Chapter 8
CALLEN WASN’T SURE WHAT heaven smelled like, but it couldn’t be better than pancakes and coffee. The cabin was warm with it as Meaghan hummed softly in the kitchen, the kids still half-asleep but slouched over their plates like floppy, syrup-sticky puppies.
She’d kept her promise from the night before, even making them into the shape of a famous mouse.
He hated that it made his chest ache the way it did, like seeing a version of a life he’d never get to live.
Not that he really wanted kids. They were annoying at best. However, seeing Meaghan like she was right then, made his heart pound in ways it hadn’t since he left her waiting for him.
“Did you make that list for me?” he asked as he slid into his jacket.
She nodded, pointing to a piece of paper on the table. “Yes. I didn’t know how much you wanted to get or how long we would be stuck here, so I made it to last us a few days.”
He nodded. “That’ll work.” He glanced back at her as he slid the paper into his back pocket.
“Only one rule while I’m gone,” he said as he adjusted his jacket, watching her flip another pancake onto a plate for Lucas.
“No one—and I mean no one—goes outside. Not even onto the porch. Not until I get back.”
Meaghan glanced over her shoulder with an arched brow. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Do you really think they’ll find us out here? Wouldn’t they have done that last night?”
“Doesn’t matter. Nowhere still has edges. You don’t want to be spotted from the air.” He shrugged. “We still don’t know who these people are, so we don’t know what resources they have. Just play it safe for now. I’ll reach out to Blaze and see if he’s discovered anything.”
She sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “You think they’d go as far as helicopters?”
“I think I’ve learned to expect the worst over the years.” He gave her a pointed look. “Promise me.”
She rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft when she said, “I promise.”
“And the kids stay inside too. If they want fresh air, then open a window.” He held up a finger. “But don’t get in front of it.”
“Got it, Captain Killjoy,” she muttered as she turned back to the griddle.
Callen snorted and headed out the door, trusting her to do what was best for the kids in her care.
The road was still dewy and rutted, branches scraping the side of the SUV as he wound his way out of the state park and into the edges of civilization.
It took nearly forty-five minutes to reach the outskirts of town, longer than usual because he’d doubled back twice just to make sure no one had followed him.
The town itself, Maple Hollow, was one of those blink-and-you-miss-it Florida places.
One gas station, two churches, a diner with a chalkboard menu, and a small grocery store that still used sticky labels instead of barcodes.
The sort of town where a stranger didn’t go unnoticed, even in sunglasses and a ball cap.
Especially in sunglasses and a ball cap.
He pulled up outside Hatcher’s General Market, killed the engine, and gave himself one last once-over in the rearview mirror. No blood. No obvious tells. Just tired eyes and a jaw that hadn’t unclenched in since he reached the school.
Inside, it smelled like floor wax, tomatoes, and something faintly floral. The air conditioning buzzed too loudly, and the overhead radio, cheap and static-prone, seemed tuned to a local AM station.
He grabbed a cart and started loading essentials: bread, peanut butter, apples, a first aid refill kit, batteries, and anything that could pass as kid-approved snacks. On his third pass down the soup aisle, the radio caught his attention.
“…still no confirmation from law enforcement on the identities of the gunmen involved in yesterday’s shooting at a private school outside St. Augustine. Reports suggest multiple attackers opened fire before vanishing. No suspects are in custody. Parents and educators continue to demand answers…”
Callen froze, a can of ravioli in his hand. His gut went cold as he stared down the aisle, but all he saw was the way people scattered as the shots rang out.
“Speculation is running wild as authorities refuse to confirm whether the attack was politically motivated or just some random shooting. Investigators say they’re reviewing surveillance footage, but eyewitness reports have been contradictory, some blaming an SUV seen speeding away from the scene.”
He slowly set the can down.
A woman browsing next to him looked over. “Terrible, isn’t it?”
Callen nodded. “Yeah. Real damn terrible. Who shoots at a school?”
She didn’t recognize him, just clucked her tongue and kept walking.
No suspects. No statements. The narrative was wide open for anyone to spin. That meant the shooters were still out there, and nobody had a clue what was really going on.
He finished shopping quickly, paying cash and offering only a tight smile when the clerk gave him a too-curious once-over.
The whole town was probably buzzing with theories, the way people did when something tragic hit the news.
His only concern was that if the reporters looked too closely at those who worked at the school, they would come across Meaghan, noticing her last name being Harrington…
Too damn close.
He was halfway back to the cabin, idling on the shoulder of a service road beneath the shade of a cypress stand, before he pulled out his cell phone, having left the satellite phone with Meaghan with explicit instructions not use it unless it was an emergency.
Two rings later and Blaze’s voice came through, low and gravel-rough.
“Blaze.”
“It’s me.”
“Well, about damn time. You all right? I’m guessing that nonsense in St. Augustine was you?”
He sighed as he glanced in the rearview mirror, making sure no one was slowing down behind him. “It was, but I wasn’t the one shooting, just running. And we’re fine. We got out, and I just heard the local radio in town. They’re already spinning their wheels on what happened at the school.”
“No surprise,” Blaze muttered. “It’s a feeding frenzy, just as all shootings are. I can’t believe they went after your girl at a school. Kind of public for something like that.”
