Cold Day In Hell

by Monette Michaels

  “Risto got done early. Wanted some down time. So, Ren doesn’t know.” Conn chuckled. “And I’m damn sure the down time included a side trip to Chicago and you. He loves you, Callie. He’s just not sure you should want him back.”

  “I love him, Conn.”

  “Well, hell, Callie, I knew that. It’s Risto you have to convince. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

  “Why in the hell not?” She had all but crawled all over Risto the entire time in Colombia. Did he think she just had sex with any man?—especially after she’d been celibate for seven years before him.

  “He’s a loner, always has been. You sort of set him back on his heels. You fit him—and he never expected to find a woman, especially one who looks like you and is as smart as you, who could deal with his lifestyle. He’s pretty much a throwback, Callie. One of those rugged males who explored and settled the Wild West. He won’t change. He’ll have to wear the pants in any relationship.”

  “I don’t want him to change. I liked his bossiness. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the Darien—well, except for the anaconda, the heat stroke, and getting shot—but at heart, I’m tired of travelling the world and having adventures. I want to stay home, do my analyst work and make a nest for Risto and the children we’ll have.”

  “Well, sure looks like you’ll be nesting. Risto won’t allow you to be exposed to danger—he was kicking his own ass because you were hurt on his watch. The man would kill the tree that gave you a splinter. Hold a sec, Berto has something.”

  As two low male voices mumbled in her ear, she took a bite of half of her sandwich and then gobbled the rest up in four bites by the time Conn got back on the line.

  “Berto has us on a plane to the US. We’ll be in Watersmeet by tomorrow, shortly after the bus arrives there. We’ll let Risto know when we talk to him. If he can’t get to you before Watersmeet, we’ll be there to get you and take you to his island.”

  “You’re flying here? I didn’t … you don’t have to…”

  “We’re coming, Callie. If Risto doesn’t go straight home, you still need back-up. Plus, even if Risto picks you up first, we need to deal with Cruz once and for all. Risto will need us covering his ass.”

  “Thank you.” She sniffed. “Sorry, I’ve been crying at the littlest thing—happy, sad, depressed, mad, makes no difference, I cry.”

  Conn laughed. “I’ve heard tell pregnant women are very emotional.”

  “Yeah, damn hormones.” She snorted. “When does my bus leave Chicago?” She needed to get cash and some clothing and personal items, plus get the vitamins the doctor recommended.

  Berto’s voice chimed in. “Hey, little mamacita. Your bus leaves Chicago at 4:54 p.m. (CST) today and will get to Watersmeet, Michigan, weather permitting, tomorrow morning at 6:16 a.m. (CST). I made the reservations in your name. It’s all paid for, chica. You just pick up the ticket at the will-call window.”

  “Thanks, Berto.” She sighed. She’d have time to do all she needed. The bus station was downtown so she didn’t need to worry about rush hour traffic to get there.

  “See you soon. Don’t worry. We’ll protect you, bonita.”

  Conn came back on. “I’d count on being dragged off the bus, scolded, soundly kissed, and then scolded again by your man long before Watersmeet. That marine loves you. It’ll drive him bat shit crazy when he hears you’re sick, in danger, and on the run. He’ll move mountains to get to you ASAP.”

  That was what her evil inner Callie had hoped for. But to hear Conn confirm her gut feelings about Risto made her happier than she’d been since Colombia when she was last in his arms. “Thanks. I really appreciate…”

  “Not a problem. You’re family now, just think of Berto and me as honorary uncles for the baby, okay?”

  “Absolutely. See you soon.”

  “Watch your six, Callie. Call me if something unusual comes up.”

  “I will. Bye.” She shut off the phone and powered it down. Then she finished her meal with an appetite she hadn’t had in weeks. She needed to fuel up and get her errands accomplished before she picked up her ticket at the bus station and started her trip.

  * * * *

  Tuesday, 11:54 p.m. (EST), Marquette, Michigan.

