Chapter 17
THE ROOM HAD FALLEN into that fragile moment that happens after midnight when the rest of the world was quiet, nestled in their houses, getting ready for bed.
Meaghan sat in the worn plastic chair by the window, arms curled around her knees, watching Callen sleep, his face partially illuminated by the streetlight filtering through the thin curtains.
. He lay motionless on the bed, one arm flung out across the rumpled sheets, the other still cradling his bandaged side.
His brow twitched every so often, but he didn’t stir, looking less burdened but still pale.
The line of his jaw was still taut even in sleep.
Restless, like he didn’t trust the peace they’d bought with blood and luck.
Her chest ached at the sight of him. She had no idea how he was even upright, let alone still cracking jokes and making love to her.
The wound on his side might’ve been cleaned and bandaged, but it still needed to be stitched.
His body ran on stubbornness and adrenaline alone.
And still, he was there, because of her.
Because of the kids. Because that’s just who he was.
Everything about him radiated strength, but not the kind she’d grown up surrounded by.
Not the type that wore medals and held press conferences.
Callen was quiet strength. Enduring. Unshakable.
He was the man who’d shielded children with his own body, who never complained even when his blood stained the motel sheets.
And yet, there he was. Sleeping in some cheap ass room, shot and bandaged, and still, somehow, hers.
She hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t expected the fire that burned between them or the quiet understanding that lingered when the heat faded. He knew her in a way people didn’t let themselves be known anymore.
She glanced over at the digital clock. 12:07. Saturday was over, and Sunday was sneaking in whether or not they were ready.
She rubbed her bare arms and stood quietly, pacing to the door and back. Outside, the air was still, a heavy Florida calm resting over everything like a held breath.
The quiet made her uneasy.
She thought of her father: the games he played, the promises he made only when it suited him. The deals he struck behind the scenes.
And then she thought of Callen, still bleeding, still fighting.
He stirred then, eyes fluttering open, groggy but aware. “You’re awake again? You should get some rest while you can. Elvis and Gage will be here any minute.”
She gave a slow bob of her head. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Callen groaned softly as he shifted to sit up. “You okay? You got that look about you.”
“I’m not the one with a bullet hole.”
He waved off her concern. “Just a scratch,” he muttered, voice gravelly.
She rolled her eyes. “You really have a high pain threshold or just a low survival instinct? A weekend with three five-year-olds and getting shot.”
He grinned, slow and lazy. “Guess which one hurt the most.”
The headlights came first, two soft beams cutting across the cheap curtains like a whisper against the dark. Meaghan stilled, breath catching as the light moved, then paused just outside her room. Every nerve in her body screamed alert.
“They’re here,” she whispered, moving toward the window.
“Back up,” Callen said, his voice low but firm as he pushed the thin blanket aside and sat up, grimacing. “Let me check.”
Despite the stiffness in his body and the half-healed wound pulling at his side, he was already on his feet, crossing the floor with silent efficiency. He didn’t reach for a weapon, but the tension in his frame said he was ready to act if it wasn’t who they expected.
Then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Callen snatched it up and glanced at the screen before answering. “Elvis.”
“Don’t shoot,” Elvis said in that laid-back drawl. “It’s just your favorite crooner and the world’s most patient ride-along.”
“He’s full of shit,” he heard Gage say in the background. “He can’t sing, and he’s far from patient.”
Callen chuckled. “I suppose that’s you knuckleheads outside?”
“Coming up now,” Elvis confirmed. “Give us ten seconds and open the door.”
Callen hung up and looked at Meaghan, who stood frozen near the table. “It’s them,” he told her. “We’re good.”
The knock came low and steady, just two soft raps against the door.
He motioned for her to open it, and as soon as she did, two figures stepped into the dim porch light.
The first was a tall man with a square jaw and thick chest, dressed in jeans and a GSI T-shirt, his dark blond hair tousled from the drive.
The other, leaner but just as imposing, scanned the parking lot with practiced ease.
“Well, well,” the tall one drawled. “You two look like you’ve been through Memphis in a hurricane.”
Callen returned to the bed, cracking a dry smile. “You should see the other guy.”
The tall one chuckled, bobbing his head. “I can imagine. Abbie said she patched you up good. You holding on all right?”
Callen nodded. “Nothing a fifth of whiskey and a weekend’s worth of sleep won’t cure. I didn’t expect you for about another fifteen.”
A wide grin spread across Elvis’s face. “Time means nothing when you’re looking for love, baby.”
She stared around the room at the three men, confusion pinching her brow.
She hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this.
Not men like the two who had entered her room, whose banter filled it like warm whiskey and half-forgotten rock lyrics.
She’d expected operatives. Cold, calculated professionals.
Not… this camaraderie.
“You must be Meaghan,” the more silent of the two men said as he stepped forward and nodded. “I’m Gage, and this blabbermouth is Elvis.”
She blinked. “You know my name?”
“We know everything worth knowing,” Elvis said. “Like the fact that Callen here got himself shot trying to play Superman. Again.”
“Also heard you kept our buddy here from bleeding out,” Gage added. “Not a simple task, but we appreciate it.”
“I had help,” she mumbled, her hand drifting briefly to Callen’s.
Elvis nudged Callen’s leg with his boot. “Tequila would’ve numbed the pain better. You’re getting soft, Romeo.”
“Bite me,” Callen murmured. “And I asked for tequila, but Abbie refused.”
“Please. I saw you take on an entire team with a pocket knife and a curse word. You can handle a minor scratch.”
Callen groaned. “You weren’t the one getting shot at.”
“Details,” Elvis said, waving it off. “Anyway, figured you’d still be too slow, so we brought snacks.”
