James could feel his adrenaline spiking with every new thought. Even if he’d asked himself these same questions during many sleepless nights.
“So that’s why you went looking for me,” Sully said, a grin pulling up his lips. If they had been anywhere other than inside a freezer, James would have mistaken the man for some rich tourist, getting ready for a trip down to the beach a few hours away, perpetually retired and two seconds away from pulling out a margarita and donning a visor. “Because ole Lester was white-collar crime.”
“It seems while everyone around here is still getting their hands dirty with armed robberies and drug deals, you’ve upgraded.”
Sully’s grin widened. Surprise mingled with pride lit his features, and his stomach rumbled with a laugh.
“Seems like the Bates Hill Savior is more well connected than I thought,” he said. “And here I thought you only spent that fortune of yours on good deeds and photo shoots, not collecting rumors.”
“They’re not rumors if they’re true,” James pointed out.
Sully conceded to that with a shrug.
“I suppose not.” The humor once again began to fizzle out. “Though I’d love to meet the people who provided my name and contact information to you. But I suppose you’ll keep that to yourself.”
James nodded. “You suppose correctly.”
For a moment, James thought Sully would make it a point to find out the sources James had used to track the criminal. Sully might have taken his people off the streets and put them into offices, but that didn’t undercut his abilities. Especially when he was trying to get something he wanted. You didn’t get the nickname Butcher for no reason. However, he returned the picture to James and went back to the original topic.
“After the media released Lester’s name, everyone in my line of work researched him. Not to mention, after he shot that woman cop, the entire county full of law enforcement tore through who he used to be. What makes you think I can answer questions all of those people couldn’t? And why, for that matter, do you even care about what happened to Gardner Todd?”
James lowered his voice. Not to speak more quietly, but to convey what he said next was fact.
“Because I’d owe you one, and having a favor from James Callahan is gold in your particular line of work. The rest is none of your business.”
A pregnant silence followed. It was just for show. James knew the moment the word “favor” had left his mouth that Sully was hooked. He was, at heart, a businessman first and foremost. He traded in deals and favors.
“That’s quite the offer,” he said after a moment. “No strings attached?”
James held up two fingers. “More like conditions,” he said. “No one gets hurt or killed for this information.”
Sully snorted. “You apparently haven’t heard of my persuasive charm. Who needs brutality when you can just smile and get what you want?”
James fought the urge to roll his eyes and continued. “And you call this number when you get anything.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. “That’s a private number. Only I should answer it. Which means you and/or any of your associates shouldn’t feel the need to stop by the house. Sound good?”
He could tell Sully wasn’t a man who was used to adhering to conditions he didn’t set, but again, he was staring at the golden goose.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Callahan.” The conversation was finished. They both knew neither one had any more to say. It was just theater when Sully motioned to the door. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Together they walked through the kitchen—past the staff and workers who didn’t bat an eye—and to the back door that led into the employee parking lot. Queso stood next to the door, wearing slacks and a buttoned-up shirt that hung awkwardly off his thin frame. He zipped to attention as Sully neared, and James was reminded of being in boot camp back in the day. Respect and a little fear. The driving need to prove oneself.
James knew that need well.
“Take Mr. Callahan back to his car,” Sully greeted him, then narrowed his eyes at the young man. “And make sure you go the speed limit this time. We’re in small-town Alabama. Not street racing through the city trying to win a big score. The cops here won’t have a hard time getting to you if you’re blowing through the streets.”
A look of quick shame followed by embarrassment crossed Queso’s face. Sully cracked a grin. “Then again, I’m sure James here could sweet-talk his way out of it. Last I heard, he was on particularly good terms with law enforcement in these parts. Especially the sheriff’s department.”
This time James didn’t fight the urge. He rolled his eyes.
“I’d stick to the speed limit if I were you.”
Because even though he’d killed Lester McGibbon before he’d had the chance to send another bullet into Riker County’s chief deputy, James had spent the last four months learning the hard truth about Suzanne Simmons.
She didn’t like him.
Not one bit.
* * *
“NO, SIR.” SUZY looked the sheriff dead in the eye and shook her head again. “There’s no way I’m doing it.”
Billy Reed chuckled. Just like he often did when he thought Suzy was being unreasonable. He’d made the same sound when he’d suggested she liked Jonathan Flynn in the seventh grade and even had the same look when he’d tried to set her up with Rick Carmichael right out of college. There were many more examples throughout their nearly lifelong friendship, but those two came to mind. Or rather, how she’d felt about those two specifically. It was a feeling she associated with the name Billy was trying to attach her to now. She may have loved the sheriff like a brother, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think he’d lost his mind from time to time.
“I’m not asking you to date him,” Billy pointed out, most likely knowing where her thoughts had gone. “I’m asking you to represent the Riker County Sheriff’s Department at the town-hall social tonight.”
“The social being held at the James Callahan estate,” she interjected.
Billy chanced a look of mild exasperation.
