“You drive,” Suzy ordered her mother, tossing her the keys. Despite being in a purple bathrobe, scared, confused and wielding a gun she didn’t want to be holding, Cordelia Simmons knew when she needed to listen to her daughter. She threw open the driver’s-side door while Suzy pulled the back door open and all but pushed Justin in. She handed her phone to him. “You stay down and call Billy. Tell him Grayton is coming to the house. Can you do that?”
Justin’s eyes were wide, terrified, but he nodded. It broke Suzy’s heart, but she didn’t have the time to reassure him. While she hadn’t said it out loud yet, she’d already made a decision she knew her mother wasn’t going to like.
She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then turned to her mom. “Drive straight to the station. Keep a normal speed so as not to bring attention to yourself. Keep Billy on the phone. Don’t stop for anyone.” Suzy threw the paper Hank had given her into the front seat. “When you get there, make sure James Callahan gets that number.”
“You can’t stay,” her mother said, voice cracking.
“He knows who I am and where I live. This might be our only chance to get him.”
Their eyes met, and then her mother glanced at Justin. She didn’t say it out loud, but both women understood that it wasn’t just their lives that were endangered by Grayton. Justin’s was, too.
“You be safe, baby girl.”
Suzy nodded. “I plan on it,” she said with a quick smile. “Love you both.”
The moment she shut the door, the car reversed. Suzy didn’t move until it was turning at the end of the street. It was like watching her heart drive away.
She shook her head. Now it was time to focus.
She ran back into the house.
“We’re not going to kill him if we can help it,” Suzy told Hank, voice firm. “We’re going to trap him. That’s not a request. That’s an order.”
Hank didn’t argue. “Your house, your rules.”
It caught Suzy off guard, but she gave him a nod. “Good.”
Hank turned back to the window. His entire body tensed.
Suzy hurried to his side and looked out. On the street where her mother and child had been traveling less than a minute ago was a black SUV.
“Whatever we’re about to do, we need to decide on a plan,” he said. “Fast.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Now, now, James, don’t blow a gasket,” Katrina started. “She’s fine as long as we’re fine.”
James sat down heavily. Angry didn’t cover it.
He was furious.
Katrina had pulled her gun from her name-brand purse just after Chelsea had screamed. She marched him back into the kitchen, where he was now at the table, their supper still fresh on their plates. A man with a matching gun and a myriad of rough descriptors that indicated he would hurt James’s little sister if ordered to held one of Chelsea’s arms. He’d pulled her from the table and had her a few feet away, near the side door that led outside. James didn’t like how easily they could use it to escape with her in tow.
Chelsea’s eyes were wide but dry.
“What do you want?” James growled.
Katrina’s smile finally took a turn for the tainted. It was chilling.
But nothing compared to the fire of rage he was feeling.
“The same thing I wanted at the door,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite him. She leaned over to take a piece of bacon. “I just want information on Hank. For instance, why you were at his place this morning talking to a detective.” James gritted his teeth. Katrina held her hand and the bacon up. “Let me preface whatever it is you’re about to say with the reminder that I’m the only thing standing in the way of him producing a lot of pain in your baby sister.
“I know, I’m a broken record, but if I’m happy, they’re happy. And I’m happy when I’m not being lied to. And I’m very good at knowing when I’m being lied to.” She took a bite of the bacon. “Speaking of, I now know you weren’t lying about being good at cooking breakfast foods,” she said around the bite. “So, was that the only truth you told me?”
She wasn’t unstable. Of that much James was certain. Instead, she was precise. From her wardrobe to her hair, from the way she walked and carried herself to the way her eyes never left his, she was very much a woman who knew what she wanted. James had no doubt she would do whatever it took to get it, too.
One look at Chelsea, and he decided he’d stick to the truth, or some of it, at least. He wasn’t about to gamble with her life. Which also meant not telling the very determined, seemingly devious woman across from him that they were the siblings of the infamous Gardner Todd.
“I was with a Riker County Sheriff’s Department deputy when she got a call from a woman about some people breaking into her neighbor’s house. I convinced her to let me tag along.”
Katrina’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “And why would you want to do that?”
“I may be good at business, but that doesn’t mean I’m always excited about it. When I heard the call and saw we were close, I thought it would be more fun than crunching numbers all morning.” He shrugged. “When we got there no one else was around. More deputies and local PD showed up after, and I tried to get the story of who lived there from the detective on scene. All he said was that a man named Hank was missing.”
“Then why did you lie to me on the doorstep?”
“I don’t know you.” He spelled it out. “I didn’t want you thinking I was involved with someone I wasn’t on the off chance it got me or my loved ones in trouble.” He nodded to Chelsea and the man. “Case in point, the goon holding my baby sister at gunpoint while you hold a gun on me.”
Katrina leaned back in the chair without sacrificing her upright posture.
“So, that’s it? You rode with your deputy friend to a potential crime scene and then just casually talked to a detective while there?”
