Chapter 18
Eighteen
The man slowed the SUV and pulled off the highway. He made a right turn, then a left, into the truck stop parking lot.
It was one of those nameless places that existed purely for function—gas pumps, a convenience store with flickering neon, a handful of eighteen-wheelers parked along the perimeter.
The man—she still didn't know his name—drove past the main parking area and around to the back, where the asphalt gave way to gravel and weeds and the kind of shadows that swallowed secrets.
He put the SUV in park but left the engine running.
They sat in silence. Emery's wrists ached from the zip ties, her head still throbbing. She shifted, trying to find a position that didn't make everything hurt worse.
"How long are we waiting here?" she asked.
"Shut up."
"I just want to know—"
He raised his hand, his fingers curled around the butt of the gun. He turned, his gaze meeting hers with a coldness that made her shiver. "I said shut up. One more word, and I'll make sure you can't talk at all. We clear?"
Emery pressed her lips together and nodded.
Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. The man kept checking his phone, his mirrors, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel with increasing agitation.
Then headlights swept across the gravel lot. A silver Mercedes pulled in beside them.
She knew that car. Worse, she knew the owner.
The man got out, circled, and yanked open the rear hatch where Emery sat bound. "Don't even think about screaming."
Emery's heart hammered. Her body trembled. Her mouth grew dry. But heat burned through her veins. The kind of rage that wanted blood. That demanded she rip something apart with her bare hands.
The Mercedes door opened, and Callie Callaway stepped out.
Emery's breath caught. Not from shock—they’d suspected Callie was involved, had known from those text messages that C meant Callie.
But seeing her here, seeing her walk toward the SUV in her designer clothes and perfect makeup like this was just another business meeting, made it real in a way that flipped a switch in Emery.
All this to silence her. To make sure a third heir never made a claim on the Callaway estate, regardless of what David Callaway had wanted.
Callie had the audacity to smile. And not just any smile. It was wide, sweet-looking, and almost genuine. She eased into the trunk of the SUV, settling in like she owned the space.
“Well, well, well,” Callie said, in a sing-song voice. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”
"You're behind this," Emery said. Not a question. A statement.
“It depends on what part you’re referring to.
” Callie picked at the side of her nail, then lifted her gaze with deliberate slowness.
"My brother was the mastermind behind getting Harold to humiliate you. That was all Winston—and while it was a good plan, I did worry it wouldn’t be enough.
I warned him that you and Devon had this thing.
So, I made sure I was prepared with a contingency plan.
” Her manic smile widened. Her eyes lit up.
“You tried to discredit me a second time, and you used Gabe to do it. Why?” Emery wanted answers. She needed them. If she was going to die, she was going to leave knowing.
“That was only partially me.” Callie sighed.
“My brother had this strange idea that if Gabe either got fired from Stone Bridge Winery or was somehow involved in a scandal, we’d be able to scoop him up, and he could be our vintner.
I thought that was ridiculous. Gabe would never.
He’d become a garbage collector before that happened.
I came up with the idea that you were working together.
Scamming us for the inheritance. Scamming the Boones with forgeries. ”
“That’s insane.” Emery couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It had to be the most convoluted story she’d ever heard. It was absurd. It bordered on lunacy.
“Is it, though?” Callie leaned closer, pressing her hand on the carpet of the SUV.
“This entire valley is built on family legacy. My family’s winery, the Boones’, they go back three generations, as do others.
Gabe’s grandfather was a criminal. Hired muscle who murdered one of his employers over gossip.
” She tapped her fingers against the carpet.
“Your father is being investigated for fraud. It’s only a matter of time before charges are brought.
Both you and Gabe are simply repeating history, and all it takes is a few whispers in the vines to make it true. ”
Callie had come unhinged. She’d lost her mind.
Emery’s breath came in shallow pants. Her heart raced. Her mind played all the events like a movie loop—in fast forward. They whizzed by, only allowing her to catch glimpses of the horror.
But it was enough to remind her that Callie was not only nuts but also dangerous.
"You tried to kill me."
“That wasn’t me.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “That was him. Turns out, you're surprisingly hard to kill."
