked smile, once again thoroughly impressed with my choice of spouse. “They don’t make birds like that back home.”
“There’s never been a bird quite like Caleb Fawn,” I say, reaching for an M16 attached to the wall. I check the shelves below it for ammo.
“What’s your plan, mate?” he asks. “You just going to load up, drive on over there, and what?”
“Get my wife back.”
“Right… but these are world-class assassins, as you pointed out. What makes you think a little run and gun isn’t going to make them pop a bullet in her brain before you even get close?”
Adrenaline spikes inside of me. I bring it back down with a deep breath. I don’t have the training to make something like this work without a solid plan. For starters, I’d need a sniper, but Fox isn’t here. Archer looks more the brute force type.
I lay the weapon back down on the shelf. “We have the upper hand right now and we have to keep it. The Harts don’t know I’ve tracked them. They probably don’t know about you either.”
“Uh-huh…” Archer hums.
I gesture around the room before walking out. “Grab what you need.”
“Need for what?”
“To catch a Hart.”
“And then, what?”
I slide my laptop back into my messenger bag. “Then…”
My brain twitches with yet another bad idea but the consequences of this going south aren’t nearly as horrible as the thought of losing Caleb. Again.
“We’re taking a trip to Hollywood.”
Chapter 17
Caleb
Then
I stare down at the disassembled revolver pieces littered about on my cot. This is the third time I’ve cleaned my weapon this week, but I don’t care. Mindless, menial tasks are just about the only thing keeping me sane right now.
What the hell was I thinking in that jeep? Scratch that. I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking about how I could barely recall the last time I’d gotten any. I was thinking about how I can’t stand most of the men around here but then in walks Boxcar. He’s normal, smart, practically adorable in just about every way. Just looking at his green eyes in the dark was enough to melt my damn panties right off.
Fuck, he felt so good.
But we can’t do this. It was a one-time thing. It’ll never happen again.
Shit. I said the same thing after that kiss, didn’t I?
I’ll just have to stay away from him between missions. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?
“Hey, Caleb.”
Dammit.
Boxcar stands at the foot of my cot with his arms crossed. I look away, scanning the empty tent, hoping that someone else will walk in here and interrupt whatever the hell he’s about to do.
“Go away, please,” I say.
“Hey…” He holds up his hands. “I come in peace.”
I drop my head down again and tighten the third screw on the side plate to keep the cylinder in place. “What do you want, Carson?”
“To talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“Just... hear me out,” he says. “Please?”
I pause, inhaling a lungful of thick, humid, desert air. Still, I keep my head down and half of my focus stays on my weapon. “Fine.”
“I know you’ve been avoiding me since the other night…”
“I’m not avoiding you. I’m your bodyguard,” I say.
“Caleb, you haven’t looked me in the eye in a week. Either you’ve got quite the crick in your neck or you really like my shoes.”
I sigh and raise my head to look at him. He instantly smiles and my muscles turn to jelly. “There. I looked at you. Can I have a moment to myself now?”
“Not yet.” He clears his throat. “I still have something to say.”
“Then, say it.”
I keep my eyes steady on him, desperately trying not to swoon. Somehow, he’s grown more attractive since that night.
“Okay…” He shifts over to Fox’s cot and sits down across from me, giving me his undivided attention. “I think — and it’s possible you might, too — that the two of us kind of got off on the wrong foot…” His hands jerk nervously. “And I don’t mean that in a puny way. I wasn’t referencing the two of us getting off…”
I deepen my glare. “Boxcar.”
“Right.” He shakes his head. “Obviously, I like you, Caleb. I think you’re beautiful and strong but there’s so much more to you than that. I would like the chance to go back in time and get to know you as if the night in the jeep never happened — as amazing and strange as it was.”
“Strange?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but beautiful women don’t often mount me in public places.”
I fight my chuckle. “Okay. Strange, it was.”
“What say you, Caleb Fawn?” he asks. “Can we start over? As friends? Or… acquaintances, at the very least?”
Those damn green eyes.
“Fine,” I say.
He points down at my revolver. “Where did you even get that?” he asks. “Doesn’t exactly look standard issue.”
“It…” I hesitate, choking on every lie before the truth slips out. “It was my father’s.”
“They let you bring it out here with you?”
“No, it—” I pause for a moment more. “He found it out here and his commanding officer gave it to me when I arrived.”
