6. Tempest
CHAPTER SIX
tempest
Something's off, the moment I hit the top step to our apartments I see that Lilah's standing outside her apartment like someone hit pause, the key’s in the lock, her bag’s over her shoulder, but she’s not moving.
She hasn't turned around, her eyes on the floor. I follow her line of sight and see a white envelope, halfway under her door, with her name written in black ink on the front.
Lilah.
My eyes move, left down the hallway, right, the closed stairwell door, the window at the end is latched, and the storage room door is shut. I listen for ten seconds without doing anything else. There’s no movement, no sounds from behind closed doors, and there's nothing out of place.
"Lilah," I call out. Nothing. She doesn’t speak or move. "Did you leave that there?"
She shakes her head; I can see that she’s trembling.
"Stay where you are,” I tell her as I keep my voice level.
I move past her without touching her and crouch in front of the envelope.
I study it for a second before picking it up; it’s plain white, with no stamp, no return address, just her name across the front.
I turn it over, and there’s nothing on the back.
There’s no clue as to who dropped it here or when.
I glance down the hallway one more time.
"Do you want me to open it?"
She's still facing the door, she hasn't moved since I came up the stairs. A long silence fills the hallway.
Her head dips; she’s still not speaking, but I take that as a yes. I slip a finger under the flap and open it, holding it at a slight angle away from both of us.
There's one single page; I unfold it. There’s one line, and it’s typed.
Did you miss me?
There’s no name, no signature, nothing else. I look at Lilah, she doesn't ask what it says; she doesn't have to. One look at my face and she closes her eyes for a second before they open again, wider this time, panic settling in.
"Lilah."
"He found me," she whispers breathlessly.
"Who?"
Silence fills the hall between us, long enough that I wonder if she's going to answer. "Evan."
I look at the envelope in my hand.
Did you miss me?
It’s not a threat but a greeting; now I know what kind of man we're dealing with. I put the envelope carefully on the floor beside the door.
"Can I come inside?"
She finally turns; her face is blank, almost empty, and that worries me more than if she'd started crying. She looks at me for a second, then pushes the door open and steps aside. I step inside and head straight for the bathroom. I check behind the shower curtain, then the window; it’s locked.
Then onto the bedroom. I stop in the doorway, scanning the room before I step inside, check the closet, and under the bed before moving to the window, which is locked.
The room's neat, her bed’s made, there’s nothing that jumps out at me. I back out and check the living room, then the kitchen, all windows are locked up tight. The fire escape catches my attention, I test the latch, and it holds, but I don't like it. I'll have Sniper look at it tonight.
One last look around tells me what I already know. There’s nobody here.
"Nobody's here."
She's standing in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed, her bag still over her shoulder.
Her eyes flick to me, then toward the door before settling back on the floor.
I don't crowd her; instead, I drag out one of the kitchen chairs and sit down, leaving the couch for her.
After a long second, she walks over and lowers herself onto it.
I place the envelope on the coffee table between us.
"You don't have to tell me anything," I say. "But I'd like to know what we're dealing with."
She looks at the envelope, then the coffee table. I watch as her eyes drift past me, unfocused, and she takes a slow breath.
"His name is Evan Calloway." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "He was my twin sister's boyfriend."
I don't say anything; I just wait for her to continue.
"Three years ago, he took us." She swallows.
"Me and Lucy." Her eyes stay fixed on the coffee table.
"He ran us off the road, he had a gun, there was another man with him.
" She takes a breath before continuing. "They took us to a cabin in the woods.
Everything was already there; he'd planned it.
" Her fingers tighten around each other.
"He kept us there for two days. He blamed me for Lucy leaving him; he said I'd turned her against him.
" She closes her eyes for a second. "He... used us to hurt each other."
I don't move. I keep my gaze on her, watching and listening to everything she’s saying.
"Lucy died there. He killed her. I got out through a back window while he was dealing with..." She stops and pulls in a ragged breath. "I ran and that’s where Omen's club found me on the road."
She finally meets my eyes.
"He was never arrested. He disappeared before any investigation got anywhere.
Six months later, he showed up again, outside my workplace in Connecticut, and then at Lucy's grave.
