Nobody's Hero

by Liz Lee

  The third time she’d had enough.

  She picked up the receiver and spoke. “Look, Mr. Sorenson, I think I’ve made it abundantly clear. I’m not interested in talking to the press. Leave. Me. Alone.”

  She started to hang up again, but his voice, deep, anxious, alluring, stopped her.

  “Give me thirty seconds, Callah. I swear. That’s all I’m asking. Thirty seconds.”

  Well now, that was a new one.

  “Okay. Thirty seconds. Go.”

  “I’m at your back door. Let me in and I swear if you want me to leave, I’ll go. I won’t bother you again.”

  His shadow passed in front of her curtain and she shook her head at his audacity. Of course he was at her back door. She should’ve taken her daddy up on his offer of security. Better yet, she should’ve taken him up on the offer of a concealed weapons class. Flashing a gun around might actually get reporters to leave her alone. It’d been years since she held a gun, but once upon a time she’d been damn good at hitting a target. What better target than the reporters who swarmed like flies around watermelon on a summer day? But then Riley wasn’t just a reporter, and she better remember that. He knew plenty of her secrets, and with her luck, he’d expose them to the rest of the world.

  Thirty seconds. Callah looked down at the ragged blue sundress she was wearing and pushed her hand through her ponytailed hair she hadn’t bothered brushing. She was a mess. A depressed mess. She hadn’t even put on mascara this morning.

  What she looked like really didn’t matter. Riley Sorenson was here because he was a reporter and he thought he could finagle his way inside with this whole thirty seconds crap.

  “Go away, Riley. I’m not giving interviews.”

  He didn’t get the message. Instead he stood there outside the door even after she hung up the phone. Even after she sat on the couch and counted to a hundred. Even when she yelled, “You’re invading my privacy.”

  Finally, she picked up the phone and walked to the window. Pressing back the curtain, she held the phone up so he could see it.

  No such luck. His back was turned, so all she saw was someone who from the back looked very, very different from the boy she’d known years before. Sturdier. Stronger. She ignored the sudden curiosity brought on by the realization and opened the door but kept the locked screen between them.

  “If you don’t leave, I’m calling 9-1-1, Riley. Go. Away.”

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he turned to face her. And oh my my, Riley Sorenson had grown up to be quite the specimen of mankind. His white blonde hair had darkened a little with time, his face hardened. But his ice blue eyes were still as intense as always.

  She didn’t know what she expected him to do or say. For a moment she was so stunned at the changes in him, the way he’d grown, the way his full lips finally fit his face, the way her heart still did a little loop-de-loop when he was within twenty feet—and that was insane she was an adult, not a silly kid with a crush that would not die—that she missed the meaning of his words.

  Missed every second of his “Don’t call the police, Callah. Not yet. Not until I talk to you.”

  In fact, by the time she processed the words and quit telling herself to grow up, he pressed an old photo against the screen.

  She didn’t really look at it. Not right away. She was too busy realizing that opening the door with Riley on the other side had been a bad, bad, bad idea. That she hadn’t had sex in what felt like forever and that sex with Riley had been the earthquake and fireworks kind once she’d gotten the hang of it. He’d been a hell of a teacher, and they’d both been kids. No telling what…

  His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Look at the photo, Callah. Look at the photo and then let me in. This isn’t about a story. At least not yet. It’s about you. You and whoever’s in this picture. Let me in.”

  Chapter Two

  Callah blinked and tried to focus on the object causing Riley such obvious agitation instead of focusing on his hands, his face, his voice. All so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

  Dear God, he still had one fine voice. Its deep timbre warm and gravelly and sexy as hell. He should be in radio. He’d set the airwaves on fire.

  She looked at the photo, and this time Riley’s voice was the last thing on her mind. She reached out, touched the glass that separated her hand from the picture, surprised by what she saw.

  The woman in the photo looked just like her. How strange. Riley’s intense eyes met hers, and she saw something, sympathy maybe?

  No. She stepped back from the door, from the photo and shook her head. God, she was such an idiot. What would a reporter not do to get a story? She took a deep breath and reminded herself anger was just wasted energy.

  “Go away, Riley. Trust me when I say there’s not a trick in the books you could play that hasn’t already been tried.”

  He pressed his hand against the photo, his long fingers splaying above its yellowed edge. “There’s more, Callah. And it’s not a trick. I promise. You need to see the rest. Just let me in. Please.”

  Okay, this was scaring her. He looked sincere. Troubled. Maybe even worried. She’d lied before. This picture thing was a whole new trick. A sick, sick joke.

  “I swear, Callah. I swear on my mother’s grave, and you know what that means.”

  Callah closed her eyes as she remembered the day he’d buried his mother. All of it. Strange how all this time later, it still hurt. Of course, now she really knew his pain. Truly understood what losing a mother meant.

  Her eyes met his again and she realized he wasn’t lying. No way. He might be a reporter, but he’d never cross that line. At least she didn’t think he would. She didn’t really know him. This man was a stranger.

