Chapter 25
Callie had no idea what time it was when she woke again. The base was quiet, and she knew without looking that she was alone.
She reached over and pulled out the needle in her arm before attempting to sit up. The pain was severe, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her. When she finally managed to get upright, she winced at the pull on her side.
“What are you doing?”
Her head whipped around to find Wyatt in the doorway. “Sitting up, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“Not funny,” he said as he strode into the room. “Lie back down.”
“No. You need my help.”
“Rest until that time comes.”
He lowered her back onto the bed. As soon as she was stretched out, the pain began to dull. She was much weaker than she’d thought.
“You might try listening to me every now and again. I’m actually right sometimes,” he said.
She gave him a flat look. “Sometimes.”
“You love busting balls, don’t you?”
“Just yours.”
She looked into his eyes as he sat on the cot next to her and ran a hand through his dark hair. His face was impassive, the facade in place that prevented anyone from seeing what he was thinking—or feeling.
“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” she asked.
He gave a single shake of his head. “No.”
“The Saints will outnumber us.”
“That doesn’t guarantee their win.”
She turned her head on the pillow toward him. “You were right, you know. I do spend most of my time in this base while the others are out on missions.”
“That doesn’t make your role any less critical.”
A compliment from Wyatt? Was the world coming to an end? “Maybe not, but I was a hindrance out in the field.”
“Not with me, you weren’t. I sparred with you. I know how well you’ve been trained. I’ll give Orrin that, he made sure you’d be prepared if anything did happen.”
She licked her lips and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Perhaps, but none of my training can equal what you do.”
“You held your own—wounded—against seven Saints. That’s damn impressive in anyone’s book.”
“I just wanted to stay alive.” And to find him, but she didn’t say that.
He leaned forward so that his forearms rested on his knees. “You think you failed because you got injured?” he asked in shock.
“You didn’t get wounded. I should’ve known what my attacker would do, but I was too slow.”
Wyatt dropped his head down for a moment. “Part of training is learning in just those situations. You survived it and killed the man attempting to end your life. Now you know what to do next time.”
“So you don’t think I belong in the base?”
“I was raised that a man protects those around him. I’ll always look out for you, and yes, I’d keep you down here if it were my choice. But you’ve also shown how competent you are.”
She couldn’t help but smile even as her lids grew heavy.
“What are you grinning about?” Wyatt asked.
“You gave me two compliments in a span of five minutes. I think I might swoon.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “You’d never faint. You have too much steel in your backbone.”
Was that another compliment? What was wrong with him? Why was he being so nice? Callie was instantly on guard.
As if sensing her change, Wyatt sat up straight. “We’re going to need you. I’d prefer to leave you as you are, but I’m prepared to tie your bony ass down to that cot to ensure that you stay in bed.”
“You just said you needed me,” she replied in confusion.
“We will. Just as soon as we get these assholes off the property. You’re the only one who can work magic on the computer. To attack the Saints, we have to use brute force and brains. You’re the brains.”
She stared at him for several seconds. There was no doubt that he would tie her down. “Fine, but you will give me a gun. I won’t be defenseless.”
“The door to the base will be closed. No one is getting in here.”
She simply stared at him until Wyatt blew out a breath and handed over her Glock. She tucked it under the blanket.
He was halfway out of the room when she said, “Thank you . . . for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, keeping his back to her.
“You could’ve left me.”
He gave her a shuttered look over his shoulder. “Is that what kind of man you think I am?”
“No.”
“It must be for you to say something like that.”
She held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I was merely stating a point. Some men would’ve left me to get away from the Saints.”
“I’m not some men.”
“I know.”
He turned to face her once more. There was a hard edge to his words when he asked, “Do you really?”
“I think I know you better than anyone here.”
His gold eyes darted away for a second.
She fisted her hand around her gun beneath the blanket. “You hate that, don’t you?”
“There are many things about this world I hate, Callie, but that isn’t one of them.”
She could no longer look him in the face. All those years she had thought horrible things about him, and yet he had gone above and beyond to get her back home.
He walked to her slowly as he said, “Do you know one of the things I’ve always liked about you?”
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“You always tell me the truth. You don’t hold anything back.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “Most of the time, I did it because you pissed me off.”
