Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5)

by Carole Mortimer

  “Found him for you, Callie.” Triumph lit his eyes before fading as he grimaced. “Found him, should have killed him. Bastard had a gun. Shot me before I could shoot him. Kept—kept me locked up. Not sure how many men, counted four, possibly five. Managed to get away—escape.” He gave a hacking cough, fighting for breath for several seconds.

  “Oh God…! Lijah?” She looked across at him, desperation in her voice and face as she appealed to him to do something.

  Lijah turned away from that appeal. He had seen plenty of injured and dying men during his years in the army, and since. Unless he was mistaken, that wound to Peter’s chest would prove fatal.

  “Peter, who shot you?” he prompted softly. “Tell me who did this to you—”

  “Look after Callie.” Peter turned to him, eyes dull with pain. “Make sure Callie is safe, and then get the bastard. Get them all. Promise me, Lijah.” He reached up to grasp the front of Lijah’s T-shirt with his free hand. “Promise me she’ll be safe!”

  “I promise you no one is going to get anywhere near Callie,” Lijah assured him grimly. “But you have to tell me—”

  “Love you, Callie.” Satisfied with Lijah’s promise, Peter turned to smile up at her. “Always so—so proud of you.” His face twisted with pain. “Take care of my baby, Renegade…” His eyes widened before fluttering closed as he gave a soft gasp, his chest slowly deflating as he gave his last breath.

  “No…!” Callie heard herself scream as if through a thick fog as she fell forward onto her father’s unmoving chest. “Daddy, no!” she screamed again.

  And again.

  And again.

  “Callie, stop.” Lijah felt for a pulse in Peter’s neck but couldn’t find one. He stood to move round to where she lay collapsed across her father, grasping hold of her arms and attempting to pull her up and away. “Callie, look at me. Look at me, damn it!” he rasped harshly as she finally stopped screaming but refused to release her grip of her father’s bloodstained shirt. “I said look at me!” Lijah wrenched her chin round, forcing her to face him rather than her father. “He’s gone, and we need to get out of here—”

  “No!” Fury gleamed in her eyes as she glared at him accusingly.

  Lijah knew that look would haunt him in the future. The look of a daughter’s love for her father. The father she refused to believe was now dead. The father whose body she couldn’t just leave lying here on the floor.

  “Yes, Callie,” Lijah told her gently but firmly as he loosened and removed her fingers from the front of her father’s shirt, knowing she was going to hate him for this, but also knowing he had no choice. “There’s nothing more we can do here, and we have to leave.”

  From the little Peter had said, there was a strong possibility that the older man’s captors had followed him here, and Lijah knew he wasn’t going to be able to deal with four or five men on his own, not when he had keeping Callie safe to think about too. He also couldn’t afford for them to get caught up in a police investigation into Peter’s death. His priority now had to be to get Callie out of here, and then find the men who had killed Peter. In that order.

  “He’s gone, Callie,” he repeated evenly as he pulled her up onto her feet. “But the man who shot him and the ones who held him prisoner aren’t. They’ll be following whatever trail Peter left behind.” He knew the other man had been too badly injured to be able to cover that trail successfully. “It will lead those men straight here—”

  “Then we’ll wait here for them and kill them all!” Her eyes gleamed wildly.

  He winced at her vehemence. “There are too many of them. We need to find somewhere safe so I can come up with a plan—”

  “I’m not just going to leave him!” She looked down frantically at her father.

  “Yes, you are,” Lijah insisted flatly. “It’s what Peter would want you to do.”

  “You have no idea what my father would want me to do!” She pummeled her fists against Lijah’s chest.

  He let her, knowing that Callie needed this outlet for the disbelief and grief currently overwhelming her. For now, Callie just needed to hit something and hit it hard.

  Lijah was too badly shaken himself do to more than hold her as she continued to pummel him.

  He couldn’t believe Peter had found them only to die in Callie’s arms. The older man had been like a father to Lijah during his years in the army, and the two men had kept in touch in the years since, as Peter remained in contact with all the men who worked at Grayson Security.

  And yet Peter hadn’t confided in a single one of them regarding the attack on his daughter six months ago. None of them had known a thing about it until yesterday…

  Dear God, was it only yesterday he had met Callie for the first time and learned of Peter’s disappearance?

  Twenty-four hours during which so much had happened, Lijah’s head was spinning.

  Callie must be reeling.

  And Lijah felt for her, he really did, but he also knew, from her reaction earlier to the three names he had given her, that those names had caused her to remember something from six months ago. He needed that information. And he needed it sooner rather than later.

  If he had been here on his own, he might have risked going against the men who would no doubt follow Peter here, but Callie was too distraught, too unpredictable at the moment for him to be able to trust she wouldn’t just attack those men on sight, gun blazing, until the bullets ran out and she presented an open target.

  Years of training and self-discipline meant that Lijah knew no one should ever go into battle when emotions were running this high. It clouded judgment and logic, and would ultimately lead to their own destruction.