He tossed a protein bar toward Callen’s chest, who caught it with a grunt.
Gage reached into the duffel bag he had carried in with him, pulling out a bottle. “And whiskey. Figured you could use a belt.”
Meaghan stood there stunned for a moment. These men were soldiers, killers even, but they laughed at the silliest things. They cared, obviously. And there was a history between the three of them. Something forged in fire, thick as blood.
Gage moved to the counter, snatching a couple of plastic cups the motel provided, ripped the plastic wrappers off, and poured two drinks.
“We also heard you got three kids out with you, protecting them from getting caught in the crossfire. You did good.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Both of you.”
“Speaking of kids, we heard from Sage on the way over,” Elvis said as he leaned against the wall near the door. “Kids are nearly home. They’ll make sure the houses are clean before dropping them off, but to be honest, I doubt whoever is chasing you even know who the kids are.”
“But they found us through the boy’s iPad,” Callen said.
Elvis shook his head. “I don’t think so, although it’s possible. Still, they’ll make sure the coast is clear before leaving.”
Meaghan felt her knees weaken. “Thank God.” She took a slow breath, rubbing her hands along her thighs. “So, what’s the plan now?”
Gage handed Callen a cup and then carried one to her with a dip of his head. “We’ll stay here tonight. Get some rest. Elvis and I will take turns watching the window just to be safe. Then tomorrow, we head to a new safe house until this blows over.”
Elvis nodded. “We told Blaze to cancel the room for us, intending to stay here and keep a watch. You two earned a break. I’d take it.
One thing I’ve learned… you never know what tomorrow will bring.
So, get some rest. You did good.” He glanced over at Callen, who was already settling in for the night.
“Even better keeping this one alive. He usually just bleeds and complains.”
“I do not complain,” Callen muttered.
“Sure you don’t, hound dog.”
They all shared a smile, Meaghan included this time.
“We also got some news once we hit the road,” Gage said as he moved over to a chair around the small wooden table. “Blaze intercepted another signal while he was tracking residual data traffic around the cabin. Picked up some chatter near Tallahassee.”
Callen’s eyes narrowed. “Another one of Harrington’s people?”
“Not quite,” Gage said. “More rumblings coming from that acquisitions group New Horizons.”
Meaghan blinked. “The land development firm?”
Callen’s jaw tightened. “The one with the fast-tracked swamp permits.”
“Yeah,” Elvis chimed in. “Blaze ran it through a few other channels. It took some digging, but it’s them. Signal was light, just a ping to confirm location. Someone inside New Horizons was keeping tabs, tapping the senators phone. He says they’ve hire some sledgehammer types.”
“They’re not politicians,” Gage added. “They don’t do diplomacy. They burn through loopholes and blackmail like wildfire. If they know where Meaghan is…”
“Then they’ll get to her and use her as leverage,” Callen finished grimly.
Meaghan felt her stomach twist. “They were using me to pressure my father?”
Gage nodded. “Blaze thinks your dad backed out of a deal. Maybe tried to pull funding. Whatever it was, New Horizons wants payback, and they’re not being subtle about it.”
Callen exhaled slowly. “So we’re not done.”
Elvis gave a solemn nod. “Not by a long shot. Blaze is still digging, trying to pinpoint who in the company initiated the contract. But he says this kind of move? It’s not freelance. Someone high up made the call.”
Callen swung his legs off the bed, wincing. “Then we move.”
Meaghan stepped between him and the door. “We. As in us. Together.”
Gage arched a brow as he stared at her. “You sure? We were told to get you to a safe house.”
“She insisted,” Callen said, sounding almost proud. “Once we know where we’re going, she’s going with us.”
Elvis grinned and clapped Callen on the back. “Leave it to you to find a lady who fights beside you.”
Callen shrugged. “She’s more than capable.”
“He also likes danger,” Gage said with a smirk. “Clearly.”
“But in the morning,” Elvis said, pointing Callen back to the bed. “Tonight, you need to rest.”
Gage took first watch outside while Elvis sank into one of the plastic chairs, one hand on his phone and the other nursing a bottle of water. Meaghan curled back up on the bed, facing Callen. He was still awake, but barely.
“Try to sleep,” she whispered.
“You’re not going to,” he murmured.
“Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
“Gage is literally outside with a gun.”
She brushed his hair back gently, just like she had before. “Doesn’t mean I’m not still worried.”
His hand found hers, fingers barely tightening. “I know. Just… close your eyes for a bit. We move at first light.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said. “And you’re not leaving me behind, either.”
“I’m not planning on either.”
And he meant it. They lay there, wordless in the dark, hearts pounding in the same quiet rhythm.
A little after three a.m., Gage came back in, motioned for Elvis to swap. The transition was seamless, practiced, like a dance done a hundred times before. Meaghan watched it unfold with awe. These men were warriors, but they were also brothers.
And somehow, she and Callen were part of that now.
She didn’t know where the road would lead tomorrow, or who else might hunt them. But in this sliver of quiet, with Callen breathing beside her and two guardians watching from the shadows, she felt something she hadn’t in days.
Safe.
Even if it was only for a few hours.
They left the motel room just as the sun peeked the horizon, loading what little gear they had. Meaghan stole one last look at the now-empty beds, the discarded wrappers from the kids’ late-night dinner, and the bloodstained gauze in the trash.
Her world had changed in that room.
And now, it was about to change again.
As they drove off into the calm of the Sunday morning, the last thing she saw in the side mirror was the glow of the motel sign, flickering weakly in the dawn.
Something was coming, and they weren’t playing around.
And this time, she wouldn’t run from it.
She was going to meet it head-on.