by Sofia Aves
“What don’t we take turns reading a big page each?”
And that was how Cal found us when he burst through the door. Frantic clicks followed him as he secured the apartment. His heavy footsteps pounded along the corridor in our direction, and I wondered what the neighbours would think — increased security and police outside the building’s front door and so much noise up above.
He appeared at the end of the hall where it opened into the lounge and kitchen, pale and drawn. The moment he spotted us, his face relaxed into a smile, relief evident, though the shadows hovered at the edges of his false calm.
I waved, but Ashley never stopped reading, determined to make me feel better, it seemed. Or herself. Either way, we were together now, and with Cal home, I felt that much safer.
He crouched down, eyes travelling over both of us as though checking for injuries that weren’t there. Ashley launched from my lap, arms outstretched.
“Cal!”
“What are you reading?” he asked as he caught her, turning to the cover of the book.
Ashley rattled off an explanation of the current unicorn crisis. He laughed with her, pointing out all the flaws in the bad guy’s plans, his free hand scooting under the blanket to give my hip a quick squeeze.
Tiny shocks shot through me. He sent me an easy smile I could barely return. I wanted to pull him back to me, but I was too cautious to show him affection around Ashley. I smiled, glad to see no hesitation in his gaze.
Ashley refused to be parted from Cal, wrapping gangly arms and legs around his waist. I smiled at the sight, hopping out from under the blanket. Cal deposited Ashley on the ground, wincing as she gave him an enthusiastic hug, thumping his back, and offered to make dinner.
“Oh, Cal. I didn’t even think to–”
To his credit, his smile never slipped.
“It’s okay, Mila. I want to. Gotta look after my girls.” He tossed a pony to Ashley who caught it deftly, racing off to reunite it with its kin.
I swallowed back uncertainty at hearing Cal refer to us — to me — as his girl. I studied his profile as he ferreted through the fridge.
As soon as she was out of sight, he stepped into me, framing my face with both hands. His thumbs stroked my cheeks for a moment before he pulled me into him, crushing me against this chest.
“I wasn’t here for you. I wasn’t here,” he whispered, his hand cupping the back of my head.
My arms still around him, I wriggled until he loosened his hold, everything I'd managed to keep hidden for the past two hours brimming over the top.
“How did he find us, Cal? How– what–”
My arms shook. I squeezed them into his sides, trying to hide it. He made a small sound, a tightness disappearing from his face as I looked up. His mask slipped back into place.
“I don’t know.”
The omission sat between us, a starving thing that gnawed at my heart. This time, it was Cal who put the walls up between us.
His sleeves were rolled up, exposing those amazing forearms. Cal had resumed his facade at making dinner. Shirt tucked into his jeans; he looked like a model on the cover of a cowboy magazine. There was something so relaxed about him — only his eyes told the story of the underlying intensity that drove him.
He straightened, running his fingers over his head in a familiar gesture, and passed me a glass of wine. I took it, murmuring my thanks. His easy smile was back, though I read the worry behind it. Tiny lines formed around his eyes, jaw just a little tense — he would be impossible to read if you didn’t know him. It came as a shock that I did know Cal, at least a little bit.
We’d been living in each other’s back pockets and through some pretty stressful situations too, which was when people truly showed who they were. I wondered when I would be able to see the real man underneath all the false fronts he presented.
“Any preferences for dinner?” he asked, leaning back on the counter. He raised his beer, hiding a flash of pain that passed across his face, eyes on me the entire time. I shook my head, watching him as he shifted against the bench at his back.
“No, just…I’m too, I don’t know…”
Cal shrugged it off, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
“What happened today?”
He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. The shadows closed in. “We found one of Logan’s old haunts. Got a few of the lackeys he’s used. Found the car.” His shrug said more than his words, lips compressing.
“The black one?”
“Yeah. Plates like you described. Only one letter off. I’m relying on your memory from now on.” He saluted me with his beer.
