James looked down at his cell phone. He’d made so many calls that it was hot to the touch.
The well of contacts he’d used the first time to ferret out information about Gardner had dried up with the disappearance of Sully. Not even Queso could find someone who knew if he was still alive, let alone where he was. James couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy. Sully might not have been the best role model, but it was clear to James now that he was all the boy had.
Once again James came back to his nephew. And worry and guilt were immediately replaced with anger.
Why had Gardner waited to tell him?
Why hadn’t he set up a better contingency plan?
Why hadn’t Gardner listened to him all those years ago?
“Knock, knock.”
James lifted his head. Suzy stood in the doorway. She was frowning.
“I think it’s time I went home.”
Another simple statement that had a strong effect on him. But it wasn’t unexpected. They’d been together for almost twenty-four hours.
“I’m sure you want to see Justin.”
She nodded. “I do. But I won’t stop working on this. I’ll work from home.”
James waved a hand, dismissing the thought.
“You’ve already done more than enough, plus there’s more people on it now. The sheriff’s department included.”
Suzy nodded again. But she still wasn’t smiling. “I know it’s not my business, but how did Chelsea take the news?”
James looked over her shoulder to the closed bedroom door. Suzy took a step closer so he could lower his voice.
“She’s a tough cookie, but I threw her a curveball,” he admitted. “One of many.” He sighed. “There’s a thirteen-year age difference between us. Sixteen years between her and Gardner. She was only a few months old when he ran away. By the time she could understand what a brother even was, he’d been scrubbed out of the family by my father. I honestly don’t even know if he would have ever told her Gardner existed if it wasn’t for me and my mother. Even then, it was something you just didn’t talk about with the old man in the room.”
James rubbed the back of his neck. Talking about his family wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Especially about his father and the divide he’d created. “Either way, I didn’t like her not knowing him, and so I told her about the Gardner I’d grown up with when she was old enough. Not the one who’d earned the title of Alabama Boogeyman. I was trying to protect her. Trying to protect him, too. The Gardner that was still good, the one I was proud to call my brother.”
James fought the urge to ball his hands into fists. Suzy had asked a simple question and here he was, again, regaling her with the epic dysfunction that was what it meant to be a Callahan.
“By the time she was old enough to want anything more than just stories from me, my father died,” he continued. “It wasn’t until I left the Air Force and became her guardian that we had to have a more serious talk about him. I wanted to be honest with her, since it was just the two of us. I wanted her to know what it was like to be trusted and loved by a parent, even if I was her brother. I don’t think she knows how to process the idea of a baby Gardner out there when she barely knew how to process Gardner being out in the world but not a part of our lives before he was killed.” He couldn’t help but smirk at how much he’d divulged. “I guess I could have just said that from the start.”
“It’s only fair, since I talked your ear off this morning,” she replied without missing a beat. “Sometimes you just have to say what you’re feeling.”
“True.”
A few seconds of silence stretched between them. James thought about Suzy and the bed behind him. He wanted Suzy. There was no doubt about that now. But he also wanted to keep her safe.
She’d already nearly died because of his family’s baggage.
So, instead of pulling her in for a kiss he hoped she’d never forget, he said good-night.
“Sleep well, Chief Deputy,” he added before she turned away. “You’ve more than earned it.”
She flashed a quick smile. It looked as tired as he felt. Wary, even. Then she was gone.
James looked back down at his phone.
It was still warm in his palm.
* * *
A WAITING GAME. That was all it was now. And she wasn’t happy about it. Patience wasn’t her strong suit.
Aggression was.
Someone rapped on the door. It took all the calm she had left not to shoot through it. Especially when it was Grayton who peeked his head around it.
“I was wondering when you’d slink back here,” she greeted him with a snarl. “Next time maybe I should send someone younger. Or maybe I should just do it myself. Heavens knows good help is hard to find.”
Grayton tucked his chin but held her gaze. It was the only form of pushback she’d gotten from him in the last year. The only resistance he attempted. The rest of her cronies didn’t dare even that much.
“We underestimated him. Hank,” he tried. At least his voice was submissive enough. She loosened her shoulders. “He killed Lee and Ryan. Rocko is in the hospital.”
“I know,” she said. “I always know, remember? Your merry band isn’t the only group I have on the payroll.”
She adjusted the pearls around her neck until the clasp was at the nape. She was overdressed in comparison now that Grayton was there. His suit was covered in blood. No bullet holes but more than a few slashes. He had certainly fought his way out of the bar, all right.
Not that she cared.
He’d had one job, and he hadn’t delivered.
Maybe he picked up on that thought. His eyes shifted from her for a split second before slinking right back.
“Then I guess you know that his house is crawling with cops right now.”
“I do.” She leaned over and rested her elbows on the desktop. “Old news may be news, but it’s not something I like to deal in. Impress me or, my God, Mr. McKenzie, at least try. I’d hate to have to change our arrangement.”
Instead of letting her threat make him squirm, he tried to stand taller.