  But the teen lover who’d cried in her arms before sending her away wasn’t.

  Oh God. He said there was more.

  With shaking fingers, she unlatched the screen and stepped back as he strode in and closed the door behind him.

  “What is that?” She pointed to the photo in his hand and for a moment he didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at her with some unfathomable question in his eyes.

  Finally he spoke. “I was hoping you could shed some light on that question.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen that picture before. I can’t imagine…”

  “She looks just like you.”

  Obviously. “That’s the only reason you’re in my house. You said there was more. What are you talking about, Riley? What’s going on? I swear to God, this better not be some sort of con.” She held out her hand, told herself this had to be some sort of mistake. “Let me see that photo.”

  His warm fingers brushed against her palm as he handed the yellowed picture to her, and she forced herself to ignore the sensation. To focus on what mattered.

  The photo looked real. But then she’d spent the last twelve years in a town where nothing was as it seemed. Where making things seem real was all part of the game.

  She flipped the photo over. Nothing to identify it other than the faint Kodak imprint and aged glue from some old album. She turned it back over and stared into the eyes so much like her own. At the happiness there, the love. She’d looked this same way on her wedding day. Damn Charlie Benson to hell.

  But it didn’t change anything. She didn’t know the woman in the photo. “It’s remarkable. She really looks just like me. I guess what they say about having a twin in another part of the world really is true.”

  She tried to hand the photo back, but Riley refused to take it with a slight shake of the head.

  “You better sit down.” His voice was gruff, but the concern on his face was real. A little too real. It didn’t make sense.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and walked to the kitchen table but refused to sit. She was done doing what people suggested. Whatever else he had to say, she could take standing up just fine. “What’s this all about, Riley?”

  He didn’t answer. If she d
idn’t know better, she’d think he regretted being there. As if a reporter was going to regret a one-on-one with her right now. She was a disaster. And he was going to be able to tell the world all about it.

  Finally, he opened the package in his hands and dumped the contents on the table. She leaned in to see them, wrinkled her brow and chewed her bottom lip.

  Photos of her. Some man walking his dog. The same man at the grocery store. The same man with the police.

  “Do you recognize him?” he asked.

  No. She’d never seen him. She shook her head.

  “Look closer. You’ve probably seen him but never really paid attention because of the dog.”

  He wasn’t listening. “I’ve never….” Only wait. Maybe. “I think maybe he walks his dog in the afternoon. But I could be wrong. I don’t know. I always see some guy out there, and I think he’s crazy because it’s the hottest part of the day.”

  She looked at the photos again and tried to picture the man at the stop sign across from her house. They might be the same person. Maybe.

  Riley opened a manila folder and handed her a birth certificate. Hers.

  She looked at him and then back at the notarized paper in question. His warm hand brushed hers again as he flipped the paper over.

  Secrets can be dangerous. She’s not who she thinks she is.

  She read the words again and then again trying to make sense of them. When they blurred, her legs gave out. One minute she was standing looking at the note, the next she was falling.

  Somehow though, Riley was there, his hands gently guiding her to one of two chairs at the table. She didn’t fight. Didn’t try to pull away. Just sat and stared at the photo of the woman she didn’t know. At the birth certificate. At all of it. With the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

  “Are you okay?”

  Okay? Not even close. She laughed only the sound was bitter and defeated. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be.”

  And then she picked up the phone to get some answers.

  As she dialed a long distance number, Riley realized this wasn’t just a story. Honestly, it never had been. Callah in person had the power to rock his world. Her centerfold curves could easily make him forget the danger she might be in.

  She touched the photo with her hand. She still bit her nails. Strange he even remembered that.

  “Daddy. Call me. It’s an emergency.”

  She hung up the phone and put her head in her hands. He thought she said something about sending the National Guard after all but he couldn’t quite make out her words.

  Part of him—an ancient part he’d almost forgotten—wanted to take her in his arms and make her forget everything he’d just shown her. She might push him away, but it was almost worth the risk.

  Instead he watched and waited. When she picked up the birth certificate, he knew they needed to talk. She didn’t look all that interested in conversation, but this whole thing was making him itchy. Something bad was going on here.

  Forget establishing distance or staying objective.

  “Listen, why don’t you grab some stuff and come with me? Just until we figure this whole mess out.”

  She laughed again, sounding every bit as bitter as before. “Until we figure this whole mess out? We?” She shook her head. “I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to leave. Now.”

  “I’m just the messenger, Callah. Someone sent me this package. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t need to deal with it alone. Some guy’s out there watching you every time you go out, and that worries me.”

  “Oh come on, Riley. This is Burkette. Middle of the afternoon, soccer mom central, Burkette. How much danger could I possibly be in?”

  He started to point out the message on the back of the birth certificate just in case she’d missed the whole secrets-can-be-dangerous part, but he lost his chance when someone knocked at the door. They both jumped.

  “You expecting company?” He glanced at her, then at the door.

  She shook her head. “You’ve got me scared of shadows, Riley. This is crazy.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, she started toward the door. She’d barely moved forward when they both saw the man in the window.

