Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5)

by Carole Mortimer

  If she had thought there was too much testosterone in the room before, then the close proximity of these two men now became totally overwhelming.

  Lijah Smith gave off— No, he didn’t just give off an air of danger. He undoubtedly was dangerous.

  Seth Armstrong had at least made an attempt at urbanity by wearing the suit. A sophistication totally belied by those wicked dark eyes and the vicious scar on his face.

  These two men might be as different to look at as night and day, but they were both undoubtedly the warriors her father had described his men as being.

  Good.

  Because warriors were exactly what Callie was going to need if she was going to find her father.

  Wherever he might be…

  Chapter 2

  “Hey.” Seth Armstrong reached out and caught Callie’s arm as she swayed slightly on her feet even as she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

  No doubt out of a feeling of relief, because she no longer felt quite so alone in her worry over her father.

  “Here, sit down.” Seth helped her to sit in the chair facing the desk. “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger? I’m sure Lijah has a bottle of scotch hidden away somewhere in one of his desk drawers,” he added with a derisive sideways glance at the other man.

  A man who hadn’t made a move to prevent Callie from falling but instead continued to observe her guardedly through that fringe of dark lashes.

  Callie felt uncomfortably self-conscious under the intensity of that indigo gaze. As if Lijah Smith saw past the effort she was making to cover up her desperation and worry, as well as the makeup she’d worn to hide the pallor of her cheeks and the shadows beneath her eyes from too many sleepless nights. It felt as if that piercing gaze saw straight into her “bleeding heart.”

  She dragged her gaze away from his as she turned to smile gratefully at the other man. “Tea would be lovely, thank you, Mr. Armstrong.”

  “Seth,” he invited smoothly. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

  Callie’s smile faded as she realized Seth had to leave the room in order to go and make the cup of tea.

  Leaving her alone with a now fully alert and watchful Lijah Smith.

  “So.” Callie gave him a nervous smile after several long seconds of uncomfortable silence.

  “So,” he echoed in a slow drawl.

  She shifted restlessly. “Has Mr. Grayson retired from the company?”

  Those chiseled lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Tamed and loving every minute of it might better describe his current situation.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tamed…?”

  “Long story,” he dismissed. “Exactly what are you doing here, Miss Morgan?”

  “I already told you, I came to speak to Mr. Grayson—”

  “No, I meant if there’s a problem, then why are you here and not Peter?” His tone was hard and implacable.

  Callie’s gaze shifted down to those scuffed cowboy boots. Now that it had actually come down to the moment of telling these men why she needed their help, she didn’t even know where to begin.

  Because it was Lijah Smith she was talking to.

  Something about this enigmatic man unnerved her. Inwardly disturbed her in a way she could never remember being disturbed by anyone else before.

  Maybe it was those piercing, all-seeing eyes?

  Or the threatened power given off by that toned and muscled body?

  Or the fact that he was also one of the most visibly attractive men she had ever met?

  All of the above!

  Even so, Callie knew she had to talk to someone. Couldn’t keep this to herself any longer.

  Not and stay sane, that is.

  She bit her bottom lip as she felt the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. “My—my father isn’t here because… I don’t believe he’s even in England right now.” She looked up when Lijah Smith made no response to her statement, shifting uncomfortably as he continued to study her.

  “Don’t you know?” he finally prompted.

  Her gaze flickered up and then as quickly dropped again. “My father often disappears on missions, sometimes for weeks at a time—”

  “Your father took early retirement six months ago.”

  Her breath caught at the back of her throat as she stared up at him. “I— How did you know that…?”

  “I know, okay?” he snapped his impatience. “Now stop playing games, and tell me what the hell is going on!”

  She pressed back against the chair as Lijah suddenly loomed over her, their gazes locked, Callie’s wide with apprehension, Lijah’s narrowed to demanding slits.

  She was barely breathing, and yet she could still feel and smell the man standing above her—heat and sweat, and something male and heady she was sure was exclusively Lijah Smith.

  “Stop intimidating the poor woman and step back and give her some room to breathe.” Seth Armstrong came back into the room with the cup of tea and somehow managed to insinuate himself between Callie and the other man. “I apologize for Mr. Barbarian here,” he added teasingly.

  “Lack of sleep again?” Callie attempted to joke, but her hand shook slightly as she took the cup and saucer from Seth.

  “I’d like to say so, but with Lijah, it’s hard to tell the difference.” Seth shrugged unconcernedly. “Drink that, and then we can all sit down and have a chat about why you’re here.”

  The tea was not only hot but also very sweet. Because Seth Armstrong knew Callie was slightly in shock, and sugar was exactly what she needed right now?

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything, and the past week of not knowing where her father was had been a torturous strain on her nerves. This, being here with these two men, most especially the ever-watchful—and censorious?—Lijah Smith, seemed to have robbed her of the last of her strength.

  Lijah knew instinctively that something was seriously wrong in Callie Morgan’s world. He also knew, whatever it was, she was reluctant to talk about it to him.