“I didn’t want to come back empty-handed. So I didn’t.” He took a step forward and looked very much like a man pretending to relax because he was on more solid ground. However, he’d been around long enough to know that solid ground didn’t exist in their business. At least, not hers.
You either did well or you didn’t.
And she didn’t have patience for those who didn’t.
“After Hank took off, I figured he’d run home to see about his woman,” he continued. “The cops were already there. Deputies from the county, too. I recognized one of the detectives from a few years back who helped take out that dimwit who tried to take over Bryan Copeland’s old drug business. He was talking to a woman. I’m pretty sure it was the same one who shot at us at Gardner’s place. She got into a car with another man. And guess where they went?” He grinned.
She raised her eyebrow, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he was going to disappoint her with his answer. “Where?”
“That fancy house out in Bates Hill. The mansion.”
That got her attention. She felt her brow furrow.
“Do you mean James Callahan’s estate?”
Grayton nodded with fervor.
“Well, that is interesting. What does the Bates Hill Savior have to do with Gardner?”
While she was pleasantly surprised with the information that Grayton had brought her, she didn’t expect him to answer that. He kept silent as she stood and walked around the desk. Her heels tapped out a soothing rhythm against the hardwood.
Soothing to her, anyway. Grayton couldn’t hide the muscle in his jaw that jumped. It made her feel even more powerful. She sidled up to him and flashed a smile she hoped chilled his blood.
“I guess I’ll just have to go and ask him myself,” she cooed into his ear. “After all, isn’t the old clichéd adage something about if you want anything done you should just do it yourself?”
That clearly surprised him. She had a front-row view of his eyebrows bunching in together. She liked the reaction. Those who stuck to routines never flourished. It was about time she changed her tactics from a behind-the-scenes style to a more visible one, out in the field.
“Now, Grayton.” She brought her hand up and cupped the side of his face, turning it so their eyes met. “While I’m away, why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up?”
He gave one precise nod.
Unlike her other minions, Grayton knew when to keep his mouth shut. It was done more out of fear than strategy, but she appreciated unquestioning loyalty.
Hot and pure anger heated beneath her skin.
Loyalty.
She didn’t take betrayal lightly.
Before he could flinch at the change in her expression, she grabbed both sides of his cheeks and squeezed until his lips puckered. It wasn’t until her nails bit into his skin that she spoke.
“After that, you’re going to figure out who that woman was and why she’s interfering with my business. Got it?” She nodded his head for him. Droplets of blood oozed out onto her once-perfect manicure. She applied another wave of pressure until he couldn’t stop from wincing. She smiled and loosened her grip. He didn’t move a muscle as she stroked the half-moon marks across his skin.
“Good,” she cooed again. “Good boy. Because I really do like you, Grayton. I’d hate to have to deal with replacing you, especially when we’re so close. But don’t think I won’t, if needed. I’m not above eliminating those who disappoint me.”
She wiped the tops of her nails on his shirt and patted his chest. While she kept her smile in place, she knew neither one of them believed it held any mercy.
“Just ask Gardner.”
Chapter Thirteen
James might have had more than enough money to hire a personal chef, but he wasn’t about to deny the world his famous breakfast for dinner.
He stood in front of the stove and slung eggs into a pan while keeping his eyes on the bacon. Chelsea manned her usual post next to the waffle iron. Looking at her, now nineteen years old, he couldn’t help but see the preteen he’d taught how to use it.
“So, you never finished telling me,” he started. “I know you aced your lab, but what grade did you get on your final history project?”
After hearing the news that Gardner’s son was just out of their reach and they’d been all but ordered by the sheriff to stay put, Chelsea had been quiet. That wasn’t unusual for her personality. She’d always been more of a contemplative kid. While some people barely thought about the words before they came out of their mouths, Chelsea often overthought hers. Sometimes, if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see her picking the words in her head, careful to use the right ones.
It had worried James, at first. Coming home to raise a sister who was only ten had been enough to send him diving into the pages of countless parenting books, but it had been Chelsea’s quiet and reserved personality that caused him to stress. That was, until he realized that listening more than speaking wasn’t a bad trait, just different from how he and his brother had behaved. And their father, when he was around, had been the louder parent. It hadn’t mattered who was right if no one could hear the other points being made.
James had felt right at home with the drill sergeants in boot camp.
“It wasn’t as good as my biology lab, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” She poured batter over the waffle iron.
“Are we talking low A or high B? Or are we more into the Cs?”
Chelsea’s contemplative nature also came with a dose of perfectionism. While she was willing to slack when it came to chores or summer jobs, her grades were important to her. Doing poorly on a test, in her mind, was the equivalent of doing great to most other people.
“High B, but I could have done better.” She huffed and brought down the top of the iron. “I blame that stupid guy I got partnered up with. He was more interested in talking about himself than in helping me. I should have done the entire thing myself, but all I could hear was you in my head.” She cleared her throat and adopted a baritone. “‘Doing someone else’s work usually only hurts them in the long run, Chels. Especially if someone is trying to take advantage of your work ethic.’”
