Chapter Twenty-Four
Several days had passed since they arrived at the safe house, and Callum still had no actionable intelligence on Dominic. Grace’s meeting with the attorney had been delayed until today, and he couldn’t believe they would go in blind.
He felt her tracking him. He dropped their duffel bags by the front door. He didn’t know where they would be tonight, but it was finally time to say goodbye to their fisherman’s lodge. “What’s wrong?”
“For all the time we’ve spent in bed, or you have talked with your people and planned for today, we haven’t talked about after.”
He smiled. Callum had a plan.
He’d had it for days and had tried his damnedest to give her the answers in every possible way without talking about specifics.
That would come tonight, wherever they ended up, and involved something like a celebratory dinner, giving her that requested fuck-against-the-wall, then again in bed until he had told her everything.
That he loved her.
That he’d follow her to the ends of the earth.
That she could call the shots with how and when and where they would live their lives, because his only answer would be abso-fuckin’-lutely.
All she needed to do was wait five hours for a meeting to learn what needed learning, so they could start their future without uncertainties. “Let’s get through today, and then we will talk until you’re sick of hearing my voice.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, babe.” He sidled close to her and laid his hands on her hips, bringing her close.
“I don’t want your ex-husband hanging over our heads.
I want to hear from the AG’s office. I want to know what we’re dealing with.
I want everything on the table. With that, and with you and me.
Does that make sense?” He pulled her close—
The kitchen window cracked. The glass shattered. The whiz of a bullet split the air and tore into the wall behind where Grace had just been standing. He tackled her to the ground as his cell phone rang.
Smashed between his body and the floor, she covered her head. “What’s happening?”
“Stay.” He tucked her against the couch and grabbed the Glock attached to the underside of the coffee table. “Move with me.” He directed her into the windowless hallway. “Do not move from this spot.” He checked the mag in the Glock and pressed it into her palm. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Callum—”
“Grace. Yes or no?”
“I think so.” She kept her chin high even as fear trembled in her eyes.
His phone kept ringing. “Six bullets in the magazine. One in the chamber. It’ll automatically rechamber. Pull the trigger if anyone but me comes toward you.” He turned before she could protest.
Callum remained low and moved near another window overlooking the backyard. Nothing. His phone continued to ring, and he pulled it from his pocket. Headquarters lit up the screen. “Yeah,” he answered.
“One shooter. Coming from the northwest. No visual ID,” Dean relayed. “Correction. Two heat signatures. One on each side.”
Callum opened the gun safe and removed a twelve-gauge and an assault rifle. He walked by Grace. “Doing great. Stay put.”
“Good thing you didn’t disable the exterior cameras as well,” Dean grumbled. “They’re closing in on the perimeter. Smart use of the tree line. Closing ground quickly.”
“That was a hell of a shot,” Callum muttered, pressing against the living room wall. He skirted the shelves and the flat screen. “How the fuck didn’t we know someone breached the property?”
“If I had eyes on you right now, I could tell you where to position.”
That wasn’t an explanation. Callum snagged the dish towels off the cameras around the room. “Update.”
“Move to the window left of the kitchen table. Rear shooter’s moving fast. Got eyes on him?”
He spotted the man armed with an MP7. “Yeah. Who are they?”
“Fuck if I know. I patched Gage in. Viv will be on in a moment.”
“You got eyes on the target?” Gage demanded.
“Affirmative.”
“You’re green to take the shot, Hale.”
The man slowed and scanned the house, lifted his weapon, and—
Callum pulled the trigger first.
Grace screamed.
The tango dropped.
“Shooter one. Down. Update on man two?” Callum demanded.
“Drop down and to your right.”
Callum dove. Bullets sprayed through the front door and shattered the windows.
“Callum!” Grace yelled.
“Stay down!” He moved into position and zeroed in on his target. “We’re halfway over with this, Grace. Doing great.” The operative moved like special forces, smooth and efficient, and posted behind the bed of Callum’s pickup. “Any intel on these fuckers?”
Behind the tailgate, the target didn’t give Callum or Dean anything to work with. Still, he wanted answers.
“You’ll know soon as I know,” Dean said.
The tango repositioned, submachine gun trained on their safe house. For all Callum knew, the other man had called in the cavalry and was awaiting his backup to smoke out Callum and Grace. They needed to get the hell out before the guy’s buddies showed up.
