Chapter Sixteen
Callum drove through Granite Creek, with its wide brick sidewalks and welcoming mom-and-pop shops. Flower baskets hung from lampposts. Sandwich boards and signs peppered the storefronts, enticing the end-of-summer foot traffic inside for ice cream, a new book, or handcrafted decor.
“This is where you live?” Grace pressed against the window, wishing they didn’t have a meeting at his office and that she could hop in and out of stores for the rest of the day. “It’s out of a storybook.”
“Probably why Vivian headquartered us here. She needed something nice to put up with the lot of us.”
Grace tried to imagine Callum’s boss. She was someone who could handle a gaggle of men who likely tipped the scale toward alpha with characteristics like Callum.
Trained military or law enforcement. More than capable.
Probably gruff and used to getting their own way.
The Vivian who Grace imagined wasn’t the type to locate a headquarters in a heartwarming small town.
“The office is actually an estate all the way through town,” he explained.
Light traffic and a lack of stoplights helped move the drive along. They’d been in his truck for hours. The main thoroughfare transitioned from cutesy stores to residential. Callum turned from one road to the next, winding up a hill, and then bypassed a private gate.
They summited the hill, turned through a horseshoe driveway in front of a massive Victorian manor, and parked in the small lot adjacent to an expansive entrance. “This cannot be your office.”
He glanced out the windshield and admitted, “It’ll really blow you away once you go inside.”
Grace had to rewrite Vivian in her head as she drank in the large house’s turrets and gables and a wraparound porch. Vivian had to be more like a strict schoolmarm capable of ordering a group of bullheaded men around with a stern look. “I don’t think I’m dressed nicely enough to walk in.”
He laughed, but she gave a serious once-over of her casual shorts and lightweight long-sleeve T-shirt that covered her bandages.
Callum gestured to his pants, which had too many pockets, and the T-shirt stretched over his chest. “There’s no dress code. Don’t let all those windows and spindles fool you.”
And by windows, did he mean the stained-glass ones or the ones at the top of the towering spires?
They crossed the parking lot and walked to the overstated entrance. Callum rested his hand on her lower back as he swung open the grand door. She was stunned. “This place is…” The polished floors gleamed. The tall ceilings towered. “Amazing. It should be in an architectural magazine.”
“It probably has been.”
“I believe it.” The foyer opened on both sides to what had once been mirrored living rooms. Or rather, drawing rooms?
Parlor rooms? First of what had to be many living rooms?
Grace didn’t have words to describe this house.
But the central staircase had stolen her thoughts.
It was almost as wide as the entry hall and reached toward a floor-to-ceiling stained-glass window.
In one of the living rooms converted to office space, three men, similar in height and stature to Callum, huddled in front of a large flat-screen monitor displaying a blueprint.
One man swiped his hand over the screen, and the blueprint switched to a satellite view.
He swiped his hand over the screen again, and the blueprint reappeared.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some folks.” Callum led her in.
“It looks like they’re busy.” She hung back. “I can wait over here.” She realized the blueprint was of Alicia’s house and caught up. “What are they doing?”
“We’re installing a security system for Alicia.” He glanced over. “To supplement the dogs and cat.”
The three men turned, and Callum introduced her to Decker, Rhys, and Wes.
They were all-business but nice. Decker had an edgy look.
Rhys hid under his hoodie jacket despite the temperature outside reaching the nineties.
Wes was the most talkative. All were exceedingly professional and focused on Alicia’s house.
“Alicia agreed to a security system?” Grace calculated an estimate of what their hourly rate was and the cost of the hardware.
No matter what number she came up with, it would be out of Alicia’s budget.
Grace would make sure she picked up the bill.
She was the reason Alicia needed it, after all.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll pay for it. Make sure she doesn’t spend a dime.”
Wes laughed. “I believe she told Vivian that your ex-husband was paying out of something she called the fuck-him budget.”
“Wait. When did Alicia and Vivian connect?” Grace shifted, uncomfortable that she’d been left out of the discussion.
High heels clicked down the grand staircase, and Grace turned. The woman coming down the stairs was definitely the boss. She walked the walk, strutting actually, and Grace was immediately in awe.
“Vivian Maddox.” With red lipstick that matched her nail polish, black leather pants tucked into fuck-me high-heel boots that deserved their own fashion shoot, the woman held out her hand and assessed Grace with eyes darting over her like a mental X-ray machine.
“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
Vivian wasn’t a schoolmarm. She wasn’t the enforcer of a strict dress code or the manager of these men. She was the queen bee.
“Dean and Scar need to talk to you, then we’ll debrief,” Vivian told Callum before returning her laser focus to Grace. “Come with me. I’ll stash you somewhere comfortable while you wait.”
Grace followed the semi-scary lady and her kickass boots as they ascended the scene-stealing staircase.
“You’ve known Hale for a while,” Vivian said over her shoulder.
They rounded the landing and headed down a wood-paneled corridor. “For as long as I can remember.”
Vivian opened the door and gestured for Grace to step inside. “You have the advantage. I’ve only known him for a few months.”
The large room was appointed similarly to the space downstairs, except this room didn’t include any modern accents, such as screens and communication equipment.
Grace ran her hand over her forearms and to the bracelets on her wrist. Soreness and pain bit against the bandages. “I was surprised to learn he’d left the Army.”
“He was surprised to learn about you.”
Ouch. “We’ve covered that a time or two.”
