The Mercenary and the Mortician (The Silent Hollow #1)

70. Ryan Fairview

I practiced dry firing with Vox until the wee hours of the morning. By the time we finished, I was exhausted, and my head was swimming with everything I learned.

Learning to shoot a gun properly was way more complicated than just pulling the trigger. There were all kinds of minute, tiny movements, motions, and weight placement that I’d never known about. The smallest mistake could throw your aim totally off.

To make things even more challenging, Vox needed to teach me all this primarily through touch. So, needless to say, I had more than a few nights of practice in my future before I could ever be considered good enough to be of any help.

Cal, thankfully, was still sleeping peacefully when I fell into bed next to him, and when I got up a few short hours later to get in touch with Dr. Callahan, he barely budged.

I needed to wake him up when Tom arrived, and I attributed the fact that he was still half asleep to his particularly grumpy mood toward the good doctor.

“Cal, wake up. Dr. Callahan is here to check out your stitches,” I whispered in his ear. I stroked my fingers through his thick, dark hair and left soft kisses on his stubbly jawline, doing my best to wake him up as gently as possible.

I didn’t think he was at risk of attacking me if he wasn’t actively having a night terror, but I wanted to be careful, just in case.

Cal’s dark lashes fluttered on his cheeks, and he smiled, his warm brown eyes zeroing in on my face.

“Mmm. Morning, ginger snap,” he purred, sitting up to stretch. “I could get used to your gorgeous face being the first thing I see in the morning.”

I grinned at him as he yawned. “Likewise, baby.”

His sleepy smile stretched wider at my use of the word ‘ baby’ but immediately slipped off his face when his gaze finally landed on Tom Callahan.

“Who the fuck is that?” he snapped, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“This is Dr. Callahan. Remember I told you about him? He’s here to check on your stitches.”

Cal’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze darted back and forth between Tom and me.

“You look a little young to be a doctor,” he snarked. He reached for my hand and tugged me closer to the bed, his brown eyes taking on that scary, dead look he got when he slipped into his killer persona.

Tom chuckled and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. I assure you, I’m fully capable of treating you. I’m in my third year of residency.”

“Dr. Callahan saved your life, angel. You wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for him.”

Cal scoffed and tugged on my hand again, almost as if he were trying to get in front of me, which was impossible considering he was in bed and I was standing next to him.

“Why are you being like this?” I asked, confused. “He’s here to help you.”

Cal shot me a dark look and scowled.

“Sure he’s not here to help himself?” He snapped his gaze back to Tom, whose lip was twitching in amusement. “I’m fine now. I don’t need a doctor. He’s probably using me as an excuse to see you .”

I barked out a laugh. “W-what?”

Cal’s lip curled. “You heard me. Well, guess what, Do0gie Howser? He’s taken. So why don’t you pack up your little playthings and get the fuck out of here.”

I slipped a hand over his forehead, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. “Maybe we need to cut back on the T3s. The drugs have clearly gone to your head. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I? Look at him! Doctor’s are only that hot in porn! I may be injured, but I’ll be damned if I let you play check-up with my ginger snap.” He snarled.

Both Tom and I were laughing now, which only seemed to make Cal even more grumpy.

“I assure you, I am not here to make a move on your man, Mr. Walker.” Dr. Callahan chuckled. “Ryan called me because, apparently, you tore a few stitches last night. I’m here to take a look.”

Cal’s expression was murderous, and as entertaining as it was that he seemed to be this jealous over a doctor, I needed him to let Tom do his job.

I tugged on Cal’s hand and pinched his chin between my fingers, turning him to face me.

“Let the doctor check you out, baby. Please. I’ll be right over there. As soon as he’s done, he’ll leave, and it’ll be just me and you again, I promise.”

Cal narrowed his eyes but nodded.

“Fine,” he conceded, and I gave him a kiss on the lips as a thank you.

Well, that was a mistake.

Cal slid his hand around my neck and forced his tongue into my mouth, causing me to let out a surprised ‘hmmph!’

He stroked the inside of my mouth like he owned me before sucking my tongue so forcefully into his mouth that it hurt.

“Cal!” I tried to exclaim as he turned his sucking treatment to my bottom lip, biting down on it hard enough that I worried it would bruise. I pushed him back, my face flushed red with embarrassment, but he was grinning at the doctor now like some sort of mischievous little imp.

Thankfully, Tom didn’t seem bothered by Cal’s aggressive display of ownership. His mouth was still quivering at the side in amusement.

