“Wife?” I spit out. “Hold on—Christian Baylor—as in shady as fuck drug kingpin?” That can’t be true.
She nods solemnly. “He saw me at a charity event and decided he wanted me despite me making it very clear I wasn’t interested.”
I grit my teeth, loosening my grip on her arms before I hurt her.
“What did he do?” I bark.
“Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He started turning up everywhere I was, sending elaborate gifts to my place and calling me constantly. I went to the police, but they said there wasn’t anything they could do until he actually committed a crime, which he hadn’t yet done.”
“So, you packed up and left?” I urge her to continue, wanting to hear it all, knowing there’s more.
I cup her chin when she looks away, but I need her eyes on me.
“No,” she answers in a whisper. “He grabbed me on my way home one night and slammed my face into a wall. He told me he was tired of waiting before shoving his hands down my pants.”
I suck in a sharp breath, biting my tongue so hard I taste blood, but I keep myself in check so she doesn’t stop talking.
“A couple of homeless guys who recognized me from the shelter I volunteered at heard me scream and held him off enough for me to run.”
Tears spill over her cheeks again as she looks at me in defeat.
“I’m so fucking stupid. I underestimated his obsession with me and now I have to leave again before he hurts you or one of the guys or—”
I cut her off with a soft kiss, holding her tighter when I feel her trembling in my arms. “First of all, nobody will lay a fucking hand on you, or anyone else. Secondly, you aren't going anywhere—”
“Blake,” she cries out, interrupting me, but I carry on.
“Trust me with this, Callie. This is what my team and I do. You can run, but when will it stop? How far do you have to go? That’s no life to live.”
“He will hurt you,” she whimpers.
“He can fucking try,” I scoff. “Stay, let me help you, please.”
She dissolves into sobs, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. Her tears seem endless, running down my neck, soaking my skin and breaking my heart.
“Okay,” she finally whispers, her voice hitching at the end.
I take my first deep breath since finding her. Thank Christ. “Good girl. Now I want you to lie down on the sofa here for a moment while I call the guys over so we can brief them. I want you to tell us everything you can, no matter how small or insignificant you think it might be.”
She nods, her hair tickling the side of my face as she pulls back to look at me with her pretty copper eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I love you, Blake Price. I didn’t want to, but it turns out you’re impossible not to love, serial killer tendencies notwithstanding.”
I laugh at her, not realizing I even had that in me at the moment, before sliding my hands up and cupping her face. I kiss her gently, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips, trying to show her how I feel with actions, not words. I don’t know if it's love or if that's even something I’m still capable of anymore. Whatever it is, it's strong and all-consuming.
After losing everyone who mattered to me, I closed myself off to the idea of love. I have my grandmother and for the longest time, it’s been enough. Now I’m not so sure.
“Come on, sweetheart, let's get you comfortable.” I lift her into my arms and carry her to the couch closest to us, laying her down and covering her up with the thick wool blanket from the back of it.
“I’ll grab you some water and call the boys. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
She nods and burrows down under the blanket.
I place one last kiss on her forehead and head to the kitchen, pulling out my phone and sending out a mass text to everyone but Aiden, knowing they will be here as soon as they can be.
Next, I dial Grant. The phone rings four times before he answers with a gruff voice.
“If she kicked your ass out, you likely deserved it. Now I’m in bed with my wife, what do you want?” Seems like Callie managed to charm Grant as well as his wife.
“There's a situation with Callie. What do you know about Christian Baylor?” I hear him suck in a sharp breath before movement and some murmuring. I hear a door close and assume he’s moved somewhere he can talk.
“Christian Baylor is as dirty as they come, and yet nothing ever sticks because he’s a slippery fucker with friends in all the right places. Is Callie mixed up with him?” he asks, his voice alert now.
“He spotted her at a charity event and decided he wanted her. Doesn’t seem bothered in the least that Callie’s not interested. He attacked her, Grant. He smashed her face into a wall while he shoved his hand down her pants. She was fucking lucky to get away.” I take a deep breath and blow it out, lowering my voice again so Callie can’t hear me.
“She ran to escape him, ended up here in Sunnyville, but I don't think she realized how far his reach is or how much he obviously wants her.”
“Fuck,” Grant spits out. “It's likely not even about making Callie his wife anymore and more about making her pay for defying him. ‘No’ is not a word he’s familiar with, and he won't accept it from a slip of a girl like Callie. I’ll do some digging, see what I can find out. I assume you and the boys will do around the clock protection. Do you have enough hands spare with your caseload? If not, I might be able to swing for a couple of drive-bys.”
“I couldn’t care less how many cases we have. When your woman is in trouble, your schedule becomes surprisingly clear, but I appreciate the offer. I’ve gotta go. I don't want to leave her alone while she’s so spooked. I’ll call you when I’ve got more to go on.”
Hanging up without saying goodbye, I shove my phone in my pocket, before snagging a bottle of water from the refrigerator and head back to Callie. I stand in the doorway for a moment just watching her. She looks so small lying there with her knees pulled up tight as she hugs herself for comfort. I want to smash something, but that’s not what she needs from me right now.