James nodded. It was the truth, more or less. Enough that he could confidently say yes, anyway.
Katrina studied his expression before turning to the men and Chelsea. “And what were you doing today, little one?” she asked.
Chelsea didn’t hesitate. “I drove here from school.”
Her voice was even. It didn’t waver one bit. James couldn’t help but be proud. He looked back at Katrina. She seemed thoughtful.
Which, in itself, was troubling.
James’s muscles tightened as she pushed back her chair and stood.
“So I guess I barged in here for no reason, then,” she said with a laugh. “How impolite! My apologies, Mr. Callahan.”
She surprised James by putting the gun back in her purse. Her lackey, however, didn’t lower his from Chelsea’s side. “For your hospitality, I’d like to do you a favor now.”
She put her bag down on the table and reached into her pocket.
“I had a boy in grade school who was obsessed with me. Followed me around, constantly passed me notes and even once snuck into the girls’ bathroom to try to talk to me. He was a mess, I tell you. Always trying to steal a kiss from me or trying to look up my skirt. He tried it all, really, until one day I yelled at him to leave me alone in front of all of his little friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, how it hurt his little pride. To try to save face, and his ego, he turned his obsession into anger. Started calling me names, throwing food at me in the cafeteria and even placing some roadkill in my locker once. I thought, given time, he’d get bored, but he never did.”
She sighed, as if recalling a mildly annoying memory. “So, one day, I confronted him again. I told him very clearly that if he didn’t stop his pathetic attempts at trying to earn the other little boys’ respect, I would make him stop. I’ll never forget his laugh. He told me, and I quote, ‘You’re just some little girl. What are you gonna do?’”
Hand still in her pocket,
she walked around the table and stopped at his side. She leaned back against the table, eyes never leaving his. “He didn’t listen to my warning. Put a stink bomb in my new locker. Horrible smell. I swear, still to this day, I catch whiffs of it. Oh, just the worst.” She shook her head. The humor that she’d been telling the story with started to disappear.
“So I did what I had promised him,” she continued, voice going arctic. “I swiped a kitchen knife from Home Ec, lured him into a supply closet and carved the words little girl into his skin.”
She finally pulled her hand out of her pocket. It was holding a closed compact knife.
“He never forgot who I was, and you better believe my locker was never home to anything other than my books after that. I can’t be all that mad at him, though,” she continued with a shrug. “He taught me the lesson I’m about to teach you.”
Her smile came back.
James didn’t like it one bit.
Especially not when it was followed by her opening the knife. The blade was small but undoubtedly sharp. Definitely a blade that could—and would—do damage, depending on the determination of the person wielding it.
“And what lesson was that?” he asked, trying to show the woman that she didn’t scare him. That she didn’t have the upper hand.
Even though she did.
On both points.
She looked at the blade for a moment before answering. “Underestimating a woman like me is not only foolish, it’s dangerous.” She flipped the knife around in her hand so quickly that James knew, without a doubt, he was about to learn how sharp it really was. “You may be telling me some of the truth, but we both know you’re holding back on me, James.” She held the knife up to his cheek. Chelsea gasped. “And I know why.” She ran the knife slowly down his skin, careful not to break it.
“Just like that boy in grade school, you believe that my wrath isn’t worthy of your compliance.” The knife stopped at his jawline. She moved it off his face altogether. “However, unlike that boy from grade school, you’re a man. One who has served in the military, become a business tycoon and even become a savior in your own right. I’m smart enough to know that simply carving my name into you won’t get me what I want.”
She moved off the table and over to the man. With a single nod from her, he changed positions. He stepped away from Chelsea and adjusted the end of his gun so it was aimed toward James.
James’s heart hammered in his chest. He stood slowly.
It didn’t stop Katrina from moving to stand behind his sister. She grabbed the hem of Chelsea’s T-shirt and pulled it up and off her body, throwing it to the bottom of the stairs.
James balled his fists, already knowing what was coming.
“But I think it’s a safe bet that carving my name into her skin might get that pretty mouth of yours moving.” Katrina pressed the knife to Chelsea’s chest, stopping above her sports bra and right next to the chain of her necklace.
The same gold heart necklace Chelsea had worn almost every day since she was ten. The same one James had given her the day he’d officially become her guardian.
The same one he’d clasped around her neck while promising her that he’d always, always protect her.
“Stop.”
Katrina pulled the knife up, hovering above Chelsea’s skin. She raised her eyebrows again.
“Ready to tell me what you’re trying to hide already?” She gave him a dramatic pout. “Are you sure you don’t want me to at least try to convince you? I’ve nearly perfected my knife—”
“I went looking for Hank to try to get information on Gardner Todd,” he interrupted. There was no point leaving his brother’s name out of it. He might not know Katrina, but he did know that she wouldn’t let that detail be ignored.
Her eyebrows went as high as they could. She was genuinely surprised.
