Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pen
“Where the fuck is he?” I shout, looking past the gate and down the road.
“He was just here. Jordan was standing right there on the other side of the gate. He must have gotten a call, because I saw him bring his phone to his ear, but he only talked for a few seconds. Then he got into his car and took off,” Fig explains.
“This doesn’t make… Fuck.” It’s a ruse. “Callum,” I cry out, before jumping into the SUV, along with Fig, and haul ass back to the house. The second I see the men I left to protect Callum lay motionless on the ground, my chest feels like it’s been ripped open and I know Callum’s in trouble.
I stride inside the house, praying that my gut is wrong, and that he’s safe. But the moment my eyes land on the broken plates, the frying pan laying on the floor of the kitchen and the back slider doors are wide open, someone took Callum.
“Pen,” Fig calls me over and points to a piece of notebook paper on the island. “The bastard left us a message.”
Without touching it, I read the words out loud. “Want him alive? Tell Dominic Rossetti to come alone to where all this began.”
“Jordan was out by the gate—I saw him. So he has to be working with someone.” Fig turns from scanning the room to look directly at me. “Do you know what this motherfucker’s talking about?” Fig asks, his face a mask of fury as he points to the note.
“I don’t, but Dom will.”
“Then call Dom, and I’ll conference in Tobias and Dean and let them know about Callum.” Fig storms outside while I pull out my phone and dial Dom’s number, calling him on FaceTime. As much as I’m angry at the asshole, I need to see his face.
“Hey, I’m heading to San Francisco. What’s your ETA?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are tired and old Pen would try to soothe him, but I don’t have the time or the inclination for niceties.
“Someone took Callum,” I reply bluntly.
“What? Who?”
“I don’t fucking know. They left a note. Want him alive? Tell Dominic Rossetti to come alone to where all this began.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dom hisses.
“What the fuck does that mean, Dom?” Then it dawns on me. “This whole time, it was all about you? We were looking at Brian’s past, but this jackhole was after you?”
“Pen—”
“No, Dom. I don’t want you to explain. Just get Callum back,” I warn, not ready for his excuses. “I don’t care how you do it. And once this is done, we are through.”
“I will get Callum back. But I’m making this perfectly clear, you aren’t breaking up with me. Once this is all done, we’ll talk and listen. The three of us.”
“It’s too late for us—and I’m not arguing with you about it now. We have more pressing matters, like getting Callum back,” I rail, not giving a fuck if he doesn’t like my denial.
“I don’t even know who the fucker is that took him,” Dom counters, his storm-filled eyes glaring back at me.
I bite my bottom lip and look up at the ceiling, trying to control my rage. My eyes widen when I spy the smoke detector—we had to turn on its hidden camera when we first arrived. Tobias set it up for extra precautionary measures. “Give me a second and I’ll get an image for you.”
“How?”
“The security camera in the ceiling,” I explain as I make my way to the second bedroom and grab my laptop.
“Shit… Last night,” he mutters.
I close my eyes for a second, realizing what he’s talking about. When Dom was railing me against the sofa. “Goddamnit. That feed goes straight to Tobias,” I utter, feeling my stomach gnarling up even more. “We’re never going to hear the end of it.”
Dom groans, shaking his head. “Focus.”
“I am,” I spit out while placing the laptop on the kitchen counter and opening it.
Dom remains quiet while I access the video footage. After a few clicks, I find the time frame I’m looking for and expand the image. “I’m turning my phone camera around so you can see the guy’s face.”
The second I expand the image, Dom growls, “Motherfucking son of a bitch. Rick Morrison. This whole time he’s been playing me. That asshole played me.”
“Who is he?” I ask while memorizing the bastard on the screen.
“He was my partner when I worked for the U.S. Marshals.”
“You worked as a marshal?” I practically shriek, then gulp down the acrid taste at the back of throat. I really don’t know who Dom is.
What would have been the harm in telling me that he used to be a marshal? It wasn’t like he was working for a criminal organization. This whole time, he could have—should have been honest and talked to me about his past. And now look at where we are.
