Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Pen
I’m restless and unable to fall back asleep, and listening to Callum’s and Dom’s slow, steady breathing only makes me more restless.
I slide out of bed then watch them for a minute to make sure I haven’t woken them.
God, I love those two. I grab my clothes from the floor and creep out of Callum’s room.
After I dress in the living room, I shrug on my jacket and then the grab the radio and ear piece. I slide open one panel of Callum’s fancy three-paneled slider and head outside for some cold, fresh mountain air.
It’s two in the morning, and all seems quiet. I set off to walk the perimeter of the four thousand square foot house, trying to work off some of this restlessness.
As I turn the third corner, I realize I have not spotted a single one of Dean’s men. Every hair follicle on my head tightens, and it’s not from the cold air. A prickly feeling of being watched sets my teeth on edge. I call Dean’s lead, Joel.
“Check in, Joel,” I whisper into the radio.
Nothing.
“Someone check in,” I add, holding my breath for a moment. And still nothing.
This isn’t right. I run inside, finding Fig and Tobias in the hallway.
“What’s going on?” Tobias asks.
“Dean’s team isn’t answering their radio.”
“No one?” Fig adds.
“Nobody is.”
“Wake, Jordan—”
“I’m up,” Jordan growls, his gravelly voice letting us know we’ve woken him—which is confirmed by his attire. Or lack thereof. He’s got bed head and is standing there in his boxers and nothing else.
“So am I,” John says while yawning. At least he’s fully dressed.
“I’m joining the party,” Dom says from behind me. I glance over my shoulder. He’s dressed in jeans and a white tank.
God, I love it when he looks so casual and dressed down.
Okay, dick. It’s not the time.
“Each of you grab a headset,” Tobias orders. “Pen and Dom, head around the back. Fig and Jordan hit the left side of the house. John and I will take the right.”
“Let me grab some sweats,” Jordan says before he quickly disappears down the hall.
“Let’s go.” Tobias then heads out the front door with his second following close behind.
Dom and I quietly head to the back of the house through the slider.
With practiced ease, because we’ve done this more times lately than I can count, Dom automatically flanks to the left and I go right, edging the backyard’s perimeter—then we zigzag the lawn like a synchronized dance until we meet at the back fencing.
There’s no need for a flashlight since we surveyed and marked the backyard when we brought Callum back.
I know every inch of this yard without having to see the three massive, empty planter boxes, the inground covered pool and a hot tub.
“Fuck,” I hear Dom in my ears. “Pen, behind the Ponderosa pine.”
I don’t like his tone and rush over to his location. There, behind the tall pine lay one of Dean’s men. “Is he—”
“He’s alive, but out cold,” Dom confesses as he’s bent down, two fingers to the pulse point on the man’s neck.
“I found two, and they look tranqed,” Jordan replies over coms.
“I found Joel,” Fig announces. “He’s out cold.”
“We need to reassess what the fuck is going on here,” Tobias says, then adds, “I have to wake up Dean.”
In that moment, I’m glad I’m not the lead. Telling Dean Harper that his best men have been drugged will not be pleasant.
The next several hours are nothing but crazy chaos. Dean’s lead, Joel has been on the phone with Dean, getting his ass chewed out. And Dante is up to their ears with calls from the record label.
The one moment of relief we had was when Dante stumbled out of their room, barefoot and sleep rumpled. None of us had ever seen Dante looking less than their best and, for one full second, there was silence. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop.
Dean’s men finally came to and were pronounced uninjured by Lyric. Dante loudly gloated that they were right to bring Lyric onboard to provide medical help to the band—and, by default, the band’s security.
Callum, thankfully, has slept through this. Tobias wisely steered us all into the game room, which is the room farthest away from Callum’s. We do not need Callum to know right now that the security we promised him has been breached.
Despite the clusterfuck around me, I keep track of Dom and the subtle way he looks at his phone every few minutes. He’s been texting someone, and in between his texts, he’s reading messages. When he caught me watching him, he quickly put his phone back in his pocket and walked out of my sight.
That’s it. I’m tired of waiting for Dom to tell me what’s going on. What could he be hiding that he can’t share with me? I tell him everything. I can’t remain silent any longer. I need to know.
