Chapter 17
Seventeen
Wouldn’t Come Back — Trousdale
CALLIOPE
“ D id you shoot at me yesterday?” I asked the second Jasper picked up the phone. Which was after exactly three rings, like always.
No matter what he was doing, where he was, he picked up the phone for me. Day or night. It used to be charming. Before the mind games, murders, sexual assaults and possible assassination attempts.
“I think I’d remember that.” He didn’t seem perturbed at my greeting, nor did he seem surprised.
I squeezed the phone, anger making me want to Hulk out and smash something. Actually, I wanted to smash Jasper’s face. The insane amount of rage I was feeling toward him was unfamiliar but not at all unwelcome.
“I’m okay, you know. Alive. Except for the flesh wound on my arm. Thanks for asking.” His usual lack of concern was something I’d also previously found charming. Thinking it was endearing that he was confident in my ability to handle anything. That he didn’t need to coddle me, protect me.
It was nothing but chilling now, in the face of Elliot’s complete concern about my well-being that wasn’t patronizing or controlling. It was caring. Elliot showed me what it felt like when someone truly and selflessly cared for you.
“I’m aware you’re alive since you’re on the phone,” Jasper replied flatly. “And you’ll know it wasn’t me since if I was shooting at anyone, I wouldn’t miss.”
My heart compressed at the certainty in his tone, a truth I’d already come to yesterday, but hearing it out loud made it all the more disturbing.
“Despite current circumstances, the fact remains that I would never shoot at you,” he added in the same unemotional tone, yet there was a slight intensity to his voice that was rare.
That was his way of saying he cared about me. As much as a man like him was capable of. Never overt. Never in a way that would leave him exposed.
I inhaled deeply, looking out at the waves.
I was two towns over in a swanky hotel bar drinking a martini and working.
If someone was trying to kill me, I didn’t need to be around anyone who’d get caught in the crossfire.
And I knew that the Jupiter crew would be descending on my house at some point, something I didn’t need.
Nora needed them, fussing over Henry. Taking care of her.
I wasn’t able to steal her thunder just because someone decided to get trigger happy.
A good thing they weren’t a better shot, I supposed.
Otherwise, poor Henry’s birthday would always be shadowed by my death.
“Is your employer contracting out my assassination?” I believed Jasper. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.
“My employer does not want you dead. You’re too useful for that.”
I tapped my finger against the rim of my glass when I caught the eye of the server, needing another.
Needed a hundred more drinks. If only I could drink my problems away.
Millions of people had tried that before, doing nothing but creating a million more troubles.
Yet we continued to try. Because what else could we do?
Face the world sober? Strong people did that.
People I did not want to fuck with, those who raw-dogged life.
“Not trying to scare me back to New York?” I was looking for a hole in Jasper’s story. Truth be told, it would be nice if it was him so I could know and form a plan. The shooter being unknown just added to my list of shit to do.
“If they wanted to scare you, they wouldn’t do it with a flesh wound.” Jasper’s tone was full of foreboding.
My teeth smashed together. Yeah. That I knew. The mob was a lot of things, but they weren’t subtle. I would’ve lost a finger, if I was lucky.
“You have someone else who wants you dead and has terrible aim or who wants you scared and is stupid enough to think the shooting would scare you,” Jasper added when I didn’t speak for a long time.
He was confident that I wasn’t scared because he knew me.
That I was too jaded to be frightened by a botched shooting.
And that would’ve been true if I’d been alone.
If I hadn’t been walking with someone who’d used his own body to cover me, willing to get himself riddled with bullets to ensure my safety.
That terrified me.
The thought of Elliot bleeding to death on top of me, his life given willingly to save mine, walking around breathing while he rotted in the earth.
The last of my martini turned rancid in my mouth at the mere thought.
“Yes, it would take a lot more than that,” I lied. The last thing Jasper needed to know about was Elliot.
“You pissed off a small-town hunter?” He was unusually chatty.
I mouthed a thank you to the server as he put another drink in front of me in record time.
My mind raced, trying to figure out who the shooter was if it wasn’t Jasper or anyone connected to him.
It’s not like I didn’t have a list of enemies.
Plenty of fallen men would dance on my grave given the chance.
Some might’ve even had enough power or bravery to attempt to kill me, but I doubted it.
