Cold Day in Hell (39 page)

“Not my expertise. But Keely and Tweeter along with Callie’s help have been following threads and narrowing those that have access. I just want the fucker, whoever he is, gone. He’s aimed his greedy, treacherous eyes at me and mine now. SSI has plans in place to nail the fucker and all his little moles. And when they do, I want a few private moments with him.” Risto shoved the papers away. “He sold my Callie out, knowing full well Cruz would attempt to capture and kill her.”

“But that just gives us another thread to pull.” Callie’s soft tones drew all three men’s eyes to her.

She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, holding on to the door. Her face had more color, but was still too pale for his peace of mind. She had that just-out-of-bed tousled look which roused his simmering libido. Her hair lay tangled about her face and shoulders. Her body, covered in his marine T-shirt and boxers, looked both sexy and cute.

God, he still couldn’t believe this beautiful, precious woman was here—and all his.

At Conn’s sharp inhalation and lowly muttered “Jesus” and Berto’s “
bonita
,” he shot them both a hands-off glance and muttered, “mine.” Conn, asking for his balls to be lopped off, snickered.

“The more info the traitor sells, the more electronic trails SSI has to follow.” She shoved away from the doorway and walked slowly toward the dining area where they sat.

“And as soon as we take care of this problem with Cruz, I’ll get on the computer and help with tracking the asshole. The traitor made a big mistake. If Cruz paid him through any of the accounts we left open and are tracking, I will find the payment and should be able to match it to an account associated with one of the men Keely has her eye on in the DOD.

It will take a while, but I’m sure we’ll eventually tug on the right string.” When she stopped and swayed, she halted a sure tumble to the floor by placing her hand on the back of a low-slung leather chair. Risto shot up and was at her side in mere seconds. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the couch in front of the fireplace and its warming blaze. He placed her gently on the sofa, her back supported by the couch’s arm and her legs stretched along on the cushions. He snagged one of his grandmother’s woven throws and covered her bare legs.

Stroking hair away from her face, he peered into her gray eyes. “Were you sick again?”

“Yeah.” She smoothed a hand over his bristly jaw. “I think a package of Saltines by the bed is going to be standard operating procedure for a while.” He frowned. “Will they help?” She looked slightly green and all that vomiting couldn’t be good for her or the baby. Hell, he didn’t know. Being an only child raised by an old man, he’d never been exposed to pregnant women. He needed to read that book the doc had given her. He definitely needed to get her to a doctor and sit in on the examination. He wanted to know what danger signs to look for.

“I called Keely on my cell as I was resting on the floor of the bathroom—and I really appreciate your heated floors. She said bland crackers helped her. You can’t get any blander than Saltines.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll try anything. I hate throwing up. My doctor in Chicago told me the queasiness is caused by extra estrogen and progesterone.

An empty stomach exacerbates the problem and she recommended eating a lot of small meals.”

“What kind of meals? You craving anything other than banana cream pie?” Risto asked, a smile on his lips. “Do I need to stock up on pickles and ice cream?” Her lips twisted and her eyes glimmered with amusement. “I haven’t found the urge to dip pickles in my dessert—yet. The crackers are the only thing I need, preferably before I get out of bed in the morning. Other than that, I’ll just approach each meal as an adventure.” Her tummy rumbled. All three men laughed. “Guess I need to feed.” Risto covered her hand as she rubbed it over the complaining organ. “I have some beef stew. It’s mild—I left out my usual spices so you could eat it. Or, I can open a can of chicken noodle soup, if that sounds better. The guys and I haven’t eaten yet. We were waiting on you.” He leaned over and kissed her cool forehead.

She thought for a few seconds. “Meat and potatoes sound good. I think we’ll try that.”

“We?” he asked.

“Me and the baby.” Callie looked down at her still flat abdomen. “The doctor said to go with the flow and then laughed at me. She told me she’d always hated beets and then craved them throughout her pregnancy.” She turned toward him, a solemn expression on her face. “If this baby decides he likes something gross such as pickled pig’s feet or tripe, I’m going on record now—ain’t gonna happen.”

Risto threw back his head and laughed. Callie’s voice held a lot of disgruntlement.