“Pen.”
I turn the camera around so he can see my face and the gravity of the situation. “This entire time, it was your ex-partner.”
“Yes,” he says gravely. “I swear if I had known it was him… I have to call in the feds and the U.S. Marshals. They need to know.”
“Why?”
“Because Rick has killed at least six others, and now he’s coming after me all because of a case that destroyed both of our lives.”
“I wish I could say that I understand that, but I can’t. Because I know nothing about that part of your life.”
“I’ll give you every detail later since I’m no longer under any obligation to keep quiet about the case.” He sounds earnest, but it still doesn’t justify his lack of communication and secrecy. He’s been keeping so much from me.
I’m not sure if I believe him or if I even want to believe Dom. The promises he’s dishing out right now are only words. He needs to prove it.
“Dom, all I want is Callum back,” I insist. “And I coming with you.”
“You’re not,” Dom declares. “The note says alone and I have no doubt Rick will try to take you out. I can’t lose you, Pen.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I do. But I know Rick and he’s not one to fuck around.”
“I don’t care. Tell me where this place is at.”
Silence.
“Dom?” Click. I get dead air. “Son of a bitch.” He hung up on me.
“Pen,” Fig announces from the doorway. “Tobias and Dean are on the line.”
“Pen,” I hear Tobias’s voice.
“Dom knows where Callum is and who took him.”
“Who?” That’s Dean.
“His ex-partner from the U.S Marshals,” I explain. “I pulled up surveillance, and got a still image. And Dom’s going after them on his own.”
“Shit,” Tobias hisses. “Did he tell you where?”
“No,” I grate out.
“Send that image to Levi,” Dean says. “I have someone on the inside of the marshal’s office that has pull.”
“On it.” I quickly copy the image and send it to Dean’s tech guy.
“One more thing. I sent Joel and his group out to scout around the area again,” Fig says.
“I’ll call Joel for the details,” Dean says, then adds, “I’ll have Levi track Dom’s phone. Once he’s down on the ground, we’ll find him.
“In the meantime, pack up and then wait for the word,” Tobias says, his tone unbending.
“Alright,” I convey before hanging up.
I cover my face with both hands, hoping our efforts will be enough. I suck in a deep breath, trying to ward off the tsunami of emotions battering my chest. Callum is out there in the hands of a killer, and Dom is being a dumbass and going after that asshole alone, while I’m here utterly useless.
In an effort to do at least something useful, I scroll back through the security camera footage to last night, when Dom and I fucked on the sofa. I pause it when I see Callum standing there, stroking himself off as he watches us. I want to cry.
I’d felt so hopeful last night—like Dom and I were reconnecting…
like if we could work through things, I could have both of my men.
Now, it’s just a reminder of how one-sided our relationship is.
Deciding I have enough shit on my plate today, I delete every second of the video from last night with Dom and me in it and then log out and close the laptop.
If Tobias has already seen me getting railed by Dom, so be it. If he hasn’t, then it will save a lot of explaining about something that no longer matters.
My head is drowning in information and emotions, and I don’t know what to do. Add to that this hurry up and wait scenario—I’m getting righteously pissed off.
“What did you find?” Fig’s words penetrate my acerbic thoughts.
I look up and see Fig talking with Joel. “We found what appear to be ATV tracks leading toward the rear of the property. I know there’s a dirt access path heading out to the main road about a mile and a half northwest of here.”
“Are you sure Callum was on the ATV?” I ask, needing that confirmation. “What if they left the vehicle and went on foot?”
“No.” Joel shakes his head. “From the fresh, deep tread marks, it’s looks like the four-by-four had some weight on the back end.
We trailed it about half way until we took out the drone and saw the abandoned ATV on the side of the road.
The drone video was clear enough to see tread marks on the road.
Pete thinks they got into a van. And…” Joel hesitates.
“Some of the tread marks were distorted by two parallel drag marks—like the heels of shoes.”
“God damn it! Are you sure?”