“And this conversation needs to end.” The man who had been leaning against the car, with his arms folded, saying absolutely nothing, had pushed from that position and stood at the opening of the SUV. “I need to get me and her out of here, or she becomes solely your problem.”
“Just a few more moments,” Callie said in that sweet, but annoying voice that was one octave too high to be anything other than fake.
“You’ve got five minutes,” the man said. “I’m not risking my freedom for this paycheck.”
Callie shifted her gaze back to Emery. “I’ve been trying to figure out what you have that I don’t, because it doesn’t make sense.”
“What are you talking about?” Emery asked.
“You and Devon,” Callie said, as if the words tasted bitter, and she needed to spit them out.
“He doesn’t do drama. He hates it. Avoids it all costs.
So, why is he still with you? It’s not your good looks, because you’re average.
You don’t have money, though, he doesn’t need any.
I can’t imagine you’re all that great in bed. ”
“This is about Devon?” Emery's wrists burned where she pulled against the zip ties. “Not about me possibly being an heir?”
“Winston only wanted you gone. All he cared about was making sure the three months passed for the heir to be made known. After that, he didn’t care what you did or where you worked.
But the problem was we didn’t know our dad was going to die or that you’d come back to Stone Bridge.
Once that happened, your adoption, your birthday, your connection to this valley—it was only a matter of time before someone put it together.
" Callie scooted to the edge of the hatch and stood.
"And there is no way I'm letting you take even a portion of my family fortune.
Being the bastard kid of my father's indiscretion doesn't make you an heir.
It makes you a mistake that should have stayed buried. "
"Your mother hired an investigator—"
"My mother's a sentimental fool who thinks family is more important than money.
She wanted to find you, to welcome you with open arms, to split everything three ways like we're all one big happy family.
" Callie's voice dripped venom. "But I'm not sharing the Callaway fortune.
Not with you. Not with anyone." Callie's expression shifted, something predatory sliding across her features.
Cold. Calculating. Malicious. “And Devon's mine.
Always has been, always will be. You were just a distraction.
But once you're gone, once you've 'disappeared' after sending that sweet little email about needing space—I'll be there to help him pick up the pieces.
Console him. Remind him that I'm the one who's always been there. "
"You're insane."
"I'm practical." Callie sat back. "You disappear. The will's clock runs out. Winston and I split everything. Devon eventually moves on—with me. Everyone wins."
"They're onto you," Emery said. "The police, Devon's family, everyone. Even if you kill me, you're going down for this."
"Am I?" Callie's smile didn't waver. “Thanks to my brother, all the evidence points to poor, jealous Gabe. His guns, his emails, his motive."
“I don’t understand. You said you tried to make it look like we were working together.” The question burst out.
Callie leaned closer, and Emery could smell her perfume—expensive, cloying.
“We had to give my mother a distraction. She was salivating over the possibility that he was an heir when that photo surfaced. But then we show her how he might have been sabotaging you—or maybe working with you—and she’ll be ready to call off the search.
Besides, I don’t like Gabe. Devon listens to him too much.
Respects his opinion in areas where he should be listening to me. ”
“You sent those emails to that reporter,” Emery said as fact.
Callie shrugged.
"You're destroying an innocent man's life."
"Collateral damage." Callie shrugged. "Now, I think we're done here. Time for you to go take your final drive with—"
Sirens. Distant but growing closer.
The man pacing in the lot paused and stared at Callie. "No. No, I'm not getting caught. I'm not going down for this."
"Drive!" Callie slammed the hatch closed. "Drive now!"
But the man was already moving, bolting into the darkness beyond the truck stop.
"You idiot!" Callie screamed after him. "Get back here!"
More sirens. Closer now. Red and blue lights flashing in the distance.
Callie's head whipped around, scanning, searching. She raced around the vehicle, slipped behind the driver’s seat, and slammed the gearshift into drive.
"What are you doing?" Emery shouted.
Callie didn’t answer. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
The SUV lurched forward, tires spitting gravel. They careened around the side of the truck stop.
Emery slammed against the side of the cargo area, her bound hands making it impossible to brace herself.