“Artist’s memory.” Cal buried his head in the fridge, but he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “So…what happened to your back?”
Cal’s jaw set. “It got a…little rough.”
“A little? You flinched when a nine-year-old patted your back.”
“It was more than a pat, Mila.”
I snorted.
“Yeah, a tough guy like you, taken down by a little girl.”
“No, this tough guy was almost taken down by a shovel swung by a thin guy. Glad he wasn’t much bigger.” Cal raised his eyebrows in emphasis.
My mouth dropped.
“What? Let me see.”
Cal looked at me for a moment, lips pressed together. I circled him, gently lifting the hem of his shirt. He didn’t say anything or move away, which I took as permission.
Long muscles framed his lower back, disappearing into his jeans. Red patches started halfway up his spine, spreading across his shoulders. He sighed, shucking his shirt over his head with a barely suppressed groan.
Purple and red welts spread across his broad back, reaching from shoulder to shoulder — angry and swollen. I gasped at the damage, surprised he could move, let alone deal with Ashley hanging off him. My fingers hovered over the raised marks, but I drew my hand back, not wanting to hurt him.
“I’ll get ice.”
He sent me a cheeky grin over his shoulder, eyes following my hand back to my side. I rolled my eyes, scrounging in the freezer. One long, folded ice pack lay in the bottom of the tray, next to a pack of frozen baby carrots. I grabbed both, sure the icepack alone wouldn’t be enough.
Cal leaned over the benchtop; forearms braced on the cool, black stone. Snaring tea towels from the oven door, I wrapped both packs.
“This might hurt.”
“I’ll survive.” The cheeky grin was back, but when I placed the first pack across his back, Cal bowed his head with a stifled groan. Muscles twitched beneath the cloth. I bit my lip. The marks — soon to be bruises — were so extensive, the longer pack didn’t quite cover them.
I laid the wrapped bag of carrots over his right shoulder, my hand on his arm, pressing down on his tattoo to balance myself. Cal didn’t flinch this time. Even half bent over, he was still a giant, compared to me.
His skin was smooth under my hand; hard muscle layered just beneath the surface. His shoulders were tight with the pain, but looked as though they had been sculpted to absolute refinement — not a millimetre of skin was wasted.
He wasn’t the sort of male an artist usually attracted.
My fingers brushed the muscles framing his arms before I had thought what I was doing. He just looked so perfect. I lifted the ice pack a little, but there was no improvement yet. How hard must he have been hit to sustain such damage? Had he just gotten back up and kept going?
I shivered a little, tracing the long, lean musculature of his arms. I would love to paint him. Golden-haired and bronze-skinned, I had initially thought of Adonis when we’d first met, but now I thought more of a fighting culture — Vikings, or the Norse gods, perhaps.
Perfection.
“Having fun?”
Cal watched me over his shoulder, head tilted, and I realised how close we were. His gaze drifted down to my fingers sliding along the length of his arm. I snatched my hand back, heat rushing to my face. I started to stammer, then closed my mouth
, attempting to collect myself, but any prospect of serenity avoided me. Flustered, I flapped at his back. So much better than stammering. I wanted to facepalm.
“Leave those on for ten minutes. We’ll alternate.” I backed away a few steps, unsure of what to do.
Cal watched me steadily, the shadow of a smile haunting his lips.
“I thought you weren’t into sports. How come you know how to apply an ice pack?”
“My gran had a few falls. The nurses taught me what to do for her.” The timer went off on the microwave. I lifted the pack, but there was still no change. If anything, the welts were beginning to look worse. “Did you treat this at all?”
Cal shrugged, wincing.
“Didn’t have time. Needed to get home to the unicorn whisperer over there…and you.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I’d been in panic mode this afternoon, desperate to have Cal back, to feel safe. Which I — we — did.
