by Donna Grant
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because I know how you feel about me.”
“Do you?” he asked softly.
She should’ve known better than to keep pushing when he used that voice. She should’ve remembered how he used it to draw people in and lull them right before he came in for the kill. “You made your feelings perfectly clear long ago.”
“Is that right.”
“It sure the hell is.”
He took a drink of wine and slowly lowered the glass to the table. “Interesting.”
“What is? My memory?”
“Yes.”
“I have the memory of an elephant. So just tell me the other reason for teaming up with me.”
He let the silence lengthen until it became almost unbearable. Then he said, “I wanted to know the woman you’ve become.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
For a second, Callie didn’t move, unsure if she’d heard Wyatt correctly or not. Why would he care about the woman she’d become? He’d once told her that she meant nothing to him.
“You find that difficult to believe?” Wyatt asked.
She nodded. “You could say that.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she repeated in disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
His gold eyes were steady as he watched her. “I am.”
“No.”
His brow creased in a frown. “No, what?”
“No, I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to bring up the past and relive it.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“But you are,” she insisted.
His frown deepened. “How?”
“You can’t be that obtuse. You want to know why I find it difficult to believe that you’re interested in the person I’ve become? The answers lie in a past that I’ve no wish to revisit.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “It seems the past is very much a part of the present.”
“I wouldn’t say that at all.”
“You have your opinions of me for things I did over a decade ago.”
She laughed, shaking her head at him. “The fact is, you haven’t changed. You’re still the same Wyatt who can cut a person to shreds with his eyes and his words.”
“I—”
“I’ve just about gotten in the back door of Hewett’s servers,” she said, changing the subject. “I should be through tomorrow. Then, I can decrypt the messages and see what he wants.”
“He wants to know where you’re at.”
She was surprised at how easily Wyatt shifted to the new conversation without so much as a look. “He’ll remain in the suspect column until we find out otherwise.”
“Everyone stays in that column for now.”
“Including your friend Maks?”
Wyatt’s eyes jerked to her. “Maks didn’t just come to the aid of Cullen and Mia, he helped Markovic and Orrin escape.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not a Saint.”
“If he were, he wouldn’t have disappeared so that even the CIA can’t find him.”
She scrunched up her face. “That still doesn’t clear Maks.”
“Don’t trust him then, but I do.”
During their meal, the conversation turned to where Orrin and Yuri Markovic might have headed. Through dessert, they went over places they could go if they were able to escape an attack on the cabin.
By the time Wyatt asked for the check, Callie was happily stuffed. She walked contentedly from the restaurant to her car with Wyatt just a few steps behind her.
It wasn’t until she opened the passenger door that she saw the folded paper fall out. She got into the vehicle and discreetly retrieved it. There was no need to wonder who’d put it there. She knew—her family.
She kept the note hidden in her palm as she gave directions to Wyatt on how to get to Carl’s house. It was to the southeast of Austin, far enough away from the city to offer seclusion, but close enough to bring in clients.
It took them thirty minutes to reach Carl’s property. The place looked deserted, but once they drove over the cattle guard then past a fence, the buildings came into view. There was an older house, which had been kept in good repair, and two large, metal buildings off to the right.
“Park over there,” Callie told Wyatt, pointing to the buildings.
They exited the car and came to stand before it. Callie used that time to carefully put the note in her back pocket. As they began to approach the door, they heard the racking of a pump shotgun. Immediately, they came to a halt.
“Carl, it’s Callie. You’re expecting us,” she called.
A moment later, a man with an old baseball cap on his head with wisps of white hair poking out emerged. He had a beard that fell to his chest, and blue eyes that hadn’t faded with age. He wore a white shirt and denim overalls.
There was a smile on his face as he lowered the shotgun. “Callie girl. It’s good to see you. It’s been much too long.”
“Hi, Carl,” she said and walked into his outstretched arms.
When she stepped back, Carl’s gaze moved to Wyatt. He studied Wyatt for a long while before hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his overalls. He then walked around Wyatt slowly.
“I’ll be damned,” Carl said when he stood before Wyatt. “The shit must have really hit the fan for you to be here.”
Wyatt held Carl’s stare. “You know me?”
“Of course, I do. I’ve been working with Orrin since before you were born, son. I even made the trip to Hillsboro to celebrate the birth of his first child: you.” He turned away, shaking his head while mumbling, “Do I know him?”
Callie shrugged when Wyatt looked her way. She hadn’t a clue that Orrin and Carl’s friendship went back so many years, but it explained why Carl readily dropped whatever he was doing to help Orrin out.
They followed the old man inside the first metal building. The front of it looked like any other workshop might with various engine parts lying about and tools hanging on the walls.
It wasn’t until they reached the back that you saw the workstations used to build weapons, and others for producing the ammunition.
