Beyond Affection: Callaghan Brothers, Book 6

by Zanders, Abbie

  Lacie frowned. “Not until late, I’m afraid. There’s a staff meeting after work to plan for the year end carnival.” She sighed. “It always runs late. Bill Schaeffer and Carole Simms will have their usual pissing contest and make the rest of us suffer.”

  She gave him a martyred look. “I don’t suppose you can think of a way to get me out of it, can you?” she asked, petting his chest with tender strokes. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of him, either, and he loved it. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Shane groaned. Even a simple caress had him hard and heavy. After the night they’d just had he should not be as eager as he was. “That I don’t doubt. But it’s just as well. I have a couple of things I’ve been putting off that I should take care of.” At the top of that list was gathering more intel on Craig Davidson. He kissed her nose. “Call me when you’re done?”

  “I will,” she promised, then cursed. “Damn. Rinn’s staying over tonight. She’s got early morning classes tomorrow.”

  She looked so adorably put out at the thought of spending an evening away from him that his heart swelled. “Call me anyway,” he said. “We can talk dirty to each other.”

  Lacie laughed, the sound pure music to his soul. “You’re on.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  There were no flowers awaiting Lacie when she walked into her classroom that morning, but then she really hadn’t expected anything since Shane had been with her up until the time he closed her car door and watched her drive away. As thoughtful and romantic as his gifts were, spending time with him was infinitely preferable.

  She was thrilled, however, when half a dozen roses arrived at lunchtime. Since it was between classes, she wasted no time in running down to the library and logging on to one of the staff computers. According to the internet site Corinne had been consulting, the single dark red rose meant ‘I love you’; and the brilliant orange that made up the remainder of the bouquet signified enthusiasm, desire, and fascination.

  She sighed, resolving to spend time during the long, boring planning meeting thinking of all the ways she would thank him later.

  It was getting dark by the time Lacie finally emerged from the school. The meeting had lasted even longer than expected. Joan Engle had decided to dig her heels in against both Bill and Carole, and it had been an all-out free for all after that. Lacie shook her head. Her Kindergarten kids handled themselves with more maturity.

  She offered a smile and a wave to a few of the others as she slid into the front seat of her VW and finally exhaled. Several hours of bickering on top of a full day and a lack of sleep (along with some very intense, exhausting physical activity throughout the night) was catching up with her. Not to mention she felt like she was starting to come down with something. A nasty bout of flu was running rampant through the school these past two weeks; she certainly hoped she’d avoided it, but the dull ache in her muscles and joints was suggested otherwise. Perhaps if she took something the moment she got home, she could nip it in the bud before it took a solid hold.

  All she wanted to do was take a hot bath and crawl into bed. Ideally she would do so in Sean Callaghan’s warm, strong arms, but that would have to wait, because Corinne was expecting her. Maybe it was just as well; if this was the beginning of the flu, then she didn’t want to get him sick, too.

  At least she’d get to talk to him later. Just the thought of hearing his voice sent delicious ribbons of warmth through her. Had he been serious when he’d suggested they talk dirty to each other? Her lips curved upward at the thought. She’d never done that before; it just seemed so... naughty. Then again, Shane Callaghan and naughty seemed to go hand in hand.

  Ah, but it was oh, so good.

  Lacie let her head fall back and closed her eyes, pondering the possibilities ...

  A loud crack of thunder boomed and rumbled, jolting Lacie awake. It took her a moment to recall where she was. There was an unpleasant cramp in her neck from where it had lolled to the side. Blinking furiously, she realized it was pitch dark. The street lamp she’d parked under was out. A quick perusal of the surroundings confirmed that not a single light shone in the parking lot; nor were there any silvery shafts of moonlight to illuminate the area around her. She tried checking her inexpensive but practical watch, but it was too dark to see.

  Muttering a few soft, G-rated curses, she felt around blindly for her keys. They must have fallen from her lap while she napped. It took a while, but she finally managed to locate them between the seat and the center console. Fighting a shiver – she never realized just how spooky an unlit parking lot could be – she jammed her key into the ignition, turned, and ... nothing.

  The slight click that came from the rotation was the only sound in the silence; there was no attempted start, no whir of a weak battery, nothing. Lacie tried several more times to no avail.

  Achy and beyond weary, she was more than ready to call it a day. With a long-suffering sigh, she fumbled around in her purse for her cell phone, somewhat surprised that Corinne hadn’t been calling every five minutes. Despite the fact that she was several years younger than Lacie, Corinne often acted like a mother hen, especially these last few months. Lacie wasn’t sure how long she’d napped, but surely it was well past the time Rinn had expected her back at the apartment.

  Maybe Rinn was already asleep; she’d been cramming for exams and staying up till all hours of the night lately. It might be better just to call Callaghan Auto. They had a twenty-four hour towing service, and since it was right around the block from her place, they probably wouldn’t mind dropping her off.

  Lacie emptied the contents of her bag in mounting frustration. She sifted through them one by one in the dark, identifying each item by feel alone, finally coming to the unwelcome conclusion that her phone was not there. She closed her eyes and tried to think back. The last time she’d used it was to order out for pizza when the meeting ran into dinner time; it was probably still sitting on the conference table where she’d left it.