Ashley pranced into the kitchen, dancing with a pair of ponies, glitter trailing in her wake. Cal rolled his eyes heavenward in silent prayer. I hid a smile, redirecting the pony party to an already glitter-encrusted section of carpet.
Must clean that up tomorrow.
Would I be here tomorrow? It obviously wasn’t safe anymore. I was glad of the distraction treating Cal’s back offered, but now he was home, my mind began to churn as the ramifications of Logan’s messages slammed into me. Where would we go? I made a note to ask Cal later, after Ashley was asleep, to avoid panicking her with too many changes.
“I need a shower,” Ashley announced at my hip. I smiled, grabbing a towel from the linen press and setting her up in the bathroom, then wandered back down the hall to where Cal was cooking, still hunched over, balancing the ice packs on his back.
My stomach rumbled. It had been a long day, and attempting anything that was a semblance of normality seemed wrong. Especially while stalking psychos were out in the darkness, waiting for us to emerge.
Exposed.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers wrapped around the stem of my wine glass in a death grip. Hands covered mine, squeezing gently.
“Mila, it will be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Worried eyes met mine. I managed part of a grin. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“I’ll be fine.” The lie came out too easily.
Cal returned to the bench, texting on his phone. The timer was ready to go off again, so I reshuffled everything, with firm orders to stay put this time.
I leaned on the bench beside him, pressing my back against it — no time like the present.
“Okay, she’s in the shower. Now, please tell me what we are going to do.”
“Do?”
“Don’t you play coy with me.” I jabbed him with my elbow. He faked a groan. “We have to move, right? We can’t stay here if Logan knows where we are.” I was quite proud I didn’t trip over his name.
Cal shook his head.
“This is one of the safest places there is. Moving you two creates a real target — he wants us to leave here because he can’t get in. We’d be doing exactly what he wants.” Cal wriggled his shoulders with a grimace beneath the icepacks. “This is what Logan does, fucking with your mind.”
I nodded, pressing my hands onto the bench behind me and scooting up onto it. Too late, I remembered this was where I’d been that night, my legs wrapped around him. A quick, indrawn breath confirmed he did, too.
I made to hop back down, but Cal stopped me, placing a firm hand on my knee. I inhaled sharply. “Cal…”
“Stay there. Please?” He looked at me sideways, gentling his touch.
Breathing slowly to steady my racing heart, I nodded again and tried to bring the conversation back on track.
“So…we stay here? Knowing he knows?” I tried to concentrate, but with Cal’s hand on my leg, it was a little difficult.
“Yes. I can protect you here. Out there — I have no way of knowing if he’s seeing us.”
“Wait. What about you, each time you leave here? Doesn’t that make you a–a target or something?”
Cal shrugged.
“I think he knows pretty much everything at this point, honey. If he wanted to kill me, I’d be dead by now.”
He’s lived like this for the last five years. Bile rose in my throat. Was this my new normal as well? I asked the question I hadn’t wanted to.
“Won’t your boss object to us being here?” I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting him to answer. He squeezed my leg.
“You’re safer here,” he replied, his jaw jutting out.
“Saying that doesn’t make it so,” I reminded him, but Cal just stared at me. Floundering, I tried another tack. “Why is Logan so hard to find?”
“He’s unpredictable and incredibly smart. Every time I find a pattern, it changes. We keep working, trying to find something to use against him. One day, one of his crew will slip up, and we’ll get him. Waiting is the killer.”
I mulled over his words, thinking of the men with him in the bank. Were they still the same people, after all this time, or did he replace them, as they made mistakes? I frowned. Something Cal had said set off an alarm in my mind, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I looked at his back again.
“You found someone today though, right? Did you learn anything more from that? Anything…useful? That was worth this.” I tapped a small section of unmarred skin on his back. There wasn’t much left. Cal rolled his shoulders reflexively, muscles rippling.
Close your mouth, Mila. You’re drooling on the floor.