“Pete’s one of the best damn trackers we have, aside from me,” Fig conveys with a smirk. “I trust his word.”
“How long do you think they’ve been gone?” I ask.
“No more than twenty minutes—thirty tops,” Joel says. “Why?”
“Let’s go after them,” Fig declares, yanking a vehicle fob from his pocket.
“No. We need to call Tobias. Going after them will only waste energy and time we don’t have,” I advise, pulling out my phone and dialing Tobias’s number, putting the call on speaker.
“Got something?” Tobias’s tone has a sharp edge to it. I’m familiar with that tone, and it’s one you don’t want aimed your way.
“Joel’s team found ATV tracks. The trail led to a back road where it appears they took off in a van about thirty minutes ago,” I quickly explain.
“I’ll relay that to Dean. But it’s out of our hands now, Pen. The U.S. Marshals and the feds are involved. They pretty much told us to back off and they will handle Rick and retrieve Callum for us.”
“What about Dom? He knows where Rick’s heading," I say.
Dom would be in the crossfire between Rick, the feds and the U.S. Marshals.
“Like Dean explained, Levi is going to track Dom’s phone once he gets off the jet. While we wait, we have some time to prepare,” Tobias states.
“I can’t just sit here, Tobias. You wouldn’t be idle if Danny was in the same situation,” I say, my throat aching from the tightness there.
“Then gather your stuff and head our way. I’ll keep you updated while you’re on the road.”
Soon after locking the place up, we haul ass out of Tobias’s place. We cautiously exceed the speed limit as we make our way toward San Fran. I thanked Fig for taking the driver’s seat, as I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the road while my mind is drowning in what ifs.
I know I keep saying we’re done, but what if I really do lose Dom? Or Callum? Jesus—both of them? How could I continue to live without these men? Without their love, without their laughter, without their solace, I’ll be nothing more than a shell.
As I wage internal war in a search for the answers, my heart is the organ that’s being fractured in two.
As much as I keep promising myself that I’ll break it off with Dom, deep down, I can’t stand the idea of leaving him—or seeing Callum walk away from us.
I love those men equally. No matter how frustrating Dom can be.
He did promise to explain about his life, and I hope he follows through on that, but my only concern right now is getting both him and Callum back, each in one, uninjured piece.
For Christ sakes, I’m tearing up. As I quickly wipe the evidence away with the back of my hand, my cell phone rings. I glance down, hoping it’s one of my men’s name popping up on the screen, and sigh. Just when I didn’t think this day could get any shittier.
I grudgingly remember my promise to Ron, accept the call, and put the phone to my ear. “Mom.”
“Honey, I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“I’m a little busy right now,” I say briskly. It’s not a lie.
“Okay. Then I’ll make it quick. If you have some time, I’ll be in San Francisco in three weeks. Can we meet up for lunch or dinner and talk… Please?” Her plea hits me square in the chest, cramming itself in with the rest of my unsettled emotions.
I’m about to say no, then again remember what Ron made me promise. “Sure. Let me know when you arrive and we can plan something.”
“Oh—okay. Great. I’ll call you then.” Her voice lightens, and she ekes out a little laugh. “Okay, Pen. Talk to you soon. Love you.”
My breath hitches in the back of my throat at her declaration. I don’t know how to respond.
“Okay.”
Right before she hangs up, I say, “I love you too.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I then hang up, and I realize my face is wet.
“Don’t worry,” Fig says evenly. “I won’t tell a soul.”
I look over at the man, who I always find a little strange, especially the odd things that come out of his mouth. Yet, something about the man encourages me to openly confess my feelings.
“My mom…”
“Don’t have to say a word. I know—been there and have a t-shirt to prove it. Now all we need to do is get your guys back to you.”
I turn my attention to the window while swallowing down the boulder-size lump in my throat.
“I can’t lose them, Fig,” I profess in a whisper.
It’s the truth. I don’t know if I can survive without them.
“You won’t.” His steely confidence bolsters my determination to stay hopeful.