Cold Day in Hell (30 page)

“Where am I going?” She nodded at Sissy who set her lunch order down.

“For starters, Watersmeet, Michigan in the U.P., um, the Upper Peninsula. I expect Risto’s sorry butt will pick you up at one of the stops before you even get to Watersmeet.

He owns an island in the Cisco Chain of Lakes on Thousand Islands Lake.” And wasn’t that a shocker? She knew a lot about Risto—his courage, his protectiveness, his possessiveness, his intelligence and that he made love as if she were the only woman in the world—but she didn’t know much about his private life. A whole island? Amazing.

“What if he doesn’t meet me, Conn?” Her breath hitched. “What will I do?”

“Callie, are you pregnant?” She didn’t answer, but continued to sniff back the tears threatening to explode, Conn sighed. “I’ll take the lack of response as a
yes
. How long have you known?”

“Since a little over an hour ago. I’m so scared. If Cruz got me, my baby…”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you or the baby. Do you want me to tell Risto about the baby, Callie?”

“No! He’d be so upset. I need to see him, Conn. I miss him like crazy. I want to tell him face-to-face to see if…”

“Callie, the man loves you. Period. I had a bet with Berto that Risto would look you up by Thanksgiving. So, don’t think he doesn’t want you. He does. Count on that.”

“When did you see him last? Maybe he changed his mind.” She sniffed, wiping her face with her napkin.

“Four days ago and he hasn’t changed his mind. Trust me on that one, sweet cheeks.

I would’ve won that bet.”

“So is he still in Colombia?”

“He should be in the States by now. He would’ve flown into Marquette out of New York.”

The knowledge Risto was on his way home and she could possibly see him in the next day or so unwound the knot in her gut and eased her renewed nausea. But something nagged at her. “What if SSI sent him somewhere else? Ren was crystal clear that all his operatives were busy.”

“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.

* * * *

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?”

“Because 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.