  Risto drove his Jeep out of the long-term parking lot at the Marquette airport and headed toward home. In about four hours or so he’d be back on his island where he could sit and ponder what to do about Callie. Conn and Berto had double-teamed him the whole time he’d been on assignment in Colombia. Teo and the citizens of Ungaía had asked about her when he’d stopped by and took them some much needed medications and money, his and SSI’s way of thanking them for their kindness to him and Callie.

  He’d made the decision to take some time off and visit Chicago, take Callie out on a real date, and court her. Then if he thought she’d have him, he’d ask her to marry him and put him out of his fucking misery. He’d missed her every damn day since he’d left her in Panama City. There wasn’t a single hour he didn’t wonder if she was happy, healthy, safe.

  Blunt as always, Keely had called him a “frick-fracking asswipe” for not calling Callie during the last two months. Because of employee privacy and client confidentiality—and the need-to-know philosophy SSI worked under—he knew Ren had instructed Keely not to tell Callie anything about him or his missions. But that hadn’t kept Keely from informing him about everything Callie had been doing to shut Cruz down.

  Damn, he was proud of his woman. She single-handedly had put Cruz on the defensive, weakened him in the eyes of his own men and of Paco and his cartel. But a humiliated Cruz was a dangerous Cruz—and if the para-leader ever figured out Callie was the instrument which had destroyed his nice little world, he’d kill her, after he tortured her first. Risto wouldn’t allow that to happen. He’d marry her and hide her away on his island or at Sanctuary.

  Pulling into a McDonald’s, he ordered a burger and some coffee for the road. He wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight before heading to Chi-town tomorrow. The weather was okay now, but would worsen to blizzard conditions later tonight and on into tomorrow morning. The sooner he got home, the sooner he got off the snowy roads. And getting to his island in this weather would be cold, wet and bone-rattling rough.

  As he picked up the order, his phone rang. He hit the send button on the steering wheel for his blue-tooth connection. “Smith, here.” He pulled onto the access road and ate his burger one-handed.

  “Risto, where the fuck are you?”

  “Conn?”

  “Yeah. Berto and I are about to board a plane for New York. We’ll be in Marquette tomorrow and then Watersmeet as soon as we can fly a charter there.”

  “What the fuck you coming here for? It’s snowing—blizzard warnings for tomorrow.”

  “Callie called.”

  Icy fear swept down Risto’s spine and he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “Someone broke into her brothers’ place and planted surveillance equipment. Hispanic someones.”

  “Fuck. Did they try to grab her? Are her brothers okay?” He pulled over to the side of the road so he wouldn’t crash. He tossed the burger into the bag, no longer hungry. “Where is she?”

  “She’s on a Greyhound bus to Watersmeet. What time is it, there?”

  “About midnight.”

  “Eastern or central time?”

  “Eastern. My house and Watersmeet are in the Central time zone.”

  “She’ll be hitting Escanaba, Michigan at 3:57 a.m. eastern time, and changing busses for Watersmeet, departing at 4:40 a.m. Can you intercept her? She’s sick, scared, but maintaining. Your woman is courageous, but neither Berto nor I were really happy about her travelling alone.”

  Out of all the words coming out of Conn’s mouth, he zeroed in on one. “Sick! What’s wrong with her? And why in the fuck did you send her north in this weather when you didn’t even know I’d be here?”

  “Be
cause we would’ve picked her up in Watersmeet and taken her to your island. She didn’t think she could drive to Idaho and had already ruled out flying because of her illness.”

  “Tell me—what’s wrong with her.” His insides turned to ice. She’d fucking needed him and he hadn’t been there for her. Never again—that would never happen again.

  “Not sure. I took her word for what she could and couldn’t do and helped her figure out how to get the fuck out of Chicago without leaving bread crumbs for Cruz to follow.”

  “Did she tell you why she didn’t call me?” He distinctly remembered ordering her to call him first if she needed him.

  “You haven’t contacted her, you dumb fuck. No communication at all, she told me. You hurt her. She thinks you don’t want her.”

  God, his gut hurt. He’d just wanted to give her some space, not make her doubt how he felt. He was a dumb fuck. He’d make it up to her—once he got to her, she would never doubt he loved her.