James threw his head back and laughed. “That goes double for talkative, self-involved college boys.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I already told him all about my big brother who did two tours in Iraq. Which is why I think he never bothered me outside of the library.”
“That’s my girl.”
James finished scrambling the eggs and turned his attention to the bacon. This was something he couldn’t deny he missed. The house seemed so much bigger when Chelsea was gone.
His thoughts reverted to Suzy. It had felt nice having her around the last two days. Even when she’d been sleeping in the other room, James had felt an odd peace start to settle, just knowing she was there. Throughout his time in Bates Hill, he’d dated a few women he’d considered introducing to Chelsea. Yet he’d never noticed their absence the way he did with the chief deputy.
They’d been through a lot of near-death situations. With the baby missing, a potential new gang rising and a man who could disappear as easily as Gardner could, stakes were high. Anyone could get caught up in the moment. Maybe that was all their kiss had meant.
Maybe without danger and bullets, their interest in each other wouldn’t exist.
James didn’t like that thought. Nor the one that came next.
With or without Suzy, his future was going to change. Because of Gardner’s son.
What was the point of having the money he did and spending years networking for connections when he couldn’t use them to help find his own flesh and blood? Shouldn’t someone be finding something by now? Statistics alone should have been on their side.
“Will it be like this when we find him?”
James paused, spatula in midair. Apparently Chelsea’s thoughts had found their way onto the same wavelength.
“What do you mean?”
She took her time in responding, choosing her words carefully again, no doubt. Slowly she opened the iron and forked out her waffle. Then she was ready.
“Gardner’s son. Our nephew. Will you raise him by yourself, too, here in the house, like you did with me?”
James looked over at her. She kept her eyes on the new cup of batter she was pouring into the waffle iron. There was guilt in the question. He knew it, because he’d heard it before. No matter how hard he had tried, he couldn’t seem to fully convince her that, sure, leaving the Air Force had been hard, but it was nothing compared to what abandoning her would have been like.
Just like if he abandoned his nephew.
“Of course I will,” he answered honestly. “But I won’t be alone.” He hoped she heard the smile in his voice. “You’re going to be on diaper duty as soon as you step through the front door when you come back from college. Plus, I’ve already decided that after teaching you how to drive, I’m done with that forever. I’ve been in combat zones less terrifying.”
“Hey! That’s not fair.” Her normal voice returned. “I wasn’t that bad!”
“You weren’t that good, either,” he mumbled.
She laughed. “I heard that.”
The weight that had settled on her shoulders seemed to lift a little. James was glad for it. While, technically, she was an adult, he didn’t want her to bear the particular burden that came with being mixed up in Gardner’s criminal life. They’d agreed years ago that they’d protect her from it, and James would be damned if he didn’t keep trying. She was still trying to find her place in
the world; she didn’t need to be caught in a web of constant worry, too.
They finished each of their cooking duties and settled around the table in the eating nook. It wasn’t until she spoke that he noticed she’d made an extra waffle. Which made her next topic of conversation no surprise to him.
“So, I know you said that he needed to keep a low profile and he helped get some information for you about Gardner, but—” she dropped her voice “—is his name really Queso? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good dip, but that’s a little intense. And kind of ridiculous.”
James snorted and then sobered. He couldn’t help but picture the scene the night before, when a blood-soaked boy had limped into the house yet was only worried about his boss. His friend. Despite his rough-and-tumble persona, Queso had been a better guest than most.
He wasn’t about to make fun of the boy now, especially when they didn’t know what he’d been through. The ridiculous nickname might be covering up a pain that neither one of them could understand.
James decided to set the tone for Chelsea so she knew exactly where he stood on the boy.
“That’s what he’s comfortable being called. And we’ll respect that until he tells us otherwise.” James was stern enough to leave an impression. Chelsea nodded and dropped her gaze to her food. She danced her fork across her waffle. He eyed the extra one off to the side and sighed through a smile.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask him to come eat with us,” he said, standing.
“You make it sound like you think we’re too good for him,” she noted with her own smile. But it zipped right off a second later. Her eyes widened. “Or maybe he thinks he’s too good for us?”
James couldn’t help but laugh. Always concerned, that was Chelsea Callahan’s natural state.
He mussed her hair as he walked past, earning a swat or two from her. “Probably a little of both,” he answered. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try to get him socialized. I’d hate for him to miss out on my famous breakfast for dinner.”
Queso had been given the run of the house, true to James’s word. Instead of staying in the living room, glued to the TV, he’d surprised James by hanging out in the small library at the corner of the first floor. When James had been house hunting, privacy had been the number one desire on his list. It was the main reason he’d bought such a big house when there were only two of them to live in it. However, the library had definitely been the second reason he’d signed the papers. Built-in bookshelves lined two of the walls, while a large window that looked out into the backyard took up the third. James had done some of his best business thinking in that room.
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