“Well. I suppose you’re going to want an estimation of when you can get back into your, ‘ahem’ active lifestyle.” He chuckled as he approached the bed, and I moved away. “I can’t think of a more inconvenient time than the honeymoon stage to have to heal a bullet wound,” he joked, and I frowned.

“What do you mean?” I asked, and he glanced over his shoulder as he opened his medical kit and started setting up his tools.

“Depending on how his healing goes, he won’t be able to participate in any strenuous activities for several weeks.”

“What!?” Cal choked. The glare he gave Dr. Callahan could have killed a houseplant.

“What the fuck does that mean… Does that mean no sex!?”

“Afraid not,” Tom said as he prepared a needle with what I assumed was a general anesthetic.

Cal gaped at him before whipping to face me.

“See! He’s trying to get me out of the picture so he can make a move on you!”

“Callum. Stop it,” I snapped, suddenly no longer amused. I was having flashbacks to when my father had been diagnosed with his heart condition.

His doctor also said to make sure he didn’t do anything strenuous. Clearly, we hadn’t taken his orders seriously enough.

My gut churned with unease as I watched Cal fire snarky barbs at Dr. Callahan while he injected the anesthetic next to his bullet wound. I remembered the day I found Cal helping that young girl process her grief on the bench in the garden. He’d reminded me so much of my father…

My blood ran cold at the possibility of history repeating itself, and my entire body locked up with anxiety.

I made a mental note to get detailed notes from Dr. Callahan on exactly what Cal could and couldn’t do while he was in recovery.

Watching my beautiful psycho fight the doctor at every turn, I knew I had my work cut out for me. But I refused to lose another person I loved to something like a health complication. Not if I could avoid it.

Wait.

Someone I loved?

Still watching Cal grumpily interact with the amused physician, the anxiety in my chest increased by several degrees at the thought.

Did I love Cal?

Did I even know what love was? I had never been in a relationship before… I didn’t even know if we were officially dating!

I bit my lip, purposely slowing my breathing down to prevent what felt like an impending panic attack.

I couldn’t love someone that was so fucking high risk. I couldn’t live through losing someone like that again.

Once was enough…

But when Cal turned those gorgeous brown eyes on me, all my reasons for pushing this feeling away disappeared.

His expression changed from annoyance to concern the moment he noticed that I was upset.

“You okay, ginger snap?” he asked, his tone suddenly soft and tender. The now achingly familiar and comforting sound of his voice rolled over me, and I realized I didn’t really have a choice.

The damage was done.

I was in love with this beautiful, dark, broken angel that had forced his way into my life, and there was no going back now.

The only thing I could do was try to keep him alive.

And that was what I was going to fucking do.

Cal

You would think a term like bed rest would be more fun. Turns out, there was less stress on bed and more stress on rest … and it was boring.

Also, my new arch nemesis, Dr. Callahan, relentlessly reminded Ryan that I was still not ready for any ‘ strenuous activity’ every time he came by. Which really was just code for no sex.

Ryan wouldn’t even let me fucking blow him! It was complete bullshit. Almost two weeks had passed before Ryan even let me get up and walk around the house. He brought me a wheelchair which I threatened to douse with gasoline if he didn’t get it the fuck away from me, so we settled on a single crutch, despite the fact that it made me feel like a fucking hobbling knob.

“Come on, there’s nothing hot about crutches, ginger snap. Couldn’t you get me a boss-ass cane? One with, like, a wolf head handle that hides a secret knife or some shit?” I asked at the end of my second week, practically locked in Ryan’s room. Lex Luthor, ahem, I mean Dr. Callahan, had finally given me the green light to have free range of Fairview. I’d been allowed doctor-mandated walks up and down the hall for the last week, but they were always supervised, and no stairs were allowed.

Healing sucked.

Ryan handed me a Skrillex T-shirt, and I pulled it roughly over my head. I was feeling a lot better, which wasn’t helping with my boredom. This was the longest I had gone in my adult life without murdering or fucking someone, and I was losing my damn mind.

Especially considering I felt like I was more than healed enough to fuck, or at the very least eat out Ryan’s perfect freckled ass.

My bullet wound still hurt if I twisted in certain directions or if I pressed on it, but the constant dull throb was nearly gone. The brand was doing even better. After a few days of antibiotics, the excruciatingly hot sting of pain I had been suffering dwindled and died. It had blistered over in the first week, and now it was just an ugly fucking scab of Damian’s initials. I hated looking at it. Once it was fully healed, I planned to find a way to cover it up with ink somehow.