" Her jaw tightens. "He left white lilies, she hated lilies.
That's when Omen moved me. New city, clean start. I've been here for nearly three years."
I look at the envelope on the table.
Did you miss me?
This is definitely a greeting from someone who considers this a reunion.
The sunflowers, the SUV positions, the plate being deliberately obscured, and the envelope slid under a door in a building with a keypad entry which means he either got in behind a resident or he has the code.
He's been here longer than this week, he's been watching long enough to know her routine down to which parking space she uses. He's been patient.
People like him savor the buildup; they want you to know they're present before they move because knowing is part of it. I keep all of that completely off my face; I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is.
"You're not staying here tonight," I say.
She looks at me. "This is my apartment."
"I know."
She shakes her head. "I'm not leaving."
"Okay." I don't push it. Running from her own home because he slid a piece of paper under her door is exactly what he wants. "Then I'm staying."
Neither of us speaks. She watches me for a long moment, the same cautious look she gave me in the hallway that first morning. Like she's waiting to see what I do next.
"You don't have to do that," she says.
"I know."
"It's not..." She stops and pauses for a moment before she starts again. "I've been dealing with this alone for three years. I don't need—"
"I'm not offering because I think you can't handle it.
" I keep my voice level. "I'm staying because someone put an unsigned note under your door tonight and I don't know yet how he got into this building.
Until Ghost tells me differently, I'm not leaving you here without someone on the other side of that wall. "
She holds my gaze for a long moment. She's been alone with this for three years; she's learned to function alone with it. The offer of backup isn't something she knows what to do with yet.
She uncrosses her arms and gets to her feet.
"I'll make coffee," she says.
I step into the hallway while the coffee brews and I pull up Ghost's number.
He answers on the second ring. "Tempest."
"I need you."
He doesn't hesitate. "Address?"
"I’m at Lilah’s,” I tell him.
I can hear him moving. "I’ll be there in fifteen minutes." He ends the call and I go back inside.
She's at the counter with her back to me, two mugs already waiting. I sit in the same chair as before and watch as she pours the coffee. Once she’s done, she carries one mug over and sets it on the table in front of me before taking her own back to the couch.
Sitting, she tucks her knees up and wraps her arms around her legs. Her bag's on the floor beside her. She's calmer than she was a few minutes ago, but only on the surface. Every few seconds, her eyes find the envelope before she drags them away again.
I wait a moment before I say anything, giving her the chance to settle into the chair. "The SUV was outside the florist twice before yesterday," I say.
She looks at her mug. "I know."
"You logged it."
"I log everything," she says with a shrug. "Then I spend an hour convincing myself I imagined it. When something feels wrong, I file it, and then I talk myself out of it because the alternative is..." She stops.
"What?"
"Believing it's real." Her voice is soft and low. "If I let every threat become real, I stop functioning. So I wait, I look for proof, and then I spend the night telling myself I'm overreacting until I almost believe it."
"That's not overreacting."
"No." She looks at the envelope. "It's not."
"You said Omen moved you," I say. "Did you stay in contact with him?"
"No direct contact, he said it was safer. I met a friend of his, Lorenzo, he’s become my check-in point." She wraps both hands around the mug. "Lorenzo mentioned having someone monitoring me." She looks at me. "They sent you to watch me."
"Lorenzo asked me to keep an eye on things as I live across the hall," I tell her. "I wasn't surveilling you, I was watching for whatever's been watching you."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes. I wasn't documenting your movements or reporting on your life; I was clocking a car that kept turning up in the wrong places." I set my mug down. "Everything I know about you, you've shown me yourself. The grocery bags, the florist, and this morning, you checked your door twice."
She's quiet for a moment. "You noticed that?"
"I notice everything."
She looks at her mug. "You didn't tell me about the SUV," she says.
"No."
Her head shoots up and her brows furrow. "Why?"
"Because telling you would have confirmed what you were already fighting to talk yourself out of, and I didn't have anything useful to attach to it yet.
I wasn't going to hand you a confirmed threat and walk away.
" I look at the envelope. "I wanted something I could actually do with the information first."
She considers that. "Most people would have said something, made themselves feel better about knowing."
I grin. "I'm not most people."
