by Police
Ashleigh. Fuck. I very nearly slept with her tonight, and I would have enjoyed it. But there's some sort of cardinal sin against sleeping with another woman in your ex-wife's family's vacation home, isn't there? I'm sure Samantha's parents would want me to be happy—and being with Ashleigh has made me very happy, despite the danger that surrounds our lives at the moment.
But perhaps having sex with Ashleigh would have been just that. Sex. Before I ever met Samantha, I was one of those cops who loved the attention that came from the uniform. I had plenty of one-night stands. But all that changed with Samantha. Since then, I've been as celibate as a priest. In fact, the first woman I've kissed since Samantha has been Ashleigh. And she was the one who initiated the kiss both times, although I would have started them if she hadn't.
I think we're on some sort of carousel going round and round each other. And I don't know if we'll ever meet in the middle.
I have to play it cool. Pretend like nothing happened. Or rather, pretend like I have no idea who Ashleigh is. And that I don't have feelings for her.
I push through the front doors and nod to my left to acknowledge Jenn, the clerk working the Guest Relations desk. It's what I would typically do. She gives me a little wave, and I see her reach underneath the desk. I've always thought of it as her counting the visitors, but suspicion has me on edge, and I wonder if she's alerting Gary to the fact that I've arrived.
How many people here are in Gary's pocket.
I swallow and shrug into my jacket even more.
Play it cool, Callum. You have nothing to hide.
Except for a beautiful woman that I've started to care too much for. A woman who saw something she shouldn't have.
I know that Gary is at the bar where we met last time, waiting for me with a smug smile on his face
He's such a prick.
I spot him at the bar, in the exact same spot as when he spoke with me last Saturday night. I hide the curl of my lips as I make my way up to him and sit down.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asks innocently enough. Like I'm not about to make a deal with the devil.
"Coke," I say with a nod. And then I swivel to look at Gary as he digs into a basket of Buffalo hot wings. The asshole has managed to get sauce all over the place, and for a moment, I wonder why I'm so scared of this guy.
Right. Because he has no scruples when it comes to getting what he wants. And unfortunately, there's nothing I can do to change that right now.
"Callum," he says by way of greeting. He throws down a bone and picks up a napkin, sloppily wiping at his face. "Where have you been, my man?"
I give him what I hope is not too tight of a smile. "Told you. I got sick. And then I decided to take the rest of the week off."
He puts his arm on the bar and turns to me, raising an eyebrow. "You are acting a little weird if I do say so."
I shrug. "One tends to act weird when they're sick. You should have seen my toilet. It looks like it's gone through its own personal version of hell."
Gary chuckles and grins. "You always were a funny one, Callum. So funny."
I cock my head, trying to keep my nerves and anger from spilling over. "Well, if you can't laugh about life, what can you laugh at?"
He claps me on the shoulder with a greasy, still-sauced hand, which I'm sure leaves a mark on my leather jacket. "Too true, my friend. Too true." I hate that he calls me his friend. "But you know what's not something to laugh at?" I stiffen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "It's cold hard cash," Gary continues as he picks up another wing. "Cash that I lent you and cash that I want back."
I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "That's why I'm here, isn't it? To pay you back?"
"You got my money?"
"Of course." I reach into my jacket and pull out an envelope stuffed with cash. I had to pull it from Samantha's fund, which I hate doing because it feels like I'm tarnishing her memory by paying off creeps, but it's necessary. Five grand is a lot of money to pull out of an ATM, and I had to go to a few different ones on my way to the casino as I reached my withdrawal limit at each one. But I managed to get it.
I place it on the counter and slide it over to him. He gives it a curious look while he thoughtfully chews on his food. Finally, he puts his elbow on top of it and scoots it over to me. "So you haven't found out anything about the girl?"
I swallow and grit my teeth, but I don't pick up the envelope. "What girl?"
He looks at me sharply, and his eyes gleam with mischief. "The girl I asked you for information on. The one that I said I would clear your debt for if you found her."