  Lacie took a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Her warm bath and soft bed would just be delayed a bit longer, that’s all. The doors to the school were probably locked, but the second shift custodian, Charlie, would still be there.

  Gathering her courage, Lacie opened the door and stepped out into the darkness. The air was unnaturally still, heavy with the moisture and silence that preceded a storm. The tread of her soft-soled sandals was barely audible as she made her way carefully across the empty lot.

  A few inside lights were still on, visible through the windows. Lacie knocked on the door several times, but there was no indication that anyone heard her. Once she spotted Charlie through the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass outside the main office, but his head was down and his earbuds were in, and he passed without a single glance her way. After a while she had to face the fact that she was not going to get back into the building to retrieve her phone.

  Lacie looked heavenward into the inky blackness of the night sky. She could stay here, where the tiny bit of light that spilled out through the school windows gave her some small measure of comfort. Or she could go back to the empty parking lot and sit in her car until someone came looking for her. Between Corinne and Shane and their similar penchant for worrying about her, it shouldn’t be long at all.

  That was a comforting thought.

  A sudden flash of lightning and subsequent crack of thunder made her jump even as the first few fat drops of rain splattered in front of her. Decision made. Back to the car it was.

  A vicious wind whipped up, lifting the maple leaf seeds into miniature tornadoes made visible with each subsequent streak of lightning. The storm was approaching hard and fast, something not unusual for the late spring when the daytime temps rose in stark contrast to the cool nights. Within seconds the skies opened up, and Lacie put on a burst of speed, running towards the safety of her car.

  She rounded the corner, already drenched to the bone from the icy downpour. Huge puddles formed along the sidewalk; the rain c
ame down in torrents, faster than it could drain away. Another booming crack of thunder hit so close she could feel the charge lifting the fine hairs on her soaked arms; behind her, the school went dark.

  In the dark it was impossible to see where she was going; she knew only that she was headed in the right direction. She stepped off the sidewalk and right into a patch of mud. She’d been running so fast that it was impossible to adjust her momentum, and she skidded. There was a sharp stabbing pain in her ankle as her foot caught on something. The next thing she knew, she was looking up at the stormy sky.

  She hit the ground hard. All of the air was knocked out of her lungs with a huge whoosh upon impact. Instinctively she opened her mouth to gulp in air, only to choke on the deluge of water pouring down onto her from the flooding gutters above. Forcing herself onto her side, she expelled the water in a series of racking coughs until she was finally able to take a breath.

  She almost wished she hadn’t. A new rush of pain from her back, making it hard to expand her rib cage as she gasped for air. It joined with the burning flame shooting up from her ankle, the ache from her broken hand – which she was now sure extended to her wrist as well, and the sensation of a metal spike being driven into the back of her shoulder.

  Lacie would have cried if she had been able to find enough air to do so. Instead, she clenched her teeth together and tried to push herself up, only to flop down in the mud several more times when her ankle refused to hold her weight. Resigned to crawling on her knees and one hand – at least it kept the rain out of her face – she finally started moving forward, seeking any kind of shelter.

  “Lacie! Jesus Christ!” Suddenly strong arms were lifting her upward. She screamed at the pain the movement brought and heard a series of oaths in response. Then she was scooped up into powerful arms, held against a body covered from head to toe in a dark hooded rain slicker.

  “Craig?” she croaked, recognizing the familiar scent of his aftershave. Her mind was so fuzzy; the sound of the rain mixed with a loud buzzing in her ears, making it difficult to hear a response.

  “I’ve got you, baby. Jesus. Don’t talk. Hang on.”

  Craig shifted her against his body as he opened the door to his SUV and lifted her inside. “Your truck...” she protested, knowing that she was covered in mud, dripping wet, and, if the warm, sticky stuff on her upper back was any indication, bleeding all over his new vehicle. The Durango was Craig’s pride and joy.

  “Fuck the truck,” he growled. Her next feeble objection was lost as the passenger door slammed, instantly reducing the cacophony of the storm to the muffled deluge against the metallic exterior.

  He joined her a minute later. The cab was so warm, and she was shivering uncontrollably. She felt a blanket being draped over her, and heard Craig asking her questions, but it was hard to concentrate when her head hurt so badly. She didn’t think she’d hit it – her shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact – but she must have jarred it enough to give her a nasty headache. And why was she so dizzy all of a sudden?

  “Car wouldn’t work,” she mumbled as she fought to keep her eyes open. She should stay awake, she knew that, but it was a losing battle. “Lost my phone. Couldn’t call for help. I fell. Hurts.” Forming a coherent sentence was becoming increasingly difficult; single words were so much easier.

  “No one knows where you are? What happened?” Craig sounded rushed; he was reaching for the seat belt, tugging to get it to extend around her, blanket and all. Lacie let out a cry as he pulled tight to secure it. “It’s okay, baby.” The SUV roared to life.

  “It hurts, Craig,” she told him, shifting in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure. “And I’m so tired. What’s wrong with me?”