“You have a phone and an Amazon account, Callum. Order yourself whatever you want,” Ryan muttered absently as he dug around through the trunk at the end of the bed for a pair of pants for me to wear.

Vox brought all my shit from my old house, considering Naomi and I couldn’t live there anymore. Ryan had immediately dragged an antique trunk in here to store all my things.

I’d watched him fold my clothes for over an hour and diligently put my things away. His little disgusted scoff every time he found a wrinkled T-shirt amused me to no end. It took him forever to get my shit in the trunk because he insisted on using his tiny handheld steamer to iron every single piece of clothing before neatly putting it away.

“No thank you,” I grumbled. Ryan knew I wouldn’t look at my phone. He’d been trying to get me to check it for days, telling me I needed to rip the bandaid off and message Damian myself.

But I couldn’t. I knew if I checked my messages and Damian had sent threats against Ryan, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from returning to Apex. It was easier to pretend there were no threats or messages.

The unread messages that Ryan had sent me when I was being tortured were another reason my gut swirled with anxiety when I thought about checking my phone. I was sure they would break my fucking heart, and I just wasn’t ready for any of that.

I wanted to pretend none of this was happening and bury my face in his ass to make up for being mean to him, but the stubborn fucker wouldn’t let me anywhere near him. Not until I was healed. Which is the only reason I was listening to any of his stupid fucking rules.

“Well, then I guess the crutch will have to do for now.” He smirked at me, handing me a pair of shredded black jeans. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled them on, batting his hands away when he tried to help me. I scowled at him as I did up the button and gingerly got to my feet.

“When I’m healed, you’re going to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week,” I threatened, and Ryan snickered.

“Promises, promises,” he chirped, handing me the shitty crutch. Giving him my grumpiest look, I snatched it out of his hands and tucked it under my arm. I would never admit it to him, but it did make it a little easier to walk.

It was slow going, but we made our way down to the kitchen, where the whole gang was hanging out. We were using Fairview as a sort of base until I was healed enough to help Vox figure out what to do about Damian. This meant that there hadn’t been any funeral services for two weeks, and Cassandra had been forced to take a vacation for the first time since she started her career as a lawyer. Vox was sprawled out at the kitchen table with his laptop in his lap. He didn’t even look up as we entered, as his computer screen seemed to be commanding one hundred percent of his attention.

Naomi was helping Iris with breakfast, and Cass and Theo were bickering by the coffee machine.

Jeez, it was a full house.

Naomi was the first to notice I had joined the land of the living, and she beamed at me as she whisked eggs in a stainless steel mixing bowl.

“Cal! You’re out of bed!” She beamed, and I nodded, slipping into a chair next to Vox. I leaned the stupid crutch against the table and sighed.

“Yeah. Out of bed but still under fucking house arrest.” I scowled at Ryan, who just gave me his usual smirk that he used whenever I complained about being bored.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Cass said, rolling her eyes and distancing herself from Theo.

“Not that bad!?” I growled. “I haven’t murdered or fucked anything in two weeks! Two weeks, Cassandra!”

She made a face and raised her coffee cup to her perfectly painted lips.

“Okay, I don’t need to hear about how blue your fucking balls are, little brother,” she grumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Ryan came to stand beside me, running his fingers through my hair gently.

“Come on, angel, I refuse to believe those are your only two speeds. There must be something else we can do to keep you busy while you’re on the mend.”

The way his fingers brushed against my scalp was doing nothing to get my mind off sex. My dick tented in my pants as he scraped his blunt fingernails down the back of my head, and I nearly purred out loud at how fucking good it felt.

“Keep doing that, ginger snap, and both our families are going to find out real fucking fast exactly what speed I run at.”

“Callum!” Naomi and Cass simultaneously exclaimed while Theo and Vox both snickered.

Chuckling in amusement, Ryan pinched my chin between his fingers and tilted my head up so he could brush a kiss over my lips.

“If you can hold out just a little bit longer, I promise to make it worth your while,” he murmured against my mouth.

Wrapping my hand around his nape and pulling him closer, I rubbed the tip of my nose against his.

“Yeah?” I hummed, kissing his soft lips and resisting the overwhelming urge to shove my tongue into his hot mouth and devour him whole.

“Yeah, baby. I promise.”

I groaned into his mouth.

“ Fuck, I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,” I whispered, and he cocked his head to the side, his brandy eyes shining.

“Say what? Baby? ” he teased, and I swallowed, nodding at him.