"Oh, that one." I shrug nonchalantly, hoping that he doesn't see my unease. "I did a quick search for her while I could. But, as I told you, I've been sick."
"Sick enough to not care about sixty-five thousand dollars?"
"You can call my doctor," I say. "He would tell you that I was down for the count."
His jaw moves in a circular motion as he considers what I say. He almost reminds me of a cow chewing on its cud. "And you're here and hand over five Gs of your dead wife's money, and you're not begging for an extension on the loan that you owe me?"
"I learned a long time ago not to mess with you," I say honestly. It's the most truthful thing I've said all night.
With a dirty hand, he grabs the envelope and slides it back. I can almost feel the animosity coming off him in waves, and I'm about to ask him why. He wipes his hands, picks up the envelope, and turns it over and over.
"If you know not to mess with me, Callum Young," he says slowly, "then why the hell are you doing it to me now?"
"I—"
"Because I checked the cameras with Chuck Rynder," Gary says, leaning into me, almost conspiratorially. "I saw that you were with the girl. At a blackjack table for four hours. Did you think I wouldn't see it?"
I swallow thickly and try to play dumb on this one. I had counted on Gary checking the exterior cameras to see where she left. But I hadn't even thought of him check all of the tables, too. If he paid enough attention, that could implicate me in the worst way. I knew that Gary had a bit of free rein. But I would have never guessed Chuck would have let him view the tapes in that much detail.
"Oh, her?" I quash my own unease as I thrust my thumb behind me to indicate the blackjack tables. "She was annoying as fuck. Acting like she didn't know how to play blackjack and then winning every hand. You're looking for her?"
He narrows his eyes. "Yes, of course. I highly doubt there was another woman here that night with that same platinum blond hair as Ashleigh Chapman." I fight my flinch at the way he spits out her full name. I suppose he would have had to know her name to track her car to her workplace.
Shit.
I scratch at the scruff of my neck. "Sorry about that, then. I had a long day that night, and—"
He holds up a finger to me. "You're a horrible liar, Cal, which is why you're such a shitty professional gambler. I saw you with her. You spent four hours with her that night, and you lost more than you won. Since you consider yourself to be a professional gambler, I would expect you to be humiliated by that." He crosses his arms and glares at me. "So you're hiding something from me, and you know exactly who it is that I'm looking for?"
I shake my head. "Sorry. But why is she so important to you? Can't you just go about your business and get poor fucks like me to pay you?"
He snickers. "It's bigger than you think, Callum. So if you have her phone number, anything else, I need to find her."
I shrug. "Can't help you there." Another truth to add to my collection tonight.
He considers this and then nods. "Right. Well. I'll take your money." He pockets it in his own jacket. "And I'll raise what you owe me to one-hundred-and-fifty large."
My jaw drops, and I feel all the blood drain from my face. There's no way I'd be able to pay off that money. "You can't do that!"
"Oh yes I can," Gary says with a fervent nod. "Because I make all the rules here. And because you fucking lied to me,
Cal. You knew exactly who I meant that night."
"And I don't know more beyond that."
He lets out a low chuckle. "So much that you would pay sixty-five thousand to keep her secret? Bullshit."
Fuck. Fuck, there's no way out of this. "I told you, I was sick," I say through gritted teeth.
"And now you owe a hundred-and-fifty thousand. Probably makes you feel worse, huh?" Gary gives a dismissive shrug. "Keep adding to your tab, Cal, your sorry ass already belongs to me. But if you bring her to me, I'm still willing to wipe that clean. Because I'm a nice guy like that."
I bite back my scoff.
"Now," Gary says. "If I were you, I'd use those fancy SAPD friends of yours to locate her." Something loosens in my chest at him saying that. He doesn't know that I'm hiding Ashleigh. He doesn't know that I've been with her this whole time. Maybe he thinks that I'm just hiding because I like the woman. A glimmer of hope that's barely able to be kept alive. "Bring her to me by this weekend, Callum. The sooner, the better. Or else, you'd better have that hundred-and-fifty waiting for me."