“You know, he’s not a bad guy. He single-handedly brought that town out of poverty. Not to mention he decided to make it his home. With all that money he could have his own island somewhere, but he chose Bates Hill, Alabama. That’s got to count for something.” Billy’s brow drew in. The look didn’t last long. “Though what he did for you is enough to say he’s okay in my book for life. I don’t understand why you’re still so against him.”
Suzy crossed her arms over her chest. She felt defiant. Protective. And she was trying to hide the scar between her breasts, even though her shirt was already covering it.
“I don’t trust him for the same reasons you like him,” she said simply. “His life trajectory doesn’t make sense. A trust-fund kid, party animal, gives the tabloids enough material for years before disappearing. Then bam! He shows up to a smaller-than-small town to put it back on the map ten years ago with no reason other than he just wanted to do something good?” She shook her head. “Sounds like a movie I wouldn’t even rent.”
“Just because we don’t know his life story doesn’t mean you should write him off.” Billy’s face softened. “And just because Bates Hill and its residents are under our jurisdiction doesn’t mean we need to know all of their secrets.”
“True,” she conceded. “But then, why was he out there that day, Billy? Why was James Callahan, of all people, at an abandoned saw manufacturing warehouse that just so happened to house the body of a murdered Gardner Todd?”
Billy’s eyebrows knit together. No matter what he said next, Suzy knew he wasn’t buying what he was selling. At least, not all the way.
“He was looking at real estate for one of his businesses. We even verified it with his attorney who showed up afterward. You already know that, and still you don’t bel
ieve him.”
It wasn’t a question. Still, she responded to it.
“I believe that money can buy a lot of things,” she said. “Including the loyalty of everyone around here. For all we know, his attorney spun the exact tale he wanted him to.”
“So you think, what? James hired Lester McGibbon to kill Gardner and then shoot you?”
Suzy could tell that Billy didn’t like being blunt about her being shot. It had been four months—four long months—and she still didn’t like it, either. That bullet hadn’t just hit her; it had very nearly killed her. Even now, she was still technically on leave from the department, unable to do field work for another month.
“No, I don’t think he hired Lester,” she admitted. “But I do think he’s connected to Gardner. Somehow. And he’s hiding it.”
“Then what better reason than to go tonight? You can represent us and satisfy your curiosity.”
Suzy tilted her head to see if she had heard him right. “You’re saying you’d be okay with me asking him some questions?”
Billy nodded. “If you think there’s something there, beyond the answers he’s already given us all, then who am I to stop you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression suddenly stern. “Just whatever prodding you do, please keep it reasonable.”
Suzy couldn’t help but smirk. “When have I ever been unreasonable?”
The sheriff was smart. He didn’t answer.
* * *
QUESO WENT FIVE over the speed limit. James decided not to comment. Though the urge to get beneath the teen’s skin almost won out.
Teen. That was what James really figured the dark-haired boy was. A teen who worked for an up-and-coming criminal organization that was tapping into white-collar crimes.
James wanted to give him a speech, to question his motives and push the boy to create different life goals, but then he remembered himself at that age and couldn’t bring himself to deliver any lectures. What advice could he really give the boy that would ring true? He doubted repeating the speech James had gotten from his father all those years ago would light the fire that had moved him.
It had only been chance that, after his father had stopped yelling, the younger James had run into the bar where Corbin Griffin had been spending his last free night before taking off to San Antonio for basic training. The then twenty-year-old had shown James a way to prove himself outside of fame and fortune.
His joining the Air Force had surprised everyone; finding purpose and peace during his time with them had surprised him. Nine years after leaving, James still felt that swell of pride and gratitude for the time spent at his Special Operations job. Even when things had gotten hairy.
No, Queso needed his own Corbin Griffin. James doubted he would listen to him. Still, he wasn’t going to say nothing. After the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot James’s truck was in, he drew back and met the teen’s stare.
“I don’t know if Sully will get your help on what I’m looking for or not, but either way, it could be dangerous,” he warned. “I suggest you stay away from it, but I’m sure that might only make you want to do it even more. Either way, if things get too hairy, you can reach me here.” James pulled a card from his wallet. It had a different number on it than the one he’d given to Sully. “Or if you just want a different option altogether.” He shrugged. “A few of my companies have scholarship programs that could use hardworking entrepreneurs. If that falls into your wheelhouse.”
Queso cut a grin. “Haven’t been called an entrepreneur before,” he said. “Doubt a fancy title like that would even stick to someone like me. Don’t you think?” Sarcasm. It blanketed his tone and posture. An invisible defense mechanism that James himself had used many times before in his youth. “Why don’t you run along there, Padre, and leave your troubles to the boss?”
James got out of the car, hands up in defense. He left the card on the seat. Queso eyed it but didn’t say anything. Maybe that was a good sign.
James finally got what he was hoping for. As he watched the little Miata take off down the road, thoughts of Suzanne Simmons were replaced by Gardner Todd.