Curling my fingers deeper into his soft ginger locks, I pressed his forehead against mine, nearly shivering with the rush of dopamine that was suddenly pumping through my entire body.

“Say it again,” I ordered, and he smiled and gave me one more chaste kiss before pulling away.

“Maybe later… baby.” He grinned, and I had to force myself not to slam his face into the table and force his pants down to his ankles.

How many more weeks had that asshole said?

I was fucking dying. Ugh.

Everyone had busied themselves with making breakfast or their phones while we had basically been face-fucking each other in the middle of the kitchen.

Once we separated, Vox glanced at Ryan, raising an eyebrow in question. Ryan gave him a nod, and I narrowed my eyes, glancing back and forth between them.

Ryan almost seemed to understand Vox as easily as I did now, and it made me wonder how they had gotten so close. I obviously trusted Vox, and he was straight as fuck, but still. I was feeling so possessive over Ryan lately that I still felt a small twinge of jealousy at how easily a friendship seemed to have bloomed between them.

I blamed the lack of sex. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as desperate to keep him to myself once I had the chance to sink my cock into his hot, tight, virgin ass…

Nah.

Who was I kidding? That would probably just make it worse.

“What’s going on?” I asked, and Ryan shot me a mischievous grin.

“Well, while you’ve been resting, Vox has been in contact with the men you were hunting before Damian took you to be… recalibrated .”

My mood immediately darkened.

“You mean the dick heads that shot me?” I snapped, and Vox smirked, nodding. He spun his laptop around to show me an encrypted message thread he had opened.

I frowned, pulling the computer closer so I could read the messages. Considering they were communicating with Vox, the conversation seemed to mostly be them talking to each other, and Vox replying with emojis.

Ronan:

Return Buffalo’s head, or else! *three water gun emojis*

Vox:

*raised eyebrow emoji*

Ronan:

YOU THINK I’M JOKING!?

Logan:

Relax, baby, we’re talking to the mute. He’s not going to be very forthcoming.

Vox:

*Checkmark emoji*

Logan:

Listen, we need the cow head back. We’re willing to call a truce if your buddy returns it.

Vox:

*Sick emoji* *Blood Emoji*

Logan:

Yeah, we know he’s hurt. We’re the ones that shot him.

Ronan:

LOL

Vox:

*angry emoji*

Dakota:

*facepalm emoji*

Logan:

Once he’s better, let us know if he’s willing to meet up to return the cow’s head. No weapons. We just want the cow head back and to talk.

Vox:

*Thumbs up emoji*

“I thought you said no more murder?” I asked, whipping around to look at Ryan.

He frowned. “How did you get murder from that text exchange? They want to talk and get their cow head back.”

I scoffed. “They shot me. Of course I’m going to murder them.”

Though even as I said it, the words didn’t ring true. They shot me because they thought I was the type of dude I hunted. I really couldn’t blame them.

It was just kind of a reflex to be pissed at the reason I hadn’t been able to rail my man the way I wanted to.

Vox rolled his eyes and reached across the table to smack me up the side of the head. I gaped at him.

“What!? Don’t tell me you’re taking their side!”

He glared at me and pulled up what looked like ownership papers to a little boy. He pointed at the product code.

2739.

It was Apex’s code.

“Vox thinks that these guys are trying to systemically attack people who fuck with kids,” Ryan explained. “They shot you because you worked for Damian, who apparently is a big player in the human trafficking game. He’s been trying to keep you in the dark about it since he knows how you feel about anything that involves children,” Ryan explained darkly.

Vox pursed his lips and nodded, confirming everything Ryan had just said.

Shame and rage welled through my chest. I knew Damian had been fucking lying to me. I just hadn’t wanted to face the truth because that would make me exactly what my mother had always accused me of being.

A fucking devil.

Ryan reached out and squeezed my shoulder, giving me a look that said he knew my thoughts had gone to a dark place.

How did he always do that?

It felt like he could read my mind or just… sense my mood.

“We don’t have a lot of friends right now,” Ryan said softly, meeting my gaze head-on. “It might be a good idea to meet with these guys and see if they’re willing to form an alliance. You need people you and Vox can count on in a gunfight if it comes to that.”

“Fine,” I snapped, annoyed that I would need to make nice with these assholes but unable to deny Ryan anything he asked of me.

Ryan grinned and nodded, brushing my hair out of my eyes. The small, intimate touch made my whole body tingle all the way down to my toes.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me some big favor,” he teased, his brandy eyes twinkling. “You’re the one who’s been complaining that you’re so bored. At least this is something you can do that’s not murder or sex.”