Callie watched Wyatt’s face. It beamed as if he’d come down on Christmas morning to find everything he’d asked Santa for under the tree. Carl stood by Callie as Wyatt walked between each of the tables, touching and examining everything. Though Callie was impatient, Carl merely smiled.
Finally, Wyatt turned to Carl. “When this is over, I’d love to come back and talk to you about specifications on a rifle.”
“You’re welcome here anytime,” Carl said. His smile dropped as he pulled out his cell phone and looked at the list Callie had sent him of their weapon and ammunition supply. “It looks like y’all are preparing for war.”
Callie hesitated in answering. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Carl. The fact was that she didn’t know who the Saints had recruited. They were taking a huge chance coming to him.
Wyatt, however, didn’t seem to have that problem. He replied right away. “We are going to war.”
“This involves Orrin, doesn’t it?” Carl asked.
Callie glanced at Wyatt as she nodded. “It does.”
“It’s why he hasn’t responded to my calls.”
“Yes.”
Carl ran a hand down his beard, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the floor and rocked back on his heels. “That’s not good news. Is he alive?”
“As far as we know.” Wyatt folded his arms over his chest. “Orrin trusts you, and so does Callie. However, we’ve been betrayed.”
“We?” Carl asked.
Callie put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Orrin, all three of his sons, me, Mia Carter, and Natalie Dixon.”
Carl walked to one of the worktables and sat in a chair. “Betrayal can cut deep. I know. I’m not sure there’s anything I can tell the two of you that will relieve your misgivings.”
“Tr
y,” Wyatt urged.
A smile pulled at Carl’s lips, tilting his mustache up on the sides. “I’ve been building weapons and producing my own ammunition for four decades. I do occasionally sell to an individual hunter or the like, but most of my work is exclusive to people like Orrin.”
Callie winced. “That’s actually not helping matters.”
“The people I do work for have been the same for over twenty years,” Carl said.
Wyatt dropped his arms and moved closer to Carl. “What do you know of the Saints?”
“I don’t watch football, son,” Carl said with a chuckle. When neither she nor Wyatt commented, Carl sat up straighter. He looked from one to the other before focusing on her. “So. That type of group, huh?”
“If you aren’t working with them and they find out you’ve helped us, they might come for you,” she said.
The corners of Carl’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Let them come. My land might not look like much, but I did that on purpose. This is a veritable fort. I have provisions to last me five years, not to mention my armory.”
“They’re not a group you want to disregard,” Wyatt warned.
Carl nodded. “We all have to die someday, but I’ll heed your words, son. Now, let’s go over this list.”
The longer they were away from the cabin, the more unnerved Callie became. She didn’t want the Saints to catch them on the road as they had Cullen and Mia. And she and Wyatt still had to get food for the next few weeks.
At this rate, it would be in the early hours of the morning before they made it back.
“While y’all do this, I’m going to run to the store to pick up the items we need,” she said.
Both men looked at her, and in unison said, “No.”
She blinked at them. How had those two bonded so quickly when Callie had known Carl for years?
“I’d rather we do that together,” Wyatt said.
She shook her head. “Why waste time? This way, when we’re done here, we can head straight back to the cabin.”
“Callie girl, why not go below and look through my provisions. Take whatever you two need,” Carl urged.
She could tell by the look in Wyatt’s eyes that he wasn’t going to hand over the keys to Mercy, which meant Callie wasn’t going anywhere.
Just another reason she liked to drive her own damn car.
Holding back the urge to flip him off, she smiled at Carl and made her way to the stairs that led below to his bunker and the stores of food. Once she was down there, she took out the note and unfolded the paper. Scrawled upon it were just six words: You can’t run from us forever.
She folded the paper back up and returned it to her pocket. When was her family going to take the hint? How many times did she have to tell them she wouldn’t join in their criminal enterprises?
How many more instances would she have to firmly and emphatically tell them she was living her own life? By now, they should’ve gotten the not so subtle hint.
What was it about her that caused them to continue trying to bring her back into the fold? And why was she in this cycle of them pushing and pushing until she took a stand and then they backed off, only to repeat it all again in a few years?
It had all begun when she’d gone to work at the Loughmans’. At first, her family had thought it funny and humored her by allowing her to go. Of course, they took every penny she made, but she hadn’t worked for the money.
After over nine months at the ranch, suddenly, her father ordered her to quit. When she’d refused, he hit her. It wasn’t long before her mother and the rest of the family joined in.
Then they’d loaded her up in the back of one of the trucks and dumped her in the woods a mile from Loughman land. She’d passed out from the pain, but when she’d woken, she had crawled and dragged herself toward the ranch.
When she came to, Orrin and Virgil were standing over her, telling her that everything would be all right. They’d even called the sheriff. She didn’t bother filing a report against her kin. The sheriff couldn’t arrest the entire Reed family, and when she returned home—because she had to go home—there would just be another beating.
No amount of talking could change her mind, and finally, Orrin had given up. He’d then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the stairs.