“He’s waiting you out for a reason,” Gage said what Callum was thinking. “Do something about it.”
Callum had crap on a good angle. He blasted the front door with the twelve-gauge to entice his target to move. No dice. Only a spray of bullets responded. He was holed up and waiting Callum out. That meant problems.
“He’s using a comm system,” Dean reported. “Not able to patch in yet. Give me a minute.”
“He doesn’t have a minute,” Gage growled. “Hale, get out of there. No telling who he’s calling in.”
“I’m in their transmissions—” Dean cursed. “You’ve got less than two minutes. They’re bringing in air support.”
Fucking air support? What was this? A goddamn cartel hit?
“Take down the shooter,” Gage commanded.
Callum caressed the trigger. “Got shit for angles.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “What the fuck does air support mean?” They might be in the mountains, but this was Virginia, not a war zone.
“Got the helo. AH-6 Little Bird.”
“Fuck.” Those bad boys were equipped with Hellfire missiles.
“Sixty seconds and closing.”
Callum checked his pockets for the truck keys, then he lined up his shot. “Cover your ears.”
His index finger caressed the trigger, needing another moment.
“Go, goddamn it,” Gage barked.
Callum took the shot and turned to Grace. “Get on your feet, babe. Let’s roll.”
Tears streaked her face. He snagged their bags and his woman and hauled ass toward the truck. “Head down.”
She stumbled but kept up and didn’t complain when he tossed her into the cab of his truck.
He threw their bags and weapons into the backseat, then Callum wasted half a second and snapped a picture of the man on the ground by his tire, pulled the balaclava back, snapped another picture, and jumped behind the wheel.
As soon as Dean identified the shooter, they’d have more information.
He turned the key in the ignition and roared off. Gravel spit. Brush smacked the undercarriage.
“Five seconds,” Dean reported.
Callum mashed the gas pedal. They flew toward the tree line—and the house exploded. Grace screamed. The reverb rolled over them. The truck skittered into the brush. Callum fought for control.
“Keep your head down.” They rumbled over the grass. Ascending the driveway hadn’t been smooth, but this was rough.
Callum made a sharp overcorrection, righted it, and gunned down the driveway. They bumped and jostled and jerked. Branches and brush scraped the truck. The high-pitch scratch of brush and sticks tore over the truck’s finish. He didn’t take his foot off the gas.
They came out of the woods. Tall grass whipped against their sides and undercarriage as they rolled down the mountain.
No shots sounded. No aerial assault. Nothing hit them.
The main road waited for them dead ahead.
Callum didn’t bother with anything more than a cursory look before he blasted out of the driveway, fishtailing onto the paved road, and righted himself behind the steering wheel.
His adrenaline pumped. Heart racing, he double-checked his mirrors, saw nothing, and took a deep breath. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?” she screamed.
“You look alive. That was my goal.”
“Oh, my God. Why is this happening?”
He checked her over again. “We’re okay. Everything is okay.”
“Okay?” Grace threw her hands out and gaped. “Define okay. Because this is not my okay.”
“Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“Then you’re okay.” He drew a deep breath and let the punch of adrenaline retreat. He eased off the gas pedal. The truck slowed to the speed limit.
Panting, she twisted in her seat to check behind them.
“No one’s following us. Put your seatbelt on.”
“They blew up the house.”
“Yeah. Yeah, they did.” He pulled at his hair, then fished his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen. Vivian picked up Dean’s line. “Is Grace okay?”
“We’re fine. I have pics for Dean.”
“I don’t know about fine, but alive,” Grace muttered.
“I’m here,” Dean announced. “Send them to me.”
“Why would Dominic do this?” Grace demanded. “What—”
“It’s not him,” Dean interrupted.
Callum handed Grace his phone. “Don’t look at them, but I need you to send pictures to Dean.” After instructing her on how to securely send them, he waited. “Got them?”
“Yeah. Running him through our systems now.”
“The sooner I meet with the attorneys, the sooner this ends,” Grace said. “Right?”
“Maybe.” Callum checked his mirrors and the windows. No tails. No fucking helicopters. “What do you know about the bird?”
“Not much yet,” Dean admitted.
Callum tried to understand all the angles. How could Dean, of all people, not have every detail on that helicopter? His molars ground. “How’s that possible?”
