“What do we do?” she asks, eyes brimming with tears.
“I’m gonna make some phone calls. Do you know his address?” I ask, trying to keep a calm tone in my voice.
She scrolls through her phone trying to find it while I make this dreaded call. I thought my only interaction I’d need to have with my brother would be through Brett. The thought of having to deal with my ass-kissing, image-obsessed brother is a nightmare in itself, but it’s the only way I can make sure this is handled.
“Jake, it’s Brock.” I grind out. “I know it’s late, man, but I need a favor.”
It takes him a minute to wake up, but I get the condensed version of the story out and all but beg him to get his cop buddies on it. Having family in almost every legal and political seat in the state can come in handy sometimes. Jake acts put out, but I know he’ll do this for me. We may be total opposites, but we’re still blood. I hang up and get a look at Callie. She’s rattled and frantic, nervous energy making her pace around the kitchen.
“Who was that?” Callie asks, hands clearly shaking.
“My brother. He’s the DA in Denver. He’s got more, uh, legal connections than me - he’ll get people on it.”
“What do we do?” she replies.
“We’re going to Denver.”
Callie
The drive to the city feels longer than it’s ever been. Every minute feels like it’s dragging by and I can tell by the trees and houses flying by that Brock is breaking every speed limit.
I understand that some people might not see a dog as a member of the family, but Cookie has been all I’ve had for months. It’s been me and her, trying to make it and stay sane. She’s been my main source of happiness and positivity since the incident and I’m not about to lose her.
The problem with Cookie is she’s too sweet. She’s still in that puppy stage where anyone who will give her attention is her best friend. So I’m sure that Gabe gave her food or a few belly rubs and she didn’t even realize she was being taken. My sweet, goofy baby.
As I wring my hands and imagine worst case scenarios, I realize I might never have had to guts to go chase down Cookie if it weren’t for Brock. Not only do I not have the physical strength to fight anyone, but I probably didn’t have the nerve. Brock is most likely the only way I’m going to get Cookie back safely - for myself and her.
Brock has moved his hand between holding my thigh, squeezing my hand, and fidgeting with the radio. I can see the blood pumping through him in a throbbing vein in his neck - he’s pissed. Part of me, a part I can’t really indulge in right now, is so relieved and happy to see him be upset by this. It’s validating. I know I’m making this about myself. His house was broken into as well. But Cookie is all I’m worried about right now.
And to know he might be worried about me gives me another spark of emotions. Brock likes me - I’m well aware of that. But I’ve been around the block enough to know that guys don’t go fight strangers over just anything. Brock could really be doing this for me.
We hit morning traffic as we enter the west side of Denver. Everybody and their mother is on the way to work. Brock makes another call to his brother, checking on the status of everything. From what I can tell, it’s a strained conversation, even without talking about a police chase for a dog.
It takes twenty extra minutes to get into the city as I direct Brock to Gabe’s house. I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to go into his home, but at least I got away with a minimal fight that night. And I know where to go now.
We weave through traffic, getting closer to what I know will be a stressful conversation with every block. My hand is shaking in Brock’s.
“What do we do?” I ask for the millionth time, feeling like a fool for not taking more control of my situation.
“I’m going to see if he’s home and have a chat him,” Brock replies, almost casually.
“Brock, he’s crazy. You can’t just talk to him. He’s not gonna care about what you say.” I plead. I don’t want Brock to get into an fight over this. “Can’t we let the police deal with him?”
“Honey, having a chat with him means I’m gonna kick his ass,” Brock says as his eyes meet mine. His big hand is over mine on the console, rubbing circles into my palm. “I’ll get Cookie and we’ll leave. He won’t do anything to me.”
“Please, don’t do this. Wait for the police. I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I say, hoping he’ll side with me on this one.
“Look…I didn’t want to get into all this right now, but I’ve got a DA brother and my dad is running for senator. Not to mention all the golfing buddies my dad has that are lawyer assholes. None of us really get along, but they’ll help me if shit gets crazy. If anyone can skirt an assault charge on an asshole who already broke into my home, it’s me,” he explains as my jaw drops. “I’ll be fine.”
Just as Brock is starting to convince me, my phone rings.
It’s Gabe.
Callie
The phone is vibrating my lap, every rattle making me more nervous.
“Do I answer?” I look over at Brock.
“Yes. Speakerphone,” he says, leaning over the console to tap my screen for me.
“Callie! Why haven’t you called? What is it gonna take to - ”
“Do you have Cookie? Is she safe?” I interrupt, trying to sound strong.
“Yes, I’ve got the damn dog,” he sighs, as if he’s the one exhausted by this whole situation. “I just want to talk to you, baby. You wouldn’t answer my -”
At the sound of him calling me baby, Brock grabs the phone and cuts to the chase.
“Gabe Turner, you live at 600 South Pearl St. in Denver and work at Traeger Financial, right?” Brock tells him. A tense silence answers us.