And his killer.
If he could find out who wanted him dead, then maybe he could figure out Gardner’s secret.
What did you want to tell me, brother?
Chapter Two
Suzy stood on the fringe of the crowd, pondering life.
Not in general, of course—she didn’t have the patience for that one, or the right amount of caffeine in her, either—but on her own life. More important, the path that had led her, along with the Riker County Sheriff’s Department, through the thickest of thicks and the thinnest of thins, all the way to standing on a rug that probably cost more than her two-bedroom rental.
It was a solid piece of decoration, almost as big as the foyer, and most likely heavy as the dickens. Without even attempting to lift the thing, Suzy could feel its weight in her muscles. While she struggled with biting the bullet and buying a rug from Target, James Callahan had probably imported the thing from Sweden or somewhere equally expensive.
It made her want to grind her teeth. And make sure to keep her heels off it, if possible. Her mother had taught her to respect others’ property. Even if she didn’t respect the people who owned it.
Suzy sighed. She probably did need to cut the man who had saved her some slack. Whether he lived in a mansion or a shack shouldn’t matter. He’d killed the man who had tried to kill her and then kept her from bleeding out in the dirt. He had also visited her in the hospital more than a few times. And when he couldn’t come, he’d sent flowers. But no matter how nice the man was, it was hard to reciprocate when you knew he was lying.
“If you keep making that face, it might get stuck like that.”
Suzy turned to a woman she’d been hoping to see when tasked with attending the social.
“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Reed, fashionably late, of course.”
Billy’s wife, Mara, beamed but didn’t deny the accusation. Instead, she pointed to her protruding belly.
“I blame this kid of mine,” she replied. “He’s been tap-dancing on my bladder all day. You’re lucky Leigh got us here when she did. We had to stop as soon as we got into town for a bathroom break.”
Leigh Cullen was Mara’s business partner and friend; together they ran an interior-design firm in Carpenter. Over the last year it had really taken off. They were currently designing an office-complex opening in the heart of Bates Hill. While Suzy knew Mara wasn’t a fan of fancy parties and schmoozing, she knew it was hard to pass up a chance to meet James Callahan in his own home. He might have been a millionaire, but he rarely opened his house to the public.
Now Suzy couldn’t help but wonder why.
A hush fell over the crowd before she could voice the question. The man of the hour appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Mistrust aside, Suzy felt her focus snap to attention.
James Callahan was a man you immediately thought about taking to bed. At least, Suzy did. He was tall, broad shouldered and admittedly good-looking. He wore his black hair short, cropped above the ears with some height at the top. It made him look authoritative and crisp. The consummate businessman. Yet the most attractive thing about him, for Suzy at least, was the charm behind every smile. That was his weapon. And that was what he wielded against the audience.
“First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out,” he began, crystal-blue eyes scanning the people closest to him. Town council members, the local police and fire chiefs, and the mayor. The “it” people of Bates Hill. “I know it’s been a stressful year, so I’m glad that I was able to offer up some levity by way of a party. You all work very hard to make sure this town stays afloat, and for that, I say thank you. And, as a token of my appreciation, instead of boring you with a speech, how about this—” He scooped a champagne flute off a
waitress’s tray at the base of the stairs and held it up. “Please make sure you take advantage of the food, drinks and live music on the patio! And have fun!”
He cast that charming smile out to the crowd as a whole. Its effect spread quickly. Soon even Mara was grinning.
“I think that man could read the alphabet and people would cheer,” she whispered. Suzy snorted but didn’t look away. James’s gaze swept over her and then stopped. Heat rose from her belly, but she tried her best to keep it from reaching her cheeks.
“Why don’t we go check out that food?” Suzy suggested, breaking the stare.
She might have had questions for the man, but now that she was here, she needed time to collect her thoughts.
It didn’t help that James Callahan looked damn good in a suit.
* * *
THE PARTY WAS going better than he’d expected. It was nearing ten at night, and most of the attendees were still there, the party in full swing. They rotated in and out of the house, splitting their time between dancing, drinking and mingling. Most did, at least. James noticed the chief deputy kept the same glass and company for most of the party. Only briefly did she step out to talk to the police and fire chiefs before they left.
James was surprised at how much of his attention Suzanne kept without even trying. Even when carrying on his own conversations, he felt hyperaware of her presence. Like she was a glowing blip on his radar. A sound he always heard. A woman he couldn’t ignore.
It was surprising at best, distracting at worst.
The way her brow furrowed when she was having a particularly serious talk and the small smile she wore when he bet she was trying to be polite were details that filtered in seconds after he found her again in the crowd. She seemed most comfortable with the sheriff’s wife and her friend. When talking to them, her body language changed to become more relaxed, more animated. She’d tuck her long dark hair behind her ear or widen her brown eyes before laughing. He knew those eyes were the color of honey in the right light.
Loving Baby Page 2