“They stealth masked the transponder. They had to have been skimming the treetops. They’re so low they’re off the grid.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“He’s working on it,” Gage growled, having joined the conversation. “No one likes what’s going on.”
“Why would someone else be trying to kill me?” Grace wanted to know.
“Someone doesn’t want you meeting with those attorneys.”
Vivian, Gage, and Dean discussed sending a cleanup team and managing the burning house. The last thing they needed in the August heat was a forest fire.
He glanced at Grace. Anger poured out of him. None of this felt right. “The question no one is asking is how the hell the safe house was targeted.”
“Yeah, we’re asking it all right,” Vivian muttered. “If I had an answer, you’d know it already.”
“Somewhere, there’s a leak,” Dean added. “I’m being outmaneuvered. Trust me, I’ll find it.”
Trust Dean? At this point, Callum wasn’t sure he even trusted Gage and Viv. But there weren’t many options, and he needed to stop second-guessing.
He checked on Grace again. Someone had tried to blow her up. Any minute now, that was going to kick in, surpass her anger and confusion, and she was going to freak out. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You could have been hurt back there as well.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not concerned—”
“You’re not bulletproof. You’re not bombproof—”
“I’m as close as you’re going to get, babe.” He returned his attention to the phone call. “Call me when you have actionable intel.”
“Where are you going?” Dean asked.
His jaw set. He didn’t know yet but didn’t plan to share. “Gotta figure that out.”
Callum ended the call and tossed the device into the cup holder.
“I liked things better when I hung out at libraries, and no one bothered me.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I can’t figure out why anyone would want to kill me.”
“They’re trying to keep you from that meeting. Which means we need to get you there in one piece for this to end.”
She nodded.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Who else would be interested in what Grace had to say to the federal attorneys? “What can you tell me about Marino that I don’t already know?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Think. What haven’t you said?”
“He probably has piles of money stored in offshore accounts. He doesn’t like animals. No pets. No real friends. Just associates. His fingers are in so many types of businesses. I’ll always be convinced he’s somehow associated with the Mafia or something. You know all this.”
He did.
His phone rang. That was awfully fast for actionable intelligence.
She checked the screen. “Oh, no. It’s Hayden.”
He let out a breath. Talk about bad timing. Callum needed to give him answers, and all he had were more problems. “We might as well get this over with.” He answered on speakerphone. “Your timing is on point. You’re on speaker. Grace is here.”
Hayden laughed. “One of my many talents. Gracie, how are you?”
She almost whimpered. “Never a dull moment lately. I’ll let Callum explain.”
Callum gave Hayden a quick and dirty rundown that left his closest friend speechless for long enough that Callum worried Hayden had stopped what he was doing and was trying to come home to kill him. “We’ve got it under control.”
“The fuck you do.”
“Actually, we do,” Grace snapped. “Don’t act like you could have done anything for me that Callum hasn’t.”
“Easy,” Callum whispered under his breath. “Hayden’s worried.”
“Yeah, well, I’m… I don’t know what I am. But the sentiment stands.”
“Cal—”
“Hayden Gregory, do not ignore what I just said.”
“I’m not ignoring you, but don’t tell me it’s under control if you just left a situation where the goddamn house blew up.”
Callum checked the mirrors and didn’t know how long brother and sister would battle it out. He’d let them exchange a few more jabs.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to hang up if you don’t hear me: Callum saved my life. End of story. The only thing you need to say is thanks.”
After an awkward pause, Hayden added, “All right. You’re heard loud and clear, little sis.”
“You didn’t say thanks.”
“Grace,” Callum said under his breath again. “Give him a break.”
“You’ve got my eternal fuckin’ gratitude for protecting Grace.”
“Not a problem.” Telling Hayden about everything else with Grace was going to be as much fun as a colonoscopy. Callum checked the rearview mirror and squinted. “All right, man. We gotta go.”
He hung up the call before Hayden could respond.
“What’s wrong?”
There had been no oncoming traffic driving off the mountain. They’d had no one behind them. But a big ass SUV had just barreled by them going the opposite direction. Now there was a second one on his tail. It didn’t sit right in his gut.
Grace twisted in her seat.
“Turn back around. Don’t do anything that you normally wouldn’t.” He kept an eye on his rearview more than the road.
“Callum—look out!”