"In a week?"
"You act like that's a problem. And it may be, but it's not mine." He looks me up and down. "If I were you, I'd probably think back really hard to that night and try to figure out where that girl is."
Shit, shit, shit!
"Right," I say. Amazingly, my voice is steady as I say it. "I'll see what I can do." I get up from my seat. "He'll pay for my drink," I tell the bartender as I turn away, sneering at Gary. The asshole dares to laugh at my back at I walk away.
Once back to my car, where I know that the cameras can't find me and alert Gary to my thoughts, I bang on the steering wheel, cursing every word that's in the book. I have no idea how to get out of this. I have no idea what to do.
And if I don't do something, both Ashleigh and I will be caught in the middle of it all.
Ashleigh
The three hours during which Callum is gone are some of the longest in my life. I start off by pacing the cabin, practically walking a trench into the wooden floor. And when I think I'm going to pass out from hyperventilation and dizziness, I try to sit down to read through the erotic romance that I bought at the general store earlier. But even the scintillating words in the book can't take my mind off what's happening. I also try flipping to the sex scene to try to work out some of my irritation from having our own sex session interrupted.
That doesn't work. I put the book on the seat next to me and put my head in my hands, running through every scenario in my mind.
Truthfully now, I wish I had picked up a bottle of wine at the store. Because I've never needed a drink like I need one now. Even when I broke up with Trevor, I had gone out on the town with the friends I had left, but I didn't have that feeling of being overwhelmed and scared.
This is awful.
I do what I'm not supposed to. I take out my phone, which has been turned off since Callum rescued me, and power it on. I put in the address for the casino and double-check the drive and distance times. It's only forty-five minutes due south of here. There's no reason why it should be taking this long.
I try to look up Gary O'Shea to see if there are any news articles about him, but there's no dirt on the guy, so he's either very, very good at cleaning up his tracks, or I walked in on him during his very first kill. I tend to think it's the former, though, and I immediately turn off my phone. Working in tech, I know that there's a slim possibility, however small, that I could be traced through my IMEI number or even something as simple as triangulating my position. I'm not an idiot.
But I am worried about Callum so much. I'm not the praying type, but I can't figure out what to do with my hands so I just clasp them in front of me and I close my eyes and pray to whoever may be listening upstairs.
I shouldn't have gone to the casino, like the bimbo I was. I shouldn't have tried sneaking out the back—there are reasons why those places are off-limits to the general public. Although I'm reasonably certain those reasons don't involve murder. And I shouldn't have assumed that Gary wouldn't find me.
I think back to my poor car. I remember how big the explosion was, how it was one of two times that I felt genuinely scared for my life.
The first time was seeing Gary shoot the man behind the casino.
I don't even know the victim’s name. I haven't been paying attention too much to the news to see if there has been anything on him. Does he have a family waiting for him, wondering where he is?
And here I am, not calling the cops out of fear from a threat from Gary. I have a moral sense of duty to make this right—right?
I lick my lips as I stare at my phone, debating on picking it up and turning it back on and calling up the closest police station. Except Callum said to not even trust that. Maybe I could call up some of his old SAPD friends and—
The front door to the cabin suddenly opens, and Callum is standing there, huffing deeply. He looks like he's scared for his life, too.
But he's alive. And he's here.
I get to my feet. "What happened?"
He looks at me for a long moment before averting his eyes and turning to the side, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how to protect you, Ashleigh. I don't even know if I can."
My blood runs cold at his words. "What happened?" I repeat again.
He straightens, looks up at the ceiling, and his hands ball into fists. "He knows that I saw you that night. Gary O-fucking-Shea knows that I spent four hours with you at the blackjack table that night." As if the pent-up anger has built up too much, he kicks at the side of a cabinet. I suck in a breath, trying to figure out how to get through to him. I reach out gingerly toward him.
