Chapter Four
Someone hissed at Callum to lower his voice.
“Sir,” the librarian called. “Wait!”
He ignored her and followed Grace, hot on her tail. Something hit the back of his shoulder. A pen hit the floor. Then a pencil. “What the—” He looked over his shoulder and sidestepped a flying magazine. “Jesus Christ, lady. I’m the good guy.”
She launched a paperback at him. “Leave her alone.”
“I’m here to help.” Callum pivoted, but Grace was gone.
“Wait!”
He ignored the librarian’s call to stop and hustled into the parking lot.
No Grace. He called her name. She was so damn close but slipping farther away.
His heart hammered. He couldn’t screw this up for Hayden.
Not to mention, she was clearly on the run.
More was wrong than they knew. Callum could fix whatever she was hiding from. She just had to give him a chance.
Think. She ditched her car a week ago. Nobody stood at the bus stop. Maybe she had another car. Hell, maybe she had Alicia Jackson’s car. Clearly, she had roots here that hadn’t turned up on Dean’s cyber analysis.
Callum scanned the parking lot and came up empty. All right. She wasn’t that fast. Especially not on this sweltering day. There weren’t any vehicles speeding from the parking lot. She was still there. Somewhere.
“Your brother sent me,” he called to the empty sidewalk. “Grace?”
She didn’t magically appear.
A man with an armful of books walked out of the library and gave Callum a wide berth.
Callum itemized his surroundings: a bus stop, a pollinator garden, a shaded cluster of benches, and a path that disappeared around the side of the building. He rushed in that direction.
Hayden wouldn’t like how he was handling this, but hell, Callum didn’t either. He rounded the corner of the building. The summer heat baked him as if Satan had left the oven door open.
Liquid sprayed over his face.
Fuck.
Pain brought him to his knees. The sharp, spicy chemical seared his eyes and nose. The white-hot agony was nearly paralyzing. “Son of a—” Hands on his face, Callum folded over.
“Leave me alone!” she cried.
“Grace.” Damn it. He couldn’t see. He choked on tears and snot and fuckin’ pepper spray. “Hayden—” Adrenaline coursed through his body. Every nerve in his head screamed for action. Run. Water. Anything to stop the searing burn. “—sent me.”
Callum couldn’t see if she’d sprinted away or watched him keel over.
Fire licked his burning lungs. His throat screamed.
The overpowering urge to rub his face and eyes was too much.
He’d been trained for this. The intense pain would stop, but maybe not before he could see again.
He tore off his shirt and pressed it to his face, praying for a reprieve.
Hell, the shirt probably had pepper spray on it, too.
He forced himself up and backed until he hit the building. He peeled the shirt from his eyes and tried to get his bearings. Then he saw Grace through his blurry, crying eyes as she backed away. The sunshine intensified the burn and his tears. Callum re-covered his face.
“Hayden sent you?”
Mopping his eyes, he battled the burn and labored through each fiery breath.
He nodded and should have identified himself but couldn’t.
Hell, he needed to string words together to say something, anything, but the effects of this fucking spray had him brain-dead.
Not to mention, that was Grace. Alive. It blew his mind to see her, even as it aggravated him to no end that she’d maced him.
“Why did he send you?”
“Why the fuck do you think?” He wiped his nose and rapidly blinked as he lifted his gaze. She hadn’t run. That was about the first good news he’d had since Viv sent him chasing shadows. “I need to…” Fuck. His face hurt. “You gonna run if I go wash my face?”
“I…uh, I don’t know. Maybe.”
Callum snorted and immediately regretted breathing through his nostrils. Did he have to talk to her? The assignment had been to set eyes on her. He’d set eyes on her. Sorta. And could report that Grace Willoughby and her can of pepper spray were doing just fine.
He peered back in the direction he’d come from. If he walked into the library, the pen-throwing librarian would call the cops. That wasn’t what either he or Grace needed.
Grace inched closer. “How do you know Hayden?”
“Fuckin’ hell, Grace.” He pulled the shirt away from his face. “Look at me.”
“I am looking, asshole—Oh God. Callum?”
He grunted. The years sharing a backyard fence should have left her with a few memories of him, even if he was currently red-faced, choking on snot, and blind. He covered his face with the shirt again but found no relief.
She rushed to his side. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry. God.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
He pulled the shirt away again and narrowed his irritated eyes. “What the hell do you think I’m doing? Trying to help.”
She touched his elbow but backed up as if he were a powder keg that the peppery spray had just primed. “Cal, come with me. I can help. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Just come with me.”
“Where?”
“To the bathroom.”
Callum snorted again. Again, that was another massive mistake.
His nasal passage throbbed as if he’d been snorting lines of dried habaneros.
At least the pain was dulling, or he was growing immune to it.
The cyclical nightmare of breathing and blinking wasn’t as bad as it had been.