I make my way over to her, then sit on the floor near her head and tuck the loose tendril of hair that has fallen over her cheek behind her ear. “Boys will be here soon,” I tell her gently.
“I’m scared, Blake,” she admits.
I stand and lift her onto my lap, blanket and all, and hold her tightly. “I’ll protect you, Callie.” And I will with my last breath if necessary.
“I know you will, but what worries me is, who will protect you?”
Chapter Seventeen
Callie
Leaning on Blake's shoulder with my eyes closed, I listen to the guys talking about my unwanted admirer and what they are going to do to keep me safe.
They listened to my story intently as I told it, each becoming visibly angry when I got to the part about Christian cornering me and the lack of help I received from the police.
I told them my mother delivered the message before leaving, having heard it from Christian himself, as they run in the same circles. Anytime they asked me anything else about her, I redirected it. I can’t deal with that whole situation right now and, after everything she’s done, she’s as good as dead to me.
I thought about spilling it all, telling everyone about her involvement, but my mother's words echo over in my mind. Haunted by the way this played out once before, I’m reluctant to tell Blake the truth about her, especially since he can’t seem to accept my version of events regarding my father's so-called abuse. If I tell him what she’s like and he questions her, would she be able to convince him I’m crazy like she has everyone else? Or worse, that I was truly engaged to Christian and that I had simply gotten cold feet before the wedding?
It's something she would do. Lying is as simple as breathing to her, and I’m not willing to take the chance of losing Blake, or any of these guys because of my mother's manipulative ways.
I open my eyes when I hear Blake call my name. Lifting my head to look
at him, I realize everyone is quietly staring at me.
“What?” I question, making Marcus chuckle.
“Did we lose you there for a little bit?”
I flip him off, making him laugh. “Fuck you, Popeye, it's been a long day.”
He sobers at that, making me feel bad.
“Sorry, I’m just grumpy, ignore me. Anyway, what did I miss?” I apologize to him. None of this is their fault—my nerves are just frayed.
“Just the part where you move in with Blake,” Kellen says with a smirk.
“Wait, what?” I focus on Blake who looks at me like he’s ready for me to argue with him.
Smart man.
“How did we go from makeup sex, which I might add I have not had yet, to me moving in with you?”
The guys laugh around us, making me blush. Balls, I forgot about our audience.
“Well, Callie, if you move in with me, I’ll give you all the makeup sex you can handle,” he promises.
I mull over his words, weighing the merits.
“Plus, there's morning sex, shower sex, wall sex—”
I place my hand over his mouth to shut him up. “You had me at morning sex.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls my hand from his mouth, offering me a quick peck before facing the smiling guys. “I need someone on Callie at all times I can’t be, so we need to go over the books and see who has what so we can work out a schedule.”
“Shit, I hate that I’m disrupting your lives so much,” I groan, feeling guilty.
“Oh, hush, this is what we do, love. If we weren’t watching your fine ass, we would be watching someone else's,” Noah adds with a wink, making Blake growl from beside me.
“I better not find you checking out my woman's ass, Noah, or I’ll gouge your eyes out with a spoon.”
I pat Blake on the chest to calm him down and shake my head with amusement. “Calm your shit, Bundy. Yeesh,” I tell him, making him glare at me for a moment before he leans down and kisses me again. And let me tell you, this is no peck, this is a full-on assault, designed to show the boys exactly who I belong to.
“And that's our cue to leave, before the live porn show begins,” I hear Marcus mutter, but Blake doesn’t care as his tongue continues to duel with mine.
“Speak for yourself, man. This is just getting—oof.”
I pull away from Blake and turn to see Felix on the floor, wheezing for breath while the others look around innocently.
“All right, assholes, time to leave. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Callie needs some rest,” Blake informs everyone with a shake of his head.
I stand up and accept the hugs the guys offer me, ignoring Blake’s grumbling, then wave goodbye as he sees them out.
I gather up the cups and glasses and wander to the kitchen, placing them in the sink before arms wrap around my waist and Blake rests his head on my shoulder.
“Leave them. Let me take you to bed and love on you for a little while. We’ll pack some stuff and head over to my place tomorrow, but for now, we need some rest.”
I don't argue. His plan sounds heavenly right now.
“Okay, Bundy, you've twisted my arm.”
Chapter Eighteen
Blake
I watch her take in my loft, curious what she thinks. I feel like an ass for not bringing her here sooner, but the truth is, I’m never here other than to sleep and now even that's done mostly at Callie’s.
The flooring is a light beechwood, a nice contrast to the dark beams that run the length of the ceiling and the huge island in the same dark wood that dominates the kitchen area. Windows take up most of the wall space, leaving only small areas of the original exposed brickwork showing around them. The kitchen itself is modern, sleek and minimalistic with its dark cupboards, charcoal granite surfaces, and brushed steel appliances, making it a drool-worthy space to most people's standards.