“Who...who the fuck is this? How do you know that? Callie, did you give my fucking address -”
“Who I am is not your problem. You’re going to give me Callie’s dog and I won’t have to pass off what I know about you breaking and entering into my house to the police. Where is the dog?”
“Dude, fuck off,” Gabe chuckles to himself. “I’ll talk to Callie and give the dog to her when I feel like it.”
Gabe really doesn’t know what shit he just got himself into. The vein in Brock’s temple is pulsing more intensely than before. I’m silently mouthing to him “we have to get Cookie.”
His anger simmers down for a moment. He leans over to make sure he’s heard loud and clear: “We’re coming to your house.”
-----
Gabe’s place is a couple minutes away. In that time, Brock calls his brother again and leaves a voicemail for his father warning him that he “may be getting into some trouble.” A slew of beeps and rings come from his phone after the call to his dad. I see the name Mom flash across his screen, but he makes no move to answer. But he seems pleased with his brother’s conversation - he leaves the call with a “thank you” and no goodbye. I got the impression his family knew everyone in Idaho Springs, but I had no clue he was this connected. Even if those relationships seems strained.
We pull up to the house and I’m instantly nauseas at the sight of it. A knot in the bottom of my stomach is telling me this won’t be pretty. I’m already not emotionally stable, and I really don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay calm here. I don’t want to cry in front of Gabe - he’d use it against me in a heartbeat. Maybe Brock’s presence will make this easier.
Brock is staring at a cop car a few spaces down the street, well beyond Gabe’s front yard.
“We didn’t call the police...” I think outloud, looking at the police car.
“That’s my buddy, Ryan. He came to make sure Gabe didn’t leave this house.”
“Oh,” I say. Brock really does have connections. Brock lifts a single finger from the steering wheel, a tiny acknowledgement to his friend. The undercover guy does the same, solidifying our back up.
Brock and I walk up the sidewalk, his hand wrapped around mine. He’s squeezing and releasing
my hand over and over - I can tell he’s itching to let out all this energy. I can’t blame him. Having someone in my house without my permission threw me for a loop too.
Before we can knock on the door, Gabe is on his porch, glaring at Brock and giving me a less than flattering look. He looks disheveled - like he probably hasn’t cleaned himself up since he climbed through Brock’s window.
“Why are you here?” Gabe sneers, giving a arrogant look to Brock.
“I’m here for the dog,” Brock says. His deep, clear voice is authoritative to Gabe’s whining.
“I’ll give you the dog when I talk to Callie,” Gabe counters, turning himself so we have an open path to the front door. Brock and I both make a move towards the door, Brock angling himself between Gabe and I. Always the protector.
“Just Callie,” he clarifies, giving me a fake grin. A bolt of cold runs down my spine. I can’t be alone with this psycho, but how else can I get Cookie? Brock lets out an empty laugh.
“That’s not happening,” Brock says resolutely.
“Then I guess I have a new dog,” Gabe says smugly, smiling and leaning against a pillar on his porch like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My adrenaline is pumping now - my fear is turning into anger. I have to do this the right way - the smart way. I’m going to have to play Gabe’s game to get Cookie back.
“Fine. I’ll talk to you,” I grind out, staring what I hope are daggers into Gabe.
“Callie, there’s no way -” Brock protests. I turn to him, hoping to keep Gabe out of this conversation.
“I have to. I have to get her back,” my eyes plead with Brock. Just let me do this, I think to myself. I need to do this for myself.
Brock’s jaw grinds down. He looks between me and Gabe, visibly disgusted by the sneer of Gabe’s face.
“Fine. You have five minutes,” he barks, pointing a finger at Gabe.
“Eh, how about I’m done when I say I’m done,” Gabe pushes back. This is turning into a pissing contest and I’m not okay wasting this time while I still don’t know where Cookie is.
“We’re done talking when I say we’re done talking,” I interject, surprised at the volume and anger in my own voice.
Brock looks down at me, also surprised and searching my face with his eyes. He’s never seen me this demanding.
“Feisty. I knew I liked you, babe,” Gabe jokes, somehow unphased by my outburst. That pisses me off more - he needs to know I’m serious.
“Five minutes or I’m coming inside,” Brock says, opening up his body to let me through. I go past him, up the stairs of Gabe’s porch and mouth it’s okay to Brock. He gives me a tight nod and moves to sit on the steps.
I’m stepping into Gabe’s place, a house I never wanted to be in again. As soon as I hear the door close, I’m turned towards him, arms crossed.
“Where is Cookie?”
“Don’t worry about her,” Gabe replies. He’s way too casual about all this. Has he pulled crazy shit like this before?
“Does she have food? Water?” I ask, exasperated already. “Please don’t tell me you left her outside.” Cookie is still so small - there’s no way she would survive a December night in Colorado outdoors.