“And why would a man like James Callahan be looking for information on a man like Gardner Todd? A dead man at that, I might add.”
He didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.
“Because he was my brother,” he said. He nodded toward Chelsea. “He was our brother.”
No one spoke for what felt like a long time. James didn’t move his gaze from Katrina’s, afraid that looking away might create suspicion at what he’d just said.
The red-haired woman seemed to be frozen, eyebrows high and knife low. Her goon wasn’t as guarded with his expressions. There weren’t many criminals in the South—and James was positive that was exactly what Katrina and her goon were—who didn’t know Gardner’s name. The news that he had a brother and that brother was a Callahan...well, that surprise showed clearly across the goon’s face.
So much so that he didn’t seem to notice movement behind him on the stairs. Katrina and Chelsea didn’t, either.
Though James already knew who it must be.
“Gardner had no living family,” Katrina finally said. “I even had some of my best look into it. You’re lying.”
Katrina pressed the knife back to Chelsea’s skin. His sister whimpered.
“Let her go and I’ll prove it to you,” James said hurriedly.
“How?” This time she didn’t pull the knife back.
“Upstairs, in my office,” he started. “I have boxes and boxes of family pictures. There are even some on top of my desk already. I pulled them out this morning before I went to Hank’s. Go take a look for yourself.” There was movement on the stairs again, but James only had eyes for Katrina and her knife.
“So, the savior of Bates Hill kept Gardner Todd a secret.”
“I did,” he admitted again. He took two steps forward. The man with the gun glanced at Katrina. She didn’t address his concern. “You got what you want. Let her go. You know everything I do now.”
“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not have a shock wave follow it,” she was quick to say. “I can’t believe that’s all you know.”
Up until that moment, Katrina had only become overtly serious when talking about the lesson she wanted to teach James. Everything else had been peppered with smiles and dark humor. Yet something shifted now. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips straightened.
She tightened the grip on the knife, but pulled it away from Chelsea.
“James, what other secrets do you know?” With one decisive step forward, she came within striking distance. “And if you’re really Gardner’s brother, how come you don’t know about me? Or is your acting better than I thought?”
James wanted to know the answer to that, too. Who was Katrina? What was her connection to Gardner? To Hank?
That was when it clicked.
James felt so stupid not to have put it together until then. Still, he needed her to say it.
“Why do you need to find Hank?”
Katrina’s eyes burned bright and angry. No humor. No charm. No performance for the sake of performance. She lowered her voice. It was as sharp as her blade. “Because Gardner gave him something of mine, and I fully intend to get it back.”
James didn’t move a muscle. She was so close he could smell her perfume.
“What did he take?”
James held his breath.
Katrina looked murderous.
“He took my son.”
Chapter Sixteen
James wished a lot of things.
He wished he’d talked to his brother more. He wished he’d made more of an effort to get him out of his life of crime. He wished he could go out on the back patio and have a beer with his older brother and talk about something as normal as football.
He wished he knew why his brother had kept his son a secret, what he’d planned to do with him and how James had fit into that plan.
Standing opposite Katrina, seeing Chelsea over her shoulder without a shirt on, terrified, he knew exactly why Gardner had tried to keep his son away from t
he woman.
His brother might have been considered bad, but James had a feeling Katrina was nothing but evil.
“Your lack of surprise is telling, Mr. Callahan,” Katrina bit out. “Where. Is. My. Son?”
She brought the knife up to his throat.
It was the wrong move.
“Now!” James yelled.
Chaos exploded in the kitchen.
James grabbed Katrina’s wrist just as Queso jumped out from the stairwell, wielding a bat. He slammed it down across the goon’s back. The man stumbled forward. His gun clattered to the ground near James’s feet. Katrina brought her foot up and tried to kick James between the legs, but he was faster. He blocked the kick with his free hand and then pushed the woman as far from him as he could.
Katrina’s man wasn’t down for the count, however. He regained his footing and roared, turning to face Queso. The boy had repositioned himself between Chelsea and the raging bull.
James dived for the gun. He needed to stop the fighting. If Katrina and her guy got the upper hand again, James and Chelsea would pay for it with their lives.
Yet Katrina was fast, too. She came screaming at him with her knife brandished high. With another war cry, she brought the blade down. He kept quiet as the blade slid against the skin on his back; he was focused on one thing.
“Stop!” he yelled, gripping the gun and rolling to avoid Katrina’s knife again. He jumped up and trained the gun on her. The henchman didn’t care. He took a swing at Queso. Chelsea screamed as the boy took the hit across the face.
But he wasn’t about to go down that easily.
Queso executed what James would later look back on as the perfect swing. The bat connected with the man’s gut. It stopped him in his tracks. This time when he staggered, he fell. Hard.
He didn’t move—but his boss did.
“Stop,” James repeated, taking a more disciplined stance. She was crouched down, coiling like a snake ready to pounce. He needed to make sure she didn’t. “I’m not above shooting you,” he added. “Drop the knife.”
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