While the kitchen is all about clean lines and order, the living area is all about comfort. Located at the far end of the room just before the bedrooms, the area boasts two large tan leather corner sofas littered with multicolored cushions and a sixty-inch television mounted on the wall.
A circular distressed oak coffee table sits between the sofas on a plush cream rug, perfect for kicking back and putting my feet on, much to my grandmother’s dismay.
“This place is so much bigger than it looks from the outside,” Callie muses, her voice filled with awe.
“It was originally a warehouse but the person who owned it before knocked this floor into one big space with the exception of the two bedrooms and bathrooms, which are through those doors down there.” I point to the far end of the colossal room. “The downstairs has been converted into a garage. When I bought this place, it was with the intention to make the lower floor Price Security offices, but in the end, I decided to keep my work and home separate.”
“Makes sense. Either way, I love it. It's so light and airy.”
I smile as she takes in the rest of the space, glad she likes it because I want her to be comfortable here.
It's sunny today so the walls of windows are letting in streams of warm sunshine, making everything feel warm and cozy. I watch the sun catch her hair as she walks toward the middle of the room, the honey-colored tones looking almost golden. She runs her fingertips over the green felt of the pool table that sits in the center of the room along with a wet bar and a handful of arcade machines against the wall.
“Ever the eternal bachelor, huh?” she teases over her shoulder with a glint in her eye.
“Well, I was until a certain blonde attacked me with a giant pink cock,” I answer drolly, making her laugh.
“Come on, let's put this stuff in the bedroom. Then we can go out for breakfast before heading to the office.”
She waits for me to lead the way, then follows behind me. She glances around the room briefly, looking from the large bed covered with black and gray bedding, to the gray wing-back chair in the corner with the reading lamp beside it. A dark wood chest of drawers sits against the wall facing the bed with a television mounted above it.
“I’ve plenty of space in the closet, and I’ll clear out a few drawers for you when we get back later, but I want to show you something first.” I place her bags at the foot of the bed and snag her hand, pulling her over to the far left side of the room and into the closet.
“Ooh, are we going to Narnia?” When we come to the door at the back of the closet, she turns to look at me with excitement. “I always wanted to meet Aslan.”
“Laugh it up, Callie, but pay attention. This is important, okay?”
She nods solemnly and salutes, making my lips twitch.
“Someone clearly wants a spanking later,” I mutter, only too happy to oblige.
I swing the door open and reveal a safe room.
“Woah, this is like something out of a movie. Did you have this added?” she asks curiously, walking inside.
“No, it was here when I moved in. It was a surprise find as it wasn’t listed on the blueprints. It’s small but functional.”
There is a single cot-style bed against the wall with a blanket and a pillow upon it. A small fridge next to it has bottles of water inside and a basic first aid kit on top. Above that is a cupboard with a bunch of non-perishable foods. It's not fancy but it will do in an emergency. Nobody is expected to be stuck in here for a long period of time.
“This room is exactly what you think it is. Panic room, safe room, call it what you like, the idea is the same. If anything happens while you’re here at the loft and you are told to get in here, do it. Don’t argue, okay? As much as I know you’ll want to help, you’ll be a distraction. Knowing you are safe in here means the guys and I can focus on other things until the situation is under control,” I explain, needing her to be on the same page as me.
She looks at me intently, a whole myriad of emotions playing across her face before she nods. “Okay, Blake, I promise. If something happens while we are here and you or one of the guys orders me i
nside, I’ll go without a fight.”
I sigh in relief and turn to show her the control panel and screen behind the door. “See this?” I point to the first of five buttons running horizontally along the screen. I press it when she nods, and the screen comes to life showing her a camera view of the closet. “The next button switches cameras to the bedroom one and the third button down is of the main living area. The other two buttons are for views of the garage and outside. They never had a phone line installed for some reason, but you’ll get a signal with your cell phone just fine. I’m going to arm the door and leave it open. All you have to do is close it behind you and the locks will engage. Nobody will be able to get in from the outside, not even me.”
“You’re freaking me out, Bundy,” she tells me, looking a little pale.
I pull her into my arms and tuck her under my chin. “You’ll likely never need it, but I’d rather you be freaked out now and safe later if the worst happens.” Her safety is all that matters to me right now.
“Okay, but can we get out of here now? It's giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Sure. Let’s get some breakfast and bring the boys some doughnuts.”
“I approve of this plan, Bundy, let’s go.”
I follow as she pulls me along, looking back at the now open door, hoping we never get to the point she needs it.
Because if she does need it, that would mean Christian has found her.
Chapter Nineteen
Callie
The seven-day deadline my mother gave me comes and goes.
She never tries to contact me again, which surprises me after how adamant she was about me returning home with her.
We are rapidly approaching the end of the second week and I can't help but feel I’m somehow waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Blake isn’t taking any risks though, not when it comes to my safety. Even if he isn’t able to be with me himself, like today, one of his men is assigned to me at all times for protection.
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