“Don’t laugh. I meant it.” She tugged on his shirt until his lips were close to hers. “It will be your responsibility to talk to the baby and convince him that I refuse to eat stuff I can’t stand the sight of. Got it?” She bit lightly into his lower lip then let it slide from between her teeth.

He cradled her jaw and took control of her pouty mouth with a deep, wet kiss. Later tonight, he’d make love to her again, then hold her close all night. He had that right now.

And the next morning, he’d be there to help her when she was sick. He wanted to make it clear that she wasn’t alone any longer—she had him to back her up.

The clearing of a throat forced him to halt the kiss, which had begun to turn carnal.

Callie moaned as he pulled away and his erection strained against the zipper placket of his jeans.

Callie looked at him with dilated eyes. When she licked her lips, he groaned and brushed another kiss over her bruised mouth. “Sorry, I was rough.”

“Don’t be. I love when you go all He-Man on me.” She nipped his chin. “I love you.” He smiled and zeroed in on her mouth once more.

“Ahem,” Conn said even more loudly than before. “Give two single men a break, would ya?”

Risto stroked his thumb over Callie’s lips and mouthed “sorry,” then glanced over and spotted two grinning faces. “Stuff it, Conn. I’m busy here.”

“I can see that, but there are the little matters of, one, feeding that sweet thing you’re mauling, and, two, finalizing the plans to protect her from Cruz and his thugs. The bastard is probably already on his way to Osprey’s Point. The DOD traitor and his minions would have access to all your Department of Defense records and would’ve sold Cruz your permanent residence’s address.”

“Sorry, I’ve been sort of distracted lately.” Risto nuzzled the focus of his distraction.

She giggled.

“Well, hell yeah, you have.” The smirk on Conn’s face drew a scowl from Risto.

“So, stop kissing and cuddling your woman. Let’s eat and plan how we’re gonna take out the bastard.”

When Risto released Callie, she rested against the couch’s arm with a sigh. He stuffed an extra pillow behind her, giving her back more support. “Let’s eat here so Callie can stay warmer by the fire. I have trays for the food.”

“No need for trays. Berto and I can sit on the floor and use the cocktail table.” Conn led the way to the seating area in front of the fireplace, bringing over the reports provided by SSI.

Risto took the thick stack of papers from Conn and handed them to Callie. “Here, sweetheart, this is the most current intel from Sanctuary.” He stood. “I’ll get us all something to eat while you read them over.”

“I’ll help get the food,” Berto said.

The three men went to the kitchen. As Risto pulled out bowls and spoons, he kept an eye on Callie’s expression as she skimmed the analyses Keely had prepared. He knew when she’d reached the part about Paco and the extra back-up of the videos.

He must’ve made some sort of sound at the fleeting expression of fear which swept over her face, because Callie looked over and smiled. “I’m okay. If Rosa confirmed the video footage was destroyed, then it’s gone. And as I told you back at Conn’s house, a video can’t hurt me.” He heard her words but her expression told him she was relieved.

“So, at least for now, I don’t have a vicious, but chivalrous, drug lord after me, just an angry, nearly broke, former paramilitary leader who can no longer go home because of me.”

There was distinct touch of hysteria in her voice; his little soldier wasn’t as unfazed as she pretended. He wasn’t the only one who’d heard it.

“Go to her.” Berto shooed Risto out of the kitchen. “I have this. Your woman needs you.”

He left Berto and Conn putting the meal together and swiftly went to Callie’s side, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hip nestled against her legs. He massaged her thigh, his fingers grazing the sensitive inner portion, and noted the slight change in her breathing, indicating the beginnings of her arousal. She sent him an “I’ll get you for that” look and he grinned. She wasn’t totally upset if that slight touch could distract her.

“None of this goat-roping is because of you,” he said. “It’s because of
me
, baby. I’m the one who took Cruz’s accounting DVD. The bastard wants me almost as much as he wants you. He realizes getting to you and hurting you would bring me into the open.” She shot him a look of incredulity. “So, that’s the frigging plan? Lure him here with the idea he might get to me but then you parade in front of him and hope you kill him before he kills you?”

He didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. He’d be the one to lure the fucking bastard to his doom.

She punched him on the arm. “That doesn’t make sense. Me … he wants alive, so he can use me to get back in Paco’s good graces.” Fiery anger blazed from her opalescent eyes. “You,” she poked him in the chest, “he wants dead.” She threw the report onto the cocktail table. “Dammit, Risto, it’s not acceptable to dangle your so-fine ass out there in place of mine. He’ll just shoot and kill you on sight.” Tears filled her eyes as she covered her stomach with one hand and twisted a strand of her hair with the other. “I want our baby to have his father.”

“I’m hard to kill. Plus, our plan is a tad bit more refined than me parading my ass to get shot.” Her angry snort had his lips twisting into a grim smile. “The bastard is never getting near you again. The fact he’ll be within a quarter mile of you is barely acceptable.

So, don’t even think about offering to be live bait.”

She muttered, “Fucking, alpha-macho-bloody male.”

Approaching the couch, Conn laughed. “She’s got you pegged.”

“Shut the fuck up, Conn.” Risto snarled the words at his soon-to-be former friend.

Berto brought a tray for Callie and Risto and set it on the cocktail table, then went back for his and Conn’s. Risto picked up a bowl and handed it and a spoon to her. “Eat.” Callie took the spoon and balanced the bowl on her lap. After taking a couple of bites and chewing thoroughly, she put the spoon in the bowl. “So … what’s the plan?” Her eyes glittered with silver fire. “Have you slink around your island until one of his men kills you? If the man hired a decent sniper, he could make the kill shot from any high point in Osprey’s Point. Hell, I could make that shot. All your high-tech surveillance equipment isn’t worth the cost of parts if they have a merc sniper who’s halfway decent.” Callie was crying. The sound made his heart hurt. “Fuck, baby.” He stood, took her bowl from her unresisting hands and put it on the cocktail table, then lifted her into his arms. Sitting down, he cradled her across his lap and rocked her. “Please stop crying.

You’ll make yourself sick again.”

“Shut up.” She sniffed loudly, wiping her wet cheeks on his turtleneck. “I have the right to cry. You wouldn’t have a target on your forehead if it weren’t for Cruz’s hard-on for me.”

“Callie,” Conn leaned forward in the chair he’d pulled to the cocktail table, his arms braced on his knees. “Look at me, sweet cheeks.”

Risto growled. “She’s not your sweet anything, Redmond. And don’t even talk about her ass.”

Callie snickered, then sniffled against his neck. “I like it when he calls me that. He sounds like a forties private eye talking to the ditzy blonde in trouble, but who is really the deadly
femme fatale
.” She turned her head so she could see the two men sitting in the chairs across from the couch. “What did you want to tell me, Conn?” She petted Risto’s chest and he released some of the tension which had stiffened his body when she’d begun to cry. He didn’t want her afraid for him, but he refused to allow her to place herself in danger. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t protect her—

and his unborn child—from scum such as Cruz?

“We’ll be taking out the bad guys in Osprey’s Point. Our plan keeps Cruz and his men from even leaving shore. Berto and I will have Risto’s back. Plus Keely’s twin brothers will be here. They’re on their way. Can you trust the four of us to protect your man, little momma?”

Callie rubbed her fingers over her face, wiping away the wetness. Risto hugged her closer into his body. She sighed and rested her head back against his shoulder. “Yeah, Loren and Paul are good. However, I’ll point out, I shoot better than both of them and they’ll tell you the same.”

Berto shot a wary look at Risto. “Our plan could use the addition of a sniper.” Risto glared at Conn’s right-hand man. “No fucking way … the twins are SEALs, one of them can be the sniper.”

“Listen up, Marine, and use your head.” Callie petted his chest. “Berto thinks I can do it and that’s good enough for me.”

Conn nodded. “Berto does have a good point. The only weakness I saw in the plan was not having someone high up to feed us intel and cover us with precision shooting.

Callie would be far out of harm’s way, at least a thousand meters and maybe more depending on the rifle and her skill. She could cover Osprey Point’s whole downtown area with the perfect sniping position.”

Risto took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. His gaze fixed on her.