Chapter 27 Calder
Calder
The truck feels too small after leaving town. Saint sits beside me with her hands folded primly in her lap like we’re strangers. The forced normalcy of our act in town—smiling, chatting, and pretending Wayne’s blood isn’t on our hands—leaves us both drained.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Fine.” She doesn’t look at me, just stares out the window at the passing buildings of Black Hollow Creek. “Just need some air that isn’t…”
She doesn’t finish, but I understand. Air that isn’t thick with lies and pretense. Air that doesn’t taste like copper and iron. I make a decision then, one that’s either the smartest or stupidest move I’ve made since bringing her into my life.
“I need to go to Billings. Today.” I say it casually, like it’s just occurred to me. “We could stay overnight.”
That gets her attention. She turns to face me, suspicion written across her features. “Billings? Why?”
“Business I need to handle.” The lie comes easier than it should.
The truth is I need to meet with my FBI contact away from Roman’s watchful eyes.
Need to finalize the details before the consummation ceremony.
Unfortunately, she can’t know any of these things yet.
“The family has an apartment there. It’s private. Secure.”
“You want me to come with you?” Disbelief colors her tone.
“Better than leaving you alone after . . .” I don’t finish. After you killed Wayne. After we lied to the whole town. After Emma Porter looked at you like she could see the brand beneath your clothes.
“When would we leave?”
“Now.” I check the time. “We could be there around lunchtime.”
“What about Roman?”
“He’s in Missoula.” The timing is perfect, a rare stroke of luck in this impossible situation. “He won’t even know we’re gone.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, weighing her options, calculating risks the way life has taught her by now. Then she nods once, decision made. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes.” Something shifts in her expression, determination replacing caution. “I need this, Calder. After today . . . after everything. I need to remember there’s a world beyond Black Hollow Creek.”
I understand that more than she knows.
“Calder?” Her voice is hesitant now. “Is this—is this a good thing? Us going to Billings?”
I’m not sure how to answer. Is it good that I’m using this trip to meet with the FBI, to finalize a plan that might get us both killed?
Is it good that I’m keeping her in the dark to protect her?
“Yes,” I say finally, because it’s what she needs to hear. “It’s a good thing.”
The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
Saint sleeps beside me for most of the drive, her head resting against the window, breath fogging the glass.
The mountains roll by in shades of green and gray, and I find myself glancing at her more than the road.
She seems younger in sleep, the worry lines smoothed from her face, and I’m reminded again how fucking young she really is. How much I’ve taken from her.
She stirs as we hit the outskirts of Billings, the city rising before us with its mixture of old brick buildings and newer high-rises. Her eyes flutter open, blue as a storm at sea, and find mine. The drive only takes a couple of hours.
“We’re almost there,” I tell her.
She sits up, running a hand through sleep-tousled hair. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
“You’ve never been to Billings?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve barely left Black Hollow Creek. Dad took me to Helena once for a church conference, but that’s it.”
The admission twists something in my chest. Another reminder of how sheltered she was. How utterly unprepared for the life I’ve dragged her into.
The Bishop apartment sits in a renovated warehouse near the river, industrial chic that Sawyer picked out years ago when our business interests expanded beyond Black Hollow Creek. I pull into the secure underground parking and cut the engine.
“Home sweet home. For the night, at least.”
Saint follows me to the private elevator, and I punch in the code, and the doors slide open silently.
The apartment is exactly as I remember it, with exposed brick walls, polished concrete floors, and sleek furniture in blacks and grays. The floor-to-ceiling windows face the river, flooding the space with natural light.
“This is…” Saint’s eyes are wide as she takes in the space. “Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect? Cattle skulls and branding irons?” The joke falls flat, and I wince at my own poor choice of words. Branding is still too raw, too fresh.
“Something less modern, I guess.” She moves to the window, looking out at the view. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours for the day,” I tell her, setting down my own bag. “I have a meeting this afternoon. Business stuff. You stay here, relax, explore the apartment. I’ll be back.”
Her shoulders tense slightly. “You’re leaving me here alone?”
“You’ll be safe. No one knows we’re here.” I step closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not touching. “The building has security. The elevator requires a code. There’s food in the fridge, books on the shelves, TV, whatever you want.”