Boxcar’s brow rises with interest. “Your dad’s out here, too?”
“Not anymore,” I answer. “His convoy was hit by a pipe bomb just before I enlisted.”
He opens his mouth to speak bu
t nothing comes out at first. “Damn…” he finally whispers.
“His CO told me that my dad never fired it. He was saving it for a special occasion, whatever that means. Apparently, he always kept it on him except for the one time he forgot it in his footlocker…” Boxcar’s eyes twinge with sympathy. “It’s been my good luck charm ever since.”
“Can I hold it?”
“No.”
He raises his hands again and chuckles. “Okay.”
His smile tickles my toes, but I shake it off, hardening my shell. “What else do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?” he asks.
I hesitate, feeling a bit of that self-consciousness ease in. I wasn’t expecting to dive into even more of my history so quickly, but I guess I shouldn’t feel so weird about sharing intimate details with someone I’ve already been intimate with.
“Oklahoma,” I answer.
Boxcar pauses. “Whereabouts?”
“I was born in Tulsa. Grew up in Oklahoma City.” I watch his face, noting the dots connecting in his brain to form a new picture of me. “You?”
“Tennessee,” he replies. “Born and raised in Memphis.”
“Really?” I look over at him. “Do you like Elvis?”
“No one from Memphis likes Elvis.” He chuckles. “Fox told me you like movies.”
“Did he?”
“He did.”
“What else did you get out of him?”
Boxcar chews his lip. “Not a lot but I get the feeling he doesn’t know much to tell.”
“That’s probably true.”
“What’s your favorite movie?”
I chuckle. “That’s a pretty loaded question.”
“Try and narrow it down to one.” He smiles with a cool confidence I haven’t noticed before. “Off the top of your head. First one you think of.”
“The Shining,” I say quickly.
He tilts his head. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It’s awesome. It’s scary and funny, often at the same time.” Excitement surges through me. It’s rare for me to find anyone out here who wants to talk movies. “I’ve always had an odd thing for Jack Nicholson, too. Even when he’s threatening to bash Wendy’s brains in, he never quite loses his adorableness.”
“You’re a little messed up, Caleb Fawn,” he jokes, grinning.
“Does that change your opinion of me?”
“Nah.”
“Well, what about you? What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Lion King.”
I pause. “Your favorite movie is The Lion King?”
“Hell yes.” He nods with zeal.
“Why?”
“You try watching that opening sequence and not shedding at least one tear!” We laugh. “It’s got everything. It’s heartbreaking, it’s hilarious, it’s got an artsy love scene set to a cheesy Elton John song. It’s perfect.”
“Okay.” I wet my lips, forcing my smile to calm down. “I’ll accept that answer.”
“Also... I always liked the idea of becoming something bigger than yourself,” he continues. “You might be a weak kid now but someday you’ll be a king, you know?”
I nod softly. “I guess I can relate to that.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, yeah. I’m from Oklahoma,” I say. He laughs. “Where I’m from, every girl dreams that someday they’ll get out of this dump, move to Broadway or Hollywood, become some big star, and everyone who ever wronged them would end up shining their shoes.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a lazy shrug. I gesture around. “Obviously, not every dream comes true.”
He gazes back at me, pausing to let the words sink in. “I guess I can relate to that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t dream of getting trapped out in the Afghani desert and almost dying of heat exposure?”
“I can’t say I did.” His laugh fades and he bites the edge of his mouth. “I guess it hasn’t been all bad, right?”
I give a short smile, feeling a sharp, pleasurable twinge in my core. “I guess not.”
His eyes fall to my lips, but he quickly looks away and stands up off the cot. “Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” he says. “I just wanted to clear the air and all that…”
“Boxcar.”
“What?”
I stand up, ignoring every ounce of regret screaming inside of me as I touch my lips to his cheek. When I pull back, his eyes are twice as wide as before. He blinks quickly to hide it.
“I just wanted to do that,” I tell him.
“Cool,” he says, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, I’m gonna grab some dinner. You wanna join me?”
“Don’t push it.”
He spins around, grinning wide. “It was worth a shot.”
My own smile spreads, this one far too intense to hold back.
This damn guy. No matter how hard I try to distance myself from him, he keeps pulling me right back in.
He wanders out of the tent, leaving me alone with a very real and peculiar sense of being watched.
