Chapter 15
The Mayor
WES
Callie Callahan is doing some light stalking of her own, and it’s adorable. It shows me she doesn’t mind a little innocent obsessing.
Plus, she’s gorgeous. I sip my coffee and let my eyes roam her face.
Those dark, sharp eyes, a few freckles across the bridge of her nose, long dark hair in a braid lying over her shoulder.
Her pink winter jacket is bunched up on her chair, and she’s wearing another long cardigan, this one red, a snug white t-shirt, and long black skirt. She’s perfect.
“What’s your last name?”
“Winters.” I only hesitate for a split second.
“Wes Winters?” Callie raises her eyebrows.
“Are you judging me? Because your name is Callie Callahan.”
“Hey, I didn’t choose it.”
“It’s adorable.” I press my lips together.
“I’m a little surprised you shared your last name so easily.”
To be honest, I usually wouldn’t, but the woman has already been to my cabin, so it’s not like she can’t figure out who I am via real estate records—if she can remember where I live. And I don’t want to do anything to push Callie away. Not yet, anyway. Not when I’m so drawn to her.
Callie takes the last sip of her coffee, then tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “So nothing at all to share about Shane?”
I cock my head and consider if I should.
I don’t involve clients in the process aside from asking questions that help direct me here and there.
There are often dead ends and leads that fizzle out.
I push my hoodie sleeves up to my elbows before leaning lean back in my chair and linking my hands behind my head. Her eyes flit to my forearms.
“Shane was in Boston when he called you.”
“Fucker.” Her response is immediate and deeply annoyed. “Is he still there?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’ve been looking at security footage and haven’t spotted him. But more so, he hasn’t used his phone since that day.”
“Think he’s dead?” Callie almost looks hopeful, and I smirk. She rewards me with a small smile.
“It crossed my mind. But no. I’m guessing he’s using a burner phone.
” If this was another case, I’d probably already be on the ground in Boston trying to sniff Shane out.
But I want to take my time with this one.
To get things right. I breathe deeply and admit it’s also to spend more time with Callie.
“How much do you know about fight clubs?”
Callie’s spine stiffens.
“I hate fight clubs.” She picks up her coffee cup, remembers it’s empty, then puts it back down and looks out the window at a man walking by the coffee shop. He’s an Irish dude who is owner of the little bookstore in town.
I wait for her to continue.
“Dad ran the fight club in Boston. He asked me to work there multiple times over the past few years. As if I’d fit in.”
I glance down at Callie’s hot as hell librarian getup. She definitely doesn’t belong in a fight club. Not dressed like that, anyway.
“Shane got involved. He gave me so much shit for not helping. Shane loves that stupid place.”
“Is that what made you want a divorce? Him pressuring you to work for your family?”
“No. We had problems from the start.”
I want to ask what kinds of problems. On one hand, I like hearing about how wrong her soon-to-be-ex-husband is for her. On the other hand, it makes me furious.
“And your father, did he like Shane?”
“God, no. Shane lived with Dad for a while after he lost his father. I think Shane thought of him as a new father figure, but Dad never felt that way. I think Shane married me to stay a part of our family, and I married him to piss off my dad, at least partly.”
I grunt. He should’ve married Callie because he was hopelessly in love with her, not using her to advance his career. I ball my hands into fists under the table.
“I’m glad you’re divorcing him instead of staying miserable. It’s brave.”
“It doesn’t feel brave. It feels…” she trails off, staring into her empty coffee. I let my eyes roam her face. Callie’s beautiful, but she’s got dark circles underneath her eyes and deep lines between them, like she spends a lot of time with her brow furrowed.
“What does it feel like?” I bring my forearms onto the table and lean forward, watching her with rapt attention. The coffee shop empties, the middle school girls heading out with giggles and the couple following.
“Almost shameful.”
I have to bite my tongue to not jump in right here and contradict her. There’s nothing shameful about making a mistake. Misjudging someone. Callie deserves so much more than to feel bad about that.
“I stayed married to him when I knew he was a terrible match for me. But I can’t even divorce him correctly.”
“I’m not sure there’s a right way to divorce someone, Calliope,” I say gently. I relax my fists and want to reach over and touch her hands, which are wrung together on the table.
She shrugs. “It should’ve happened a long time ago. I suspected he was cheating. The job required him to stay away overnight on a regular basis, but it became more frequent in the past year or so. Then I found woman’s underwear in his pocket after a fight.”