  Maybe because you’re acting like that fucking barbarian Seth just called you?

  Or she just didn’t like him?

  Are you surprised?

  No, Lijah wasn’t in the least surprised. Seth might look scary, but he knew how to charm the ladies, at the same time as he used those scars on his face to draw them into his “bad boy” clutches. Lijah wasn’t even sure he knew how to charm, even on a good day. And today wasn’t a good day.

  His mission had gone tits up three days ago, and it had only been through a little fancy footwork and the use of his .44 Magnum—he did so love that gun!—that he’d managed to turn it around at the last minute and return the six-year-old boy to his anxiously waiting parents. He’d even brought back the ransom money they had been willing to pay for their son’s safe return.

  One of the three kidnappers had got away, though, which didn’t sit well with Lijah. In his book, scum like that didn’t deserve to continue breathing.

  It was a very small book. The bad guys died; the good ones walked away.

  Lijah didn’t consider himself as being completely a good guy, but he had walked away. Unfortunately, the third man was still out there, and he was definitely a bad guy—that six-year-old kid was going to have nightmares for years because of his ordeal—and Lijah was going to hunt the other man down like the dog he was.

  It had been his intention to start that hunt after a few hours’ rest. He had a feeling the reason Callie Morgan was here was now going to take priority over anything and everything else happening at Grayson Security.

  If they could ever get Callie to tell them what the problem was, that is.

  Maybe he should just leave the talking to Seth? She seemed more at ease with the other man, and there was no doubting Seth liked what he saw, holding her arm and helping her to sit before offering her a cup of tea, like a regular Florence Fucking Nightingale.

  Lijah gave a disgusted snort, that snort turning to a scowl as Callie gave him
a questioning glance.

  He tried to think what age she would be now. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? A woman grown, and old enough, would seem to be the answer.

  “Where’s Peter, Callie?” he prompted abruptly. “And no prevaricating this time. Just tell us where he is.”

  The long arch of her throat moved as she swallowed before answering him huskily. “I don’t know.”

  Lijah felt the scowl appear between his eyes. “Explain.”

  Callie already knew Lijah Smith to be a man of few words. But what few words he did speak were succinct and to the point. And he was right, her father’s whereabouts was the point.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I believe he flew to America a week ago.”

  “You believe?”

  Her jaw tightened. “Yes. I tried to confirm it, but the airlines aren’t willing to give out that sort of information,” she added awkwardly as Lijah just continued to look at her.

  “I thought the two of you were close?”

  “We are,” she came back defensively.

  “But you haven’t spoken to him in a week, and he didn’t tell you where he was going?”

  “No.”

  “But you now believe he’s in America?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?

  “Because—“ She broke off abruptly to bite her trembling bottom lip.

  Lijah breathed heavily. “Look, I’m sure you will have gathered by now I’m not the most patient of men on a good day—”

  “Cut her some slack, man,” Seth Armstrong advised softly. “Can’t you see she’s on the verge of breaking?”

  Callie shot him another grateful glance only to push back against the chair after turning and seeing the fierceness of Lijah’s expression. As if he wasn’t happy about the brief moment of understanding that had passed between her and the other man…?

  Well, that was just too bad, because right now Callie needed someone to be understanding and kind to her. Traits Lijah Smith obviously didn’t possess. “Maybe I should come back later when you’re less…tired?”

  “And maybe you should just stop avoiding answering my fucking questions—”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Seth Armstrong moved to once again stand between Callie and Lijah. “Back off, man.” He placed his hand firmly on the other man’s chest.

  Lijah didn’t move an inch as he towered over Callie, a nerve pulsing a warning in his tightly clenched jaw. “I’ll back off when she tells us why in hell she bothered coming here if she isn’t willing to tell us the reason why she’s so worried about Peter!”

  Seth gave a glance over his shoulder at her. “He does have a point,” he prompted gently.

  She sighed. “Yes, he does,” she acknowledged wearily, turning away so that she no longer had to look at either man as she gathered her thoughts together. “The…the reason my father took early retirement was so that he could be with me.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Seth turned, obviously concerned. “Are you sick?”

  “Not in the way you mean, no. I was— Someone— I was attacked six months ago and beaten up rather badly.” She pressed her lips tightly together to stop them from trembling. “My father came home as soon as he knew, and—and then he stayed home. To be with me.”

  “Jesus Christ…” Lijah muttered under his breath as his imagination took the natural leap.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong,” Callie said quickly. “I wasn’t raped, just beaten.”

  The relief of knowing that was totally nullified by the air of bleakness now surrounding her. Lijah had seen that expression before, on the faces of men who had been into battle—and lost.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Seth prompted gently.

  She moistened the dryness of her lips. “I worked in an art gallery in London at the time.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “No,” she answered Seth.

  Callie had spent several days in hospital after the attack, and after she’d been discharged, she knew she couldn’t return to the life she’d had…before, as if nothing had changed.