She turns to face me, eyes searching mine. “What’s this meeting about, Calder?”
Too perceptive for her own good, my wife. “Just business,” I repeat. “Supply contracts for the ranch.”
“You’re lying.” She says it without heat, just a simple statement of fact. “But I guess I should be used to that by now.”
The words hit harder than they should. “I’ll be back shortly. We can go out for dinner. Somewhere nice.”
I shower and change quickly, aware of the time ticking down to my meeting. When I emerge, Saint is curled up on the leather couch with one of Sawyer’s books open in her lap.
“Be careful.” The words seem to surprise her as much as they do me.
I nod, unsure how to respond to the unexpected concern. Then I’m out the door, locking it behind me, heading to meet the woman who might be our salvation or our damnation.
Agent Reese sits at a back table in a coffee shop three blocks from the apartment, dark hair short and tousled, expression unreadable behind oversized sunglasses. She doesn’t stand when I approach, just gestures to the empty chair across from her.
“Thanks for making the trip,” she says as I sit.
“Sure, but we need to make this fast. My wife is waiting.”
She removes her sunglasses, revealing sharp eyes that miss nothing. “You brought her with you?”
It grates, her asking me questions, the years of Bishop loyalty literally burned into me. “Yes.”
“That complicates things.”
“How? She doesn’t know anything, and she’s back in the apartment.” I keep my voice low, even though the café is noisy enough to cover our conversation. “I needed to get her away from the ranch for a bit. She’s been through a lot.”
“And the ceremony is still scheduled for the upcoming Friday night. Full moon.”
“Yes,” I grit out.
“We’re setting up surveillance around the barn. Audio and visual. We’ll have teams positioned at the property boundaries. We just have to be careful and slow about it with so many employees.”
“No one enters until I give the signal, right? That was our agreement.”
Reese’s mouth tightens. “I agreed, didn’t I? We’re putting a lot of faith in you, Calder.”
“And I’m putting my life in your hands. My wife’s life.” The word still feels strange on my tongue.
“What happens afterward? When this is over?”
“You’ve been granted immunity in exchange for your cooperation. As discussed.”
“And Saint?”
Reese’s eyes soften slightly. “She’s a victim, Calder. Not a perpetrator. She’ll be free to go wherever she wants once Roman is in custody.”
The thought hits harder than it should. Saint, free.
Able to walk away from me, from the Bishop name, from everything I’ve dragged her into.
As much as I want her safe and away from my darkness, I can’t let her go.
I won’t. Once she’s safe, and the dust has settled I’ll have to give her a reason to stay. To choose me. Despite it all.
The agent and I leave separately, her departing before me and then me a few minutes after.
When I return to the apartment, Saint is standing at the stove, stirring something that smells like heaven.
She’s changed into leggings and one of my shirts, her honey hair twisted into a messy knot at the nape of her neck.
“You cooked?” I set my keys on the counter, surprised.
She glances over her shoulder. “I found pasta and sauce in the cupboard. It’s nothing fancy.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs, turning back to the pot. “I wanted to. I was bored after exploring every inch of this place.”
I move to stand behind her, close enough to smell the floral scent of her shampoo. “And what did you think?”
“Of the apartment?” She stirs the sauce thoughtfully. “It’s nice. Impersonal, but nice. No family photos. No personal touches. Just like your house back in Black Hollow Creek.” She pauses. “Our house, I guess.”
The correction catches me off guard. “You still want to go out for dinner? We can leave this for tomorrow.”
She shakes her head. “I already started. Besides, I thought maybe we could just… stay in. Talk.”
“Talk?” The word comes out more skeptical than I intend.
She turns, wooden spoon in hand, blue eyes serious. “Yes, Calder. Talk. Like normal people do. Without threats or violence or sex that we both pretend is just about control.”
The directness throws me. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything. Everything. This life we’re living that neither of us chose but both of us are stuck with.” She gestures with the spoon. “Set the table. The pasta’s almost done.”
We eat at the small dining table, the city lights sparkling as dusk falls. The pasta is simple but good, the sauce rich with garlic and herbs.
“You never talk about your mother,” Saint says after we’ve eaten in silence for a few minutes. “Elena, I mean.”
The question comes out of nowhere, catching me with my guard down. “What’s there to say? She’s Roman’s wife.”