  “I know. Close your eyes, Lacie.” Craig pulled out of the parking lot and the powerful heater continued to fill the inside with such lovely warmth. “Everything is going to be okay now.”

  * * *

  Shane rubbed at his chest again, the persistent ache growing stronger with each passing minute. He looked at the wall clock. Nine p.m. Lacie should have called by now.

  He pulled out his phone and called her cell. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. Again.

  Shane paced the length of his room. He was overreacting, he told himself. Lacie had warned him that the planning meeting might go very late, and that her sister was going to stay over at her place. There was a very good reason Lacie hadn’t called yet. The meeting probably did run late, just like she’d said, and then she and Corinne went out for a bite to eat.

  No big deal. She’d call any minute now and he’d realize just how paranoid he was being. It was only natural. He wanted to be with Lacie, craved her so much, that it made him overly agitated when something kept them from being together. His brothers were the same way with their wives. The desire to be with his other half was part of the whole experience. It would just take some getting used to, that’s all.

  He glanced at the now-closed file folder on his desk. That was the real source of his unease – a two-inch thick dossier that Ian managed to compile on Craig Davidson. With each page he’d read, the more disquieted Shane had become. While the official profile painted a decent enough picture, anyone with experience deciphering official government documents could read between the lines.

  On the surface, Craig Davidson had served his country, had sustained grievous injuries on his final tour, and had been honorably discharged on medical grounds.

  What the official documents had hinted at but didn’t come right out and say was that Craig Davidson was a borderline psychopath. At least that was the opinion Shane had formed.

  Ian had obtained enough “unofficial” evidence to support that theory. A history of insubordination. Disorderly conduct. Use of excessive force. Allusions to problems in the civilian sector, such as brief mentions of fights and ‘coerced sexual relations’. There were even a few psych evaluations Ian had managed to get his hands on. Terms and phrases like “obsessive”, “skewed perception”, and “predilection toward violence” literally leaped off the page and into Shane’s photographic memory.

  The items that interested Shane the most were the so-called investigations into the events that resulted in Davidson’s injuries and the loss of the rest of his unit. The cause of the incident was officially ruled as an accident, the result of “weapons malfunctions”, but so many of the pages had been black-lined in the interest of national security that it was difficult to get a complete picture of exactly what the mission had entailed and what had gone wrong. Ian was working on getting the full reports, but even the little bit Shane had seen was enough for him to know that the information in Lacie’s apartment did not match up with Ian’s results, not even at the official level.

  It was enough to convince Shane that something was decidedly “off”. The pieces just didn’t fit.

  Davidson’s activities after his discharge didn’t foster any warm and fuzzy feelings, either. He had been in bad shape when he’d come home, that much was true. He’d spent much of the first year in and out of hospitals and then rehabs as they sought to rebuild the parts of him that had been so badly damaged. The local news had done a series of interviews with him over that first year. Shane read every one of them. Each one gave him the same instinctual feeling that Craig Davidson was not a man who could be trusted.

  Then his young wife died tragically in a car accident, leaving him with a three-year old daughter. The maternal grandparents got custody of the little girl, but Davidson had visiting rights. Why? Was it that Davidson was still in bad enough shape that they felt it would be in the girl’s best interests to be with Mikaela’s parents instead? Or was it something else?

  What Shane found particularly interesting were a few handwritten sticky notes Ian had placed on various documents, reminders to speak with the lawyer in town who had drawn up the custody arrangement. Ian must have been thinking along the same lines. Shane would have to ask him about that later; Ian had already left for the night with Lexi and the
kids.

  Shane sighed, looking at the clock again. Nine-thirty. Maybe he should try calling Corinne’s phone. Lacie did have a tendency to be a bit forgetful with hers. It was probably sitting in the pocket of her skirt at the bottom of her hamper. The thought made him smile.

  Then again, maybe he shouldn’t. It might seem too possessive. Lacie might think that he was checking up on her. She certainly didn’t seem to appreciate it when Davidson acted over-protective. The situations were totally different, he knew, but he was averse to anything that might put him in the same light as Davidson until Lacie fully accepted their croie bond and could understand.

  He took his cell out and placed it on the desk. He could wait a little longer. He would force himself to.

  Flipping up the screen on his laptop, he decided to check out a few things. Ian had managed to get a lot of information over the past couple of days, but he had his hands full, too. In his typical orderly fashion, Shane created a list of items on which to follow-up as he perused the data Ian had already provided. Ian was the uncontested digital genius to be sure – he could bypass any security system given enough time – but Shane was no slouch, either. Research was a big part of what he did, too.

  He interlaced his fingers and gave them a stretch. Ian had concentrated on Davidson at Shane’s request, but the more he read about Lacie’s self-appointed big brother, the more agitated he became. Instead, Shane’s fingers glided over the slick black keys, using Ian’s custom search engine to find out more about the woman he would soon be calling his wife.

  Several hits came up right away. All generic things from public sources, all good. Pictures of Lacie with her “kids” at Maggie’s farm. A graduation announcement placed in the paper by her proud parents on achieving her Bachelor’s in Elementary Education. A wedding portrait, where Lacie stood as maid of honor to Mikaela (Daniels) Davidson.