“Something like that,” I murmured.
“You want me to look into it?”
I froze, my martini inches from my mouth. It was not an offer from the goodness of his heart. He’d expect something in return. And I was done owing Jasper Hayes.
“No,” I shook my head. “I can handle this.”
“Flesh wound would beg to differ,” he countered.
I scowled, though he couldn’t see it. “I’m breathing, aren’t I?”
“For now,” he finally said after a loaded pause. It wasn’t exactly a threat, yet it cooled my blood, nonetheless. “My offer stands, if you come to your senses.”
“I’ve come to them, which is why I’ll never ask for another favor from you as long as I live.” Not giving him a chance to reply, I hung up on him.
The second I broke the call, my phone started vibrating again.
Elliot.
He’d called repeatedly during the past three hours. He’d demanded I check in with him, and a quick drive by my house and seeing Kip’s pickup parked there had told me the men had coordinated some kind of protection detail.
No way was I letting that shit happen. Hence the hotel.
I’d texted Elliot to tell him I hadn’t been murdered and was not allowing myself to be a part of any sort of protection detail.
He hadn’t been calmed by that, hence the calls.
Once again, I silenced it, picking up my drink instead.
Drinking wasn’t going to solve my problems, but I wasn’t about to face them head-on. Or sober.
Not that night, at least.
ELLIOT
“Fuck,” I muttered as I heard Calliope’s voicemail message yet again.
Which was, “ If I’m not answering your call, I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t leave a message, I won’t listen to it.”
She was screening my calls. But she was okay. Like her text said. It was a mistake trying to put any kind of guard detail on her. I’d told Rowan as much when he’d arrived at the restaurant earlier to ‘make a plan.’
Rowan was the kind of man who needed a plan, needed actionable steps to keep his loved ones safe.
I got that. The need to chain Calliope to my side so I could have eyes on her at all moments was maddening.
But I understood that that was a surefire way to lose her, which was why I had let her leave my place and had headed to Shaw Shack to masquerade as business as usual.
I’d been considering delaying my departure this weekend.
Though I’d known Calliope wouldn’t be happy about that.
And we couldn’t afford to miss a single catch.
The money from those lobsters was already allocated to paying bills.
I’d been musing over this when I pulled up to find Rowan waiting for me, letting me walk him into the silent restaurant.
“She’s in real danger,” was Rowan’s response to my apprehension at the guard detail idea. “She doesn’t seem to think keeping herself alive is important, so I’m taking it upon myself to make sure that my children grow up with their crazy fucking aunt.”
There was plenty of anger in his tone, but I also heard the anxiety. He loved his sister. That much was clear.
“Calliope has a vested interest in keeping herself alive,” I countered.
“If not out of self-preservation then because she knows the pain it would cause the people she cares about.” I’d seen it.
She’d tried to hide it, but I recognized the fierce love she had for all of her family and friends in Jupiter.
It was one of the reasons I was rapidly falling in love with her.
Had fallen.
“You don’t know her like I do.” Rowan rubbed his eyes. He had a newborn at home, so he probably wasn’t sleeping, and what little sleep he got was probably interrupted by concern for his sister. “It’s been a lifetime of near misses. Her luck is running out.”
“Calliope doesn’t need luck,” I told him firmly, taking glasses from the sterilizer. “She’s smart enough to take care of herself.”
He eyed me, a slight curl to his upper lip. I understood his skepticism. We operated differently. Though that didn’t mean I didn’t have all the same urges as he did, to protect her, follow her, not let her out of my sight.
“I may not know her like you do,” I continued. “But you don’t know her like I do either. I know that the quickest way to lose her is to take away her agency. And I’m not losing her.”
“Well, good for fucking you.” Rowan pinned me with a stern gaze. “But I’ll settle for having her pissed at me, strutting around in stupid fucking shoes as opposed to burying her.”
I nodded, taking great effort not to flinch at the thought of Calliope dead. “I respect that. But I won’t be part of it.”
I weathered what was an appropriately badass stare from Rowan that would’ve sent a lesser man running.
Then he left without another word.
I wasn’t sure if I’d gained an enemy of Rowan Derrick thanks to that conversation, but we weren’t slated to be best friends anytime soon. Which was fine with me. My focus right then was Calliope.