  Conn added, “By the way, she did call Ren and Keely, before she called me. You might want to check in and get a sit rep concerning Cruz and his whereabouts. They were scrambling to find someone to cover Callie’s ass. I called them after I spoke to Callie and told them she was covered, but they’re sending us the Walsh twins for extra back-up. They resigned their commissions and are in Chicago right now.”

  “Damn right, she’s covered. Nothing and no one will touch Callie. I appreciate the help, Conn, and thank Berto for me, also. Call when you get to Watersmeet. I’ll come get you in the SSI helicopter housed on my island.”

  “Good, that’ll save us trying to find a way from Watersmeet in the middle of a fucking blizzard.” Conn paused. “What are we going to do about Cruz and his band of hired guns?”

  “You sent her north, because my island is an easily defended fortress.”

  “That, and she needs and wants you—and you, you thick-headed fuck, need and want her.”

  “I love her.”

  “Well, hell, Risto, I knew that, wasn’t sure you did.”

  Risto sighed. “To answer your question—we’ll set a trap for Cruz and his men.” One the fucker wouldn’t escape alive. “I want this asshat out of her life.”

  “Good, we’re all on the same page, old buddy. Now, go get your woman off the damn bus, take her home, and tuck her in bed, you with her. We’ll call when we need to be picked up.”

  “Thanks, Conn. Safe journey.”

  Risto ended the call, then made a U-turn and headed back east to pick up the road to Escanaba. With any luck, he’d be there, waiting, when Callie’s bus pulled into the station.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Early Wednesday morning, Greyhound Bus Station, Escanaba, Michigan.

  Callie stood up and swayed slightly. She arched her back and moaned, then bent to pick up her tote bag sitting on the floor of the bus. Behind her she heard, “Here, let me get those bags for you.” The owner of the voice reached over her and retrieved the shopping bags containing the items of clothing and toiletries she’d purchased for the trip.

  She groaned and muttered, “persistent bastard.”

  The voice belonged to the man who’d attempted to sit next to her when she changed busses in Milwaukee. She’d declined his company, and since there were lots of empty seats, he had to accept her refusal or look like the jerk he was. At each stop from Milwaukee to Escanaba, he’d hung over her seat and talked at her. Since she was battling nausea, it wasn’t hard to keep her replies to monosyllables. Rude? Yes, but she’d told him several times she was tired, sick and taken. He had yet to take the hint.

  “Here.” He offered her the shopping bags and smiled. “You meeting your party in Escanaba?”

  “Thank you.” She took the bags and couldn’t avoid his hand stroking over hers. She purposely ignored his nosy question and followed the other passengers disembarking in Escanaba. They were early and the bus to Watersmeet wouldn’t leave for another hour. The good news was the bus station was a full-service one and had a place to eat and real restrooms. She wanted to wash her face and brush her teeth. Then she planned on eating something light; she prayed the diner attached to the station had something like chicken noodle soup and lots of saltines. A kind woman on the bus had offered her a couple of small packages of her now favorite cracker. Those, along with a bottle of water, were all she’d had to eat since Chicago. She’d been too sick in Milwaukee to eat anything and had spent most of the three-hour layover there spewing her guts out in the restroom and trying to keep clear fluids down.

  As she entered the bus station, she sensed the pushy man from the bus on her heels. She headed straight into the women’s restroom and hoped he’d take the hint and leave her alone. She also prayed he wasn’t travelling on to Watersmeet. Having this creep breathe down her neck for most of the journey made her miss Risto all the more. Her marine would’ve scared the persistent bonehead off with just a glare.

  Taking her wool hat off, she stuffed it into her tote and pulled out the items she needed to cleanse her face and teeth. She looked pale, but that could be the crappy fluorescent lighting. And if it wasn’t, she had a right to look pale—she was tired and in the early stages of pregnancy. She washed her face with the pre-moistened towelettes she pulled from her tote and then moisturized. After a quick brushing of her teeth, she felt almost human and actually hungry. She put the toiletries she used away and then unbraided her hair and brushed it out. God, that felt good. She’d leave her hair down for now, it might help ease her throbbing head. If that didn’t solve the problem, she’d try some acetaminophen. It wasn’t a coincidence that the throbbing in her head had arisen when the man had begun to bother her after Milwaukee.