Oh, hell no. If I ever get in the same room as this man, I am going to fucking kill him.
Cheating is never, ever okay. No matter what.
And cheating on Callie? This beautiful woman, so pure and untouchable?
She’s managed to stay true to herself through a lifetime of being in the Callahan family.
Somehow, she’s clung to some kind of moral compass that has kept her from becoming a bad person. Somehow, she’s remained good.
“I finally realized I needed to leave. But then—”
A shadow of sadness passes over her face, and she blinks a few times. I wait patiently for her to continue, my eyes not leaving hers.
“My father died. I asked for a divorce, and we fought about it. Then Shane disappeared.”
“Fuck, Callie.”
“He isn’t going to let me go on my terms. It’ll have to be on his, if at all.”
I make a decision. This isn’t going to be a simple job where I find someone and move on. It’s not just a job anymore. Callie won’t go through this alone. I was already invested, but now I’m committed.
“Shit, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Callie’s cheeks turn a deep pink. “Please forget all of that. This is a job to you, not a sob story.”
I shake my head, not willing to voice my thoughts: It’s not just a job to me anymore.
“Think he’s working at the fight club? God, that would be so obvious.”
“No. He’s not, I’m almost sure. But I have a feeling someone there might know something.”
“Oh.” Callie raises her eyebrows and hope creeps onto her face.
This woman might not want me to protect her, but I’m desperate to take that job. She deserves to have someone place her first. To watch her back. I can at least do that much for her while she’s sorting out the end of her marriage.
“I was thinking I’d pay a visit.”
“I’m coming,” she says immediately.
“That’s not a good idea.” I shake my head, but it’s a weak protest. Didn’t I know she’d insist on coming?
This woman who appears to be a good girl but also followed a serial killer to his isolated cabin and then came back looking for him a few days later?
“Those places are dangerous. Violent. Filled with bad people.”
“Yeah, I know.” Storm clouds come over her face, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“It’s not safe.” The idea of taking a beautiful woman like this to a nasty fight club filled with lowlifes is a nightmare. But she’ll have me at her back. I can protect her.
“I said I’m coming,” she says, and I huff, then smile. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”
“I like hanging out with you, that’s all,” I say, and she blinks with surprise. “So if you promise to stay close, I’ll take you.”
She breathes out, like she was holding air in her lungs waiting to see what I’d say.
“Thank you.” Callie doesn’t exactly smile at me, but the stormy look fades into cautious relief. “When?”
“They have fights on Friday nights.”
“Okay.” She nods. “So we go this Friday?”
“No. I need more prep time. A week from Friday.”
“Uh—”
“This is my process,” I say firmly. In all honestly, I could be ready for this Friday, but another week won’t hurt. “I’ll continue to monitor security footage from the area, confirm the fight club address, keep an eye on any activity on his cards or his mobile. I’m thorough, Callie.”
“Ohhhhkay.” Her mouth twitches, and I’m glad she finds me amusing instead of annoying.
“I’ll pick you up next Friday afternoon.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m driving myself.”
“Of course you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing bad, I promise. It just feels like something you would do.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I’d like to.” I throw a charming grin at her.
“For fuck’s sake,” Callie murmurs but doesn’t protest. “Now please tell me how you knew I was here.”
“Huh?” I press my lips together and project innocence.
“Is it my phone? Are you tracking me through Find My phone?”
“Oh, Calliope, my sweet summer child.”
“What? Is it something else?”
I have no intention of telling her about the spyware on her phone or in her phone case or the tracker on her car or the cameras in her apartment.
“So you’re not going to tell me.” She scowls.
I shake my head. “Isn’t it enough I’m looking out for you?” I stand and pick up Callie’s pie plate and our empty coffee cups. “Come, let’s go for a walk.” I walk the dish to the counter, toss the cups, then say goodbye to Maris. I swipe my beanie from the table and tug it on my head.
Callie shrugs her jacket on and watches me, stepping through the door that I hold open for her.
“But why are you looking out for me?” Callie asks once I’m standing with her on the sidewalk. I reach over and gently pull the hood of Callie’s pink winter coat over her head.
“This way.” I nod up the road.
“Why do you care if I get robbed on the streets of Portland?” She falls into step next to me.
I side-eye her, then grab her arm as she slips on an icy patch on the sidewalk. “Damn. This needs to be salted again.”