“Well, that was interesting.”
I jolt as Fox walks into the tent. “How long have you been out there?” I ask.
He smirks. “Since The Lion King.”
I sigh. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Liar.”
“We’re friends.”
“No, you and I are friends.” He grins. “You two are not friends.”
I scoff. “Shut up.”
He chuckles and plops down onto his cot as I sit on mine. “I’m not poking fun here, Cal. I think it’s great. Maybe a little irresponsible given the setting, but… great.”
“Exactly,” I say. “This could be very bad for both of us.”
“Well, just be smart about it and you’ll be okay.” He glares at me. “You know, no more sneaking off to midnight rendezvous together…”
I blink. “You saw that?”
“I might have.”
“Crap…” I eye him closely. “How much did you see?”
He holds up his hands. “I didn’t see anything. Just him pulling you out of bed… and you coming back a half-hour later looking like you just committed murder.”
My shoulders sink. “This is bad.”
He smirks. “But I guess it hasn’t been all bad, right?”
I roll a fist and slam it against his shoulder. He winces with painful laughter and moves his hands up to block the second hit.
“I’m sorry.” He laughs. “I couldn’t resist.”
I settle back, letting my fingers relax. “It was a good line, though, wasn’t it?”
Fox nods. “He really likes you, Caleb.”
“I know.”
“Don’t break his heart too hard.”
“What makes you think I will?”
“I’d answer that,” he says, “but you’d probably hit me again.”
“Fair enough.” I sigh. “I’ll spare you the pain.”
“Thank you.”
He lies down on his cot and closes his eyes.
My ankles bounce, plagued with a nervous jitter that I haven’t been able to shake for days and that little kiss on the cheek just made it so much worse.
“Hey, Fox,” I say. “You hungry?”
He smirks, eyes still closed. “Just go.”
I stand up and slide my boots on.
“Caleb.”
“Yeah?”
He peeks out at me through one open eye. “Be smart,” he says.
I look down to hide the blush invading my cheeks. “I will.”
Fox closes his eyes, but his smirk remains as I step outside into the camp.
Dusk eases into the sky, painting the golden sand a deep shade of blue. A bustle of laughter and voices draws me toward the other side of camp where most have gathered for what passes as dinner around here, Boxcar included.
He sits alone, a
s usual, gazing at his laptop screen. It reflects off his lenses and as I drift closer, I notice the satellite feed glaring back at me.
I ease into the seat across from him without saying a word. His expression doesn’t change. I wait a few moments to see if it does. I expect him to smile back at me as he closes the laptop and perhaps fold his hands together in front of him to hide the red in his face. But he doesn’t.
He holds that somber expression with an iron will. “They’re back,” he finally says.
“Who’s back?”
“Them.”
He turns the laptop in my direction. I instantly recognize the layout of the warehouse we checked out weeks ago.
“The convoy?” I ask.
He nods. “I’ve been watching this place like a damn hawk. No one has come anywhere near it since we left it until about ten minutes ago. One car drove up and two guys got out. It’s gotta be the ones who brought me here, I can just feel it…”
“I thought you were going to let this go, Boxcar.”
“Would you?” he asks. “Be honest, Caleb. If these people dragged you down here and tried to kill you, wouldn’t you want to know why? It couldn’t have all been for nothing.”
I bite my inner cheek. The last thing I want to do is fuel this obsession, but I don’t want to lie to him either. “Okay, fine,” I answer, “but there’s nothing you can do about it. Command told us to ignore it, so—”
“Command told the military to ignore it. Not me. I can go. They haven’t been there long, there’s still time to get there before they disappear again.”
I blink. “And do what? Ask them politely why they almost executed you? It’s stupid, not to mention suicidal.”
He turns the laptop away from me. “I might not get another chance.”
“Is that really the worst thing in the world?” I ask. “You’ve already escaped, Boxcar. As your bodyguard, I strongly deny this request for you to leave camp.”
“I’m not asking permission,” he says. “Just a blind eye.”
“Box…” I inhale a deep breath. “If you really want to go out there then be smart about it. Tell Rhys.”
“I’m not bringing other people into this.” He shakes his head. “No way.”
I push out of my seat. “Then, I will.”
“Caleb—” Boxcar reaches across the table and grabs my hand, drawing the eyes of most everyone around us. “No. Please.”
Broken Love Page 11