  Never leave a man behind had been Peter Morgan’s mantra, and even leaving the other man’s body here went against that teaching. Went against Lijah’s own feelings too. But he had made a promise to Peter to keep Callie safe.

  If necessary, it was a promise Lijah intended to keep with his own dying breath.

  “I hate you.”

  Yes, Lijah had no doubt that was exactly how Callie felt about him right now, as she sat huddled in the back of the car while Lijah drove them away from her aunt and uncle’s house, where they had left her father lying dead on the kitchen floor.

  He had allowed her a few precious minutes to hit him and cry herself into a state of exhaustion. To give her father one last hug. Before then bodily picking her up in his arms, still wearing only her nightclothes and barefooted, and carrying her out of the house and putting her in the back of the car. He had returned briefly to the house to collect all their things and stow them in the trunk.

  He’d also remained outside the car as he made the telephone call to the police, refusing to give them his name but telling them of the dead body in the house, giving them Peter’s identity. With any luck, that information would at least succeed in them keeping Peter’s body until the other man’s next of kin, namely Callie, had been located. Hopefully, he and Callie would have returned to England before the British police became suspicious about Callie’s disappearance.

  He made a second call directly to Dair Grayson, requesting a safe house and that more men be sent to help guard Callie. He wasn’t happy going to a motel or hotel where they might be found. Dair had promised to get back to him in ten minutes.

  Lijah was presently just driving around aimlessly waiting for that call, at the same time as he kept checking to make sure they weren’t being followed. It was the best he could do until Dair called him back.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror at Callie again, frowning darkly as he saw the furious glitter in her eyes as she glared back at him. It was probably better for her if she remained angry with him rather than give in to the grief consuming her. That could come later. Right now, their priority was to reach a safe house. And for Callie to tell him what she had remembered. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

  She looked dazed. “I don’t—”

  “Concentrate, Callie,” he bit out t
autly. ”Someone shot and killed your father. If you have any idea—any idea at all who it was, then I need to know.”

  A black hole of overwhelming grief opened up in front of Callie and threatened to swallow her whole.

  She had hoped this had all been a nightmare, one from which she would wake up soon and find it had all just been a horrible dream.

  The robbery and Michael’s death six months ago.

  Her father’s disappearance just days ago.

  Her visit to Grayson Security yesterday.

  Meeting Lijah.

  Flying to Washington with him.

  Going to her aunt and uncle’s house.

  Her father—

  Oh God, her father.

  He had come back to her, only to die in her arms!

  She closed her eyes, willing this to please be a nightmare she was going to wake up from.

  Any minute now.

  Any—

  “Talk to me, Callie,” Lijah Smith growled again harshly.

  Her eyes opened wide, taking in Lijah sitting in the front seat of the car, and the completely alien, tree-lined avenue visible in the darkness outside the car window.

  Because none of it had been a dream.

  None of it…

  Which meant her father really was dead.

  “Stop the car!” she cried out. “Stop the car now, Lijah!” She fumbled with the door handle the moment the car came to a screeching halt, just managing to get outside onto the tarmacked road before she lost the contents of her stomach.

  She hung on to the side of the car as she cried and was sick at the same time, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “It’s okay.” Lijah was beside her as he did his best to mop up the mess on her face.

  It wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again.

  “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He turned her and took her into his arms.

  Which was when Callie realized that she was standing barefoot in the road in her nightclothes and Lijah’s chest was bare from where he must have taken off the T-shirt he’d been wearing and used it to clean her up. Amazing how warm and solid his chest felt against her, utterly dependable. Like a brick wall between her and the rest of the world.

  Inconsequential nonsense, in light of the desperate reality Callie was finding it so hard to accept.

  What did it matter how warm, solid, and dependable Lijah felt, when her father had just died in her arms?

  No matter how capable Lijah was, he couldn’t bring her father back to her.

  No one could.

  “But I can avenge him,” Lijah spoke firmly, telling Callie that she must have spoken those last few words out loud. “Help me, Callie. If you’ve remembered something, anything that might help me find who killed Peter, then I need to know.”

  She began to tremble, not a soft, gentle tremble, but tremors that shook her whole body.

  Callie was going into shock, Lijah realized grimly.

  Is it any wonder?

  Hell, no. He was having trouble staying calm himself after the events of the last half hour. Just as he was also having trouble believing that the man he had looked on as a surrogate father was now dead.

  But they couldn’t stay here on the side of the road, Lijah bare-chested and Callie wearing only her nightclothes and shaking so hard, she felt as if she was about to disintegrate in his arms. If a police car went past them now—which was highly probable considering it was only minutes since he had called in Peter’s death—then they were well and truly screwed.

  Becoming caught up in the middle of the police investigation into Peter’s death would not only mean spending hours at a police station trying to explain themselves, but it would also put Callie and Lijah on the police radar, tying his hands totally, and so rendering him ineffectual in being able to find the man responsible.

  Lijah swore softly under his breath as his cell phone vibrated in his jeans pocket, continuing to hold Callie with one arm while he checked the caller ID and took the call with the other. Dair’s call was brief but to the point.

