Page 25 of Protecting You

He might be impressed.

Callan had left the field a few months earlier and started working support from the Boston office. He didn’t hate using his field skills again. He missed it.

Which was probably why he’d followed a tip from a disembodied, garbled voice on the phone. Was he so desperate for action that he’d walk heedlessly into danger?

No, it wasn’t that.

It was just that he knew what he was doing when he was running an op. He knew what he was doing at the office, of course, but it was dull, definitely not what he’d signed up for when he’d applied for the CIA.

With Peri, he was in way over his head.

For the first time since he’d discovered his daughter’s existence, he’d gone hours without thinking about her.

Guilt squeezed his midsection. What kind of a father was he, anyway?

It wasn’t as if she could escape what had happened. It wasn’t as if any of it was Peri’s fault.

And now he had a new female to worry about, and just like Peri, no matter how hard he tried, Alyssa wanted nothing to do with him.

So.

This would be fun.

Some reprieve he’d signed up for.

Unlike his fake fiancée, Callan didn’t unpack all his things and fold them neatly in the drawers. Instead, he opened his suitcase on one of the queen-sized beds, grabbed a pair of pajama pants—because he couldn’t exactly sleep in his boxers with a woman in the suite—and tapped the thermostat to reduce the temperature.

The AC kicked on immediately.

He felt like someone had dumped two hundred puzzle pieces in front of him—from a thousand-piece puzzle—and demanded he solve it. Without giving him a clue what the final picture was going to look like.

The more he tried to manipulate the pieces, the messier the image got.

Maybe morning would bring clarity.

Maybe God would bring clarity.

If he’d learned nothing else in the months since Peri had come into his life, he’d learned he needed to rely on God.

Heaven knew, Callan didn’t have a clue.

He paraphrased his new favorite Psalm.Lord, give me counsel, and instruct me as I sleep.

Because he needed sleep. And he needed to wake up with a hint as to how all these pieces fit together.

He took a warm shower to wash off the day and all the questions assaulting him, then brushed his teeth and climbed onto a mattress about ten times as comfortable as his own.

And trusted he’d wake up with a plan.

* * *

Callan’s phone was ringing.

He grabbed it off the nightstand and checked the caller ID, fearing bad news.

But it wasn’t his parents. It wasn’t about Peri. It was his boss, calling from his cell phone. Probably not a good sign, considering it was just past six o’clock.

Callan let the call go to voicemail. He needed coffee before he dealt with Malcolm.

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