That didn’t change how badly he needed to wash his face.
“The librarian threw office supplies at me. I’m not welcome. ”
“It’ll be fine.” She walked backward, as if she didn’t trust him not to run away. Grace gestured with large movements. “This way.”
“I can see.” More or less. The pain had somewhat dulled from white-hot agony to a general, all-consuming fire, enough that he could semi-function.
They returned to the library’s main entrance. He couldn’t stop the tears or blinking, and with his chin tucked to his bare chest, he followed her inside.
The cold blast of air conditioning rolled over his sweating shoulders, reigniting the burn on his face. His muscles twitched and shivered.
“This way.” They turned into the hallway off the main entrance. “The bathrooms are over here.” Grace lifted her hand to the door in front of the men’s restroom like a very quiet tour guide who hadn’t just brought him to a standstill with a bottle of pepper spray. “Here you go.”
He itched to rush inside and let cool water rush over his face, but wanted to keep an eye—more or less—on her until they were able to talk. She was in a predicament that he could quickly fix. If only she would give him a chance. “You gonna run off again?”
“No,” she admitted in a rough whisper.
He didn’t trust her quiet lilt. She was a runner and far better at hiding than expected. “You’re going to stay put. Right here? Right outside this door?”
“Yes.”
Still, she didn’t meet his eyes. He scrutinized her as best he could. The longer he studied her, the more she avoided eye contact. That could mean deception. Then again, his red, swollen eyes and irritated face probably weren’t offering much comfort.
Callum backed against the door to the men’s room without entering. “I’ll be back in three minutes or less.”
She studied the posters on the wall above the water fountain. “I’ll be here.”
He didn’t trust her but needed to wash his face. After one last look, he stepped inside.
The bathroom sinks had spigots with barely enough room to stick his face under the stream. He managed and let the cool water run over his skin until his eyes didn’t weep continuously.
His shirt had seen better days. It was gross enough to scare Grace away if he tugged it back on. Good thing for the change of clothes in the truck.
“Better?” she asked when he emerged.
Callum nodded. “Much.”
The librarian stood a few feet behind her like a bodyguard. He held up his hands in a show of good faith. Clearly, she knew Grace well enough to mama bear her, though Callum suspected she would throw office supplies at any man asking for a woman that set off her internal worry meter.
“Much?” The librarian stepped closer to Grace. “Then you must have been pretty bad to start with.”
“She got me good.”
The woman continued to assess him. “Must have, because you look a hundred times worse than when you strutted up to my desk.”
“I don’t think I strutted, but…”
Grace quietly snorted.
“I want to grab a change of clothes. Then can we talk?”
The librarian crossed her arms and lifted her chin, not hiding her glare. “Are you sure this is your old neighbor?”
“It’s him.” Grace twisted her fingers together. “Callum is my older brother’s best friend.”
“I knew Grace for as far back as I can remember,” he added, wanting to lessen the librarian’s dislike for him. He wasn’t a people pleaser, but this lady was the ticket to Grace’s trust.
“Grace says you serve in the military with her brother?” the woman asked.
“We did.” Callum pressed his molars together. The how and why they didn’t anymore wasn’t up for discussion. “I work for a private company now. I’m based out of Virginia.”
“I did my undergraduate at the University of Virginia.” She extended her hand and shook like she meant to impart her willingness to go to the mat for Grace. “Alicia Jackson.”
Alicia Jackson. He gritted his teeth but managed, “Nice to meet you.”
She offered a slight shrug, brushing off their initial meeting when she laid no claim to her name.
“Good school,” he offered like a peace branch.
“Great school,” she corrected, stubbing out his goodwill as if she’d tossed a cigarette to the ground and smashed it under her shoe. “We’ll stay here. You get your clothes, and then we can sit down in a study room. Are you okay with that, Grace?”
Grace nodded.
The women entered the library. Callum made a quick run to his truck and changed clothes.
A minute later, he spotted Grace in a small study room.
Its glass wall had the privacy shades drawn back, offering a direct line to the circulation desk.
Alicia saw him and moved in like a heat-seeking missile until she blocked the door.
“You going to let me in?” he asked.
Almost as tall as him but slight and slender, she placed her hands on her hips like a force to be reckoned with. “Are you going to do something to hurt or scare her?”
Again, he tried to appreciate Alicia’s protective role and didn’t want to spook either woman. “Hadn’t planned on it.”
“If you do, it will be something a lot heavier and sharper than a pen or magazine that hits the back of your head.”
He held up his hand like a scout. “Honest, Alicia. I’m here to help.”
She pushed back her glasses and scrutinized him in a way that would make most people wilt. Finally, Alicia inched aside. “Then good. She could use more help than she’ll ever ask for.”
That struck a nerve. She had money for security and a family she could trust. What didn’t he know? “I’ll do my best.”