I find him alone in the office, looking over the new security system Dean sent over. Given the risk of others entering, I ask Dom to go outside with me, so we can talk in private.
“All right.” Dom nods and follows me to the deck on the side of the house. With a sideways nod of his head, he tells Dean’s man to leave. “What’s this about, babe?” Dom asks, folding his arms across his chest.
“What are you hiding from me?” I bluntly ask.
His eyes narrow and his body goes taut. “What do you mean? I’m hiding nothing from you.”
“Then why wouldn’t you tell me where you were going the other day?
Why haven’t you said anything since you got back?
All you said was that you went to help an old friend you used to work with.
What the hell kind of explanation was that?
I don’t even know where you used to work!
And who do you keep texting? Is it that friend?
We’re supposed to be together—share things.
Don’t you trust me enough to talk to me? ”
The muscles in Dom’s jaw jump before he looks away. He drops his arms to his side and lets out a long exhale. I hit the mark.
With Dom’s shitty excuse for his whereabouts, his words-only apology, and then further lack of communication, my doubt about the depth of his feelings for me runs riot through my head.
“I do trust you, Pen,” he says, finally looking at me. “I don’t know where your doubts are coming from, but I’m not hiding anything from you. I told you the truth. I went to see an old coworker that needed my help. That’s all.”
“I know that’s what you said. But ever since we arrived here, you’re always checking your phone, texting someone—”
“Are you watching me?” His low warning tone is enough to make my own hackles rise.
“Yeah, I am. Hell, Dom—I don’t know anything about your past. Any time I ask about what you did before Harper Security, you brush me off.
You won’t talk to me about it. I’m supposed to be your partner, here at work and as your boyfriend.
I should know something other than these last two years-worth of your life that we’ve spent together.
Let me in,” I plead, as my heart begins to race.
“Jesus—”
“Dom! Pen!” Our names pierce the air. We both rush around to the front of the house and see Lyric frantically waving his hands as he talks to Tobias.
“What’s wrong?” Dom reaches them first.
“Callum’s mom called him, crying for help.”
I don’t wait for the rest of the explanation to react, and I barrel inside the house, toward Callum’s bedroom. The second I enter I hear crying. “Callum.”
“Mum, please.” He’s sitting by the window and reaches for me with his splinted arm. His face is pinched and tears are running down his cheeks. “We’re coming, Mum.”
I take the phone from Callum and put it on speaker. “Mrs. Fitz, this is Pen Gallagher, one of your son’s bodyguards. What happened?”
“Some guy broke into my house. He was looking for my husband,” she says tearfully. “The guy put a gun to my head, Pen, and told me to tell Brian to stay out of his business,” she chokes out, fear lacing her words.
Dom storms into the room, with Fig and Tobias behind him. “Mrs. Fitz, this is Dominic Rossetti. Is the guy still there?” he questions, taking the phone out of my hand.
I step back, aggravated at how he grabbed the phone from me and proceeds to take over the conversation. But I give Dom the space, and find myself standing next to Callum, who takes my hand. His grip is tighter than before, and that’s a good sign. At least, for his healing.
I glance at his tear-stained face and my heart aches for him. I gently wrap my arm around Callum’s shoulder while we listen to his panicking mother.
“No. He left, but I’m scared that he’ll come back. And I don’t know where Brian is—what if that guy wants to kill him? I don’t know what to do.”
“We can’t worry about Brian right now. Our priority is you.
” Dom’s voice has a hard edge, but then he gentles it enough to soothe her as he makes his plan clear.
“Here’s what I need you to do, Mrs. Fitz.
Call the cops and let them know you had an intruder.
Then go pack a bag. Someone from the Chicago Sentinel Agency will come pick you up.
They’re friends of mine, so don’t be alarmed when they show up.
If you’re not sure, call us, and we will verify them.
They’ll keep you safe until we can get to you. Do you understand?”
“Okay,” she says, her sniffles echoing through the cell phone.
“Good. Here’s Callum.” Dom passes the cell to him and then he pulls out his own phone, taps the screen a few times and puts it to his ear.
“Leo.” He then strides out of the room just as the rest of the band runs in and stations themselves around Callum—and me because he still has a stranglehold on my hand.