"What did he say?"
When my hand falls on his arm, the aggression leaves him, and he looks at me, like a broken man. "I can't protect you from him. Your license plate isn't the only thing he saw. He saw you and me at the table. Talking. Laughing. And he said that if I don't bring you or one-hundred-and-fifty grand to him by this weekend, well..." He throws up his hands in defeat, shrugging my own hand off him. "There's no way that I'll be able to come up with the money. Even if I were to empty every bank account—"
I stare at him, my lip trembling. Again, I don't know what to do with my hands, so I wring them together. "So that's it? What...happens if you don't do either?"
He snarls, and it's so entirely unlike him, I grimace. "He'll come to kill me. And then he'll kill you. If not him, some hitman. If not a week from now, a year from now or two." He turns suddenly and clutches at my shoulders. "I can't fix this," he says through gritted teeth. "I can't save you."
"Callum," I whisper. "Callum, I—"
"He knows that I...care for you, Ashleigh."
And just like that, he says the magic words. We stare at each other, a million different things flying through my mind. A million different scenarios and everything I've done in my life is leading me up to this one moment.
"You...care for me?" I ask the question simply. Unable to really process what he's saying. Because this means that earlier kiss wasn't some fluke or mistake. It wasn't an act of pity between two lonely people. No, he said he cares about me. And, now that I'm being completely sincere... "I care for you, too. In fact, I think I..."
I lose the words I'm about to say, because his eyes go to my lips, and before I can mentally regroup to tell him something that someone shouldn't be feeling after a week of knowing them, he closes the distance between us. His mouth is on mine, his tongue is in my mouth.
While before, it was a hot, wanton moment between us, this is something entirely different. It's desperation and lust that perhaps means something more. And now, with his lips on mine and his hands fisting my hair, I lose all pretense. I stop trying to toe that line between us.
Because fuck it, whatever happens next, I want to have known Callum Young intimately. Just him and me, in between the sheets.
With my lips still wrapped up in our kiss, I undo the top button of his pants and pull down the
zipper. His breathing hitches when I take his shaft in my hands and feel his sizeable velvety length. He closes his eyes and puts his forehead against mine. "Oh my god," he whispers. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to do that."
I nip at his bottom lip, which causes him to open his eyes to gaze down at me. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do this."
Without another word from him, I fall to my knees, taking the top of his jeans down with me. It completely exposes his lower half, and I take just a moment to appreciate his muscular quads and hamstrings, his cock and balls, and the way that his hips make a V leading to it. I lick my tongue down the plane of one of the arms of the V, guiding my mouth right to his cock, where I take him in my mouth. I suck long and hard as I move my head to make sure that my tongue traces the throbbing vein that runs the length of his shaft.
"Oh Ashleigh," he says, his voice ragged. "Fuck."
I'll take that as a good sign. I grasp his shaft in one hand and move it in the same rhythm, bringing him to climax in my own way. He fists his hands in my hair and helps guide my rhythm. And from my vantage point on the ground, I can tell that he's enjoying this. His eyes are closed, and his head is tilted back, languishing in the act.
"Fuck," he mutters. "You're going to make me come. Ashleigh. Aw, fuck."
That's exactly what I want. To take his mind off the danger that surrounds us and take him as far as pleasure can take him. But he doesn't let me. Right when I'm sure he's about to come in my mouth, he pulls himself free, and my mouth makes a popping noise at the lack of suction.
"Not fair," he says, managing to bring me to my feet. "If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's that the woman is always satisfied with me first." With a light, playful nudge, he pushes me back, and I hadn't realized that I'm close enough to the sofa to fall backward on it. Before I can recover, he already has my skirt up and is tugging my panties down to my ankles.
For a moment, nothing happens, and then I gasp and fall backward on the sofa as he blows softly on my pussy. "That's my girl," he murmurs, almost lazily. I let out another gasp as I feel him slip a finger inside me. He chuckles softly. "So tight. So fucking tight. And so wet."