  The man from the photos.

  Riley didn’t think, didn’t give himself time to process any of it. That itchy feeling got a hell of a lot worse, and he knew what they had to do. “Let’s go, Callah. Bring your cell phone. Call you father. Call the police. Whatever, but we need to leave. Now.”

  Callah looked at him then back to her front door where the dog walker stood calling her name. “Miss Crenshaw. I need to talk to you.”

  Riley saw the indecision on her face.

  He took the cell phone off his belt and handed it to her. “Here Callah. It’s yours. Just come with me now. If I’m overreacting, I can handle that. It’s on me. But what if I’m not? Something’s going on here. Something bigger than you. Bigger than me. Come with me now. You know me. But you don’t know him. Come on.”

  Callah looked at the door then back at Riley. He was wrong. She knew the boy he’d been, but she didn’t know the man he’d become. Not at all.

  Her front door rattled as the dog walker knocked again. Through the curtains her eyes met his. She’d seen eyes like his before. They were the eyes of a made-for-TV-movie serial killer.

  She grabbed her purse and took off running.

  A few seconds later she was buckled in the front seat of Riley’s beat up blue Ford F-150 listening to George Straitt sing about Ex’s in Texas.

  One quick glance behind her and she knew she’d made the right decision. The dog walker stood in her back yard watching them drive away. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he held a gun in his hand.

  A gun. Dear God. What was going on?

  She wiped her damp palms on her lap and closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of it all. But it was pointless. Another attempt to call her father met with the same frustrating result as before. He wasn’t in and no one in the office was picking up.

  For once she was truly on her own just like she insisted she wanted. Only Riley was there to help. Life’s little joke on her.

  “I think we can rest assured your friend back there wasn’t here to chitchat. You sure you don’t know anything about that picture?”

  She hated the suspicion in his voice as much as she hated the shake in hers. Her heart pounded hard and heavy, her calf trembled when she flexed her foot and her knees felt a lot like Jell-o.

  “I don’t know anything.” She swallowed the rest of what she wanted to say to his stupid question. What was she even doing in this truck with him? “Maybe we should go to the police. Surely they can help.”

  Riley tossed the folder in her lap. “Take a look in there again, Princess. The police are part of this. At least some of them are.”

  He’d called her princess all those years before. At first in derision, but then…Callah pushed the thoughts away. She wanted to throw the folder he’d tossed at her out the window. Instead, morbid curiosity drove her to open it again. To look at the photos and the birth certificate.

  She’s not who she thinks she is.

  They squealed onto a gravel road, hit a bump and Callah grabbed the folder to keep it from falling.

  She didn’t like its contents, but they were the only clues she had right now to ever figuring this whole mess out.

  Ten minutes later Riley slammed the garage door opener as they pulled into a drive. How in the hell had he become anyone’s rescuer? “No big deal. We’re just gonna ditch the truck,” he said trying to ease the worry on her face.

  “Why? Riley, I think if I can just get in touch with my dad….”

  Maybe she needed to be worried. “Well, you go right ahead on thinking, Callah. And while you’re at it, think about this. They don’t send assassins to execute the homecoming queen. You’re in trouble, and I’m not willing to wait around to see how this plays out.”

 
He opened the door and waited for her to follow him. For all her protesting, she sure was moving fast. “So, you got someone you should call? Check in with? A friendly witness protection Marshall or DEA agent?”

  The scowl crossing her face said she didn’t appreciate the humor. “I swear to God, Riley, if this is some elaborate hoax to get a story….”

  Riley put his hands on her shoulders and tried to ignore the instant attraction searing through him. Just like always, one touch and he was a goner where she was concerned.

  “Listen, Callah. I know this sucks. I know it seems unbelievable. But it’s not. This isn’t about me being a reporter. It’s about you being in danger. Maybe your dad can help. I don’t know. I do know I can get you away from here until we know for sure what’s going on. And I’ve got a call I can make that might straighten all this out. But I need you to trust me. Okay?”

  She looked away, refusing to say she trusted him and damn if that didn’t hurt his feelings, which was absolutely crazy. She’d be a fool to trust him.

  Finally, she met his eyes. “I’m here, Riley, and you’re all I’ve got. So let’s do whatever it is you’ve got in mind.”

  What he had in mind right then was kissing that troubled look right off her face, but he doubted very seriously she meant whatever he had in mind. Besides, they didn’t have time. The man outside her house probably wasn’t working alone. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out where they’d gone.

  He released her shoulders and stepped back. “It sucks you got stuck with me for hero duty.”

  She almost smiled, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Might as well confirm her fears.

  “You’d probably like to hear all about how I’ve reformed since we were kids. No luck. If anything I’m worse. These days I’m an alcoholic, do-nothing reporter, black sheep of the family who takes pride in the fact that my siblings are so good because they’re trying to make up for how bad I’ve been. But I can get you out of here. And that’s what matters.”

  He’d shocked her silent. She blinked three times fast, took a deep breath, opened her sweet mouth, closed it. Then finally asked her question.