On his way up, Wyatt had stormed into the house. When he’d spotted her, he’d stilled, their gazes meeting. She’d been mortified that he had seen her in such a condition. The one thing Callie hated was for anyone to think her weak. Her size often gave people that impression, and she’d spent years dedicating her life to learning how to defend herself.
Never again would she be beaten down like that—physically, mentally, or emotionally.
It was time her family learned that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You could make a stand here,” Carl said.
Wyatt stopping making the bullets and looked over at him. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Why? Because you’re worried about me getting hurt?” Carl made a sound in the back of his throat. “Son, I was in Vietnam. I served three tours and have multiple scars to prove how easy it is for a bullet or shrapnel to find you. Think about Callie.”
It was all Wyatt did think about. Even when she wasn’t near, his thoughts constantly drifted to her.
“We could make a helluva stand here,” Carl said.
Wyatt thought about the small cabin. It was even more remote than Carl’s house, which would keep any innocents from being hit. Even with all the traps he’d set, it was nothing compared to what Carl had.
Just as Wyatt was about to agree to his offer, Callie came up the stairs with several bags of food in her hands. Their eyes met. He set aside his work and turned the stool to face her.
“What is it?” he asked.
She shrugged indifferently. “Nothing. I’ve been getting food. I also grabbed a few of the burner phones, Carl.”
Wyatt started to argue, but stopped at the last second. If he told her that he could see the anger in her eyes, she’d inform him that he didn’t know her. There was no way he could tell her that he knew her better than he knew himself, that she’d been with him every step of the way through all their years apart.
“You look pissed,” Carl said after he glanced her way.
Callie flashed him a fake smile. “Not at all.”
There was only one thing that could rile her in such a way—her family. Wyatt thought back over the evening. The Reeds hadn’t been anywhere near her physically, but they could’ve gotten to her in other ways.
Obviously, his little talk with Melvin hadn’t done any good. Wyatt was going to have to follow through with his threat. Breaking the asswipe’s wrist was just the thing.
Carl finished making the last bullet in the box and faced Callie. “I told Wyatt y’all should stay here. You’d have an unlimited supply of weapons, ammo, and food. Not to mention the fortification.”
“Wyatt has done a great job securing the place we’ve chosen. We know it. It’s better if we return,” she said.
Carl shook his head, smoothing a hand down his beard. “Think about this, Callie.”
“I am. I have.” Her gaze swung to Wyatt. “We need to return home.”
Home. He knew she meant it as the place they’d been staying, but for some reason, hearing her say it in the same sentence as mention of him sent a bolt of longing so strong, so pure running through him, that if he hadn’t been sitting, his knees would’ve buckled.
She raised a brow. “Agreed?”
He merely nodded, unable to find words since he was still dealing with the unwanted feelings.
After Callie walked to the car with the bags, Wyatt turned back to the table, only to find Carl staring at him intensely. “What is it?” Wyatt asked.
Carl blew out a loud breath. “If I have to say it, then you’re dumber than I thought.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t, son.” Carl glanced out the door to Callie. “You’ve got it so bad for her, you can’t see straight. What I don’t understand is why you don’t just tell her.”
The reasons ran through Wyatt’s head, but there were too many to name. “It’s … complicated.”
“Bullshit. Love is always complicated. What you need to ask yourself is if you can live without her. If you can’t, then you’ve gotta do something.”
“I screwed it up years ago. There’s no getting past what I did.”
Carl returned to his work. “Sounds like you’ve got a problem then.”
For the next hour, they worked as Carl shared stories about Orrin, with Callie chiming in every so often. Wyatt hadn’t wanted to hear any of it at first, but it was hard to ignore the deep respect and friendship Carl had for Orrin.
So, Wyatt grudgingly listened. By the time the work ended, he’d learned much about his father that he hadn’t known. It made Wyatt wish he didn’t hold such anger for his father because they had much in common.
With a farewell wave to Carl—and a promise to return soon—Wyatt pointed Mercy back in the direction of the cabin. He glanced over at Callie, who had rolled down her window and was still waving at Carl.
Only when he was out of sight did she roll up the window. Wyatt had gotten to see another side of her, as well. She’d shown that she had earned Carl’s respect from her work with Orrin.
“I know you didn’t want to hear those stories about your father, but I couldn’t exactly tell Carl to stop,” she said.
Wyatt pulled out onto the road. “If Carl knows who I am, then he knows the rift between Orrin and me. He talked about my father on purpose.”
“They were good stories.”
He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye. Many of Carl’s retellings had involved Callie. It was a jab at Wyatt. To show that Callie loved Orrin, and that his father was a good man.
“I’m glad you found a place at the ranch,” Wyatt said.
She leaned her head back. “Me, too. I honestly didn’t think anything could touch the ranch again. But then, I never thought a group like the Saints could exist, much less target us.”
“We have a chance to fix this.”
Her head swung to him. “Fix it? What do you mean?”