“I guess they were hoping to make it look like some crazy shooter. It could also have been a message to the senator about how far they’re willing to go.”
“True story,” Blaze said. “Any idea yet why they’re trying to hurt Meaghan to get to her father?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet.” He took a deep breath.
“Well, while you’ve been playing knight in shining armor, I’ve been working all night.”
Callen adjusted the volume and leaned back in the seat. “Any progress?”
“Depends on how deep you want to go.”
Callen’s jaw ticked. “I want the truth, Blaze. What did her father do to get himself in this kind of trouble? Seems a far stretch for a climate bill.”
“Funny you should ask. Because it’s not the climate bill.”
Callen straightened. “What?”
“Well, your senator friend wasn’t lying. He is pushing hard on a climate bill, and it’s got oil lobbyists pissed off, but nothing that would make someone take a shot at a school. There’s no actionable chatter, no credible threat tied to environmental policy.”
“Then what?”
“I started digging into the senator’s financial disclosures. He’s got a partnership with a land development firm called New Horizons Acquisition Group, mostly silent ownership, no press, but big footprints.”
“That sounds vague.”
“It gets worse. New Horizons is sitting on swamp permits that should’ve taken years to push through, fast-tracked every single one. EPA oversight mysteriously waived. You connect the dots, you get companies using them to reroute protected land into industrial sites.
Callen exhaled hard. “So Harrington’s not clean.”
“Clean enough to stand in front of a camera,” Blaze said. “But someone found out about the real estate shell game. My guess? The senator backed out of a deal, or pissed off the wrong buyer. And now they’re using Meaghan to force his hand in some way.”
Callen’s hand curled into a fist on the steering wheel as he bit back a growl.
“Where are you?” Blaze asked.
Callen hesitated, then gave him the coordinates. “Old cabin of my father’s. Back side of the state park near a town called Maple Hollow.”
“I take it Meaghan is there now.”
Callen sighed as he glanced out the driver’s window. “Yeah, with three of her students.” He closed his eyes as he shook his head.
“I’m sorry? Come again.”
“Wasn’t my choice,” he said. “Everything happened so damn fast, and she refused to leave the kids with anyone else. Apparently, each of them has a story, and none of them are good. We tried reaching out to their families last night, but, well, let’s just say, they’re probably better off with us.”
“Well, that’s some bullshit.”
Callen took another breath as he stared out the window. “Kids, Blaze. I’ve got kids in the middle of this mess.”
“I’d give good money to see you dealing with a bunch of kids.” Blaze chuckled.
Callen simply growled. “I need to get them back where they belong, but I don’t want to move just yet. I’m hoping these guys get bored and pull out.”
“How are you going to know?”
“I’m sure the senator will be able to tell us how the threats are going since they missed their target.”
Blaze scoffed. “You really don’t like this guy, do you?”
“You know me and the ambitious sort,” Callen said, shifting in his seat as he slipped the gear into drive. “And he was shitty to his family.”
“Well, I’ll keep digging and keep the cabin out of reports and shit. Stay put. If they tracked her once, they’ll try again, and probably use the same surveillance videos the cops are using. You don’t need that with kids in tow.”
“True story. Let me know the second you find a name on who’s doing this.”
“You got it.”
The call ended with a click, and Callen leaned back into his seat as he stared out the windshield. He sat there for a moment, watching the light spill through the canopy, turning the road to patchwork gold. He could hear the faint echo of crickets, the creak of pine.
He’d brought her there. To the only place in the world that had ever felt like a sanctuary to him. The place possessed memories, sacred ones, of some of the best times in his life.
And she was there, probably sitting at the table, trying to entertain three young kids, and not worrying about the threat to her own life.
Last night, she stood just on the other side of that door, breathing softly in the room where his father used to sleep after long days of fishing and whiskey and talking about everything Callen never quite understood until it was too late.
Meaghan Harrington, the one who had kept him on his toes growing up, making him want to be better than he ever was.
She had always gotten under his skin in the most inconvenient ways: laughing too loud, rolling her eyes at authority, caring so much about everything that it made his own detachment feel like cowardice.
She’d called him out from the moment they met, challenged him, made him question what he thought he wanted.
And now she was back. Her hair messy and her mouth still smart, wearing sadness like armor and shielding those kids with the full force of her heart. Still stubborn, still rebellious, still… Still, Meaghan.
It drove him crazy in a way he thought he had forgotten about.
The memory of her lips on his last night swam up like heat. The way she’d kissed him, furious and vulnerable, like she was giving him everything and daring him to ruin it.
He didn’t deserve that kiss.
But he wanted another one.
He grunted under his breath and finally shifted the vehicle into drive, pressing on the gas slightly as he eased out onto the two-lane road. “Focus, McHollister,” he muttered to himself. “You’re here to protect her, not want her.”
But the truth was, he had never stopped wanting her, and now, with her right there within his grasp, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to walk away again.
He was there to save her life, but in doing that, he might very well have to destroy her father, and he knew, no matter how angry they got, little girls never turned on their fathers.
Blowing out a slow breath, he wondered where that left him when everything was said and done.