"No," she says quietly. "You're not."
"Rogue started digging after Lorenzo's call.
We didn't have a name attached to it, but we do now.
" I look at her. "Rogue will spend tonight pulling everything available.
Connecticut records, any movement since, financial traces.
If Evan Calloway has been in Boston more than a few days he'll have left a trail somewhere. "
Her hands shake even as she’s holding her mug. "And then?"
I remain silent.
She looks at the envelope. "I've known what I'm dealing with for three years."
I nod. "I know."
She looks up at me, her eyes widen slightly. "You do?"
"I know you've been dealing with it,” I tell her, but she doesn't say anything, I lean back in the chair. "You don't have to convince me it's real."
Her fingers tighten around the mug for a second and then they slowly let go.
Three quiet knocks sound at the door, and I know instantly who it is. Lilah's head snaps toward it.
"It's Ghost," I say and her eyes find mine. "He's our president, he’s the man I called." She doesn't say anything so I continue. "He knows enough to help. I wouldn't have brought him here if I didn't trust him."
She holds my gaze for another second, then gives the smallest nod.
I cross the apartment and open the door. Ghost steps inside wearing his cut. He gives Lilah an easy smile.
"Hi, Lilah."
"Hi."
"I'm Ghost." He pulls out the kitchen chair and sits down. "Tempest tells me you've had a rough evening."
She nods once.
"We'll figure it out."
"He needs to hear what you told me," I say quietly.
She looks at Ghost and then back at me; I nod once, and after a long moment, she takes a breath and starts talking.
Lilah tells Ghost everything she'd just told me: Evan, Lucy, the cabin, and about escaping. She doesn't rush through it, and she doesn't stop until she's finished. Ghost listens without interrupting, letting her tell it in her own time.
Ghost rubs a hand across his jaw. "You should never have had to carry that on your own." He looks at the envelope. "May I?"
She nods and he picks it up, unfolds it, reads it, then refolds it and sets it back on the table. He looks at Lilah directly. "How long ago did you leave Connecticut?"
"Two and a half years ago."
"And before tonight, nothing? No contact, no sightings?"
"He showed up twice before I left. That's why Omen moved me." She holds his gaze. "I haven't seen him since. Not until the SUV, if that’s even him."
Ghost looks at the envelope for a long second. "He wanted you to know he found you."
Lilah nods. "I know."
"And he wanted you scared."
"I know," she says again quietly.
Ghost looks at me. "Rogue?"
"He's been running everything we have; he doesn't have a name yet."
"He does now." Ghost looks back at Lilah.
"Evan Calloway. I'll have Rogue pull everything available, Connecticut records, current location, known associates, financial trail.
If he's been in Boston for more than a few days there'll be a trace somewhere.
" He looks at her, his eyes softer than they had been. "There always is."
Lilah gives him a small smile. "And then what?"
Ghost doesn't look away. "Then we act accordingly."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the honest one," he says. "I won't make you a promise I can't back up with information I don't have yet. What I can tell you is that you're not dealing with this alone from tonight." He holds her gaze. "Lorenzo trusted us with you. That means something to this club."
She's quiet for a moment.
"He never told me it would be you specifically," she says.
"He wouldn't. That's not how Lorenzo operates," Ghost tells her. "He trusted us to figure out what you needed."
She looks at the envelope. "I need him to stop."
"Yes," Ghost says simply. "You do."
He stands and looks at me. "Fire escape window in the back room needs a secondary lock," I tell him. "I'll sort it tomorrow. Sniper should sweep the building entry points, find out how he either got the code or if he got in behind someone."
Ghost nods. "I'll have him here in the morning." He looks at Lilah one more time. "You made the right call, letting him in."
She doesn't say anything to that, but she looks at her mug. Ghost goes into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind him. I hear him on the phone almost immediately, voice low, giving Rogue the name.
The apartment goes quiet. Lilah is looking at the coffee table. I sit in the kitchen chair and think about the fire escape latch and the entry code and the three years of patience it takes to do what Evan Calloway has been doing, and the cold anger in my chest settles in and stays there.
I look at the envelope. He came to Boston; that was his first mistake.
We’re going to find him and this nightmare that Lilah’s in is going to end.