“I know. While others keep away from me, you put yourself in my way. You challenge me and force me to see things I don’t want to.”
“Again,” she said, swallowing. “Because you pissed me off.”
He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “My whole life people have been afraid of me. But not you. Never you.”
“You never gave me reason to be afraid.”
There was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he turned on his heel and walked away. Long after he was gone, she stared at the doorway.
Wyatt was different. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but something had changed. The obvious answer was them making love, but she refused to be that foolish and believe she had anything to do with it.
Most likely, it was the force of the Saints and how well connected they were. Wyatt was now learning that this wouldn’t be a quick battle, but a long war.
She hated the sadness that filled her because she wanted to be the reason he’d changed. She wanted him to have feelings for her other than responsibility.
Callie wiped at the tear that escaped. The only person she could blame was herself because she’d given in. She’d wanted to feel alive on what she thought was the last night of her life. Now, she had to deal with the fallout.
They were alive—barely. And the Saints were coming for them again. She wouldn’t repeat her mistake, even though she wanted him. Once would have to be enough.
If she hadn’t turned to him that night, Wyatt wouldn’t have done anything. They would’ve remained just as they were. Instead of tangled in this web of passion and unease.
Why couldn’t she have been stronger?
But she knew the answer. Wyatt. She’d always had a weakness for him, and there had been a perfect excuse to give in.
Recognizing her problem didn’t solve it, however. At this rate, she was bound to repeat the same blunder again and again. Worse, her body heated at the thought. She wanted that mistake, hungered for it.
If only Wyatt would be an ass again.
She snorted because not even that could cause her body to reject him. He’d walked back into her life without so much as a hello and began ordering her around.
Her years working at Whitehorse had prepared her for just such an encounter, and she didn’t hesitate to put Wyatt back in his place.
Except the stubborn ass didn’t stay there.
Because he was a natural-born leader, a man who always took charge and was ready to walk into a deadly situation without hesitation.
Damn him. Damn him, damn him.
She wished she hated him. She wished she felt nothing for him. But that’s all it was, wishful thinking. The truth was that she saw that he was a good man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Funny how being around him recently had shown her that the cold indifference he projected was a way for him to protect himself. If only she’d have seen that when she was younger. If only . . .
All the Loughmans suffered after Melanie’s death—but the worst was Wyatt because he’d been the one to find her and stay with her until the authorities came.
The part of Callie that always rose to the surface whenever Wyatt was near craved to wipe away his pain and comfort him.
It was foolish. Wyatt didn’t want or need her comfort, nor would she attempt to give it to him. He was, after all, a Loughman. Loughman men buried their grief and hurt deep, quietly suffering with it every day until it eventually became bearable.
That wasn’t the case with Wyatt. She feared he would always carry his suffering with him, using it as a shield to keep others away.
Callie heard a vibration. She looked over the side of the cot to see her burner phone on the floor. It took some doing, but she managed to reach over and grab it without causing herself too much pain.
As soon as she saw Orrin’s name, she smiled and answered. “Hey, you.”
“Callie,” Orrin said, relief in his voice. “You sound tired.”
“I’m all right.”
“You were shot.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Wyatt stitched me up and got me to the ranch.”
“He saved you.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
Orrin cleared his throat. “Is he near? I’d like to talk to him?”
“He, Owen, and Maks are preparing for an attack.”
“I see.”
She frowned when Orrin didn’t ask who Maks was. “How did you know I was shot? Was it Wyatt?” she asked hopefully.
“Maks called Yuri.”
Callie shook her head regretfully. “Tell me what you need Wyatt to know, and I’ll pass it on when I see him.”
“We killed Jankovic.”
“You did,” came a faint voice.
Callie was instantly on alert. “Was that Cullen?”
“It sure is,” Owen said with pride in every word.
She smiled, happy for him. “So the scientist is dead. That’s great news.”
“Not when it means the Saints will focus on all of you there.”
“Are y’all coming?”
Orrin hesitated. “Not yet.”
“What are y’all planning,” she demanded.
“Stay safe. We’ll check in soon.”
She pulled the cell phone away from her face as the line disconnected.