“It is what it is.” Vivian crossed the space. “Do you want anything to drink? I can promise the coffee isn’t that military mud most of those men like to brew.”
The large room was appointed in Queen Anne decor.
The couches were reminiscent of Alicia’s living room with their claw feet and carved wood but not as whimsical.
Bright light poured in through towering windows.
It was formal yet inviting. Vivian’s leather contrasted like a modern sore thumb in the delicate space.
“I’m fine.” Grace walked deeper into the room. “I could draw in here for hours.”
Vivian dragged a high-back armchair next to the couch. “Sit.”
She dropped her backpack on the floor and obeyed. It wasn’t her fault that Dominic firebombed Alicia’s house, but she felt as though Vivian might disagree. “I didn’t know my ex would do that to Alicia.”
“The Molotov cocktail?” She crossed a leather-clad leg over the other. Her boot bounced. “Who else could have?”
“Who else?” This was the third time someone had implied Dominic might not be the culprit. “I don’t know. The people who work for him. I never got to know them. He kept me separate from everything.” Like life.
Vivian drummed a quick beat on her leg. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Callum.”
Grace flushed. “What do you want to know?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Why did he stay at Alicia Jackson’s house?”
“As opposed to where else?”
“Taking you someplace safe.”
“We didn’t think we were in danger, and I guess I didn’t want to leave my friend.”
Vivian pursed her lips.
“Was he supposed to do something different?” Grace asked.
“No, I’m just parsing his actions. Understanding him as an operator.”
“Oh, well, I’m no help on that.”
“Doubtful.”
Was Grace missing something? “I mean, I know what you already know. Actually, you probably know more than me, because he won’t explain to me why he left the military—he’ll tell me when he’s ready.” She couldn’t read Vivian’s face. “He’s a good guy.”
“I’ve gathered. What else?”
No one could dispute that Callum was a good guy.
Not necessarily warm and friendly, but his moral character was on the straight and narrow.
What else could Vivian want to know? “He’s smart.
Not always nice. At least not to me.” Though that wasn’t the case lately.
Visions of him trapping her against the wall sent a shiver down her spine. “He’s always been protective of me.”
“How?”
“In the way that comes with having an overbearing older brother and Callum always being there. Both of our parents were divorced. Our house was… calmer. He spent a lot of time with Hayden, and as circumstances go, with me.”
“You were never romantically involved?” Her eyebrows lifted.
Grace’s lips parted. That was far more personal than she had expected. But she wasn’t an idiot and understood why his boss might ask. Emotions clouded judgment. Getting physical opened up a Pandora’s box. “No, we never were.”
Vivian crossed her arms, tapping her fingers, assessing her.
Grace twisted the beads on her bracelet. Part of living in hiding for years meant she never interacted with anyone she didn’t want to. She was out of practice at having uncomfortable conversations.
Someone knocked on the door.
Her relief was instantaneous. Short of Callum arriving with a plan to tell Vivian about kissing Grace, she celebrated the interruption.
A woman with a laptop in her arms and a tall man filed into the room.
“Sorry to barge in.” Her dark hair transitioned to deep turquoise tips.
That blue was the same shade as the fairy wings she’d recently colored on a book cover.
“But if I don’t help Dean, he’s going to be pulling at strings and driving everyone to the edge.
” She smiled at Grace. “I’m Scarlett; this is Dean.
” She gestured to the man. “And if we don’t nail down a couple more things, it will take all day, and I might kill him. ”
Dean scowled. “It wouldn’t take all day.”
Based on what Callum had explained, Grace would have thought Dean would be the one carrying a computer. “You’re security analysts?”
Scarlett snorted. “I am absolutely not. Think of me like a social media maven. A tracker of online gossip and a sleuth of the slippery no-names internet forums where villains of all sorts cavort without worrying someone like me can track them down to their day job.” Her firecracker grin sparkled.
“Which I can do. Little hobby of mine. Taking on anonymous keyboard warriors.”
Grace loved Scarlett already. “That sounds like more fun than it should be.”
“It is, and from what I’ve heard about your internet skills, you could jump into the murky, dark deep end with me and have some fun.”
Dean, far more buttoned up than Scarlett with his faded taper and sharp jaw line, gave Scarlett a harsh look.
“Maybe not right now.” He shook Grace’s hand.
“I’m an analyst and, although I’d rather neither of you troll people on the dark web, I’m impressed with the way you covered your tracks online.
You could have set up an online camp for drug lords, and no one would have noticed. ”
The compliments caught her off guard. “A lot of good that did.”
Vivian relinquished her spot and gestured to Dean. “Grace and I are finished. More or less.”
Were they? Had Vivian culled her from the pack to ask about what kind of person Callum was?
“One more thing.” She paused at the door as if suddenly not ready to release Grace to Scarlett and Dean. “Have you decided what’s next?”
“For what?”
“When the legal wrangling is done, and you’re a full-fledged member of society again. What’s your next move?”
“Oh…” Callum’s promise of a house with a yard and neighbors who knew her real name jumped to mind. And Callum. He was there with the cute house as well. “Not really.”
Vivian gave her a funny look. “Maybe you should.”
Scarlett scrunched her nose, brow furrowing, as Vivian strode out. “Was that weird? That seemed off.”
Dean took the laptop from Scarlett and sat in Vivian’s vacated chair. “Don’t look for problems where they don’t exist, Scar. We have enough real ones to decipher.”