  Everything had changed. She had changed most of all. Michael was dead, her world was shattered, as well as her confidence in who or what she was. All wiped out in one night of violence.

  “Six months ago…” Lijah repeated slowly. “Are we talking about the Hammond Gallery incident?”

  If Callie needed any confirmation of this man’s rapier intelligence—which she didn’t—then he’d just given it.

  The Hammond Gallery incident.

  How innocent that sounded, innocuous even, when in reality it was anything but.

  “What happened, Callie?” Lijah probed.

  She moistened the dryness of her lips. “You obviously read about it in the newspapers.”

  “I’m asking you what happened, God damn it—”

  “Lijah, don’t,” Seth warned.

  Lijah turned to glare, only to receive a warning shake of the other man’s head before Seth stepped forward to place a gently reassuring hand on Callie’s shoulder. Which was when Lijah saw the tears tracking silently down her pallid cheeks, those bruised blue eyes now pained and unfocused.

  The events of that night at the Hammond Gallery had been all over the front page of the newspapers for days after it happened.

  But nowhere in any of them did Lijah remember seeing it mentioned that a Caroline Morgan had been involved. And yet the things she had already said implied that in some way she was.

  “Tell us in your own time, Callie,” Seth now encouraged gruffly.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “There was a gala opening at the gallery that evening, over five hundred guests invited to an invitation-only showing of the Felix Griffith jewelry collection. I was actually an assistant restorer there, but everyone who worked at the gallery was expected to come in and help out that evening.”

  “And?” Lijah bit out tensely. The whole world knew of the priceless jewelry collection belonging to American multibillionaire Felix Griffith. Mainly because it had been stolen after that single private showing at the Hammond Gallery.

  She sighed. “The evening went off without a hitch. Everyone who worked there agreed the exhibition was a resounding success.”

  Again with that flat, emotionless voice.

  Lijah’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had barely known this grown-up Callie for ten minutes and already he wanted to punch something—or someone; preferably whoever had reduced this young woman to this state. God knew how Peter must have been feeling about this all these months.

  “We all stayed behind to help move and secure the jewelry collection in the safe downstairs, and afterwards, Michael—Michael Hammond, the owner of the gallery, gave us all a glass of champagne to—to celebrate the evening’s success.” Her mouth firmed. “Then people slowly began to drift away and go home, until there was only Michael and myself left.”

  Lijah studied her between narrowed lids. “The two of you were together…?”

  That delicate throat moved as she swallowed. “We—we’d been dating for a couple of months.” Her voice shook with emotion as she talked of the other man. “I— We— Michael was waiting to turn on the security system until after I’d gone upstairs to collect my jacket from the staff room. I was halfway up the stairs when someone knocked on the front door. Michael stepped out into the gallery to see who it was and then came back to tell me to go ahead and get my jacket, that it was just one of the guests who had left something behind.” Tears welled up and once again spilled unchecked over long dark lashes and down her cheeks. “He was only thirty-three.” She looked up at the two men. “He didn’t deserve to die in that way.”

  Lijah recalled the newspapers had reported the owner of the Hammond Gallery had been shot in the head at point-blank range.

  Which begged the question: was it possible Michael Hammond had been killed, his brains blown out, in front of Callie?

  The shock Lijah could see in her eyes s
eemed to indicate that he had.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I returned from collecting my jacket and could see through the office door that Michael was tied to the chair behind his desk. When I rushed into the room to—to help him, something hard hit me over the back of the head, and I blacked out.” She was visibly shaking.

  “Take your time, Callie.” Seth was once again the one to encourage gently.

  She gave him a grateful smile. “When I came to, my hands and feet were also tied to a chair, and something was thrown over my head and tied tightly about my throat so I couldn’t see. I learned later that it was my own jacket.” She shook her head. “I could hear raised voices, one of them Michael’s, the other one—I didn’t recognize the other voice, only that it was American.”

  Was that voice the reason she now believed Peter had gone to America? Lijah recalled the man/men responsible for the killing and robbery had never been caught.

  “Was this man alone?” Seth probed.

  A frown creased Callie’s brow. “It felt as if there were others in the room, but no one else spoke, just that one man. He wanted the combination to the safe, Michael was refusing to give it to him, which was when—when he, the American, decided it was a good idea to use me as leverage to force Michael to talk.” She gave a shudder at the memory.

  Lijah could easily guess what that leverage might have been. He could see by the killer glint in Seth’s eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

  “He—the man began to punch and hit me. Michael started shouting, but I pleaded with him not to tell the other man what he wanted to know. I’m not sure how long the beating lasted.” She spoke dully. “I know that I hurt everywhere by the time he finished, especially my ribs. I learned later that two of them were broken. I could taste the blood in my mouth and feel it dripping down my chin from where my lip was split open. Michael became more and more agitated the longer the beating went on, but I kept pleading with him not to tell them the combination of the safe.”

  “It was just jewelry.” Seth gave a pained wince.

  “It was—was Michael’s livelihood too, his reputation—”