5. CALLIE
CALLIE
The warmth disappeared from the room the moment I saw Maddie’s father standing beside Viper.
Reaper sat up, taking the phone from my hand before I could drop it. His body was still warm against mine, the sheet tangled around his hips, but every trace of the man who had held me afterward vanished as he studied the photograph.
The enforcer returned.
“When did you last see him?”
“Seven months ago.”
“He live around here?”
“He moves around. Sometimes he stays with friends, sometimes he finds work in another town, and sometimes he disappears until he wants something.”
“What does he usually want?”
“Money. Sympathy. Another chance to prove he can be a father when it suits him.”
Reaper’s jaw tightened. “He ever hurt you?”
“Not with his fists.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “That ain’t what I asked.”
I pulled the sheet higher around myself.
“He left when Maddie was one. Then he came back six months later with apologies and promises, stayed long enough for her to recognize him, and disappeared again. Every time I stopped expecting him, he returned and accused me of keeping his daughter from him.”
“He pay support?”
“No.”
“See her regularly?”
“No.”
“Then he ain’t her father. He’s a man who helped make her.”
I stared at the photograph. Maddie’s father looked thinner than the last time I had seen him, his shoulders hunched inside a jacket I recognized from years ago. Viper stood close, one hand gripping the back of his neck while he spoke into his ear.
He did not look like a willing friend.
He looked frightened.
“That doesn’t excuse him,” I said. “But I don’t think he went to them because he wanted to hurt Maddie.”
“Men like Viper don’t care what he wanted. They found somethin’ they could use.”
“What?”
“Debt. Drugs. Fear. Pick one.”
Reaper climbed out of bed and dressed quickly. I pulled on my clothes while trying not to think about how different the room felt now, as though the danger had been waiting outside the door while we convinced ourselves we had time.
When we returned downstairs, Maddie was sitting on Diesel’s shoulders while he pretended to be a horse. Her laughter filled the clubhouse.
I looked at her and felt terror settle beneath my ribs. Reaper’s hand closed around mine. It wasn’t romantic or gentle. His grip was hard, steady, and impossible to misunderstand.
He knew.
***
Four days passed without another threat.
The police kept the gun. The Black Thorns denied knowing Viper. Maddie’s father switched off his phone and disappeared from every address Hawk could find.
Reaper didn’t leave us.
He repaired my window, replaced both locks, and installed cameras I couldn’t afford while refusing every offer of payment. He slept on my couch when we stayed at the house and in his clubhouse room when we did not, always close enough that I could hear him moving through the night.
Maddie began saving half of every biscuit for him.
I began expecting to find his boots beside my door.
By Monday morning, I couldn’t keep pretending we could hide forever. I needed to work, Maddie needed preschool, and the diner owner needed somebody willing to cover the lunch shift.
Reaper hated it.
“You ain’t takin’ her back there.”
“She cannot stop going to preschool indefinitely.”
“Watch me.”
“You are not her parent.”
The words struck harder than I intended. His face became unreadable.
“No,” he said. “I ain’t.”
Guilt burned through me. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Yeah, sweetheart. It is.”
He walked out before I could stop him.
He still followed us to preschool.
Gunner positioned one prospect near the front entrance and another behind the building, while Reaper checked every gate himself. He made the director change Maddie’s collection password and remove her father from every authorized list.
Only then did he let me leave.
He spent my entire lunch shift in the same booth he had chosen the night we met, drinking bad coffee and watching the windows.
We had barely spoken.
“You cannot sulk here all day,” I said when I refilled his cup.
“Ain’t sulkin’.”
“You threatened a customer because he complained about his fries.”
“He grabbed your ass.”
“He touched my apron.”
“Hand was headin’ lower.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know men.”
I put down the coffee pot. “You know violence. That isn’t the same thing.”
His gaze moved slowly over me. “You seemed to like what else I know.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
My phone rang before I could answer. The preschool number filled the screen. Every part of me went cold.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Ms. Harte?” The director’s voice shook. “There’s been an incident.”
Reaper was out of the booth before I moved.
“What kind of incident?”
“The fire alarm activated during outdoor play. We moved the children to the assembly area, but there was confusion near the rear gate and—”
“And what?”
“We can’t find Maddie.”
The diner disappeared around me.
I heard the director talking, heard words like police and search and security footage, but none of them made sense beside the one fact tearing through my mind.
They could not find my daughter.
Reaper took the phone from my hand.
“Who opened the rear gate?” he demanded. “How long’s she been gone? Who the hell was watching the road?”
I gripped the counter because my knees were failing.
His eyes found mine.
The fury I expected wasn’t there. His face had gone terrifyingly calm.
He ended the call. “We’re goin’.”
The ride to the preschool took less than five minutes.
Police vehicles crowded the entrance. Teachers stood with crying children in the parking lot while parents arrived from every direction, and one of the Iron Flames prospects sat against an ambulance with blood covering the side of his face.
I ran toward the director.
“Where is she?”
“We were bringing everyone through the side gate when two motorcycles began fighting near the road. One of the men crashed into the fence, and the teachers turned to move the children away. Maddie was here one moment, and then—”
“You lost her?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You lost my baby?”
Reaper caught me before I could reach the woman. His arms closed around my waist, holding me against his chest while I fought him.
“Let me go.”
“Callie.”
“She lost Maddie!”
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
“I need to find her.”
“And we will, but I need you thinkin’. Look at me.”
I turned.
His hands closed around my face. “What car does her father drive?”
“A dark blue sedan. It’s old, one of the rear lights is broken.”
“Plate?”
I gave it to him.
Gunner approached with a tablet taken from the preschool office. “Camera caught a blue sedan leaving the service road three minutes after the alarm. Plate’s obscured, but the rear light is out.”
Reaper released me and took the tablet.
The footage was grainy, but the driver’s face appeared for half a second as the car turned.
Maddie’s father.
A small hand struck the rear window.
My daughter’s hand.
A sound tore out of me.
Reaper’s calm changed.
It didn’t break. It hardened.
“Gunner, send the plate to every brother and every contact we got. Knox checks traffic cameras. Diesel takes the highway. Hawk calls the sheriff and tells ’em if they get in our way, I’ll go through them.”
“On it.”
Reaper turned toward the injured prospect. “What happened?”
“Viper hit me from behind. By the time I got up, the car was gone.”
“Which direction?”
“West.”
Reaper walked to the rear gate and crouched beside something lying in the grass.
Maddie’s stuffed dinosaur.
He picked it up carefully, brushing dirt from the yellow fabric before bringing it to me. I pressed it against my chest.
“This is my fault,” I whispered. “I sent her back.”
“No.”
“I wanted things to be normal.”
“This ain’t on you.”
“I told you that you weren’t her parent.”
His hand closed around the back of my neck.
“I don’t need a name for what she is to me.”
Tears blurred his face. “Bring her back.”
His forehead pressed against mine.
“I ain’t comin’ back without her, sweetheart.”
Then he stepped away, drew his gun, and became the man everyone in town feared.