“She’s fine. Fuck, stop worrying about the damn dog,” he grinds out. He’s looming over me now. He’s taller than me, probably six foot two, but after having Brock around, he feels small and pathetic. He’s trying to intimidate me as he stalks closer until my back is against his kitchen counter.
“It’s my dog. I’ll worry about her until I see her.”
Looking at his watch, Gabe smiles.
“You know, we never really got a chance to...make this official,” his voice a fake sultry. He’s trying so hard to be suave when all I can think about is how obnoxiously close he is and how I need my dog now.
“I always liked high stakes sex,” he mumbles as his fingers stroke down my arm. “You know, the thrill of getting caught and all that. You think we can do a quickie before your bodyguard tries to get in here?” He laughs at himself, like it’s some sort of joke. I slap his hand away, but my voice is caught in my throat. I don’t know if I can do this.
“What do you need to talk about?” I press, ignoring his offer.
“Baby...come on. I know you like the chase and all that bullshit, but we gotta get to business,” he says, unbuttoning his jeans. My insides twist and I think I’m going to throw up.
“Gabe, that’s not happening. Just give me my dog,” I demand.
“Listen. How about this,” he says, like he’s haggling with a stranger off Craigslist about a couch instead of negotiating blackmail sex. “What if you give me a blowjob and I give you the dog? We’ll call it even.”
“Even? You think that’s even? How fucking dare -” I shout before Gabe’s hand is in my hair. He’s lean but strong, and it shows as he pushes me down to the floor. I try to straighten my legs to stay upright, but he jerks my hair, bringing blindly pain to my scalp. My knees buckle under me.
“Good, bitch. I like a little fight,” he chuckles to himself. His other hand is working his zipper. I try to pull his hand from my hair but it’s too painful. I scream Brock’s name as he gives my head another pull, twisting me until my face is in his crotch.
This is all too much - too familiar. I can’t catch my breath. My chest feels so heavy. My eyes are on tunnel vision mode with black stars on the outer edges of my sight. I can’t do this. I can’t fight him off. I’m still screaming for Brock when I hear the front door crash open.
Brock
Hearing Callie’s scream makes my blood pump faster than before. I’m through the door in a second and see one of the most infuriating scenes I could imagine.
This piece of shit has Callie by the hair on her knees. She’s screaming, tears falling down her face. She’s breathing fast and heavy - what the fuck has he done?
Before I can really think about what I’m doing, I’ve got an arm around Gabe’s neck, squeezing harder than I probably should. He shouts and tries to wriggle out of my hold. His own struggle means he lets go of Callie’s hair, freeing her to crawl across the floor.
“Get out,” I yell at Callie. “Get Ryan,” I instruct, tightening my grip on this asshole. He’s still fighting, but his scrawny limbs aren’t going to stop me.
She gets to her feet, red-faced and breathless. When I know she’s gone, I turn Gabe around and throw all my weight into his jaw. Fuck, I needed that. The chump staggers back against his kitchen counter, holding his face and glaring at me.
I need to get more of this out before Callie sees. I don’t need her to be scared of me and my rage. I pull Gabe back towards me by his shirt and land another blow to his nose, instantly opening the floodgates to a nose bleed. I punch again and again. For Callie. For the dog. For this fucker daring to break into my house. With every hit, I feel my anger simmering down.
“Oh, my god,” Callie says as she walks in behind me. Ryan must have been in the yard - it’s only been a couple seconds since I started laying into him. I drop Gabe to the floor - I don’t want anymore of his blood on me. He’s rolling around, holding his face and moaning in pain. I silently hope it never stops hurting for him.
As Gabe rolls again, he sees Ryan in the doorway.
“Did you see this shit? Arrest him for assault!” Gabe shouts through his hands.
Ryan, like the good friend he is, keeps his face cold and emotionless. He raises his hands up, palms facing out, and says “I didn’t see anything.”
Gabe starts a new slew of swearing, bitching, and moaning. He’s too stupid to connect the dots: he’s not in charge here.
I make a grab at Gabe one last time. The idiot flinches as I reach down to fist his shirt. I pull him up off the floor until he’s basically eye level with me.
“Where is the fucking dog?”
He’s shaking and won’t even make eye contact with me now. What a coward. He mumbles that she’s upstairs and I nod for Callie to go find her.
I drop him to the g
round, standing over him for insurance. I’m not letting him breathe a sigh of relief until we’ve got Cookie back.
Callie
I take the stairs two at a time, frantic and panting. This is all too much. Thank the Lord Brock was here. I can’t think about what would’ve happened if I came alone.
I open the first door I come to and find a pink room with a twin bed in the corner and toys across the floor. The scene confuses me enough to pause for a moment, but after seeing no sign of Cookie, I move on.
The next room is a bathroom and I get hit with a wall of stench when I open the door. Little puddles of urine and poop are all over the floor. I see tiny pink ears poke out around the back of the toilet. Then Cookie is running towards me. I fall to my knees, ready to scoop her up.
Safe on the Mountain: A Mountain Man Romance Page 10