  “We have to go, Callie.” Lijah pushed his cell back in his pocket before turning Callie gently and guiding her back toward the open door at the back of the car.

  She stumbled slightly on her bare feet, her eyes hollow pits of hell as she looked at him. “He really is dead, isn’t he?” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” What more could Lijah say?

  God knew he wished it wasn’t true. Peter really had gotten him through those first few years in the army.

  Lijah also knew he didn’t have the right emotional tools to give Callie any more than the bald truth. Tea and sympathy just wasn’t his style.

  But he could and would give her that revenge, by taking out the man who was responsible.

  “Callie?”

  Her chin rose. “I think the name of the man from the gallery that night— I think Michael was going to say the name Stockton.”

  Lijah stared at her incredulously. “Senator Jacob Stockton?”

  She nodded abruptly before climbing into the back of the car, arms wrapped defensively about herself as she stared straight ahead.

  Lijah closed the door slowly behind her, his mind racing.

  Not only was Jacob Stockton a US senator, but also a personal friend of the president.

  If he really was responsible for the robbery, Hammond’s death, and now Peter’s—as unlikely as it seemed that a senator would risk his career for a jewelry heist, let alone murder—then Lijah knew he was going to need the help of way more than the two men Dair had promised to send him as backup.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re sure Michael was going to say the name Stockton?”

  “As sure as I can be about anything that happened that night.” Callie barely glanced at him as she sat on the sofa in the safe house, arms wrapped about the knees drawn up beneath her chin.

  It had taken them half an hour to reach the address Dair had given Lijah over the phone. He had also taken several more diversions before driving here, again just to ensure they weren’t being followed. Once he was assured of that, Lijah headed toward the safe house.

  The security code Dair had given him to get inside the gate at the entrance to the driveway had been good. Lijah had also taken note of the ten-foot wall surrounding the main house, and that there were numerous security cameras and alarms. Dair had given him the information he needed to disarm those too.

  The house itself was in darkness and seemed unoccupied, but as a precaution, Lijah had turned off the headlights of the car and driven slowly up the gravel driveway. He breathed a sigh of relief when no guard dogs came rushing out, barking and growling at them the moment they got out of the car, and no lights came on inside the house either when he disarmed the alarm beside the front door.

  Dair really had come through for them.

  Lijah realized how and why once he was inside the mansion, and turned on the lights and saw the wedding photographs of Dair’s cousin, Lucien, and his wife, Nicky, in all of the downstairs rooms. This mansion and the surrounding gardens belonged to Lucien Wynter.

  Which explained the intensity of the security. Lucien was even more fanatical about securing the privacy and security of his new wife than he was regarding himself.

  Lijah silently thanked the other man for the thoroughness of that protection.

  Callie, as might be expected, had no interest in the luxury of their surroundings but instead stumbled through to the back of the house to find the kitchen. By the time Lijah joined her there, she had drunk several glasses of water and some of the color was returning to her face.

  He just hoped that she didn’t look down at the front of her silk robe and see where some of her father’s blood had stained it.

  “What more do you want from me, Lijah?” She glanced across at him.

  Lijah wanted it not to be Jacob Stockton, was what he wanted.

  The other man was personal advisor and friend to the president of the United States, a
nd was one of the most powerful men in America. He was also extremely wealthy in his own right, as well as a pillar of his local community, with a forty-year marriage also tucked under his belt. Of the happy kind, not the usual “for the cameras only” kind politicians usually paraded in front of the cameras. The Stocktons’ only son, Richard, was well on his way to walking in Daddy’s political footsteps.

  In other words, the senator was well above and beyond being accused of being a common jewel thief—even of the exclusive Felix Griffith’s collection kind—let alone of murder. Two murders, now that Peter was also dead.

  “Why would he—”

  “I don’t know, okay? You asked if I’d remembered anything about that night. I can’t help it if you don’t like what I told you.” Callie glared across at Lijah as he stood in the doorway, minus the Stetson but once again wearing a T-shirt, black this time.

  How appropriate.

  Black for death.

  Black for mourning.

  She drew her breath in sharply as the pain of loss once again ripped through her chest like an actual physical pain, stilling that breath and stopping her heart.

  She wanted them to still and stop. Wanted the world to stop turning and time to stop ticking by.

  “If you’re having trouble believing me, how can we expect anyone else to?” She gave a self-derisive shake of her head. “If we go to the police with this they’re more likely to lock me up than they are a senator.”

  Lijah accepted that was probably true. Not just because the senator was so powerful, but because the man reeked of respectability in the world of less upstanding politicians. Stockton was well-known for his loyalty to his family, church, and government. And not necessarily in that order.

  He had seen the other man speak on television several times. Aged in his sixties, tall and silver-haired, stately, the man oozed sincerity from every pore.

  Lijah needed a lot more evidence, proof of the senator’s guilt, before he involved the authorities. Maybe not even then.

  He moved to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of brandy before crossing the room to hold one out to Callie. “Take it and drink it,” he instructed firmly as she looked up at him defiantly. “Then I want you to tell me again exactly what Michael said, word for word.”