“The boys are still down there sorting through the house. Micah doesn’t look much better; he copped a folding chair.” He stated it all so impassively, a soldier making a report, as though this happened every day. Watching his strong frame hulking over the benchtop, I wondered if, for him, it was.
“Ouch. Is he okay? Should he — or you — go to the hospital to be checked?”
“He’ll be fine. Let’s just say we won’t be working out for a few days at least.”
Cal grinned, just as I had a lightbulb moment, sitting up straight.
“You’re waiting for Logan to make a mistake.” It wasn’t a question, and my tone was flat.
“Yes. That’s always been the plan unless we get something new.” He tapped his screen again, dismissing me.
“Something new. Like us.” Cal’s gaze sharpened, his head moving a fraction, but I saw it. He waited. “You’re using us as bait.” I knocked his hand away, swivelling on the bench. He shifted as though to reach out, but I swatted his hand away with a stinging slap. “You bloody bastard, you’re using us to draw him here. So you know where he is. You’re waiting for him to show his face. Here.”
Damn it, Cal. Every time I thought I could trust him, something else popped up. Frustration curdled with a huge dose of fear sank deep inside me. This time, I couldn’t ignore it. He stood, gripped my shoulders in hard hands — not hurting, or shaking me, but glaring into me until I felt naked beneath the intensity of his gaze.
Anger blazed in Cal’s face, matching my own. Half of me wanted to collapse into the shelter he offered; the other half needed me to stand on my own two feet and actually adult. Which I wasn’t particularly good at, especially today.
Cal stared at me a moment longer, mouth tight. Then he released my shoulders and busied himself in the kitchen again.
How would I cope with living with this man for the rest of the week? A snide little voice told me that now Logan had found us, we wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer, anyway.
And that filled me with an ache, deep inside.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MILA
Dinner was a quiet affair. Ashley arrived in the kitchen just in time to interrupt our argument. She poked at her food, surrounded by ponies that provided a barrier between her and the rest of the table while Cal and I pretended to play happy families at the other end.
Cal’s gaze held a dark promise
that our conversation hadn’t been forgotten. I swallowed hard, wishing I could escape the underlying tension that permeated the room. Cal hadn’t said a word since we sat down. Ashley snuggled into her robe, almost disappearing beneath the pink fluff. It was the same one she’d dressed Micah in during his makeover. I hid a smile at the memory.
It was amazing how quickly I’d become comfortable with the boys, though I’d known Teddy for so long, he was more than a brother. That sparked a thought I’d wanted to ask Cal about — and while we were putting on a faux show for Ashley’s sake, I let myself indulge my curiosity. It had always been my biggest failing. Well, that and my antisocial tendencies.
“How’s Danny doing with your ex?”
I aimed for a casual tone. Cal choked on his steak, looking at me with wounded eyes as he gasped for air.
“Really? You’re asking me now?”
I shrugged, unable to hide a small smile. Distraction achieved. We could all use a little humour at this point. Cal was still coughing when Ashley thumped him on the back with enthusiasm. He flinched and moved away.
“Should have kept the ice packs on.”
“Nag, nag.” Guilty eyes found mine. Cal ducked, hacking at his food. Instead, he answered my earlier question, “I think they’re going well?”
He turned away, coughing into his hand. I wasn’t quite convinced, though pain sliced through his face with each of Ashley’s whacks. This wasn’t quite the diversion I’d planned. I leaned over, filling her small hands with ponies.
“Ash, if you’re not going to eat, why don’t you play ponies while I clean up? There might be something on TV.”
She sent me a bright smile paired with a huge hug, disappearing to the floor. I marvelled at the resilience a child had to move past traumatic events, which I clung to every emotional morsel. More ponies appeared on the huge screen Cal had set up in the lounge.
Leaving Cal to finish his meal in peace, I collected plates still half-filled with food. He snagged mine as I went by, dumping the contents onto his own. I smiled, carting the rest back to the sink. Cal appeared a moment later with an empty plate.