  Under her breath, she lectured herself, “Okay, Callie, no eye contact. Find a place he can’t sit near you. Ignore him.” She left the restroom and spotted him right away as he’d taken an unavoidable position at the end of the hallway leading to the small diner. “Geez Louise, why me?” she muttered. She took a deep breath and walked purposefully toward the food service area, fully intending to pass by him without a glance.

  Of course that would’ve been too easy. He stepped to her side and grabbed her arm, pulling her in the direction he wanted to go—away from where the other passengers were.

  She dug in her heels and shot him an angry glare. “No. Stop.” He paused but didn’t let go of her arm. “Listen, I’ve tried to be polite, but you aren’t taking the hint. I do not want to socialize with you. I want to sit by myself, eat some soup and work on my computer without you hanging all over me. Leave me alone or I will report you to whoever runs this station. Understand?”

  “I like women who play hard to get. No man wants his woman to be an easy mark.” He smiled, an expression two levels above slimy and heading into freaking creepy. God, the man is certifiable. His woman? In what universe? He pulled her against his side, his exceptionally strong arm anchored around her waist. “Come on, Calista. I’m a nice guy. Really. Get to know me.” His hand slid down to grab her ass and squeeze.

  “That does it!” She jabbed his gut with her elbow with as much force as she could muster and attempted to twist from his grasp. But he was too strong. Her heart pounding, she wriggled against his hold as he dragged her toward a side door away from the main area of the station. “Let go!” she shouted.

  Why wasn’t anyone helping her? Couldn’t they see him dragging her away? Obviously, shouting wasn’t enough. She opened her mouth to scream, but he pulled her back against him and covered her mouth with his other hand.

  “No, you beautiful bitch. I tried to play this nicely but you wouldn’t let me. So, now we play it my way. The bus is open and empty—it’ll still be warm and a nice private place to get acquainted.”

  He lifted her with one arm and carried her and her bags as if she weighed nothing. She kicked and wriggled and screamed behind his hand. She even tried to bite him. But she couldn’t break free. God, she wished she had her Ruger, she would’ve gladly shot his ass.

 
When he reached the side door exiting to the bus loading area, he had to stop. It wasn’t automatic, and he’d have to turn a handle to get out. Thank you, God. When he let go of her mouth to open the door, she had enough leverage to bang the back of her head against his face. Ouch, that hurt. Since he was not much taller than she, she hit his nose. He let go of her to grab his bloody and, she hoped to God, broken nose. Now free, she ran toward the connecting hallway to the diner, screaming for help.

  “Callie!” The roar sounded familiar.

  “Risto?” She stopped and looked around, and there he was by the main entrance. She turned to run to him, but her stalker caught her by the waist and swung her around. He had a gun in his hand and waved it wildly.

  “She’s going with me.” He backed away, dragging her with him.

  “Let my woman go.” Risto’s voice and demeanor should’ve had the guy behind her pissing his pants, but since the idiot was crazy, he didn’t release her. Risto swept her with a searching glance from her head to her toes. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Been better.” She attempted a smile but knew it had to be pathetic. “You came. Conn said you would.” Tears poured down her cheeks.

  “Of course, I’m here—you’re mine. You need me—I’m here.” He stalked toward them. “And when I take care of the fucker holding you, I’ll be putting a ring on your finger so stupid asswipes know you’re taken.”

  “Yes.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “If that was a proposal, the answer is yes.”

  “Baby, that was an order.” He turned his gaze to the man behind her. “Let Callie go and I might let you leave here with all body parts attached.”

  “Fuck you.” The crazy man aimed at Risto, the gun held along her right side, just within her peripheral vision. She heard the snick of the release of the safety.

  “No!” She abruptly raised her right arm, hard, throwing his aim off. The shot went into the ceiling. The lookee-loos dove to the floor, screaming. And then Risto was there, tearing her out of the bastard’s grasp and shoving her to the side, out of harm’s way.