Page 176 of Callan

“I was at the park… And I saw someone who looked suspicious to me. These people were there for me. They were following me. They want me dead, Callan. Dead…”

My voice breaks, and my lips tremble, and his hand is not enough to take away my fears.

The calmness of his voice is not enough to make mine even.

I start sobbing, and he loops his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

Only there, with my face pressed into his shoulder, do I process the horrific feelings haunting me.

“I didn’t know where you were or if anyone was watching me,” I say when my nightmare loosens its grip on me, and I breathe freely, no longer shaking, soft in his arms.

“Theywerewatching you,” he confirms, but there must be more to the story. “I know you spent the day in Manhattan,” he adds, and I tear my cheek away from his shoulder and look up.

A soft smile curls his lips.

How can he be so calm about this whole thing?

“With the girls… Your friends,” he says in response to my questioning look, his smile still there, but only for a second. “I’m sorry about what happened,” he says, stern this time, expressing dark feelings. “I never thought they’d come after you the way they did.”

His hand rests on my shoulder while I stare at him, waiting for more.

“I told my men to let you enjoy your walk in the park. The area was clear when you walked in,” he says coldly. “I didn’t anticipate they would come after you. Not tonight. Not like that.”

A pang of anger flashes through his eyes before he brings his fingers to my cheek and slowly strokes it.

“I want you to do me a favor. Go home and never open the door to anyone other than me or the people you know. If anyone else bothers you, call the police.”

A few moments pass.

“Who arethey?”

A smile grows on his lips.

“Theyare my enemies and the reason you can’t be in my life.”

Oh, that hurts.

It’s like a sharp blade slashes the tendons around my heart before making it bleed.

“Had they gotten you tonight, they would’ve used you against me.”

“They wanted me dead.”

He nods in agreement, although he’s ready to argue my point.

“They would’ve kept you alive.”

“I heard them talking about me.”

He nods again, tenser this time.

“They talked bullshit because they wanted to rile you up so they could catch you.”

“Are you sure? They seemed pretty set on the idea.”

“Positively sure.”

Frankly, I don’t know if he believes that or if he’s telling me all that to alleviate the trauma left by those men.

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